by Megan Bryce
When she nodded, Cole said, “Need my credit card?”
A pulse of anger hit her, her vision blurring, her heart speeding up. The insult of it swamped her, as if she could be bought. As if she was a child who needed Daddy’s credit card. As if she needed a sugar daddy.
She bit out, “No.”
She was a grown woman. A grown woman in financial straits but a grown woman nonetheless. She would provide for herself. Buy her own damn clothes.
“Maggie?”
She looked up at Cole and he took a step back. “Whoa. What happened there?”
Maggie looked down again, fisted her hands and took a deep, deep breath.
She said, “You hit a button.”
“By offering my credit card?”
She nodded sharply. “It’s always there, Cole. Always a question in the back of everyone’s eyes, wondering why I’m working so hard when I could just lay back and be taken care of. Because a woman like me doesn’t have to work. Surely some man would pay for the pleasure of having me at his beck and call. Depends on the man whether it would be marriage or not, but it would still be me being bought.”
Cole said, “I’m sorry.”
At his quiet acceptance, she almost cried. At his understanding that that was how the world worked, she wanted to rest her head on the counter and never lift it back up.
She asked softly, “Would you?”
He walked around the counter. “Pay to have you at my beck and call? In a heartbeat.”
She looked at him and he said, “I, like a great many number of men, would have you any way I could get you. And would expect to pay in a number of painful ways, money being only one of them.”
When her lips thinned, he said, “But just to set the record straight, I wasn’t trying to buy you for the price of a dress.”
Her heart stopped its mad rush. “It does sound silly when you say it like that.”
“Not silly. Especially when you’ve sold yourself to me once already.”
“I didn’t sell myself to you. We traded favors.”
“There’s a difference?”
Maggie said, “There was no money involved.”
“There’s just something about money, isn’t there?”
“There is indeed something about money. Which is why I don’t want yours.”
He nodded slowly as he hopped onto a stool. “This won’t work without a little bit of trust, Maggie. The benefit of the doubt that I’m not plotting ways to get you into my debt.”
“It’s not going to work. I’m using you, remember?”
“You could use me a little more.”
She leaned against the counter, put her chin in her palm. “You mean sex now.”
“I always mean sex.”
She smiled slightly. “Could I buy you?”
He raised his eyebrows and she said, “How much would it cost?”
“It doesn’t work in reverse. I’d do it for free. As we already established, I’d pay for the pleasure.”
She shook her head at him and he said, “I could mean money, too. I have it, you need it.”
“Then I would owe you.”
“You already owe me.”
She took her chin out of her palm, climbed onto one of the bar stools. “No. You owe me. This is making us even.”
“And money would tip the scales again?”
“Money would…make it something different. Turn it into something not between friends.”
He took her hand, looking down into it as he said, “Friends?”
When he looked back up, she nodded slowly.
He smiled. “Not frenemies?”
She smiled back. “Probably still frenemies.”
He shook his head. “No. I wish you all good things, Maggie. I wish you all the money you need to buy all the men you want.”
He surprised a laugh out of her and she shook her head. “That’s no fortune since I don’t want to buy any men.”
He nodded in agreement. “It’s always been lopsided, Empress. We want you; you wouldn’t stoop to wipe us off your shoe. And that question in our eyes isn’t us wondering why you don’t let some man buy you. We know why. We’re not worthy. There’s no man that would ever have enough to be worthy of you.”
“Then what’s that look I see in every man’s eyes?”
“It’s just us looking at what we can’t have. Just us wanting. Just us hoping.”
She took her hand out of his. “It looks to me like you’re all just waiting for me to get desperate.”
“Oh, there’s that, too. Definitely that.”
Her chin rose. “I never will.”
He sighed. “Yeah. But hope springs eternal.”
She rifled through the box. “You could make it harder for me. At least try to get me closer to desperate.”
“Like Harwood?”
She nearly laughed. “That’s not what he was doing. He wanted revenge, not a repeat of a very poor performance.”
He snorted. “Right.”
She looked at him. “It was a very poor performance.”
“Firstly, I don’t want to hear about it. Secondly, no one will ever believe it. Especially someone who can remember your performance.”
She didn’t argue with him. She didn’t really want to think about her and Jackson either.
She looked through the box some more and said, “I’ve got only two more contracts to go through on Monday and then I’ll be done.”
“Did everyone come in with better terms?”
“Yes. Do you have accounts with everyone?”
“Most. I’m guessing the few that I don’t, want them.”
She smiled. “Lucky for me. And for the first time in a long time, income exceeds expenses.”
“Now we just need to start making you some more cash. Those moratoriums are only for a year.”
Maggie didn’t point out the we. She said, “If only I knew someone running a profitable business light on partners.”
“What are you bringing to the table, Caldwell?”
“Diversification. You’re heavy on oil, Cole.”
He snorted. “That’s an understatement. And it’s called specialization.”
“What happened to Midland in the eighties when the price of oil crashed?”
