Personal Assets (Texas Nights) (31 page)

She’d done this on purpose.

Did she care so little for the economic health of this community? She acted like she wanted to help people, yet this selfish move was going to cost the folks in this town way more than what hers and Roxanne’s businesses contributed to the economy. Yes, their goods and services had a place, but who the hell cared about pretty panties and fun fantasies when they didn’t have a way to feed their families?

No one.

“Cameron, I have to get back to Houston.” Marfa didn’t offer his hand. “This just isn’t the type of community Chikkalo Bill’s would feel comfortable supporting. Any place that condones the sale of...of cookies shaped like...people’s private parts...isn’t on our list of relocation prospects. I’m sure you can understand.”

The crowd parted, barely, to let him leave.

Yeah, he understood. Understood that Allie had just blown the town’s best shot at the biggest influx of jobs in decades.

* * *

Cameron slammed his truck door and jogged across the parking lot to the dugout, the entire time scanning the parking lot for a glimpse of BB. Nothing.

Dammit, he’d sold his car for Allie, and those dick cookies were the way she repaid him? Granted, she didn’t know he’d handed over BB to save her rear end, but still his blood pressure thumped like a marching band’s big-ass drum at homecoming.

He hit the dugout to find her pacing from one end of the bench to the other. “Cameron, where have you been?”

“Listen, we need to talk.”

“We can’t talk now, we’re in the middle of a game.” She flung an arm toward the field. “Take a look in the outfield. There’s a big gap out there with your name on it.”

“Look, I’m late because I was—”

“Schmoozing the chicken wing king.”

“And stumbling across my mom’s X-rated cookies.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t tell me you had nothing to do with—”

A cheer went up from the stands. Ben had made the third out with a pop-up to short.

The boys loped toward the dugout and Allie turned back to Cameron. “You’re not even dressed.” She stuffed a T-shirt into his hands.

The boys crowded in, bringing with them the scent of dirt, sweat and sunscreen. Allie shooed them to the bench. “Okay, here’s the batting line-up. Miller, Perez, Oberlin, Wright.”

Cameron tuned out after she called his name. He would never get over his mom and her friends selling cock cookies, for God’s sake. It was wrong for so many reasons, least of which was he might never again be able to eat sugar cookies, but he could understand their desperation to help Allie. If he’d brought his mom in on his plan, they might not have had the embarrassing situation with Dylan Marfa. Granted, the guy was kind of full of himself, and Cameron had a feeling Allie’s dad wanted Chikkalo Bill’s in Shelbyville more for the pressure it would put on his daughter than anything else.

But it also meant Cameron had failed to bring those jobs to town. Surely, between Allie, him and the rest of the committee, they could find another company, one that didn’t sit in judgment of the woman he loved.

They went three up and three down, and Cameron took centerfield. The stands were packed and more people were lined up along the fence, cheering and ribbing one another. After the game, there would likely be some money changing hands, and not just from him to Allie.

After seven endless innings, their team edged out Beck’s by one run.

The boys mobbed Allie and dragged her out to the pitcher’s mound to accept the trophy that passed to the winning team each year. Her face shiny with sweat and her smile predatory, she hugged the bit of wood and plastic to her chest like it was the World Series Commissioner’s Trophy, rather than a scratched-up plastic ballplayer with his head missing.

“We did it! We finally beat Beck. Probably had a little to do with that three-run double you hit in the sixth.” She wrapped her arms around Cameron’s waist and jumped up and down. The trophy bit into his spine. The feel of her body against his front was more enjoyable, but they needed to talk before he could concentrate on anything but the check in his pocket.

People began filtering out of the stands and meandering toward the parking lot.

“C’mon.” Allie turned toward the first base dugout. Her mood had done a one-eighty since yesterday. Why?

“Hey, can we talk for a few minutes?” he called.

“There are sno-cones back at the park and I want to buy one for all the boys.”

“Allie.” When people still in the stands turned to stare, he lowered his volume and caught her around the waist. “Can I please talk to you about something?”

