“One for another time. Tonight is for girls only.”
As she followed Tyler into the pizzeria, Norah wondered if she was right. Was it worth grabbing onto while she could, even knowing the whole thing had an expiration date? Was the pleasure worth the ultimate pain?
If she’d had only herself to consider, maybe she could believe that. But she couldn’t, wouldn’t knowingly put Cam in a position that would build false hope for a future they couldn’t have. He’d been through enough.
~*~
“And that’s another one ticked off.” Norah made a triumphant and dramatic check on the legal pad in her lap.
Cam turned his eyes away from that lap and the slim black skirt that’d had “Barracuda” running through his head since she’d slid into his truck that morning. Why ha
d he thought this was a good idea?
“You knew exactly how that would go before we even walked in there, didn’t you?” He cranked the engine. “Down to the fact that Abe wasn’t going to listen to a word I said.”
“Yep.”
“And you let me walk in there and try to talk to him anyway.” Figuring old school Abe wouldn’t respond well to Norah’s city slicker suit and fancy shoes, Cam had thought it best to take the lead.
“I did.”
“Was that to prove a point?”
Norah smiled, and it was almost a real one. “A little. But it also set up a little good cop/bad cop. You went in there expecting him to see you as an enemy, and he did. I was a sweet little gal in need of rescuing by a big, strong, experienced man. I was no threat.”
“No threat, my ass. That was a friggin’ work of art how you herded him around to volunteering like it was all his idea. You got him to do exactly what you wanted.”
“Yes. Yes, I did.” Her lips curved in an expression of smug satisfaction that shot his internal temperature up a good ten degrees.
Cam shifted in his seat. “Objectively, I knew you were good, but I don’t think I really grasped what that meant. I honestly did not expect you to pull that off.”
“Abe Costello is hardly the first good ol’ boy I’ve ever had to deal with. The South doesn’t have the market cornered on old school male chauvinists. I made it out of there without getting my ass pinched, so I call that a win on multiple fronts.”
And that just made him think about palming her ass. Business. Stick to business. “Who’s next?”
She consulted the ever-present list. “Brister Construction.”
“That’ll be Burt Brister. Another of those good ol’ boys.”
Norah crossed her legs in that slim black skirt, drawing his eye. “Then I’ll charm him just as easily.”
Cam found that the mantle of optimism didn’t rest so comfortably on his own shoulders. In his experience, nothing worth having came easy, so he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. But despite their personal differences, he did trust Norah, and she had just successfully talked Abe Costello into coming to the coalition meeting to hear her out, so for her sake, he was trying to rein in his natural skepticism.
The huge doors of the garage that housed all the heavy equipment were closed and only one aging work truck with the Brister insignia was parked in the gravel lot when they pulled up.
“Think they’re out on a job?” Norah asked.
“Not likely this time of year. Personal vehicles would be parked around back.”
Not even a receptionist sat at the front desk when they stepped inside.
“Maybe we should come back later.”
Cam moved further inside. “Somebody’s here if the door’s unlocked. Hello?”
The clatter of plastic wheels sounded from the back and someone stepped out of an office. Burt Brister had always reminded Cam of General Custer, with the long, sandy mustache framing his mouth, a mouth that was very definitely unsmiling as he stepped forward. “Can I help you?”
“Campbell Crawford, sir. I believe you know my mother, the mayor.”