“We’re all heading over to Earl’s after practice today. It’s sort of a tradition before home stands. We have a post-practice dinner,” I say, taking a small step closer, testing the waters. “You should come with us.”
Campbell bites her lower lip, a hesitant but undeniably intrigued smile playing on her lips. “Will there be dancing?”
I grin, my eyes flashing as I remember the debt she still owes me. A debt I forged, sure, but one I intend to collect, nonetheless.
“There is always dancing at Earl’s.”
TWELVE
CAMPBELL
My phone rattles against my desktop, breaking my concentration. I blink to refocus my eyes after staring at a spreadsheet of regional media markets for the last two hours. Unfortunately, my focus doesn’t adjust in time for me to read the name on caller ID before I swipe to answer.
Dad.
My stomach drops, and acid crawls up my esophagus.
“Hey, Dad,” I answer, forcing my voice to sound cheerful. “What’s up?”
I lower my forehead to rest on my balled fist atop my desk.
“Campbell. I’m actually in Sweetwater.” His booming, courtroom-ready voice fills my office. I’m sure everyone hears him, from the ticket-sales booths down to Kevin’s corner office. “Just wrapped up a morning meeting. I’ve got a window before my flight, and I thought maybe my daughter might grace me with her presence. They do let you eat lunch at that place, don’t they? I was thinking we could head over to a place I saw called Earl’s?”
My heart skips a beat.Earl’s.Where the entire team is invading later tonight. The place where Jake promised me there would be dancing. Where he intends to collect his debt. The absolute last thing I need is my high-powered, judgmental, corporate attorney father dissecting the local dive bar where I’m supposed to be letting my hair down later.
“Oh, actually, Earl’s isn’t really great for a quick lunch,” I lie, shifting in my office chair. I run a quick search on my computer to see what’s open near the university during the summer and settle on a coffee shop that I know has great sandwiches. “I’m a bit pressed for time today. Why don’t we meet at the coffee shop near the school?”
“Sounds perfect. I’ll swing by to pick you up in fifteen.”
He ends the call before I can offer to meet him there.
I swap out my sneakers for black pumps, lest my father focus on my unprofessional footwear. And even though it’s warm out today, I slip on my black blazer so I’m appropriate for a business lunch. Because while he may be my father, that’s what this is. Business. It’salwaysbusiness.
I hover in the lobby until I see a white SUV pull up to the curb, then head out to the parking lot to hop into the back seat when I realize his associate, Richard, is with him.
“Oh,” I stammer as I slide in and buckle my seat belt. “I didn’t realize it was more than just us.”
“Good to see you, Campbell,” Richard says over his shoulder. His tight smile tells me he’s as uncomfortable with this as I am.
“You, too.” I reach forward and pat his shoulder. I’ve known Richard for a decade. He’s like family at this point. Hell, he’s a lot nicer to me than my father. Maybe it’s a good thing he’s at this lunch with us.
The café is only a few blocks away from the ballpark, onthe northeast corner of the university’s campus. My father pulls into one of the dozen spots usually gobbled up by students looking for free parking, and the three of us climb out of the Suburban. I meet my dad in front of the vehicle, and he gives me a one-armed side hug.
Warm fuzzies per usual.
The scent of roasted espresso beans and pastries in this place usually soothes me, but today it just feels like the backdrop to an interrogation. We order, and my father pays. Our fancy drinks actually make the bill higher than it would have been at Earl’s, and that amuses me as we move to a corner booth.
“So . . . what brings the firm out to Sweetwater? I didn’t think we were on your usual corporate radar.” I slip my jacket off and lay it in the seat next to me. I’m boiling hot.
My dad smiles, a calculating look in his eyes.
“We’re helping a client with a rather significant land deal in the area. A lot of moving parts, but it’s coming along.”
Cagey as always. If Richard weren’t here, I’d roll my eyes.
“Actually, there is something I wanted to run by you . . . about this deal, and . . . other things.”
Here it comes. I brace myself.
