by Eve Gaddy
She’d believed Avery, too. Believed he loved her, believed he’d take care of her. He’d taken care of her all right.
Given that example, she should be more cautious with Cameron. She had been tempted, really tempted to give him Avery’s name. To let him share some of the burden. Which was idiotic. She didn’t know him. Even if he seemed decent, it didn’t mean he really was.
But she didn’t have a bad feeling about Cam. Honestly, she thought he was just what he seemed. Of course, she had a history of believing the wrong men, stretching back to when she was sixteen and had unknowingly taken a ride in a car. She’d graduated from trusting a car thief to trusting a killer. Or at the least, an abuser.
Was Cam trustworthy? If he wasn’t trustworthy, then he was fooling a lot of people. Unlike Avery, Cam was a public person. Everyone knew him, and as far as she could tell, everyone turned to him. Family, friends, employees. Surely they couldn’t all be wrong about the man.
Plus, he lived in a fishbowl. A small town wouldn’t be easy to hide in. Unlike a city the size of Houston, where everyone minded their own business.
Why hadn’t she seen it with Avery? He’d begun isolating her, but subtly, even before the wedding. He didn’t like her friends, never wanted to go out with them. And the wedding, just the two of them at the JP. A very had said it would be more romantic that way.
She’d rarely met anyone else when she was with him. He’d taken her places, but always alone. Never with either of their friends. He’d weaned her away from her friends, in fact. Which should have set off alarm bells. But she’d wanted to believe him, and she had. Fool that she was.
Finally, she was satisfied that Avery was still alive. But there was something else she needed to research. Something that had driven her to get away from Avery at all costs. If it was true… She typed in a new name and went back to searching.
“How’s it going? Any luck?”
She looked up to see Cam standing in the doorway. She had just closed out the search, deleted the history from the computer. She rubbed her neck and sighed. “As far as I can tell, there’s nothing about him in the obituaries. And I didn’t see any news stories either. I think he’s alive.”
Which should have been a relief. In a way it was. Much as Avery might deserve it, especially if what she suspected was true, she hadn’t wanted to think she’d been responsible for his death. Accidentally or not, she couldn’t deal with thinking she’d killed someone.
“Okay, that’s good, isn’t it? So now you can get some sleep.”
She bit her lip as another unwelcome thought came back to her in full force.
“What’s wrong now?” He sounded cranky. She couldn’t blame him; he was bound to be tired. “He’s not dead. Doesn’t that set your mind at rest? Now you can forget him.”
She wished. “If he’s not dead, he’ll be looking for me.” He’d be furious she left him, furious she’d managed to get away. Beyond his reach, out of his power. She shivered, thinking about what he’d do if he caught up with her.
“You’re a long way from Houston. Why would he look for you here? And you’re not using your real name, which makes it harder to trace you.”
“I know. But it would be just like him to hire someone to find me. Or report me as missing to the police.” To his buddies in the department.
She was no young, naive fool. She’d been alone for years now, and a lot of people had tried to take advantage of her. She should have realized what Avery was. Or at least recognized he wasn’t what he pretended to be. Why had she fallen for his lies?
Because she’d been lonely. And he’d been very smooth, she had to admit.
Far too smooth to let slip any proof that he’d murdered his first wife. But she didn’t know that for sure. Even if a sick feeling in her stomach said it was true, she couldn’t prove it.
“After what he did to you, you think he’d go to the cops? Wouldn’t he be worried you’d bring charges against him? He locked you up, kept you against your will. That’s a crime in anyone’s book.”
“No, he won’t worry. He’ll just deny everything. He’s a respected—” she halted before she said too much. “He’s respected. He’s got connections. It’s my word against his and guess who will lose in that scenario.”
He frowned. “You’re forgetting your bruises.”
She brushed that aside. “That won’t matter.” He’d think of a way out of that.
“I know someone on the police force here. Let me take you to her. She’ll help.”
Too upset to sit still, she got up and paced. “No. I can’t risk the police. I just…can’t.” She’d seen the statistics on battered women. The most dangerous time was when you ran. And if your abuser found you— If she went to the police, he’d find her for sure. Then he would come after her.
And she would die.
Cam got up as well. “Look, we can’t do any more tonight. Let’s get some sleep and you think about what you want to do. We can talk it over in the morning.”
“All right. Is there something you want me to do tomorrow, since the restaurant is closed? Inventory? Laundry?” After all he’d done for her, the least she could do was offer to help on her day off.
“We’ll see in the morning. I’ve got to get up early. I’m supposed to help fix the storm damage on the community center. My brother-in-law Mark conned me into it.”
“I shouldn’t have kept you up so late,” she said, feeling guilty. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“It’s no big deal. I’ve gotten by on less sleep. Besides, losing a little sleep is better than having you pacing the floor all night.”
They went upstairs. She touched his arm to stop him before he went to his room. His arm was solid, the skin warm. “Thank you.”
“You’ve already thanked me. Several times.” He looked annoyed. “You don’t need to thank me every ten seconds, Delilah.”
