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Bio-ID was a huge company, but it was a well-oiled machine. They hardly needed me, as they had a board of directors and a slew of executives. At Blue Star, I could be more hands-on. I hadn’t thought about my vacation house being self-sufficient or profitable before yesterday. But it appealed—a new challenge calling to me to take up the reins. The one thing I was good at and enjoyed was making money.
“I won’t be coy. I’m interested in buying but have questions.”
“Yes, sir. You don’t strike me as a fool.” Atley added his empty plate to the stack in the center of the table.
The band paused between songs, and Cameron’s laugh filled the moment of silence. The cowboy had tipped her back into a low dip, and her blonde ponytail skimmed the ground. My jaw clenched, I refocused on Atley. He watched me with cool gray eyes.
“Would you show me the booth? What all you’re selling?” I came to Texas for a vacation home, and it was time I got back on track. I stood and stepped over the bench. Watching her was counterproductive.
“You want to wait and tell Cami you’re leaving?” Atley sat calmly waiting for my answer. The man must be unbeatable at poker because his expression was unreadable.
“No. She’s just my real estate agent.” The casual dismissal cost me, but she made her choice clear. I had to forget the vision of her coming as she writhed on top of me, the delicious sounds she made, and how her lips felt. Then everything would be fine.
“You sure about that?” Atley stood and settled his cowboy hat back on his head.
“I chugged a beer before eleven in the morning. Does that answer your question?” I pointed at the crushed can on top of the picnic table and turned to walk away. Not looking back was harder than I wanted to admit.
I should never have expected more from Cameron because history had shown me more didn’t exist. More camouflaged a person’s real motives. Motives like a big commission check or access to influence. Or the ultimate scam: getting half my fortune by lying all the way to the altar.
Cameron Morgan was a refresher course in a life lesson I thought I’d learned long ago.
Chapter 20
Cameron
“Tracie,thisisJethro.”I sent Tracie forward with a firm push to the small of her back.
“Nice to meet you,” Jethro, in his perfectly pressed department uniform, answered, a little dazed by the actress’s beauty.
As I’d hoped, Tracie wobbled from my shove, her high heels unsteady on the cobblestone sidewalk. And predictably, Jethro caught her with an arm around the waist before she could tumble. It was like a scene from a Hallmark movie. Complete with a charming small-town courthouse backdrop. If I’d felt less nervous about coming face-to-face with Wilson, I might have patted myself on the back for orchestrating the meet cute.
I excused myself from the happy couple. They hardly noticed, too caught up in getting to know you chit-chat and ogling each other. Matching two pretty people up was satisfying, like setting Ken next to Barbie. It worked. And if it stopped Jethro from texting me, even better.
I nodded at a sound guy fighting with a set of large speakers as I took my seat in one of the tall director’s chairs, ready for filming today’s interviews. Vacation Dream Homes had taken over the downtown square. Behind me, the red brick courthouse that Elmer had repurposed as a public art space looked regal. And in front of me, held back by barricades Jethro should be tending with my brother and the other deputies, a few dozen townspeople and tourists lingered, waiting to see what the fuss was all about. The sizeable crowd caught me off guard, in the middle of the week in Elmer.
I’d transcribed today’s interview questions onto 3x5 cards. After Saturday, I didn’t trust my memory. Not when Wilson showed up. I had too many things I wanted to say to him that weren’t for the TV cameras. The cards would keep me on task till I got him alone.
I dug around in my bag and pulled the small stack out to review them for the millionth time. Not that it would help. On Saturday, I’d not handled the talk with Wilson well. And before I could fix anything, he’d left. Up and gone. Vanished.
One of the Blue Star cowboys informed me he’d left with Atley while I’d been two-stepping. The lap around the floor with Jameson had been cathartic. I’d babysat him when we were kids, and I couldn’t count the number of times we’d danced together over the years. The interlude had helped me regain my composure, and when I’d returned to the table, ready to restart the conversation with Wilson, he’d disappeared, a crumpled beer can in his place. I’d slumped on the bench and wished for another rice crispy treat to make me feel better.
I’d botched the conversation and needed to fix it. Wincing, I recalled the awful moment I told him there was nothing between us. But he’d left without even waving goodbye. For days, I’d stewed in a soup of embarrassment and resentment.
More times than I could count, I’d picked up my phone to call him, but I’d chickened out every time. My excuse: he didn’t reach out either. Today’s shoot was going to be all stress, all the time.
I flipped through the stack of questions again without reading one. The first prickles of perspiration formed on my forehead, threatening my makeup. The unfamiliar guy in the makeup trailer, whose name I’d already forgotten, had a lighter touch with the foundation than Stephen. If the stress sweat got going, my stage makeup wouldn’t last. I plucked at my blouse, trying to fan my face.
No way I would go back in for a touch-up. Wilson was in the wardrobe RV, and I didn’t want to face him before I had to. So, I patted my forehead and upper lip with the back of my hand, hoping to erase any “glow” I might have developed.
As soon as the cameras turned off, I’d pull Wilson aside, and we’d talk. I’d practiced what I wanted to say over the last few days and had it down far better than the interview questions. I would calmly explain about small-town gossip and my aversion to it. Tell him how important keeping him as a client was to Bailey’s future. And point out that he lived in California and there wasn’t anywhere for the thing between us to go. Then I would hold out my hand and offer my friendship.
I was so going to rock adulting today—absolutely nail it!
“Why is Jethro here?” Wilson’s gruff question came from behind me. Startled, I nearly slid off my perch in the director’s chair. That sweat I’d been wishing away slicked my body, and I went from glowing to hot yoga drenched in a heartbeat.
“Crowd control.” I looked for Jethro and my brother to avoid making eye contact with Wilson. My heart beat double time, and my feet thought running might be the best plan. I was such a coward sometimes.
Jethro and Colton were both inside the barricades, facing a growing crowd on the other side. Jethro, head bent, still chatted up Tracie. And Kate spoke excitedly to Colton, her clipboard in one flailing hand. My brother stood, arms crossed, a scowl on his face. I assumed that Kate’s plan to objectify the sheriff and his deputies for ratings had hit a speed bump.
