Chapter Nine
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What a difference a day made, Kai thought as he and Addison worked in tandem to get breakfast ready for everyone else the following morning. The rest of the camp was so tense you’d have thought they were in danger of imminent starvation, while he and Addison were cocooned in a bubble of mutual love.
She’d said yes. Kai still couldn’t believe it. He knew their time by the creek last night would stand out in his mind as one of the moments that changed everything. Life with Addison would be different from anything he’d ever experienced. He’d have a true ally, a woman of integrity by his side.
They’d had to return to camp soon after his proposal, and when they did they found the meeting had broken up.
“Everyone’s cranky, but we’ll be okay,” Boone said when Kai caught up with him. Kai wondered if Boone, too, blamed him for not canning part of their harvest, but he was the kind of man who looked forward, not back.
All Kai could do was look forward, too. He’d apologize when people had simmered down, but for now all his attention was taken by Addison. When he’d joined her in her tent last night, they’d made love then whispered plans about their future until the wee hours.
Today, he found every excuse he could to touch her. He couldn’t believe she was real.
She was his.
The meal was a quick one, with only the men and Sam eating it. The rest of the women, except Addison, were seeing off their guests at the manor.
Kai and Addison were working on the dishes when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He wiped his hands on a towel and pulled it out. “Hello?”
“Hold for David Linkley.”
David Linkley. This should be interesting.
Kai leaned against the counter. This time he wasn’t half as nervous as he’d been the last time he’d talked to the producer.
“Kai—how’s Montana treating you?” Linkley boomed when he came on the line.
“Just fine. How are you?” He was pleased to note he was handling this far better than his last conversation.
“Good, excellent. Just letting you know I’ll be sending some paperwork your way. We want to get this thing rolling. Next week sound good for you?”
“Of course.”
“Now, a couple of details. First of all, we’ve changed the name of the show. A SEAL’s Meals is just a little… well… childish, we thought. We’re going with Feed Your Army. What do you say about that?”
“Uh… I served in the Navy,” Kai pointed out.
“We thought of that, tested out a few different versions, but let’s cut to the chase—our test audience didn’t score Navy as high as Army. Army sounds wholesome. Active. Navy—well, there are connotations.”
Was he serious? Kai had a sinking feeling he was.
“But, sir, I can’t go on a show and pretend I was in the Army—”
“Of course not. We won’t be talking about your military history in anything but a general way. Don’t want to upset anyone or make the show political. You know what I mean.”
Kai wasn’t at all sure what he meant. Sustainability was a political topic no matter how you sliced it. He didn’t care if he offended anyone—
“We’re going to make this a family show. Something Dad will relate to. Barbecue. Hearty fare. Good ol’ hamburgers, meatloaf. That kind of thing.”
“I don’t use a lot of beef in my cooking,” Kai told him. “We can talk about bison, but like I tried to tell you last time, my philosophy of food—”
“Kai, let’s get one thing straight here.” Linkley’s voice changed. “Your philosophy of food is whatever our biggest sponsor tells you it is, and that sponsor is going to be the beef industry, so don’t tell me you don’t cook with beef.” Linkley let that sink in. “I think you’ll find that show business is a team industry. You know how to be a team player, don’t you, Green?”
“Uh… yes, sir.” He’d spent thirteen years in the service being a team player.
This was different, though.
“I’ll send that paperwork over, and you get it back to me ASAP, you hear? We’ll get this ball rolling and get you on your way to being a star. What do you say about that?”
“Uh… that sounds great, sir.”
Great.
He was back to sounding like an idiot. Feeling like one, too, he thought as he cut the call and pocketed the phone.
“What was that about?” Addison asked, tugging at the side of her dress. It was the second time he’d seen her do that, and normally he’d ask what was the matter, but not now.
“Selling out to the man. Be back later. I need some air.”
Addison prepared to head up to the manor, not taking Kai’s sudden departure personally. He’d obviously gotten some disappointing news. She hoped his show hadn’t been cancelled, but by the sound of things that wasn’t the issue. Instead, it sounded like that big-shot director was trying to push Kai around.
Kai didn’t strike her as the type to put up with that for the most part, but everyone did strange things where their dreams were concerned. She’d talk it through with him later. She was due at the manor to help clean up after the guests who had departed. Besides, she desperately needed to find Riley or someone else who could help her retie her corset. Riley had done it this morning and tugged it one jerk too tight, but she’d asked if it was all right, and Addison, stupidly, had said yes, even if there wasn’t a camera filming her. She’d gotten so used to the automatic answer, and she was paying for it dearly.
