That Night in Texas

by Joss Wood

  “Why did you really not want me to know about Clem?”

  Vivi looked him in the eye and shrugged. “I didn’t want you to think that I wanted your money. We do fine on our own.”

  Now that wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the complete truth, either. But he’d take the little she was prepared to give him. For now.

  “Talking about money,” Vivi said, looking ill at ease again, “I hate to do this but I need to get to the DMV on Monday to get a new license so I can get hold of some money. When I do that, Clem and I will find somewhere else to stay.”

  This again. He had a massive house, plenty of space and ample money. He could support two dozen families and consider it petty cash. He’d had many girlfriends who’d seen him as nothing more than a pretty face, a nice body and a healthy bank account. Yet Vivi wanted to prove, at every turn, how independent she was.

  It shouldn’t turn him on but it did. Hell, everything about her did—from her walk to her talk to her mouth and legs and voice and stubbornness and bravery.

  “So, would that be possible? Or, if that’s not something you want to do, could I get a loan to get there by cab?”

  She made it sound like she was asking him to invest millions in a fly-by-night start-up instead of a loan of under a hundred dollars. “I’ll drive you on Monday.”

  Then Vivi smiled at him and his heart ballooned and his pants tightened. Yeah, as he’d said before, he was neck-deep in trouble, all right. And was that an alligator snacking on his ass?

  Seven

  Vivi burst into tears when she walked through the doors of The Rollin’ Smoke. The main seating area was still covered in an inch of water, but judging by the dark stains on the walls, the floodwater had swamped the leather-covered benches within the booths and knocked over chairs and tables. Her eyes immediately examined the rare photographs of long-ago Texas that hung on the walls, and she was relieved to see that most looked undamaged. The chairs and tables and the flooring could be replaced but the photographs couldn’t.

  Clem, who sat on Vivi’s hip, patted her cheek. “No cry, Mommy.”

  Vivi felt Cam’s broad hand on her back and turned her head to look up at him. “Yeah, don’t cry, Mommy. It’s all fixable.”

  Vivi bit her lower lip. “It’s such a mess, Cam.”

  Cam’s hand drew big circles on her back. “It’s just stuff, Viv. Nobody got hurt, that’s the main thing.”

  Vivi hauled in a deep breath, grateful for his succinct and pointed assessment of the situation. He was right—it was just stuff, and everybody who worked here was okay. It was, as he said, all fixable.

  “Joe! Joe!”

  Clem’s piping, excited voice made Vivi turn. She saw Joe, her boss, friend and mentor, standing in the doorway to her kitchen, looking ten years older than before. This restaurant was his life’s work, his baby. And his employees were his family. For him, this was like losing his home.

  Vivi picked her way through the debris and walked straight into his arms, sighing when his big, brawny arms encircled her and her child. This man was her family, her sounding board, more than her own father had been. Vivi buried her face in his shirt and let the tears fall. She felt Joe taking Clem into his arms, and then his hand was rubbing her back and she felt his lips in her hair. “Shh, baby girl, it’ll be okay.”

  After a few minutes Vivi raised her face and reached for the kitchen towel Joe always kept tucked into the waistband of his pants. She wiped her eyes, sniffed and sent a worried-looking Clem a shaky smile. “It’s okay, baby, Mommy is just upset that the horrible flood made such a mess.”

  Clem pursed her lips. “So, no mac-cheese today?”

  Vivi smiled and Joe laughed. Clem always ate Joe’s specially-made-for-her pasta dish when she visited the restaurant.

  Vivi looked around at the damage and forced the question from between clenched teeth. “So, how long are we going to be out of business?”

  Joe ignored her to greet Cam, whom he’d met before. Vivi saw the speculation in his eyes, knew that he was wondering what was happening between Cam and her. She’d be getting a phone call later and demands for an explanation.

  Joe led the way into the kitchen and placed Clem on the stainless-steel counter. Vivi smiled when Cam came to stand next to the table, one hand anchoring her small thigh so that she wouldn’t tumble to the wet floor. He was already a protective dad. God help Clem when she was sixteen and wanting to date. Vivi boosted herself up onto the counter to sit next to her.

