To Get Me To You: A Small Town Southern Romance (Wishful Romance Book 1) (18 page)

More than one
.

“Is there any other kind?” Adele asked.

Norah exercised more caution than Piper. “And what exactly does the Three Furies entail?”

“It’s a tradition of long standing, dating back to just after college when He Who Is Not Worth Naming walked out of my life,” Tyler explained. “First shot is tequila because you’re drinking to forget a worm. Second shot is whiskey, in honor of the fire in your belly. Third shot is Jaeger, which will kick all asses. And after each, you get a shot at Bob the Bastard.”

“Bob the Bastard?”

Adele lifted a sad burlap…thing from behind the counter. It had a crude face embroidered on and four rough limbs flung out akimbo. A fifth…protuberance was painted in red between the legs.

“Is that…a voodoo doll?”

“Sort of. We mount him on the dartboard and take shots at his nuts. It’s terribly cathartic. I think this is actually Bob the Sixth. The Three Furies is a popular ritual.” Tyler patted Bob on the head.

“It’s one that has stood us in good stead, and as you are now officially a part of the Sisterhood, it is your duty to participate,” Piper said.

Norah wondered what sisterhood that was, exactly. “Oh, well I don’t do shots. I’m more a sedate glass of wine or the occasional glass of Scotch kind of girl. And, really, I’m over it. Not even on the rebound.” Why should she waste time thinking about Pierce when she was already half crazy for a better man she wouldn’t let herself have?

Piper gave her a baleful glance. “Are you seriously not going to cooperate?”

The idea of throwing darts at Pierce’s junk in effigy
was
pretty appealing. All this mess had started with him. “Well, if it’s
that
important to you.”

“Damn straight.”

Adele set out a salted shot glass and poured the tequila while Tyler affixed Bob to one of the dart boards on the wall. A cheer went up around the bar.

“Okay Norah, you have to name him,” Tyler called.

“Pierce Vargas.”

“Here hangs the bastard Pierce Vargas, Asshole of the First Degree,” Tyler intoned. “Administering his sentence is Norah Burke, the Supremely Wronged Party. Norah, you may begin when ready.”

When in Rome.
Norah took the shot, wincing at the burn as she bit the lime. God, tequila was nasty. Piper offered up the first dart and she took her position behind the line. After clearing the pucker from her face, Norah zeroed in on the doll less than eight feet away.

“Feel free to list his crimes.”

“For being a lying douchenozzle.”

Bringing Pierce’s smug, supercilious face to mind, she let the dart fly. It embedded in one of the arms. The crowd cheered.

“Not bad.” Piper nodded in approval. “Extra points for using ‘douchenozzle’ correctly in a sentence. That counts as first blood. Bet you can do better, though. Adele, bring on the Jack!”

“Shouldn’t I eat something first?” Norah tried to remember if she’d had lunch.

“We’ll order after you’re done. Don’t want to lose your momentum.”

If only my Chicago colleagues could see me now.
She accepted the second glass. All those pretentious, self-absorbed professionals would consider this behavior completely unseemly. The idea made her grin as she took the second shot. The whiskey went down easier, smoothing some of the edges she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying around. Maybe they were on to something with this whole thing.

The dart Piper handed her felt warm in her palm.

“For not appreciating that I was the best thing to ever happen to you.”

You were supposed to exhale when throwing, right? Or maybe that was just archery. She couldn’t remember, but it seemed like a good idea, so when Norah stepped up to the line, she took a series of deep breaths as she aimed. On a last gust, she released with a snap. It hit a mere half inch below the desired target, to the collective groans of the audience.

“That’s okay, honey. You’ve still got one more to go,” Piper said.

Norah returned to the bar for the Jaeger.

“Hail, hail, the gang’s all here!” Turning, she saw Tucker crossing the bar, Cam, Mitch, and Liam Montgomery right behind.