Now her corset was cutting into her side with every move she made. She’d been about to ask Kai to give her a hand—he had proved quite good at getting her out of it last night, even if she still had to ask one of the other women to put her back into it this morning. Now she’d have to find someone else.
The camera crew that had filmed them this morning had followed Kai out the door, so she was alone when she washed down the counters for a final time, undid her apron, hung it up and entered the main room of the bunkhouse to head out the front door.
Avery was standing near a large wooden desk in one corner that Boone mostly used to organize Base Camp paperwork. She jumped and spun around when she heard Addison approach. “Oh, my goodness, you scared me to death. I didn’t think anyone was still here.”
She had a single cameraman with her. A young man named Byron. He’d jumped, too. He steadied the camera he was lugging on his shoulder and pointed it at Addison.
“What were you doing?” Addison asked them.
“Just… you know…”
“No, I don’t actually.” Addison had expected Avery to say she was looking for a pen, but she looked so guilty, Addison was curious now.
“Can you keep a secret?” Avery approached her.
“Ye—es.”
“You know I want to be an actress, right? And that I’m working on a screenplay?”
Addison nodded.
“Well, this is part of that. Byron is helping me put together little skits and film them to put online. I need to showcase what I can do—and what I can write. We thought the bunkhouse was empty, so we were working on one.”
“And you needed Boone’s desk.”
“Exactly. It’s for the skit.”
That made sense. “Why is it a secret?”
“Because everyone will want to see them if they know we’re making movies. I’m not ready for that. I need a little time. Can you keep this a secret? Please?” Avery looked so desperate, Addison felt for her. She was right; everyone was in everyone else’s business here at Base Camp. It was hard to get a moment to yourself.
“Of course I can,” Addison assured her.
Avery looked relieved. “You’re a lifesaver, Addison. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” She walked out the door, realizing too late she should have asked Avery to help with her corset. Then she remembered Byron and his camera, and decided to find a more discreet way to get help with her underthings.
“You have to start somewhere,” Kai’s sister Celia told him when he called her later that morning. “One step at a time, right? If you try, you can make something of the situation, build your career and eventually you’ll get to the place where you’re calling the shots, don’t you think?”
There was that Ledbetter practicality, Kai thought. If he called his mom or dad, they’d say the same thing. When life handed you an opportunity, you took it and made the most of it.
It was sound advice, but it wasn’t satisfying.
“I don’t see how I can be on one show that’s dedicated to sustainability and be on another show that pushes unsustainable products.”
“Isn’t there any way beef can be raised sustainably? Push that,” Celia said.
Kai sighed. There was, but that wasn’t the point. The point was he could already tell he would clash with Linkley on every part of the show. Even if he made sure the beef he cooked was organic and sustainable, he’d have no control over the brands pushed during the commercial breaks.
“You can’t change the world all at once,” Celia said. “It sounds like an amazing opportunity. Just what you said you wanted to do.”
“I’ve got to run. Thanks for listening,” Kai said. He got off the phone as frustrated as he’d been when he’d dialed her number.
He needed to talk to someone else. When Addison came to mind, he shook his head. He’d unloaded enough on her last night. He’d never told anyone outside his family about his early days. Not even any of the men he’d served with. Describing those times to Addison made them too real. He’d never treat his own children like that.
Would he and Addison have kids?
The thought had him stuffing his hands in his pockets. They hadn’t talked about that. There was still so much to sort out.
He didn’t have much time, though. Neither of them had been ready to announce their engagement this morning; it was still too new. But he’d take her to get a ring soon, and they’d share their news. They needed to set a wedding date. They had a deadline to beat, after all.
But they’d beat it, and that was one less problem to solve.
They had plenty of others left over.
He decided to find Angus or Boone—someone who understood the ins and outs of sustainable food and might have ideas about how to salvage his cooking show.
Feed Your Army.
Hell, no.
Was the price of success really turning his back on everything important to him?
If she didn’t get this corset fixed, she was going to scream, Addison thought as she made her way down from the manor at a quarter to five. When she’d arrived there earlier, she’d stepped into pure chaos. The women were trying to clean up from one set of guests and prepare for another set who were due the following day. Riley had tripped and spilled a pot of coffee all over the kitchen floor. Addison had helped clean it up and then gone straight from one chore to another all day. She hadn’t had a moment to slip away and fix her corset. Now she was late to help Kai with dinner, but for the first time that day she had a minute to spare—and she’d lost her camera crew. Scanning the encampment, she huffed out a frustrated breath. There was no one around to help her—
No, wait—
The sound of a tent fly being unzipped stopped her in her tracks. Someone was here. Was it Samantha?