  “Are you okay?” Joe demanded, cupping her face in his big hands, his eyes skimming her face. “You said that you had an accident and that you were fine, but I know you, Vivi. You treat an in inch-deep cut as a scratch.”

  Cam opened his mouth to speak and Vivi tossed him a don’t-you-dare scowl. Joe didn’t need to know how close she’d come to death; he had enough to deal with as it was. “I’m fine, Joe. I just have a couple of bruises.” Wanting to change the subject, she looked around. “Where is everybody? I expected the staff to be here, cleaning up.”

  “It’s Sunday and I sent them home,” Joe said. “They are exhausted, and many needed to spend time at their own homes.”

  Vivi gripped the edge of the counter and asked again, “When do you think we can open?”

  Devastation flashed in Joe’s eye and Vivi’s heart plummeted into free fall. When Joe dropped his gaze from hers, ice-cold panic skittered through her veins. “Joe, what’s wrong? What’s the matter?”

  Joe placed his hands behind his head, sent Cam an uncertain look and lifted his shoulders in a small shrug. “I don’t know if I can ever open again, Vivianne.”

  Jesus! What?

  “Why?” Vivi demanded, the word almost sticking in her throat.

  “I’m underinsured. Grossly underinsured,” Joe admitted, pain and remorse coating every word. “I have some savings but I don’t think I have enough to cover the cost of another renovation.”

  Vivi lifted her fist to her mouth. “God, Joe, no.”

  Joe took her hand. “I know how much you need a job, Viv. But I’ve been making some calls and I already have positions lined up for you, at some of the best restaurants in the city.” He managed a small smile. “Some are even at better wages than what I offer you.”

  “But I don’t want to work somewhere else. I want to work with you,” Vivi said, disconsolate.

  “I was going to pass this on to you, hand over the reins in a year or two, give you some shares.” He kicked a plastic bottle floating at his feet. “Now I can give you nothing. I am so sorry.”

  Vivi saw the disgust on his face, the shame, and hopped off the counter to take his hands in hers. She waited for Joe to look at her. “Joe, you have already given me so much. You gave me a job when I was down to my last two dollars, without money to feed my baby or to buy diapers. You arranged for Charlie to look after Clem while I worked, and you looked after her when she couldn’t. You taught me to cook, you gave me a way to support myself and my child. You gave me everything!” Vivi squeezed his hands. “Don’t you dare apologize, not to me, not ever.” She shook her head, determination coursing over her. “And I refuse to work for anyone else. We are going to resurrect this place.”

  Joe shook his head. “There’s not enough money, Vivianne.”

  There was always a plan to be made, money to be found. Vivi had learned that years ago. When she was at her lowest, when she thought that she’d have to reach out to her mom for money to feed Clem, things had worked out right. The universe had yet to let her down and it wouldn’t this time, either. She would find a way to reopen The Rollin’ Smoke. It might not be as big, or employ as many people, but she’d reopen it, dammit. She just had to get creative and find a way.

  “I’ll do it, Joe. We’ll do it,” Vivi told him, her throat closing when she saw the relief in the older man’s eyes. He wasn’t alone and neither was she; they’d do
it together.

  They were a team, dammit.

  * * *

  Cam had wanted Vivi from the moment he saw her walking into that dingy bar in Tarrin, all long limbs and curly hair and wide, deep brown eyes. The sex between them had been explosive, and if he’d stuck around he would’ve been tempted to see her again.

  Three years ago he’d sensed that she was still part girl, slightly naive and innocent, but she’d told him that she was up for a one-nighter and he’d taken her at her word. But that girl was a pale version of the woman Vivi had become. As a mother, friend, employee, she was dedicated and loyal and determined. And he wanted her with an intensity that threatened to knock him off his feet.

  She was flippin’ amazing.

  But as much as he admired her, he was also a realist.