Cam. Of
course,
he was here. Because it wasn’t enough that she should see him every day in a work capacity, and almost as often through all her Campbell family interactions. She really needed the Universe to mock her further by throwing him in her path some more with a
Nana nana boo boo, look what you gave up
for good measure.

God, he looked good. He also looked just a little bit pissed off. She wondered if Tucker and company had dragged him out of his cave like she’d been dragged out of hers.

“Who’s the poor bastard being skewered?” Tucker inquired.

By way of answer, Norah lifted the shot of Jaeger in a toast before tossing it back with a prayer that it would strengthen her resolve. Her cheeks felt flushed as she slapped the glass down on the bar and returned to position for her final shot.

“For my career, you unscrupulous, exploitive son of a bitch.” Norah flung the dart, wishing it was something more substantial, like a knife, as it zoomed forward and buried itself in the doll’s painted scrotum.

The crowd—the females anyway—burst into cheers and applause. Norah took an exaggerated bow and regretted it as the room took a bit of a dip along with it. Food. Food was an immediate priority. And water. Like, a gallon of it. She managed to straighten without lurching.

Mitch swaggered over. “Is this an All-Men-Suck hen party, or can we join you?”

“Better check Norah for sharp, pointy objects,” Cam said. “Clearly she’s dangerous with them.”

Norah assumed a superior air. “He deserved it.”

Piper was grinning like a loon, her arm already looped through Liam’s, so evidently this was to be a mixed party.
Hooray, a new challenge to resist Cam, this time with diminished capacity.
Norah knew after the lengths they’d gone to getting her here, neither woman was going to just let her go on home, so she didn’t voice the protest.

They commandeered a booth in the corner and put in orders for appetizers. Even as the others broke into a babble of joking conversation, Norah could feel Cam’s eyes on her.

“Are you okay?” He had to lean in close to be heard over the music, and Norah shivered at the feel of his breath on her ear.

“Not even close.” She tossed back a glass of water as if it were another shot.

“What happened?”

“Talked to my dad.”

Cam winced. “As bad as you expected?”

“Worse.” She wished he’d rub her nape, banish some of the tension. But he didn’t touch her. Because they didn’t do that anymore. She wasn’t his to take care of.

“I’m sorry.”

Norah jerked her shoulders. “Over now.” Flashing a smile that was probably more of a snarl, she asked, “And how was your day?”

“Could’ve been better. The economic impact report will be in tomorrow. The Council is convening tomorrow afternoon to go over it and vote.”

The shots turned to acid in her stomach. “So soon? I thought we weren’t expecting it for another month?”

“So did I. Apparently when they said they’d fast-track it, they really meant it.”

Had she done enough? She’d expected to have another month to shift public opinion, get the other Council members on their side. There had barely been time to get the Shop Local campaign off the ground, let alone finish with all the public education components of her plan. At this point, all their hopes were pinned on the results of that study.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She knew the power of optimism. “All our research suggests that the economic impact would be overwhelmingly negative. Any firm worth its salt is going to find the same.”

“I hope you’re right. Either way, tomorrow is D-Day.”

It was a sobering thought. Another sign from the Universe that her time here was winding up. Her mind automatically shifted to the action plan for the coalition, wondering how she should alter the timeline to see that the Shop Local campaign was truly sustainable on its own. Because an end to the anti-GrandGoods campaign meant an end to her time in Wishful. And an end to her time with Cam. She told herself it would be easier away from him, back in the real world, where everyone had expectations and the standard operating procedure was looking out for number one.

And when had she become a woman who looked for easy?

“You two look entirely too serious. I know just the way to turn that frown upside down.” Tucker grabbed her hand. “Come on, sugar.”

“No, no, no, nono. I don’t—oh Jesus.” Abruptly, she found herself spun in some complicated sequence as an Alan Jackson song rocked out from the juke box.

Tyler waved after them. “Don’t worry. Tucker makes everybody look good!”

