Pitch Perfect (4 page)

“Well, I’m in a hurry to get to practice, so I’ll take care of myself.” Cam stood up and reached into his back pocket for his wallet, but while he was pulling out some money he remembered seeing a look of panic come over Mia’s face and he suddenly wondered if she was short on cash. He frowned. Chicks like her usually put everything on a card anyway. Something felt odd and his instincts were rarely wrong. “Hey, I’ll pay for hers too,” Cam said and gestured to Mia’s half-eaten meal.

“Sweet of ya,” Myra said with a nod that sent her big hoop earrings swinging back and forth. She accepted the money with a smile.

“Keep the change.”

“Thanks, sugar. Now, get your butt on over to practice. We want another winning season.”

“Will do.” Cam thought Myra was a pretty cool chick for someone who must be in her fifties. She wore hippie kind of clothes and said just about whatever she wanted. He liked down-to-earth, honest people like her. He also learned that this diner had belonged solely to Myra before she retired and handed the reins over to her niece Jessica, who was married to Ty McKenna. They had a little baby that Jessica often carried around in a pouch strapped to her chest while she worked. According to Coach McKenna, Jessica was a kick-ass chef at a popular restaurant in Chicago before coming home to take over the diner. She had an older daughter who worked at the diner on occasion but was some kind of writer, if he remembered right, and she was engaged to Jason, the friendly dude who was building a beer garden on the upper deck of the stadium.

Small towns,
Cam thought as he walked out the door and into the sunshine. Everybody knew everybody and had some kind of connection, and if you listened closely enough you could learn just about everything about everybody. There was some backstabbing, but most of the gossip was on the friendly side. People were all smiles and waved to one another. He, on the other hand, had grown up in a trailer park and wasn’t used to such warm fuzzies. Sure, some of his neighbors had been good people, but others . . . well, not so much. And the rich clients he had cleaned pools for were for the most part arrogant assholes, or at least he felt that way. Daughters and even some wives would come on to him, and yet he would always be the culprit, often getting fired for no reason other than jealous husbands or fearful fathers. Yeah, he admittedly had a prejudice where wealth was concerned, which brought his mind back to Mia. She didn’t seem like she would dine and dash, but when Cam looked around the parking lot, he didn’t spot a luxury vehicle, which she surely would be driving.

“Really?” Cam mumbled under his breath when he spotted her very blond head inside the driver’s side of a beat-up old Toyota. With a frown he walked her way. “Hey,” he said and leaned down toward the window. She yelped and put her hand over her mouth but then frowned.

“Did you have to sneak up on me?” she accused in a snooty tone that grated over his nerves.

“Sorry, but you were taking forever and I have to get to ball practice,” he replied tersely before noticing the heap of change piled in her lap. So she was counting pennies to pay for lunch? Something wasn’t adding up. Cam felt a stab of compassion, and his anger immediately cooled. All too often he had witnessed his mother scrounging for coins to pay for something as simple as a meal from the value menu at a fast-food restaurant.

“Oh,” she said in a softer tone and then chewed on her bottom lip while she stared at the small heap of change. When she raised those big eyes to look up at him, Cam knew that she was short.

Cam remembered the same look in his mother’s eyes and was glad he had paid for Mia’s meal. He also knew pride, so he tried to choose his words carefully. “Look, don’t be pissed, but I was in a hurry so I tossed down some cash. It took care of both of our tabs.”

“Thank you.” The arrogant tone was replaced with throaty emotion that she failed to mask.

Cam rested his hand on the roof of the car and leaned closer. “Are you okay?” he asked, and though he knew he shouldn’t get involved, those big blue eyes were drawing him in. Although she nodded, she also swallowed hard, and as sure as he was standing there, Cam knew that Mia was in some sort of situation. Someone as gorgeous as her might be running from some rich bastard. It would explain the crappy car but expensive clothes and jewelry. He hoped she wasn’t being stalked or threatened and on the run.
Not your problem,
his good sense whispered in his ear, and yet his mouth opened and said, “Are you sure there isn’t something I can do to help?” He wanted to bite his damned tongue for asking, but the thought of anyone harming her felt like a kick to his gut. He remembered his mother being smacked around by more than one jerk, and it was a memory that haunted him still. Cam also recalled that when he tried to step in and defend his mother, she would often turn on him instead of the hand that hit her. Getting involved meant getting hurt, and yet he still couldn’t stand to see his mother’s pain. He felt that same kind of emotional tug-of-war right now. Cam swallowed a sigh. “Mia?”