  After putting Clem into her car seat and buckling her in, Cam climbed into the driver’s seat and turned to look at Vivi as he started his car. “That was a hell of a promise you made Joe,” he said, keeping his voice mild. He knew how much it cost to set up a restaurant, having invested in one over a year ago, and he doubted Vivi had any idea of the reality of the promise she’d made.

  Vivi met his gaze and lifted finely arched eyebrows. “You don’t think I can do it?”

  Careful, McNeal, you are wandering into a minefield. “I’m coming to believe that you can do anything you set your mind to.”

  “But?”

  “Putting Joe’s place back on its feet will be a mammoth undertaking. It’ll require guts and drive and determination.” And money. So much money.

  “You don’t think I have those traits?” Vivi asked, her voice so devoid of emotion that he suspected he’d just detonated a mine. And that the explosion could only be heard in her head.

  He was still trying to choose his words when she poked his arm with her index finger. He pulled his eyes off the road and caught the fury darkening her gaze and the annoyance thinning her lips. He could handle her anger, but the disappointment in her expression—at him—slew him.

  Before he could speak, Vivi’s low-pitched voice drifted over to him. “You have no idea what I can and can’t do, McNeal. Yeah, you might have built this empire in three years but you didn’t have to do it while you were pregnant or with a baby on your hip. I left home with a hundred dollars in my pocket, scared out of my head. I had no job prospects, no skills and no one to call since my mother banished me from my family and my town. Since all my friends were part of her church, I lost them, too. I slept in shelters, and one memorable night, on the streets. Do you have any idea how terrifying it is to know you have a child who’s totally and utterly dependent on you for everything and to not know where you’re going to sleep that night, how you’re going to feed her or clothe her?”

  Vivi pointed at the restaurant, her finger shaking. “That man in there gave me a chance and then a dozen more. He taught me to cook, to create. He was my salvation and my warm place to fall. He took me in when my mother and the world spit me out. I will part seas and move mountains for him—and I will rebuild The Rollin’ Smoke—because he gave me a chance when no one else would.”

  The fierceness in her voice was a tangible force, as was the intensity in her expression. He felt like their combined effect was pressing against his chest, pushing him back into the seat. Not often at a loss for words, Cam opened his mouth to speak and closed it again, unsure where to start. He was pretty certain that Vivi hadn’t meant to open the door revealing her past, but now that she had, he’d take the opportunity to look inside. He had so many questions.

  “Your mom banished you?”

  Vivi hauled in some air and closed her eyes. When they opened again and met his, he saw a mixture of emotions flash through them—determination and sadness tinged with anger. “Yeah. She insisted that I have an abortion, that my being unwed and pregnant would be a scandal she’d never recover from and that it would diminish her standing in her church.”

  Wait...what? That didn’t make sense. “Aren’t churches supposed to be against abortion?”

  Vivi’s smile held no amusement. “Apparently, it’s an acceptable option when your position as the highest-ranking female, the moral authority, is threatened. She made it very clear that I either leave or have an abortion.”

  “Did you call her out on her hypocrisy?”

  Vivi shrugged. “Even if I had bothered to argue, nothing I said would’ve changed her mind. Besides, I’d been thinking of leaving for a while. Pregnancy forced me into action.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you get in touch with me?” Cam demanded.

  Vivi sent him a “get real” look. “I told you. I didn’t have your surname or your cell number. And you’d told me you were leaving town but you didn’t tell me where you were going. I didn’t have the first clue how to get hold of you. I thought that you were a one-off encounter, so you can imagine my shock when I saw you at Joe’s.”

  “I still don’t understand why you didn’t make contact then, why you chose not to tell me about Clem.” Most women would’ve been all over him like a rash, demanding, at the very least, substantial child support. Even Emma now found him socially acceptable. She’d contacted him shortly after her divorce, wanting to reignite what they’d once had.

  Money, it seemed, made a lot of wrongs right.

  Vivi turned around, took a long look at Clem, who was half dozing in her car seat, and handed him a cool, pointed look. “I can give Clem everything she needs, Cam.”

