16. Jack

16

JACK

The air is thick with the sweet scent of freshly sawn wood, yet the shop is silent.

"So, here's the progress we've made so far," our contractor, Kirk, says from inside. "It might not look like it, but we're ahead of schedule."

Camilla steps up beside me. "It's looking great."

And she's right.

We chose this spot in DUMBO for our coffee shop a few weeks ago, and construction has been going on since my father signed the deed over to me. It was a transaction through our lawyers, didn't require us meeting in person, thank goodness.

We haven't spoken since our meeting at the club. Not for lack of him trying. It's on me. I've been giving my energy to Keiki and everything that goes into running a business. When I'm not working, all my energy goes to Camilla. Hell, it goes to her even when I am working.

Camilla steps into the shop first, bathed in the soft natural light filtering through the skylights. It's a big space with high ceilings and wooden rafters. A mix of industrial and classic architecture.

We're stripping it back, keeping the color palette simple so as not to take any focus away from what we want the shop to be. A space for gathering and sharing a cup of coffee.

We're still working on the tagline, though.

While the space is beautiful, there is plenty of work to be done. There are stacks of reclaimed wooden planks leaned up haphazardly against the walls, and the counter and bar is still a vague idea.

Camilla sighs, and the sound echoes off the walls. "We're going to have to work on the acoustics in here." She places her hands on her hips.

Kirk nods. "The echo does get to be a bit much. Not sure you want to give a complimentary pair of ear plugs to all your customers."

I know I should be focusing on the job, but from behind, Camilla is a goddess. Her tight jeans accentuate the curves of her ass and thighs and while her blouse is loose, I'm still in awe of the elegance of her shoulders.

Not to mention those curls, loose and free. Not held back by a clip or ponytail holder. All because I remarked once how much I liked seeing her hair down.

I never want her to do anything just to please me, but I can't help but notice it.

Makes her all the more tempting. Distracting. Because what I'd like to do is go up behind her and press my hips against her ass so she can feel my growing erection, grab a handful of her hair, and kiss her sweet lips until she begs me for more.

Instead, I go to stand next to her, sticking my hands in the pockets of my slacks to make sure I keep myself from acting on my fantasy. "We should get a sound expert in here, then."

Camilla whips out her phone and starts typing that on her ever-growing list of to dos. "Sparing no expense, as always."

"Why should I?" I shrug.

She smirks, then slides her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. I can't believe I'm jealous of her phone, but I am. I could slide my hand into her pocket, grab a handful of her.

My baby girl.

Kirk says, "You know we'd be happy to get that sorted for you."

Of course he would. He's a contractor. And he has a limitless budget. The guy is going to milk me as long as he can. But I don't care.

Kirk gives us a tour of everything the construction team has been working on.

For a half-finished coffee shop, it's not too shabby. Sure, everything is pretty much a skeleton of itself, but we're moving right along.

I'm proud of what we've achieved.

Emphasis on we. I couldn't have done it without Camilla.

"Let me show you how things are going behind the bar." Kirk jerks his head toward Camilla.

Camilla starts to follow and gives me a look over her shoulder. "You coming?"

"No, you go ahead, I need a minute," I say with a reassuring smile.

Camilla smiles back. "Okay."

The two of them disappear into the backroom while I take in the shop.

Hard to believe how much can change in two months.

Everything is going to plan.

We've already got the farm up and running in Kona, having been able to take on most of the staff from the previous farm. And we've already been getting shipments of beans to our roastery, which will be in-house here once construction is down. For now, we're operating out of a rental here in Brooklyn.

Our timeline for opening is still quite far out, but I'm spending a lot of my time experimenting with different roast techniques.

I want to get it right.

"Ow!" Camilla's voice echoes through the shop from the backroom.

My body alerts and, in an instant, I'm on my way to her, rounding the corner of the counter and entering the backroom.

Camilla and Kirk are standing over a wooden butcher's block made of raw wood. Camilla holds one hand upward by her wrist, one finger outstretched.

"Damn, that's deep." When Kirk notices me, he says with a smile, "Splinter."

Why the fuck is he smiling? I go to Camilla, ignoring the contractor. "You okay?"

"Yeah, it just hurt for a second and now…" She trails off.

I look at her hand. The splinter is in there, only a fraction of it sticking out of her finger. I turn to Kirk. "We need tweezers. You have a first aid kit around here, right?"

"Yeah, I'll get that for you."

"Thanks."

Kirk scampers off.

I exchange her supporting hand for mine. "It's going to be okay."

"It's a splinter, Jack, not a big deal."

