That rat bastard.
Like she’d ever give her friend up, even if there were something to actually give up. “Finley sent you, didn’t he? That scum-sucking piece of shit,” she spat, swinging the can of mace around in an arc. “You have some set of balls, skulking around his wife’s best friend, trying to dredge up dirt on her. Finley Cambridge has some nerve, trying to make like my best friend’s a bad parent when he’s the dirtiest of them all!” she shouted, shrill and brittle. “How dare that lowlife infidel have the nerve to try and take Connor when he wasn’t even divorced before he was engaged! How much did he pay you to make Maxine look bad, you—you—jerk?” Oh, such harsh name-calling. Show ’em you know how to make ’em bleed with your fierce tongue, Len.
The typically quiet village heightened the echo of her snarling threat.
Instead of sneering back at her, instead of becoming defensive, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers and smiled again, flashing his gorgeous white teeth. “I’m not exactly sure what that diatribe meant, but maybe you can share its meaning with me when I drop by your office later this week? I’m late for a dinner meeting, so explanations will have to wait.” He stepped around her, the scent of his cologne assaulting her nostrils once more as he simply walked away.
Or at least he made the attempt to leave until she grabbed hold of his arm. Which happened to be very well-muscled. But that was beside the point. Those few words he’d spoken, all cool and cordial, infuriated her, erasing all fear he might slaughter her right here in Geezer Village.
“Hold on there, scumbag!” Len yelped. “Where do you think you’re going? You’ve been following me around for a solid week! What the hell kind of game are you playing?” Her teeth clenched together in seething fury. The humidity of the evening, coupled with her anger, made beads of sweat pop out along her forehead.
His response was as calm as the last one had been. “No game, but again, as I said, plan on seeing me in the very near future,” he drawled, using a gentle force to peel her clinging fingers from his arm. “Good night, Ms. Erickson.”
And he was gone, detaching her fingers from his arm with ease and slipping into the night as though he’d never been there.
Len looked down at her shoes. Goddamned heels. She’d chase him down if she had her tennies on and her glasses so she could actually see where he’d slunk off to. She squinted into the velvety darkness, cocking her ear to listen for his footsteps.
Damn. Nothing. All week long he’d had a target as big as a bull’s-eye on him and now suddenly he’d mastered the art of skulking.
Stuffing the mace back into her purse, Len stomped off toward the rec center to help out in the kitchen while trying to make sense out of Adam Baylor’s cryptic words.
Adam smiled to himself as he slid into his car, parked discreetly near a patch of trees by the golf course, to the tune of Lenore’s cry of frustration and her angry feet pounding the pavement. His intention had never been to do anything more than locate Lenore as a way to find Maxine, who was no longer at her old residence.
He found his intentions had suddenly changed.
Blood spewed from Maxine’s nose like she’d been stabbed in an attempted homicide instead of just clocked in the nose by a little old lady wielding a troll doll with green hair.
“Mrs. Griswald! Give me the doll, please,” Campbell ordered in a cajoling but demanding tone. “C’mon now.”
Voices from above swarmed about Maxine’s head, fading in and out before tuning in like a radio station. She groaned at the sight of her own blood.
“You give that to him right now, Deloris!” Glenda backed Campbell up, peeking around his broad back. “Look what you’ve done,” she scolded. “I wouldn’t want to be you if Mona gets her hands on you. You could have broken poor Maxine’s nose!”
More raised voices came and went, and apparently, with great protest after handing over her troll, Deloris stomped off in a huff.
Strong hands gripped Maxine under her armpits, hauling her up off the floor where she’d landed in a wussified lump, dragging her to the nearest chair. Campbell—sexy, handsome, brawny—loomed in front of her blurry eyes with concern in his. His hand went to her face, brushing back the stray strands of hair that let loose from her ponytail, creating a shiver along her bare arms in the midst of the stinging pain. “Are you okay? Pinch the bridge of your nose. That’ll stop the bleeding.”