  Sure, maybe she could. She could feed her and clothe her and send her to school. But she couldn’t give Clem the one thing he’d needed the most growing up. “But you couldn’t give her a father, Vivianne. So answer this—if you didn’t nearly die yesterday, would you ever have reached out to me? Told me about her?”

  Vivi’s silence was all the answer he needed. Cam looked away, annoyed and confused. He was angry, sure, but he also thought that, maybe, her instinct to keep Clem from him was right. What type of father was he going to be? He was a driven workaholic, someone determined to show the world that a McNeal could be successful, that a McNeal could hold on to a dollar for longer than a millisecond, that a McNeal could build a business, keep a job. He didn’t know how to be a parent, to think about someone else, to put a child first. He’d spent most of his life looking after himself. He had no reference point, having come from a long line of messed-up, childish, irresponsible men.

  Feeling sad, annoyed and totally at sea, Cam accelerated away. He had a child, he was a father and he was also totally in lust with Clem’s mother. So where to go from here?

  Back to River Oaks, he supposed, not that he would find any of the answers he needed there. It was just a house, not a home.

  * * *

  Vivi made it to Tuesday night without ripping Cam’s clothes off and doing him against the nearest wall—which was not an easy feat. Also equally heroically, she managed not to put a pillow over his face when he was sleeping. Alternating between lust and annoyance, she felt like she was not only living her life in someone’s else’s house but also on a knife-edge. She was mentally exhausted; all she wanted was a break. From feeling horny and from insisting that Cam keep his credit card in his wallet.

  “You cannot buy me a car, McNeal.”

  Cam, recently returned from dropping Clem off at Charlie’s, looked up from buttering his toast and grinned. “How do you plan on stopping me, Donner?”

  Semantics. “You can obviously buy me a car. I just don’t want you to,” Vivi responded, trying to hold on to her patience. “My insurance money should be in soon and if transporting Clem is a problem—”

  “Which it’s not.”

  Vivi ignored his interruption. “—I can take a taxi. But the point is, you cannot buy me a car.” She pushed away the brochures he’d handed to her, knowing that if she looked at his suggestions, she might have a harder time saying no.

  “No. A thousand ti
mes no. You cannot spend money on me.”

  “Why not? ” Cam slapped jam on his toast, took a bite and chewed, his eyes dancing. He wasn’t taking her seriously, dammit! “It’s just money. I’m paying to have Clem’s room turned into a nursery and you worked with the interior designer on Clem’s room.”

  “Worked with” was overstating her involvement in the process. Yesterday, after visiting the DMV and her bank, she’d watched as a crew of men delivered a rocking chair, a bed and a chest of drawers to the room opposite the master bedroom, the one two doors down from her own. The interior designer—some bright-eyed blonde Vivi was convinced had shared sheet time with Cam—asked her whether Clem was a pink or neutral baby. Vivi told her that her daughter liked bright colors, but Clem’s room was now a masterpiece in beige and cream. Clem didn’t like her new room, which was why she still shared Vivi’s big bed. Vivi was okay with that—if Clem slept with her, there was less chance of her inviting Cam to do the same.

  “Clem doesn’t seem to be particularly enthralled with her new room,” Cam commented.

  It’s rich but it’s as boring as hell. As dull as dishwater. But Cam was proud of what he’d done for Clem, so she couldn’t hurt his feelings. “She’s only two, Cam. And she likes the books.”

  There were lots of books in her new room, and Vivi was grateful to have new material to read to Clem at night.

  “You could’ve saved yourself a fortune if you’d just spoken to me instead of going through your bland interior designer, but—”

  Cam placed his piece of toast on his plate. “Bland? She decorated every room in this house.”

  “And it’s beautiful,” Vivi quickly responded. It was utterly gorgeous, but...

  “But...? I can hear your but.”

  Vivi winced and decided that he was a big boy, he could handle the truth. “But it has absolutely no personality. There’s nothing of you in this house.”

  Vivi thought she heard Cam murmur “exactly,” but that didn’t make any sense. Why wouldn’t he want to live in a house that reflected who and what he was? His house should be filled with bold colors, interesting pieces of art, tactile accessories. Cam McNeal was anything but bland.