She must’ve seen something in his face, because she joined him on the mound. “Okay.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Unfolded a precisely written check that said
Pay to the order of Alice Ann Shelby
. He handed it to her.

She stared at it as if she’d never seen a check before. “What is this?”

“Your ticket out of trouble.”

“A seven, a five and three zeroes. That’s a lot of numbers.” Her mouth was tight and her body was a board. “There’s no way you can afford to loan me this money.” She tried to shove the check back into his hand, but he tightened them to fists.

By this time, a crowd edged toward the fence, obviously riveted by Allie’s and Cameron’s conversation.

“I can now.” Cameron lowered his voice again, but people simply leaned over the chain link. “I’ve taken care of everything. You don’t have to worry about your dad anymore.”

“So you decided to solve my problem. Without my knowledge. Without my approval.” With every word, her volume increased to match the fire flickering in her eyes. “You have the...the...balls to pull this from your pocket like it’s a Publisher’s Clearing House check.”

“Can you stand there and tell me you have the money to repay your loan?”

“I will tomorrow.”

That news hit him below the belt. Surely the cookies hadn’t netted that kind of cash. If so, this town had bigger problems than he could solve. “How?”

“I’ve found someone who wants to invest in the businesses.”

Jesus, Bramhall. She was taking money from a man who treated her like an object instead of a person. “Don’t do it.”

She turned her back on their audience, forcing him to face them if he wanted to face her. “Who left Cameron Wright in charge of the world?”

“Brody Wright, that’s who. When he fucking walked out on my mom, Jamie and me, someone had to hang around to be responsible. To clean up his mess.” Christ, how could this woman make him lose control like this? Make him look like an idiot in front of Dylan Marfa. Make him behave like a complete jackass in front of people whose respect he’d hoped to gain.

“That was fifteen years ago. Don’t you think it’s time to let it go and move on? Both your mom and your brother have. Why can’t you see that hanging on to old patterns of behavior is hurting the people you care about, who care about you?”

“You think I’m giving you this money to hurt you?”

“Why would I accept help from you, knowing it would jeopardize your business and your dreams? I’ve learned a lot about you in the past few weeks, Cameron, and some of what I’ve discovered isn’t very nice. I know you’re not particularly happy unless you’re pulling someone’s bacon out of the fire. Well, I plan to fry my own. And by God, if I burn it, that’s my own business.”

“Dammit, Allie, I love you. Isn’t that reason enough to want to save you?”

“Love is spelled L-O-V-E. Not C-O-N-T-R-O-L.”

“Helping someone is controlling them?”

“It is when they don’t want or need your help.”

If she’d hit low last time, this jab punched him squarely in the ribs. Or, more accurately, what was behind it. “Oh, you’re too high and mighty to take money from me, but you’re willing to sell yourself to some slick bastard? What, princess, is my money too greasy for you?”

“Excuse me?”

“I can’t make decisions for you, yet it’s fine and dandy for you to decide the future of everyone in this town, and that future is spelled C-R-A-P!”

The crumpled check hit his chest and fell to the ground. “You’re so full of selfish bullshit—”

“Me selfish? What about—”

“—that you won’t hear—”

“—you using a community event to—”

“—what I’m trying to—”

“—pimp goddamn penis cookies!”

She took a step back, stumbled over the pitcher’s rubber and almost went down, but he caught her by the shirt and held her upright. The expression on her face could only be described as a snarl. “You bastard! I seem to remember that you like having your own penis pimped!”

At that, one of the bystanders actually fell over the fence and onto the field.

Someone else yelled, “Call 911! I think we might have a broken arm.”

Oh, Jesus. Could this whole thing become any more of a clusterfuck? He breathed deep, grabbed Allie’s elbow and tried to pull her toward the dugout. The crowd had seen and heard more than enough.

She jerked away, staring at him as if she’d just stepped right in the middle of a human-sized litter box.

“We need to finish this discussion in private.”

“If you think I’m going anywhere with you, you’re a complete jackass. You’ve made your assumptions, and, believe me, you don’t want to hear what I have to say about your money or your penis.”

“Dammit, Allie, could you please stop referring to my pen—”

“If you’d really listened to me, you never would’ve pulled that check from your pocket.”