No. Curtis. Daisy following at his heels.
He’d have to do, Addison decided. The boning of the corset must have rubbed a welt into her skin by this point. Every move she made was torture, and she honestly thought she might cry if someone didn’t help loosen it. He wouldn’t see anything. These outfits had so many layers she could strip several of them off and still have more clothes on than she would have worn on a normal summer day.
“Curtis, wait. Can you help me?” she called as he headed off toward the building site.
“What’s up?” He turned around at her voice.
“Come here.” She gestured impatiently, and when he made his way over, she told him, “I need someone to untie me. It’s an emergency.”
She tugged him inside her tent, zipped the flap back up, knelt down on her pallet and presented her back to him. Outside, Daisy whined. “Undo my dress,” Addison ordered.
“Uh… Addison. Are you sure—”
She was past caring about modestly. Way past. The corset felt like sandpaper rubbing a wound. “Right now, Curtis!”
Daisy yipped again.
Curtis shushed her. “Okay, okay.” He must have caught the desperation in Addison’s voice, for his fingers worked at the fastenings of the dress and soon enough he had them off. “I’ll leave you to it.” He already had a hand on the tent’s zipper when she turned on him.
“Curtis, I need you!” Addison got herself under control and lowered her voice as Daisy barked a warning outside. Curtis didn’t understand how much pain she was in. “It’s not my dress. It’s my corset. It’s rubbing so bad.”
The big man hesitated. “Maybe we should find someone else—”
“Curtis, please! And tell Daisy to stop.” Daisy was still barking. She was sure to attract someone’s attention.
With a sigh, Curtis shushed the dog again and began to work at the corset lacings, but it took forever for him to get them undone. Crouched in the low tent, her knees aching from the cramped position, Addison wanted to tear the whole outfit off and be done with it.
Instead she stayed still until the knots gave way and he was able to work the laces until she could breathe freely.
“What masochist did you up this morning?” Curtis chuckled now that the job was done.
“Riley. She didn’t mean to screw it up, but we were both in a hurry.”
“You want to take that off?”
“No.” The dress simply wouldn’t work without it. She straightened out the undergarment and realized her shift had become bunched up beneath it. No wonder it had been so uncomfortable. She adjusted its folds to a better arrangement. “Do me up again. Just leave me some breathing room this time. A lot of breathing room.”
It took even longer for Curtis to do up the corset again loosely. Addison began to grow aware of the position they were in. Daisy was still whining from time to time outside the tent.
“Hurry up before someone else comes.”
“Exactly what I was trying to say before.” Another minute went by, Addison counting every second. “There. All done. Now, your dress.” He helped her pull it on and got that done up, too. “Right as rain.” He undid the tent flap, climbed out and Addison followed him. There was no one in sight except Daisy, who danced with joy at Curtis’s feet now that he’d reappeared.
“Thank you,” Addison said in relief. “That was perfect. You were fast.”
“Magic fingers,” Curtis said, gesturing with his hands. “Don’t say I’m not talented.”
“You’re talented, all right.”
She headed for the bunkhouse, breathing freely for the first time that day. The place where the corset had rubbed was still uncomfortable, but she was far better off than she’d been before. She reached the bunkhouse nearly a full half hour after she should have been there.
“Kai? Sorry I’m late. What do you want me to do first?”
The kitchen was empty. Addison was about to go looking for Kai when he came in behind her, went straight to the refrigerator and began to pull out food.
“There you are,” she said cheerfully. “Should I chop some onions?” Every meal seemed to start with onions.
“Not today.”
“Salad stuff?”
Kai grunted. She wasn’t sure what that meant.
“Lettuce first?”
“Look,” Kai said, dumping the load of vegetables he’d fetched from the refrigerator onto the counter. “Thanks for coming around and helping all the time, but I don’t need you tonight. All right? In fact, maybe you should—” He cut off, but Addison could guess what he meant to say. Maybe you should leave.
Addison stilled. What had happened? “But—Why—?” Was Kai still upset about that phone call?
“Can’t you give me some space?” he growled.
“Of course.” Addison rushed from the room.