“This time I’m thanking you for something different.” They stared at each other. Delilah was very aware of him, of his scent, the feel of his arm, so steady, so…comforting. “Thank you for believing me.”
She looked at him, at his mouth, conscious of a tingle of awareness, of attraction. What would it be like to kiss him? Would his mouth be soft, hard? Would it be slow? Or fast and reckless? He was staring at her mouth, she realized. Maybe he was thinking about it, too.
“Delilah.” His voice was husky. Deep.
“What?”
For a long moment he didn’t speak. “Nothing. Get some sleep,” he said, and went to his bedroom.
She sucked in an unsteady breath. What was going on? Could she really be falling for a man she’d met only a few days before? Her life was still in turmoil from the last mistake she’d made. And Cam had made it clear he wasn’t looking for anything romantic with her. He thought she was too young for him. Way too young, he’d said. She should be glad of his friendship, and stop thinking about the attraction she was finding it harder and harder to deny.
Besides, there was a very good reason she couldn’t get involved with Cameron Randolph—she wasn’t free of Avery. And since she couldn’t let him find her, she wasn’t likely to be free of him any time soon. If ever.
CHAPTER FIVE
DELILAH WAS SITTING at the table reading the classified ads when Cam returned from working at the community center the next morning. “How did it go?”
He wore a pair of jeans with one knee ripped out and a short-sleeve T-shirt that had definitely seen better days. “Let’s just say I’m glad I’m finished. I hate roofing. Construction is not my thing.”
Maybe not, she thought as he opened the refrigerator door and stood with his back to her, but his body looked like he wasn’t unfamiliar with physical labor. He had a great set of muscles. All she had to do was close her eyes and remember what his bare chest had looked like. She drew herself up with a start. What was she doing, fantasizing about Cam’s bare anything? That was only asking for trouble.
He got a carton of orange juice out o
f the refrigerator and poured a large glass, then took a seat at the table.
“Want ads or apartments?”
She glanced at him warily. “Neither. I was reading the personals. Do I need to look for a new job?”
“Not as far as I’m concerned.”
“And the apartment?”
A corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “You can stay here as long as you need to.”
“Thank you.” A good thing, too, since just as Cam had predicted, there was no available housing in Aransas City. She’d been awfully lucky to choose his place to break into. For a number of reasons.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do? Are you going to the cops?”
She didn’t want to talk about it but knew she had to. “No.” She’d thought about it long and hard and decided that going to the police wasn’t possible. “I can’t do that. If I do that, he could find me. I won’t risk it. I’m going to pretend he doesn’t exist.” And pray he didn’t find her and come after her.
Cam seemed about to say something, then shrugged. “All right, if that’s what you want.”
“You think I’m wrong, don’t you?”
“Doesn’t matter what I think. It’s your decision. I already told you I thought you should tell the cops what the bastard did to you.”
“I—can’t.”
He looked at her for a minute before he nodded. “Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.”
“I won’t.” No, she meant to put Avery Freeman firmly in her past.
He drank some juice. “So, what are you reading? That’s the Aransas Bay Port o’ Call, isn’t it?” he asked. The local newspaper covered several of the small towns in the area. Port Aransas, Aransas City, Rockport, Fulton. She wasn’t sure what other towns it covered.
“Yes,” she said, grateful for the change of subject. She read aloud, “A drunken B. was escorted out of the Neon Moon in Port Aransas. His wife was overheard to say that if he did it again he’d be sleeping in the sand dunes.” She looked up at him, laughing. “Is this for real?”
“Oh, yeah.” He grinned and drank more. “The Port o’ Call prints all the gossip from every little town around here. They always use initials, though, and not the right ones, either. But everyone knows who they are. That’s about old man Piper. He ties one on about once a month, and his wife always threatens him with the sand dunes.”
The Port o’ Call was about the strangest newspaper she’d ever seen. But then, she was used to big city newspapers. “I’ve never lived in a small town. It must be interesting.”
“It can be. If you like everyone knowing your business, or thinking they do.” He drained his juice and got up to take the glass to the sink.
“I need to ask a favor. Where do I get laundry detergent? I used the last of yours and I have to wash.” With only one change of clothes, and one of them borrowed, she would be washing daily.
He turned around and looked her up and down, frowning. “You need more clothes. I should have thought of that. I’ll take you to buy some and we can go by the grocery store after that. Monday’s grocery day anyway.”
“Thanks, but I can’t afford any more clothes. I’ll be fine with what I have.”
“I’ll lend you the money.”
“No. It’s nice of you, but I don’t want to spend any more than I have to. I need to save, not spend.”
He looked annoyed. “I’m not saying you have to buy out the store, but you need some clothes. I don’t mind lending you the money.”
“I don’t—” Frustrated, she started again. “I’m already indebted to you for giving me a job. And a place to stay. I’m not about to take your money for something frivolous when I can’t even pay you rent yet.”
“Damn it, a couple of shirts and some underwear aren’t frivolous.”
She said nothing, just set her jaw and looked at him.
“Fine. If you want to be stubborn, have at it. I’m going to take a shower.”
He came back a little while later and picked up the keys he’d thrown on the counter. “Let’s go.”