He tried to reach for her again, but she sidestepped. Something bitter and dark welled up in his throat. It tasted a lot like fear. “If you want someone who doesn’t give a good damn about you or this town, I can’t be that guy.”

“This relationship was never supposed to go this far.”

His voice hard, Cameron replied, “A little fun, some good sex and we both go our merry way.”

Yeah, he might be going on his way, but he wasn’t real fucking merry.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Allie walked with Jamie down the front steps of Commerce State Bank and drew in the morning air. It smelled of sunshine and satisfaction. Carrying an aluminum briefcase in her right hand, she felt a little like James Bond. Except without the martini. And the kick-butt car. And, of course, the women.

It was pure showmanship, but Jamie had suggested she take the money to her father in cash, which sounded fabulously dramatic.

They were still hashing out the details on Jamie’s partnership with both Personal Assets and Red Light Lingerie. To be honest, he didn’t look much like a businessman this morning. With his big grin and laughing eyes, he looked more like a little boy who’d been given a new Red Rider BB gun and planned to go out and stir up some very enjoyable trouble.

Allie put her hand on his arm. “When we go to the bank, I’d like to say a few words to my father before we hand over the money.”

“I’m not going with you, Allie.”

“What?”

He shook his head and smiled. “I never had any plans to attend the meeting.”

Adrenaline flooded her at his words. “But you’re the one giving me the money.”

“Not giving, investing.” He gestured toward his sleek silver car. “But I will drive you.”

Allie took a shaky breath. Somehow, she’d imagined this all going down with more people on her side of the desk. Now it would be just her and her dad. “I’d appreciate that.”

They made the five-minute drive from one bank to the next. Jamie parked and turned to her. “Allie, I’m not a big one for giving other people advice. Other than the legal kind, that is.” He took her hand in his and looked at her with a serious expression. “But go give your old man the financial finger.”

That was exactly what she’d needed, rather than a long-winded, say-nothing pep talk. She pressed her lips to his cheek. “In case I forgot to say it, thank you.”

She slipped from the car and reached back in to heft the case containing seventy-five thousand dollars in bills. Jamie gave her a quick wink before she closed the door.

This was it.

Maybe she should feel chagrined that she was walking into her father’s bank carrying a briefcase full of someone else’s money. Well, it wasn’t all Jamie’s. The sale of her mother’s jewelry had contributed, as well.

Strangely, Allie felt better this time than she had when her father had first called her to his office and ripped the financial rug out from under her. But her satisfaction was dulled by the fact that she couldn’t celebrate this victory with Cameron. He didn’t want to accept that she’d chosen to solve her problem without him. What he didn’t seem to understand was that she had no desire to repeat the past, and if she let Cameron call the shots in her life, she’d fall into the same pattern she’d danced with her dad for so many years.

The knowledge that she’d made the right decision didn’t keep her from lying awake wishing she could curl into the warm strength of his body. Wishing she could laugh with him about silly small town quirks. Wishing she could make love with him in his big pine bed.

Last night she’d fallen asleep wishing she could stop wishing.

It would be fine. They could be friendly business associates at the monthly Chamber of Commerce meetings. Maybe even sit at the same table from time to time.

Oh, who was she trying to kid? It was going to be hell.

Ruthlessly casting aside those thoughts, Allie marched into the bank and through the lobby without a word to anyone. She pushed through the executive suite’s doors and beelined for Mildred’s desk. “Allie Shelby to see Robert Shelby.”

Mildred jolted, abandoning the messages she was organizing. “Oh, you surprised me. I could swear there wasn’t a meeting on your father’s calendar today. Did you have an appointment?”

“No, but he
will
see me.” She plunked the case of cash on Mildred’s desk with a thump. Her stare didn’t waver, her hands didn’t tremble, and her voice didn’t shake. “Now.”

Mildred jumped from her chair and dashed into his office, leaving the door open a crack.

Through it, Allie heard, “She’s here now, sir.”

“We didn’t have an appointment scheduled.”

“I really think you’d better see her.” Her voice held a nervous certainty.