Authors: Dakota Cassidy

Tags: #Romance, #Fiction

You Dropped a Blonde on Me (9 page)

BOOK: You Dropped a Blonde on Me

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Finley’s lips rippled his displeasure. “If you and your hag of a mother would stop filling his head with lies, there’d be no question about whether he wants to see me or not!” he shouted.

Jake wiggled his back end, lowering the upper half of his long, lumbering body to display his discontent. A drop of saliva fell from the corner of his big, slobbery mouth. Campbell gave him a tug upward, pulling Jake behind him until he completely shielded Maxine from Finley. “I can’t believe you blame a cute little old lady for your crappy parenting. I think it’s time you roll, buddy.”

“Was that a threat?”

“Did it feel like one?”

Fin’s eyes narrowed. “I think it did.”

“I thought cars were your thing. Seems like maybe it’s rocket science.” Though Campbell’s face remained impassive and outwardly unimpressed, she felt his tension, saw the muscles in his back flex. That she took a moment to note there were two very different sides to Campbell Barker was a testament to how he’d affected her in just the matter of a day. He’d thrown a gauntlet down on her behalf, and it left her all atwitter.

However, it was so on if the look on Finley’s face was on point. Maxine knew she had to step in and step in fast. It came naturally, saving the man she’d been married to for twenty years from all forms of kerfuffles. Finley’s temper was legend. She was keeper of the legend.

She’d been smoothing things over to keep peace with anyone who got Fin’s goat for a very long time, and the habit was hard to break. “Campbell?” She wrapped her fingers around his upper arm, noting the bulk, fighting the urge to revel in its smooth texture. “I think we have to go. Isn’t
Dog the Bounty Hunter
on tonight? We don’t want to miss that. I mean,” she gave him a pointed look, “it’s
Dog
.”

In an instant, Campbell was once again the man she’d been reunited with in the parking lot of the Cluck-Cluck Palace. His eyes cleared from the haze of anger, and his broad shoulders relaxed. With his free hand, he used an index finger to trail a gentle line down her nose. “You’re right. I’d be so disappointed if we missed
Dog
.” Turning to Fin, he smiled and said, “So I guess we’re out. I assume you know the way back to the gatehouse. And if not, I bet that fancy GPS can tell you.” Entwining his fingers with Maxine’s, they left a frustrated, red-faced Finley in their wake.

While they plodded back up the hill to the tune of Fin’s car going in the other direction, Maxine had to fight to keep from sighing in girlish bliss. Campbell’s hand, callused, tanned, swallowing hers up whole, offered a security she was pretty sure she’d never quite experienced in this way.

And she had to remind herself she wasn’t up for any more experiences just now. “You can let go now,” she said with a quick glance over her shoulder. “He’s gone.”

But Campbell’s grip became tighter. “He’s an ass.”

“Yeah. He’s an ass.” She showed her solidarity, quiet in tone, completely unconvincing, but solidifying nonetheless.

“Any reason in particular you’re so afraid of him?” He asked the question with a ring of protectiveness to his voice.

“I’m not . . . afraid.” Not at all.
I’m careful.

“You’re not exactly not afraid.”

Her sigh was jagged and embarrassed. How could she possibly explain the kind of Vulcan mind meld her soon to be ex had on her? It made no sense to rational human beings of sound mind and body. She knew that, yet she couldn’t begin to describe the kind of uproar Fin left her stomach in every time she had to deal with him, during their marriage and in its current aftermath. “Finley’s imposing. He—I—”

“Imposing isn’t the word I’d use. Showing his ass is.”

“That’s more than a word.”

“He’s more than a word, Max. He’s a lot of words. Some I probably shouldn’t repeat in front of a lady.”

She giggled. “It’s okay. I say them in my head about him all the time.” If only she could use her outdoor voice when she thought them.

Still holding her hand, Campbell stopped when they reached Mr. Hodge’s, handing over Jake’s leash. Dusk had begun to settle, the pink and orange sky reflecting in his blue eyes. “Then why don’t you say them out loud and
to
him? He needs a good verbal assault.”

Looking down at her sneakers, Maxine fidgeted in his grasp. “You don’t know Finley.”

“And I don’t think I want to. So why do you let him talk to you like that?”

Because each and every time she thought she just might have the market cornered on giving him a piece of her mind, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth like it had been freshly tarred there. Factor in her lack of quick retorts for the circles Fin was so good at talking, and she always stumbled. “What good does it do to argue with him? It’s better if I just leave well enough alone.”

“Better for who?”

Me, me, me.
“Well, Connor, primarily. How would it look if his father and I got into a fistfight in the middle of a senior citizens’ village? If word got out, and if you know these women in the village, it would, how can I possibly preach to him that fighting isn’t the answer?”

“Nobody said anything about fists. I’m just talking about standing up for yourself. He talks to you like he owns you. Like he has every right to be in your business, but you have absolutely no rights at all to his.”

She held up a hand to correct him, then let it fall to her side with a slap of her thigh. Campbell was right. Her entire marriage had been based on Fin having all the rights, and her having none. How that had come to be deserved at least a little research.

Tipping her chin up, his blue eyes settled on hers. “The way I see it, he was your husband for a long time, but he isn’t anymore—or he won’t be soon. He’s Connor’s father. Sure, that entitles him to certain things, though he definitely doesn’t behave as though he deserves any rights to his kid at all. But
you’re
Connor’s mother, not just the vessel he deemed important enough to procreate with. You have just as many rights as he does. Big money or not. You can give him hell right back, and you shouldn’t have to fear retribution if you do. He can’t take anything else away from you, right? He’s got all the money. He’s got all the power. As far as I can see, speaking your mind is all you have left.”