He nodded, rubbing his mouth. “Bye-bye, empire.”
“Not if you spread it around a little.”
“I’m not looking to get any bigger. Or wider. I’m busy enough as it is.”
“Which is why you need a partner.”
He sat back, his expression calculating. “I may have a few projects I’d be willing to spin off.”
“Trade off.”
“Only if what you’re trading is established and won’t take any of my time.”
Maggie tapped her fingers on the counter. “Real estate?”
“I don’t care because I won’t be doing anything with it.”
“So what you’re saying is I give you something safer than oil, you give me something with higher returns, and I do all the work.”
He grinned. “Yep.”
“And we split profits 60-40.”
“An even fifty.”
“70-30.”
He laughed. “You’re going the wrong way.”
“I’m not going any lower than 60-40. Not if I’m doing all the work.”
She sat quietly, letting him think about it. He finally nodded. “Bring me something you’re willing to trade and I’ll look at it.”
She said “What about your debt? Do you even have any?”
“I have debt. I’ll just be able to pay it all off when the shit hits the fan.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re waiting for the price of oil to drop.”
He wobbled his head. “Not waiting, exactly. But it’ll be my clue to retire. Take a break.”
She thought about really getting into oil and said, “Are you giving me a ticking time bomb?”
“High risk-high reward, but I’m not seeing any hin
t of a turnaround yet. There’s still plenty of money to be made.”
“Where’s the danger zone?”
“In the eighties. Anything above 82, I’m profitable. I could probably keep pumping until it went below 80, squeeze some costs.”
Maggie tried to remember what the price of crude was but didn’t have a clue. Born and bred in Texas she might be but oil had never been on her horizon. “What’s it at right now?”
“105.”
She smiled at him and he smiled back. A 25 point profit was worth the risk. She agreed with him that oil would drop again. Up, down, up, down. That’s how it went.
Anyone who forgot that ended up knee deep in debt with bankruptcy breathing down their neck.
She wouldn’t forget. She never wanted to get near that monster again.
She said, “And when the price drops below eighty? What then?”
“Unless Uncle Sam goes belly up, I’ll be alright. Take my money, buy a little cottage on the coast, put my feet up and drink some beers. Maybe get a young wife who likes to wear bikinis.”
Maggie sucked in a breath. “Don’t tell me you have money sitting in treasuries earning two percent.”
He shrugged and she said, “Shit.”
He laughed at the expression on her face. He leaned forward. “You know I love it when you talk dirty.”
“I couldn’t help myself. Treasuries? A five year-old with a lemonade stand could make better than two percent.”
“It’s peace of mind. What about the young wife?”
“You’re losing money, Cole. Pay off your debt.”
“I find it helpful to have plentiful contacts, lots of people I owe money to who don’t want to see me having trouble paying them back. It’s not a lot in treasuries. Just enough. I’m not losing money on my debt.”
“Still.”
“You’re not touching my debt, Maggie.”
She sat back.
She wanted her debt gone. GONE. And it might be coloring her assessment slightly.
She would trust that he knew what he was doing. Anyone who’d been as close to bankruptcy as they’d been would have a healthy fear of it, and she could understand that his number one goal would be to keep his debt in check. If having treasuries was part of his debt plan, okay. She’d leave it be.
She said, “Why don’t you get rid of the house?”
“I don’t want to.”
“You could buy something in Midland. Go home at night instead of sleeping in a trailer.”
He said again, “I don’t want to, Maggie. And why are we focusing on my money? You’re the one we need to work on.”
“You’re right.”
She threw the papers back in the box. It wasn’t paperwork, it was busy work. Work for an admin to do. He hadn’t brought her anything juicy to look at.
She said, “I’ll come out to Midland on Tuesday and we’ll negotiate.”
“You going to stay in my trailer with me?”
“I’ll stay in a hotel.”
“I’ve got room. Underneath me.”
Maggie said, “Maybe I’ll just head on back home after I throw your body into a shallow grave.”
He shook his head. “No. Too long of a drive.”
It was a long drive. She didn’t particularly want to do it again. She especially didn’t want to do it twice in one day.
She said unenthusiastically, “I guess we can just conference.”
“That would be the most practical.”
She didn’t say it, didn’t need to since he was sitting there with the same expression on his face as she was.
Practical was boring.
Practical was a long week like the one they’d just had. Calling him for any little reason and then drooling a little when she finally saw him.
Well, a woman dying of thirst would drool over any old bucket of water.
But it did make her a little stupid. Made it a little harder to keep his lips a safe distance from hers.
Cole said, “If you’re not going to do my paperwork, what else are we going to do?”
She glanced at the recliners, then back at him. She said, “I need to make you pay for the young wife crack.”
“Maggie. Why else would I have made it?”
When Maggie got home, Ginny was walking out of Daddy’s bedroom, carrying the newspaper. “You’re home late. Did you play more video games?”
Maggie narrowed her eyes. “What do you think playing video games means?”