Maxine winced when he tilted her chin upward, rolling a thumb over her lip. “So you caught the perp?”
He chuckled with that deep, throaty laugh that made her stomach flutter. “Not only has she been detained, but we’ve confiscated her plastic weapon. The trolls with the green hair are always the most deadly. Though we’d better keep an eye on Mona. If we don’t pay her some mind, I think your mother just might, on your behalf, commit a crime of passion with that big purse of hers and take Deloris out.”
In the midst of the seniors’ loud comments of disgust, disgruntled murmurs of, “That crazy Deloris, ruining a perfectly good game of bingo that had just gotten started,” and their general need to nurture her wounded soul with crumb cake and coffee, Maxine still managed to throw her head back on her shoulders and giggle. “Please, whatever you do, don’t let Mom swing that thing. She’s packing some heavy heat.”
Campbell held out an ice pack wrapped in a plaid dishtowel to her. “If it’s any consolation, it doesn’t look broken.”
Yeah, that was consolation for being beat up by a sixty-five-year-old. She put the ice pack to her nose and began to rise from the chair, but Campbell placed a hand on her shoulder. So warm. So big. So inviting. “Sit for a minute.”
Maxine brushed his hand off, struggling with not just the pressure to keep her in place, but the tingle she felt clear through her borrowed neon yellow sweat suit. “No. I’m good, really. I can’t afford to lose fifty bucks because I’m too old and slow to duck,” she half joked. “I have to finish or there’ll be an uprising. Who knows what else they might dig up to lob at me?”
“Then let me help you.” Campbell offered his hand with a warm smile. Warm and seemingly genuine. The interest she’d thought she’d seen in his eyes each time they crossed each other’s paths was evident.
And booyah for him. If he could find himself even a little interested in the shitwreck she’d become, he was a better man than she’d ever given him credit for.
Oh, that was so an unwanted thought to have about Campbell. No matter how warm. No matter how easygoing and sensitive he appeared, she wasn’t falling for it.
Nuh-uh. If she ever went for a second ride on the relationship merry-go-round, cautious and careful were going to be her new bunkmates until proven otherwise.
Maxine’s free hand waved him off. “I’m fine, really.” I’d be finer if you’ d stop touching me and making my heart do half gainers in my chest. With a lean forward at the waist, she shoved off the chair, only to find her head swimming and her eyes blurred again.
Campbell was at her side with a lightning-fast response. He draped a thick arm around her waist. “Sit back down,” he ordered with a tight demand.
“Oh, listen to the man, honey,” someone uttered from behind her. “If I was you, I’d let him do whatever he wanted to do to me,” the faceless voice snickered.
Maxine’s deep breath shuddered from between her lips in an effort to keep from exhaling a breathy sigh. It was as if she’d forgotten what it was like to have a man’s arm around her and Campbell’s was the only limb left on planet Earth.
Maxine shrugged him off. “I have to finish, Campbell. Unlike you, I don’t have a job, okay? I need the money. It’s just a bloody nose. I can take care of myself.” Her irritation, more in part an irrational reaction to the feelings he conjured up with his touch, came out sharper than she’d intended.
Campbell’s eyebrow cocked upward. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his well-worn blue jeans. “Okay, Ms. Independent, have it your way. But if you fall and crack your head open from the loss of b
lood, Dr. Barker’s off duty.” With an infuriating grin, he left, making his way to address the small cliques of men and women who waited to see what would happen next.
Jeez, Maxine. He was just offering you a little help. Was now the time to reinstate your womanly roar?
Two bright red spots assaulted her cheeks while she wended her way through the crowd, heading back to the table. Okay. So she’d gotten on her high horse and gone all Oprah-empowered. It was stupid. It was petty.
A half smile flitted across her lips. But it was true. She could take care of herself. Sort of.