“Where?” she asked suspiciously.
“Just get in the truck,” he told her. “Do you have to argue about every damn thing?”
She didn’t think she was being argumentative. She was being practical. If he didn’t like that, too bad. Insulted, she followed him down the stairs and out to his truck. Her resolve not to speak lasted until they passed a small grocery store just a few blocks away.
“Is that where you shop?”
“Sometimes.” But he didn’t stop. Again, they both lapsed into silence. He continued driving until they reached the next town to the south, where he pulled into the parking lot of a discount store.
Delilah stared at him. “Are you deaf? I said I didn’t want to borrow money from you.”
“I heard you. You’re not borrowing from me. I’m giving you the clothes.”
“No, absolutely not. I can’t accept something like that from you.” No way would she go down that road to ruin. She already owed him more than she could repay.
He ground his teeth and frowned at her. “Look, I’m not having one of my employees show up day after day in one of two shirts. It makes it look like I’m not paying you a living wage. Which, while true, isn’t anybody’s business. So you either go in there and pick up a few shirts and another pair of jeans and some underwear or I’ll go in myself and buy them. And knowing women, you won’t like what I pick. That’s your choice, take it or leave it.”
They glared at each other, each unwilling to give in.
After a moment, his expression softened. “Delilah, let me do this. Trust me, it’s not a big deal.”
“All right,” she said finally. “But I’m paying you back.” As soon as possible.
“We’ll argue about that later.”
WHOSE BRILLIANT IDEA was it for him to wait in the lingerie department while Delilah tried on stuff? Cam wondered. He should have waited somewhere else. Anywhere else. Because he couldn’t help thinking about what Delilah would look like in some of those skimpy little numbers. He closed his eyes and swore under his breath. Bad idea, thinking about Delilah and underwear. Really bad idea.
“Cam?”
Hearing his name called, he turned around to see Maggie Barnes, an old friend of his, pushing her cart toward him. Her long red hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her face was bare of makeup, and she wore old jeans and a T-shirt. Still, even dressed like that, she was a pretty woman.
“Hey, Maggie. How’s it going?”
“Can’t complain.” She looked in his cart and raised an eyebrow. “I guess you can’t either. New girlfriend?”
“Huh?” He looked down. His cart was filled with an assortment of female items, three pairs of women’s panties topping them. He damn near blushed. “No, just waiting on a friend.”
She gave him a skeptical glance. “You haven’t started cross-dressing, have you?”
He laughed. “No fear of that. I’ll stick to men’s clothes. Besides—” he gestured at the panties “—they’re not my size.”
“They do look a little small,” she said with a smile.
“Day off?” he asked, since she wasn’t wearing her uniform. Maggie had moved away for several years, then about five years ago had returned, apparently for good, and joined the small Aransas City police force.
“No, I’m working the graveyard shift tonight. I had to come get something for Dad before I went in.” She rolled her eyes. “He decided he had to have a new cooler for the fish, though why he thinks he needs it now when he can’t possibly go out for several more weeks is beyond me.”
Maggie’s father was a fisherman who’d recently broken his leg, and from what Cam had heard, he’d been running his daughter ragged looking after him.
“How is he doing? He hasn’t been in to the restaurant since he hurt his leg.”
“He’s doing all right, thanks. Just cranky,” she said with a laugh.
“Cam, do you know where the—�
� Delilah stopped beside him, carrying a pair of jeans over her arm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“That’s okay. Delilah, this is Maggie Barnes. Maggie, Delilah Roberts.” They nodded at each other and Cam added, “Delilah’s new in town. She’s working at the restaurant.”
Maggie looked at the cart, then gave Delilah a slow perusal, finally turning back to Cam. “Definitely not cross-dressing.” Then she whispered, “A little young, isn’t she?”
“Maggie—” he started to say something else, but then he shrugged and didn’t. He wasn’t going to explain that he and Delilah didn’t have anything going, like Maggie clearly thought. For one thing, it was none of her business.
Maggie ignored him and turned to Delilah. “How are you liking Aransas City?”
“It’s a nice town,” Delilah said.
“Plan on staying long?”
“I’m not sure,” Delilah said and glanced at Cam.
“I imagine Cam will have something to say about that. Well, I gotta get going. See you around, Cam. Nice to meet you,” she said to Delilah and walked off.
“What did she mean, you’d have something to say about how long I stay in town? Why did she say that?” Delilah asked him.
He picked up a pair of panties from the cart and dangled them from his fingers. “Probably because of these.”
“Sorry. It’s your fault, though. You were the one who insisted I buy clothes.”
“That’s right. Because you needed them.”
“Well, it’s your problem, not mine. But I expect you can handle your girlfriends. According to gossip, you don’t have a problem with that.”
Cam wondered what she’d heard. No telling what Martha and Rachel had told her. “Maggie’s not my girlfriend. She’s an old friend of mine.”
“I got the feeling she was more than that.”
Cam shook his head. He saw no reason to explain they’d once been involved. The physical part of their relationship was over a long time ago.
“Maybe she’d like to be.”
He laughed. “Trust me, she wouldn’t.”