3

Going with the Flow

M
IA LOOKED DOWN AT THE PITIFUL PILE OF CHANGE IN
her lap and had to suppress a shudder. She’d thought she had more cash on her, but after paying Manny for the car, she was broke. Flat broke. For the first time in her life Mia felt the anxiety of not having enough money to cover her bill! It was horrible but humbling and made her stomach feel queasy. How on earth did people live with this fear on a daily basis? She was so close to tears for so many reasons that she couldn’t even muster up the courage to speak.

“Mia?” he persisted, his gentle but firm tone almost her undoing.

“Um . . .” She gazed up into Cam’s hazel eyes, which seemed to change from green to blue with his mood. He appeared so sincere and oozed such masculine strength that it was difficult not to take him up on his offer, but she cleared her throat and gave her hair a flip. “Thanks for the offer, but no, I’m . . . um, fine. Just having a little, uh, cash-flow problem at the moment.”

“Is there anything I can do to get you where you’re headed?” he insisted.

Again it was so tempting to ask for some money just to get her going, but she was suddenly sick and tired of depending on others for her meal ticket, and so she raised her chin with determination and gave him a negative shake of her head. “Thanks for buying my lunch, but really, I’ll be fine.”

Cam frowned and looked as if he was going to protest but then glanced at his watch and pushed away from the car. “Okay, well, good-bye, then. Have a safe trip to wherever you’re heading.”

“Thanks,” she said and gave him a weak smile. It was weird, but although she barely knew him, it felt odd to be saying good-bye. She felt a pull that she didn’t quite understand but chalked it up to her need to lean on someone for help. Well, from here on out she was going to fend for herself!

“No problem,” he said and after giving the roof of her car a pat he nodded and turned around. Once again Mia felt a sense of loss as she watched him walk away, while absently acknowledging that he had a really nice butt. After a moment she stuck the key in the ignition and said a prayer that the car would start. “Yes!” Mia said when the engine turned over, but she frowned at the stubborn check-engine light. She decided to look for a repair shop of some sort and see if the car was okay to drive, but her answer came in the form of dark smoke seeping from beneath the hood. “Smoke can’t be good,” she said to the hula dancer but then spotted a sign at the end of the block that read,
FRED’S TIRES AND REPAIR
. The car choked and sputtered, and by the time Mia made it to the corner, smoke was billowing out from under the hood. As soon as she pulled into the parking lot of the repair shop, she grabbed her purse, tugged the hula dancer from the dash, and hopped out of the car. If the car was about to go up in flames, there was no time to save her suitcase!

Mia ran toward the entrance and pushed the front door open. She frantically looked around before spotting a small worn sign taped to the counter that read,
RING BELL FOR SERVICE
. She pounded on the bell, making it ding over and over while she looked out the window at the smoking car. Finally, an ancient-looking little man clad in grease-stained work pants and a blue shirt that said
FRED
in scripted yellow meandered through the door, causally wiping his hands on an orange towel.

“All right already, you can quit your dingin’,” Fred said in a good-natured tone. “How can I help ya, little lady?”

“Oh.” Mia pulled her hand away but then gestured toward the window. “Fred, I think my car is going to blow!”

“Blow?”

“Explode!”

“Ya don’t say.” Fred peered out the window but didn’t seem to be all that alarmed.

“And my suitcase is in there,” she urgently added, hoping Fred might rescue her clothes for her. Although from the looks of him it would take both of them to heft it from the trunk of the smoking car.

“Did your car quit on ya?” he asked in that slow drawl. From talking to walking, everyone in Cricket Creek seemed to go in slow motion.