And you’ve proven just that by denying the warmth and security of a hunkylicious man’s arm. Bravo.
“Maxie!” Her mother put a hand on her hip from behind. “I told you, didn’t I? That Deloris should be docked or something. Maybe take away her bingo privileges for a year. She’s a flamin’ nut! Now turn around and lemme look at your nose.”
She dropped the ice pack on the table and turned to face her mother. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m fine.”
Mona’s expression was skeptical, her nose wrinkling. “That’s gonna bruise.”
“Good. Everyone’ll be so busy looking at my nose, they won’t notice the Siberian husky on my forehead.”
“Maxine?”
Relief flooded Maxine’s face when her best friend hurried across the rec center floor. “Hey, you.” She smiled at Len and the reassurance her beautiful outfit and supermodel good looks brought. Always fresh and vibrant, her clothes, low-cut jeans and a wispy turquoise top, were a reflection of the kind of woman Len was. Strong, smart, confident, and classy, from the sharp angle of her cheekbones to the curvy slope of her hips.
Len’s purse dangled from her arm when she held up her manicured hands in question. “What the hell?”
Mona nodded in Len’s direction with a glint of fury in her eyes. “It was that damned Deloris Griswald. She’s a viper!”
Len’s glossed, berry-colored lips pursed. She looked from Mona to Maxine. “Who?”
Maxine shook her head, folding her arms across her chest. “Never mind. It was just a misunderstanding. I’m fine.”
“No, honey.” Len shook her chestnut brown head. “I was talking about your clothes. They’re an abomination. Good God, Maxine. You’ve sunk so low. What are you wearing? And why is it such a heinous color?”
Her comment made Maxine bristle in defense of her wardrobe. “I’m wearing this because if I keep wearing the clothes I had on my back when I left Fin, eventually they’ll turn to dust. I’m saving the one good outfit I have left for those special occasions when I see the lawyer who never does anything for me, but charges me out the ass anyway. That okay?”
Instantly, Len was apologetic. Her warm brown eyes sought Maxine’s when she rubbed a hand up and down her arm. “I’m sorry, honey. That was insensitive of me. It was just a . . . shock.” Then, as though a haze had cleared, she noticed her friend’s nose. “Holy Mother! What happened to your nose, Maxine? Are you okay? Was it Fin? That bastard—”
“No!” She grabbed her best friend’s hand. “Some of the crew here got a little rowdy. It was just a misunderstanding.”
Len tsk-tsked, grabbing her jaw and moving it from side to side. “What kind of misunderstanding leaves you with a nose the size of a basketball on bingo night? And who was the hot tamale holding you up?”
Those bright spots on her cheeks returned with a vengeance. Then an idea struck. An idea she planned to encourage. “He’s cute, right?”
Len’s eyes twinkled. “I think cute is too mild. Delicious? No, smokin’. Yeah. That works.”
Mona cackled, swatting Len’s backside. “If I was just twenty years younger . . .”
“You’d be a helluva cougar, Mom,” Maxine teased. She sought Len’s eyes again. “He’s working the kitchen, and he’s single. Very single. Go forth. Make nice. Flirt. Stare at his ass. It’s time you started living again,” Maxine encouraged.
That much was true. Gerald had been gone long enough. The mourning should be over and the living should begin. Added bonus—once Campbell got a good gander at her gorgeous best friend, his testosterone would stop knocking on her door. Problem solved despite the niggle of jealousy her solution brought.
Len and Mona exchanged glances. Glances Maxine couldn’t read. “What’s his story?”
“I’ll tell you all about it and him later. Right now, I need to finish this because I really need the cash. So please, go help Ms. Douglas in the kitchen. Maybe after a hot dog or two, everyone will settle down and we can get back to the business of bingo.”
Len dropped her fuchsia purse on the table. “Watch that for me, okay? And when I’m done slaving over a hot Crock-Pot with the dotty Ms. Douglas, it’s you and me and the Greek Meets Eat Diner. We’ll do something decadent like banana splits while we girl it up. My treat, okay?”