Ginny smiled, following her to the living room. “Definitely something dirty.”
Maggie flopped onto the couch. “It doesn’t.”
“But you wish it did.”
Maggie didn’t say anything to that. Because what would she say? She wanted what she shouldn’t. She wanted what she couldn’t.
Ginny said, “You like him.”
Maggie shook her head. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”
Ginny laughed.
Maggie picked her head up. “I like him. He’s fun. He’s…safe. I can be myself around him, I’ve always been able to be myself around him. And I don’t have to worry about it because he gives back as good as he gets.”
Ginny smiled.
Maggie said, “And I don’t like him.”
“Because?”
Because…she couldn’t remember right then.
She’d spent the day with him, the whole day again, and hadn’t wanted to leave. She’d let him kiss her again. Let him whisper dirty things into her ear.
And hadn’t wanted him to stop.
When she’d gotten into her car, he’d been looking down at her through the window.
Watching. Waiting.
And she’d been incredibly glad he hadn’t followed her down the stairs. Glad he hadn’t pushed one more time.
She wasn’t sure she would have said no again.
Twelve years was a long time. She’d done things in her life that she wished she could undo. That she would give anything to not have done. And it didn’t make any difference.
She couldn’t go back and change it. She couldn’t do anything now to make up for it. It just was and would be forever.
To not like Cole because of something he’d done years ago, that he couldn’t undo, just seemed wrong now.
Especially when she liked everything else about him.
She laid her head back down. “I don’t know. I don’t want to like Cole.”
“Because you think he’d do it again?”
“I don’t know if he’d do it again.”
Ginny said, “You should ask him.”
“I don’t think he knows if he’d do it again.”
Ginny said, “You’ve forgiven him.”
Maggie closed her eyes. She had forgiven him. She didn’t know when, why. She remembered it clearly, but the feeling was gone. The betrayal. The hurt.
Maggie said quietly, “Tanner hasn’t forgiven him.”
“Tanner needs to.”
Maggie sat up and simply looked at her sister.
Ginny said, “It’s destroying him and he needs to let it go.”
“It happened, get over it?”
“Sometimes you just have to. Sometimes it’s all you can do.”
“Are you talking about me or Tanner?”
“I would have been talking about you a few weeks ago. But now you’ve forgiven him; you just haven’t stopped punishing him or yourself yet.”
Maggie said, “Fool me once…”
Ginny said, “To err is human…”
Maggie nodded. “Hard to say if I’m being smart or holding a grudge.” She said softly, “Hard to say if I’m denying myself or protecting myself.”
Ginny pointed to Maggie’s pants. “Are you denying yourself? Your jeans are unbuttoned.”
Maggie groaned, remembering Cole’s wicked fingers down her pants. She closed her eyes and muttered, “I’m torturing myself.”
“Why?”
“Because I said I wouldn’t sleep with him. Because I have nothing left b
ut my pride. And I won’t give it to him.”
Ginny said, “‘Proud people breed sad sorrows for themselves.’”
“Yes, Emily. We do.”
“But I don’t think pride is what he wants from you. And it’s not all you have left.”
Maggie raised her eyebrows and Ginny said, “You have hope. He’s given you hope.”
“He’s given me a chance. It’s still not worth my pride.”
“Then I will leave you with one more quote before I track my husband down and have loud, wild sex with him.”
“Are you this cruel to everyone or just me?”
Ginny pet Maggie’s hair softly and Maggie closed her eyes. Remembered how her mother had pet her hair just like this.
Ginny said, “Only you. That’s what sisters are for.”
“Then give me your quote and go find your husband.”
“‘I would always rather be happy than dignified.’”
Maggie opened her eyes and smiled at her sister. “I know you would, Charlotte. I’m just not sure the opposite of dignified is happy.”
Ginny said, “Do you think the Brontë sisters were cruel to each other?”
“Of course. That’s what sisters are for.”
Ginny tapped Maggie’s head and stood. “Night, sister dear. I hope we don’t keep you up.”
Maggie laughed softly, knowing it wouldn’t be them keeping her awake tonight.
Megan BryceSome Like It Ruthless
Eight
Cole arrived at Maggie’s later the next night, dressed in a tuxedo, black-tie, and shoes so shiny he could’ve shaved looking into them.
He’d tried to come by earlier but Maggie had called him an unflattering name, insulted his mental faculties, and told him if she saw his face before tonight she’d use it as a nail file.
He guessed she was having a hard time finding something to wear on such short notice.
Women and their clothes.
And then there was Maggie and her clothes. She who used every item as either a bludgeon or a lure.
He knocked on the door and when the housekeeper answered he jerked his thumb back at the cars. “When she’s ready.”
The short, round woman shut the door in his face.
Cole chuckled, wandering back to Maggie’s little car and leaning against it.
He stared at the long one-story house that looked like someone’s well-loved home. Then looked toward the direction of his house. A tall three-story monstrosity that looked like exactly what it was. A dare, an eyesore, a showpiece.