~*~

Despite his lousy mood, Cam couldn’t help but be amused as Tucker dragged a very panicked Norah out on the dance floor. Piper wasn’t far behind, Liam in tow.

Mitch turned and offered a hand to Tyler, “May I have this dance, fair lady? We could put them to shame or die trying.”

“Not even for you, dear heart.”

He mimed brushing away tears. “In that case, beer. Pitcher?”

“Get a couple,” Cam said. “Pretty sure Liam’s gonna need a lot to recover from Piper’s enthusiasm.”

“Soldier boy’s got game,” Tyler observed as Mitch headed for the bar.

“Not yo’ mama’s Texas two step, right there. That’s, like, the Magic Mike version.”

She slanted him a Look.

“What? I saw the previews.”

Cam’s gaze was drawn inexorably back to Norah, who looked beyond uncomfortable on the dance floor. Tucker might as well have been trying to swing dance with a fence post for all the natural grace and rhythm she displayed. It was so absolutely counter to the way she usually conducted herself, he almost wanted to laugh.

“You know, I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it for myself. There really
is
something Norah’s not good at. Do you suppose it’s the alcohol?”

“No, bless her heart. She hasn’t got an ounce of rhythm and isn’t following his lead at all,” Tyler said. “Of course, he’s tryin’ to showboat and going way above a basic skill level.”

Cam thought back to New Year’s. She hadn’t had any trouble following
his
lead.

“Okay, so I have no idea what excuse y’all are using to keep yourselves from following through on the sparks you throw off every time you get within ten feet of each other, but I’m pretty sure we’ve taken out her half of them with those shots. So what are you going to do about it, Crawford?”

Cam cut a glance toward Tyler. “Do about it?”

“Why
else
do you think I got Tucker to drag you out tonight? Don’t even try to tell me you don’t have a thing for her. I’ve known you too many years for that to fly. You’ve never looked at any woman like that.”

Uncomfortable, Cam wondered if any of his family had made the same observation.

“She looks at you the same way when she thinks nobody’s looking. Whatever her objections are, they have nothing to do with lack of interest. Don’t tell me you’re going to waste this opportunity to work on her when her shields are down.”

“You are a sneaky bitch.”

“You love me,” she said, smug.

“Yes, yes, I do.” He’d wanted an opportunity to prove to Norah that there were more important things in life than career. Judging by the nut shot she’d taken at Bob the Bastard, she absolutely wasn’t in a frame of mind to let go of that perspective. “I don’t know how much good it’ll do, though.”

“Never know until you try. You could start by going to rescue her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman look terrified of dancing with Tucker before. That’s a really impressive use of multiple left feet.”

Seeing his very nosy cousin returning with pitchers and glasses, Cam saluted Tyler and made his escape. The choice at the jukebox was easy. He made his selection and wove his way through the crowd just in time to keep Norah from crashing into another couple, as Tucker’s attempted spin completely got away from him.

“This is an intervention. You’re turning this poor woman into a weapon. Go get a beer.”

“I tried…to tell you…I can’t dance. Seriously.”

Tucker held up his hands in surrender. She started to follow him back to the table, but Cam caught her neatly around the waist and spun her into his arms as the music he’d chosen began to play. “My turn.”

She angled her head, listening to the music. “The Dance? Really?”

“Seemed appropriate.”

“Is this meant to be romantic or a guilt trip?”

“Neither. It’s nostalgic. Some things really are simple. Come here.” As he had New Year’s Eve, Cam nudged her head toward his shoulder.

She didn’t fight him. Her body curved toward his as if just as starved for contact as he was. How had it only been a month since he’d held her? It felt like years. As they circled the floor, the tension he’d noted when he’d walked in bled away, leaving her warm and pliant in his arms. He didn’t think of the town, didn’t think of the campaign, or the fact that after tomorrow she could be leaving. He thought only of how right she felt pressed against him and that he’d do almost anything to keep her there.