Mia gave him a jerky nod. “Yes, it just . . . died.”

“Probably locked up your engine. Put any oil in it recently?” Fred asked, but when Mia merely blinked at him, he shook his nearly bald head. Tufts of hair stuck out above his ears, making him look like Yoda. “I’m guessing not.”

“So, just what does the engine locking up mean?” she asked in a small voice.

“That you need a new one or this one rebuilt. Let’s go take a look-see.”

“But it could blow any minute!” She had a mental picture of the car bursting into flames like something out of an action film. She and Fred would go flying backward and both be knocked out cold! And she would surely scuff her shoes. The hula dancer’s head bobbed back and forth as if saying, “Don’t do it.”

“Na . . . ,” Fred scoffed as he walked around the counter and over to the door. He had an odd gait, as if his knees would no longer bend. “You coming?” When he held the door open for her, she reluctantly followed at what she considered a safe distance. Mia watched him lift open the hood with his rag wrapped around his hand, and she held her breath while waiting for his verdict.

“Well?” she asked, and when it was evident that there wasn’t going to be an explosion, she inched forward and craned her neck to look at the engine.

Fred unscrewed a cap and pulled out a long stick. “Well . . . well,” he mumbled and then clucked his tongue.

“Well, what?” Mia prompted, but she had a sinking sensation in her gut telling her that the news wasn’t going to be good.

“Not a drop of oil in here, missy,” he said, clucking his tongue again and then arching a bushy eyebrow at her. “Shoulda kept an eye on it.”

“I just bought the car.” Like with her father, Mia felt compelled to defend herself, but now some of Manny’s disjointed gestures and scattered English made more sense. “So what does this mean, exactly?”

“Well, like I said . . . that engine needs to either be replaced or rebuilt.”

“Can you do that?”

“Yep, I damn sure can.”

Mia let out a sigh of relief, but then her eyes widened. “Um, how much?”

Fred nibbled on the inside of his lip, causing his mustache to twitch. “Depends on how cheap I can get an engine at the junkyard.”

“The junkyard?” That sure didn’t sound like somewhere you would want to get something as important as an engine.

“Where else can I get one? They damned sure don’t grow on trees, you know.”

Mia bristled a bit—his comment sounded like something her father might say to her. How was she supposed to know where you got car engines? “Can you give me an estimate?”

He scratched his bristly chin. “Three . . . four thousand.”

“Dollars?” Mia gasped.

“No, candy bars.” He chuckled but then sobered. “Sorry ’bout yer luck,” he said in a kind tone.

Luck? Like money, Mia never really gave luck much consideration, but she found herself sighing. She had purses that cost that much and had never given it a second thought, but now it felt like millions. “But the car isn’t worth that.”

He shrugged one slim shoulder. “It will be with a new engine. Look, I can make some calls and give you a better idea later today. I’ll search for a deal and treat ya right.”

“Thank you,” Mia said, not that it mattered. Mia shifted her purse higher on her shoulder while her mind raced. She didn’t have any money or any credit cards except for the gas card. She felt tears well up and felt her chin wobble. Her father was right: At twenty-four years of age, she wasn’t capable of taking care of herself for more than a day, much less all summer. She was going to have to tuck her tail between her legs and call home.

“Or I could buy it from ya for a few hundred dollars.”

“But then I wouldn’t have a car.”

Fred shrugged. “You could put it toward a new one,” he suggested but then looked at her with an odd expression. “You runnin’ from somethin’, girlie?”

“No! I’m . . . proving something,” she said, as if that explained how she was standing there in clothes that were worth more than her car and no cash in her wallet.

“I’m guessing you’re broke?”

“Temporarily.”

“So that’s a yes.”

“Yes,” she answered glumly. “Any suggestions?”

“Could you call somebody for help? To come and get ya or wire ya some money?”

“No,” she answered firmly. She stiffened her spine. Calling her father was not an option. “Any other thoughts?”

Fred tilted his head to the side and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Is that bracelet real?”

“Yes.”