Ouch. Maxine winced, lifting her chin up and out of his strong hand. “I just have trouble expressing myself.” But only with Fin. He steamrolled her with his slew of words and fast and furious potshots.

“Having an opinion about how he’s treated you is more than fair, if you ask me. If I were you, I’d be pretty pissed off at what he’s done. Yet, I watched you shrink a couple of inches in height when he went into demand mode. This is 2010, Max. You don’t have to walk ten paces behind him.”

She didn’t. Okay, maybe she walked five or so, but definitely not ten. That was an exaggeration.
Wasn’t it?
Shaking her head, Maxine decided to change course again. “Why are you getting so worked up about it? Why do you care how my ex-husband talks to me?”

“Almost ex-husband,” he corrected with a half smile, “and the Max I knew would have run up one side of him and back down the other. I guess I was just surprised at how you jumped at the chance to pacify him instead of telling him to take his shitty attitude back to his mini-mansion and barely-beyond-jailbait girlfriend. The Max I knew once gave a bully a thorough tongue-lashing in front of a whole gymnasium of students because he had the ’nads to call Mindy Weirtz flat-chested in front of you.”

Maxine’s head cocked to the left, calling up the memory. She had read Leon Matheson the riot act, hadn’t she? Like she’d written it herself. A small smile lifted her lips upward. “I liked Mindy. She was always nice to me. She helped me with my algebra. I sucked at math.”

“So you don’t like ‘you’ enough to at least have even a small, angry protest on your behalf? I wonder what the old Max would have to say about that?” he pondered out loud, giving her a questioning glance that held a challenge.

Oh, fuck the old Max. The old Max had that kind of energy. The new, now older, far less firm, sans pom-poms and rhinestone-bedecked tiara
Maxine
didn’t. Instead of reacting, she chose to change tactics. Divert, distract, defuse. The three “Ds” to winning any battle successfully. You didn’t need an opinion or a quick retort to do that. “Want to share how you know so much about me and my pending divorce?”

Campbell smiled, deeply grooved dimples popping up on either side of his mouth. “It’s like you said, the women here talk. That I happen to be in their space when they do is merely coincidence. And in case you’re wondering, they all think your almost ex is a—”

“Penis-less wonder.” Maxine chuckled, breaking the tension beginning to creep between them. “Well, thanks for sticking up for me. I promise in the future I’ll work on being a big girl and sticking up for myself.”

“I’d say you owe me that cup of coffee for beating that jackass about the head and shoulders with my sharp tongue and pithy wit.”

Her tongue darted over her parched lips in nervousness. “Thank you isn’t enough?”

Campbell let her hand go, but his smile didn’t leave his face. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he said, “Nah. I gave your almost ex a verbal lickin’. That’s worth at least a cup of coffee.”

If she said anything right now, Maxine knew she would stammer—knew it. Yet she opted to open her mouth anyway. “I—well, I’m—busy. I mean—I can’t—because I’m busy and—”

The space between them diminished before she knew what was happening—his face, handsome and hovering, quite suddenly directly in front of hers, cutting off her babble. The graze of Campbell’s lips on hers, shocking and wonderful all at once, left her startled and overheated. They were firm but soft, and so hot she found herself wanting more, leaning into him, forgetting Jake and feeling only the gut-deep reaction his mouth evoked.

The moan that almost slipped from her mouth into his was stifled when Campbell began to back away, still smiling. “I didn’t invite you for a night of floggers and ball gags, Max, just a cup of coffee. I’ll call you,” he said with a deep chuckle, turning and heading back down the road before she could say no.

Maxine looked down at Jake, her heart crashing so loud, she heard it in her ears. “Whaddya think a ball gag is, Jake?”

Jake growled up at her.

“Yeah, I feel the same way,” she agreed with his assessment of the situation, shrugging her shoulders. “Some things you’re just better off not knowing, eh, pal?” Duplicating the sharp tug Campbell had given him, she tried to pull Jake back down the hill.

Instead of following merrily behind her like she was the Pied Piper of all things big, four-legged, and drooling, Jake flopped down on the pavement, put his nose between his paws, and groaned.

Wrapping the leash around her wrist, Maxine gave a gentle yank. “Aw, c’mon, Jake! It’s hot. I’m tired. I’m hungry. So hungry I swear I’ll eat your dog biscuits if you don’t cooperate. Now move it, buddy!”

Jake sighed.

She put her hands behind her back, placing the leash between them and pulled with a grunt as sweat trickled between her breasts. “Jake, you beast. Get up!”

A whistle came from the distance, sharp and clear, and then someone called out, “Jake! Get a move on, boy!”

She sighed. Campbell.

Jake was on his feet in a half second flat, moving toward Max at breakneck speed. She squinted into the fading sunlight to see Campbell’s broad back becoming a distant dot just before she was dragged back down the hill.

What did a girl have to do to get a little respect?

Be Campbell Barker
. . .
You know. Your booooyfriend who kisses like a dream?

Oh, shut it, would you?

Lenore Erickson eyed the caller ID on her phone and blew out a breath of angry air. She thrummed her fingers on the base of the phone, wondering where her receptionist, Delores, was. A glance at the clock on the wall told her. Lunch. Delores never missed lunch.

She ran a hand through her hair, shaking off the stray dark strands with disgust when they pulled from her scalp.

And the phone continued to ring.

Clearly her sister Lacey wasn’t giving up.

BOOK: You Dropped a Blonde on Me

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