When we aren't working, Camilla doesn't posture with me. She doesn't remain strong. If something hurts, she lets it be known, lets me tend to it. And I'm going to do just that here out in the open too.

"Camilla…" What I'd like to say is baby girl. Angel. Princess. Any number of words I use to identify her when we aren't out in the open. Words to let her know she's safe with me. That she doesn't have to be big and brave. "Let me take care of you."

Her amber eyes widen. "Okay."

Kirk returns with the first aid kit and places it on the offending butcher block. "You want me to take care of it? I'm a pro by this point."

"I've got it." Not too forcefully. An easeful confidence I don't think I had until I met Camilla.

"Suit yourself," he says, opening the box for me. "Should be everything you need right here."

I grab the tweezers, unwrap them from their hygienic packaging, and return to Camilla. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be," she says, tilting her head away and closing her eyes.

I pull her finger up close to my face so I can get a good look at the wound and with the tweezers, snag the little bit of splinter poking through the surface. I pull, but only get half of it.

I curse to myself, the other bit still dug below the surface.

"Is it done?" Camilla asks.

"Not quite. I'm going to have to work the next bit out."

She peeks one eye open, peering at the splinter.

"Hydrogen peroxide will draw it out," Kirk says from over my shoulder.

I resist glaring at him. "Thanks."

I retrieve the hydrogen peroxide and return to Camilla. "It's going to burn for a second."

"I know," she squeaks.

Her fear twists in my stomach.

I want to be able to care for her the best way I know how, the way I can when we're alone.

With Kirk right there, though, I can't give her what she needs. What I need.

"Kirk, would you mind getting a crew to deal with the butcher block today? I'll pay, I just don't want this hurting anyone else."

"I'll see what I can do." Kirk strides out of the backroom with his phone in hand.

I'm more than positive he'll get it done with the carrot dangled in front of his face.

Camilla frowns. "Why did you do that?"

I shake my head, smiling.

She can be so oblivious sometimes.

I kiss her softly on the lips. "So I could do that."

"Oh…well…"

I return to her finger and the hydrogen peroxide. "You ready?"

"Yeah, just do it."

I pour just a tad on, enough to make the wound fizzle with foam.

Camilla winces, her whole face contorting.

"It's okay," I say. "It will only hurt for a moment, baby girl."

Despite the pain, she smiles. "You called me ‘baby girl'."

"And?"

"We're…out in the open."

"Actually, we're very much alone," I say, though I can hear Kirk's conversation echoing through the shop.

Camilla's eyes linger in mine for a few moments. She says nothing, but her lips are in a placid, comfortable smile. "You know what I'm trying to say, Jack."

I say nothing, dabbing at the wound with a tissue and going in for the rest of the splinter. I work in silence until I have the motherfucker snagged. "There we go."

I rub my thumb in the center of Camilla's palm. "Better?"

"Yes, thank you…Daddy."

I don't think her calling me that will ever not result in a partial erection. However, here, out in the open, there is a different quality to it. A trust I didn't know we yet had, one I tested the limits of today.

And I'm glad I did.

I release her hand. "I need you to be more careful." I scrape my fingers through her hair and hold her head in my hands. "I don't want you getting hurt."

She smiles. "I'll do my best."

I kiss her forehead and let her go, though that's the last thing I'd like to do. Ever. Let her go. "When you're hurt…I feel it."

Camilla places her hands against my chest. "When you're hurt, I feel it too."

I furrow my brow.

Before I can ask, Kirk's walking back in. "I've got a crew–oh!"

I step back from Camilla though it kills me to do so. I clear my throat, act as if he's walked in on a mere close conversation. One that requires forehead kisses and chest touching. "Great. Thank you. I'll send over the money as soon as we get back to the office."

We have an office space now too, which is great. Keeps Camilla and me honest since we're working with the rest of the team and don't have immediate access to a bedroom.

However, that might have just gone out the window.

"Right. Great. That's. Great," Kirk says, his expression still shocked. "And you let me know about the sound guy, I can give him a walkthrough and–"

"I'll give him a call when we…" Camilla glances at me. "Get back to the office."

Great, now it sounds like "get back to the office" is some weird euphemism.

Kirk gives us a slow nod. "Well, I'll let you get back to the office, then."

Oh, my fucking god.

We do as we say, go back to the office, no funny business about it. But the rest of the day, I can't shake what Camilla said to me.

When you're hurt, I feel it too.

I don't want her to feel my hurt. I want her to be my sweet, carefree angel. Except that's not how real life works. Not at all.

And if I want to have her in every way I know I need her, I'm going to have to find a way to let her in completely.