“You could pawn it.”

Mia frowned. “You mean take it to one of those places that give you money for your valuables?”

“Yep, there’s one around the corner on Second Street.”

Mia had seen these shops on television and perceived them to be scary and seedy. She looked down at the shiny bracelet her father had given her and touched it lightly. It wasn’t the monetary value. Mia really had no concept of money . . . well, she hadn’t until now. It was the fact that her father had given it to her for her twenty-first birthday. He had been away on a business trip for her actual birthday but had brought the bracelet back with him. Like always, Mia had associated his gifts with love and couldn’t bear the thought of parting with it. There had to be another solution.

“Or you could always get a job. Hey, I’ll store the car for free until you can save up enough for the repairs.”

“That’s very kind of you, Fred.” A job sounded like fun and Mia perked up at the suggestion. “Any idea where I could work?”

“Well, what is it that you do?”

“Do?”

Fred frowned. “You know, for a livin’. What are your skills?”

“Well . . .” Mia considered that for a long moment. “I’m . . . good with people.”

“Okay.” Fred looked at her kind of funny but then nodded. “Well, that’s a start, I suppose. Good thing is that they’re hirin’ all over the place here in Cricket Creek. The baseball stadium has brought this here town back to life, and a new season is about to begin. Why don’t you grab a local newspaper, head on over to Wine and Diner, and look over the want ads? Maybe somethin’ will jump out at ya. You got enough on ya to rent a room, I guess.”

“Uh . . .”

“I recommend someplace in town where you can walk until I get your car fixed.”

“Good point,” Mia said. He seemed so concerned that it touched her heart. “But, Fred, you might want to come up with a price of just buying my car too?” She wiggled her fingers in the air. “You know, just to keep that option open.”

“Sure, as long as you have a clear title.”

“Oh . . . of course.” Mia nodded and gave him a wave of her hand like she knew what he was talking about. In that moment she knew that having her father take care of everything while she flitted around the world was not in her best interests. Yes, she had seen and done things that most people only dreamed about, but she knew very little about, well . . . real life. And it was about time she learned to take care of herself.

If only she had a clue . . .

And yet she gave Fred a confident smile like she knew just what the hell she was doing. “Thank you, Fred. I’ll get back with you,” she said in a serious tone and then extended her hand for him to shake. She tried not to wince when she saw the grease on his hands and the crud beneath his fingernails. She had hand sanitizer in her purse, so she gave his hand a hard squeeze just like her father had taught her.

Mia hefted her purse up onto her shoulder and lifted her head high while she walked down the street until she found a metal box with the local paper. She put four precious quarters in the slot and with the
Cricket Creek Courier
tucked beneath her arm, she entered Wine and Diner like she was on a mission . . . which of course she was. Mia smiled at Bella, the cute hostess, who looked at her in surprise.

“Well, hello again,” Bella said. “Decide to come back for dessert? I recommend the pecan pie made fresh this morning.”

“No, just coffee.” Luckily she had enough change for that small indulgence.

“Would you like a booth?” Now that the lunch rush was over, the restaurant was much more quiet and without a wait.

Mia thought for a second and then decided on a location where she could see what was going on since she had a lot to learn. “No, I’d prefer a seat at the counter again, if you don’t mind. I promise to be careful,” she added with a small smile.

“Sure.” Bella raised her eyebrows as if in surprise but nodded. “Go right ahead. I’m sure there’s a fresh pot of coffee brewing. I might take a break and have a cup myself. Lunch was nuts and I’m starting to hit a wall.”

“I understand,” Mia said in a soothing tone, even though she didn’t. Unless you counted shopping, Mia had never experienced having to stand on her feet all day long. She noticed a gorgeous bracelet that Bella was wearing and pointed to it. “Oh, your bracelet is stunning.”

“Thank you.” Bella smiled and raised her wrist for further inspection. “My mother designs jewelry and she made this one. Some of her pieces are over in the gift shop, and I think there is one similar to this one if you’re interested. She’s opening a shop down on the riverfront called Designs by Diamante.”