Maxine nodded, shooing her off and picking the microphone back up, summoning the will to be cheerful. “Hey, folks! If you give me just a moment to get it together, we’ll get right back to bingo. In the meantime, go enjoy the fruits of the knitting club’s labor and buy a hot dog. The proceeds go to benefit this year’s Frolic Into Fall dance. So eat up and I’ll be back in ten.”
With a puff of tired air, Maxine found her chair once more. Her head began to throb, the cloying heat of the room closing in on her. She placed her fingers at her temples to massage the tension and winced again. Deloris Griswald packed a mean troll.
Large tanned hands set a hot dog with spicy brown mustard and relish in front of her, making her look up. Campbell smiled down in his gallingly ever-cheerful way. “Now this in no way constitutes helping you. So don’t go thinking we’re mated for life or anything. Got that, Max Henderson?”
He was gone before she could respond, but it didn’t keep her eyes from straying to the flex of the muscles in his back or the confident stride that carried him back into the kitchen. “It’s Maxine,” she muttered into her hands. “Maxine, Maxine, Maxiiiine.”
Campbell eyed the attractive dark-haired woman from his position at the kitchen sink. Clearly she knew Max, and that meant she could possibly have an answer or two to some questions he had. Seeing as Max wasn’t giving much up, he was willing to risk being told to mind his Ps and Qs if he ruffled her feathers to find out.
Grabbing a pair of tongs, he wound his way through the throng of people milling in the kitchen to where Max’s friend laid out hot dog buns and began filling them. When she looked up, he smiled. “Campbell Barker.”
She gave him a distracted smile, then returned her focus to the rolls, spreading them on the platter. “Len Erickson. What brings a youngin’ like you to Leisure Village?”
“I’m here helping my crotchety father until he gets back on his feet. Heart attack.”
“Ah.” Her smile was a mixture of sympathy and understanding.
“So you’re a friend of Max’s?”
The package of hot dog rolls fell to the long countertop with a crumple of plastic. She leaned back against the Formica and gave him a hostile gaze of open suspicion. “And if I am?”
Wow, grrrrrrr. “Then we have something in common,” he offered simply.
Len’s firm jaw tilted upward, her posture stiff and unyielding. “How’s that?”
“Well, you like her, and I like her. That’s a commonality.”
The hard line of her skeptically glossed lips twitched with amusement. “I get the impression I don’t like her the way you like her, though.”
“Not unless you’re a lesbian, I guess,” Campbell returned a lazy response, continuing to smile while he filled the rolls with hot dogs from the steaming Crock-Pot. “Which is totally fine. I’m very urban like that.”
She threw her head back and laughed a husky chuckle that was warm. “Nope. Not a lesbian. And yes, Maxine’s my friend. My best friend.”
“Then you’re just the person I need to talk to.”
Len visibly loosened up just a little, letting the hard line of her shoulders slump a b
it. “About?”
“Her ex-husband.”
Those slender bronzed shoulders stiffened again. “He’s not her ex. Not yet.”
Was she a Fin lover? Was anyone a Fin lover? Now’s the time to tread carefully, Barker. “Do you want him to be?”
“Her ex? Probably more than I want to breathe.”
It was Campbell’s turn to chuckle. “He’s a piece of work.”
“He’s a piece of shit,” she spat under her breath, giving a sideways glance to see if anyone had heard her.
“So you’re part of the He-Man Fin-Hater Club?”
“I’m the founder,” was her dry response.
Nice. “You need a president?”
Len laughed again. “Look here, Campbell Barker. Spit out whatever it is you want to ask. I’ll decide whether to answer or not. How’s that?”
Campbell nodded, appreciating the honesty. After everything that had happened to him these last three years, including the end of his marriage, he was all about speaking his piece. He didn’t waste time dicking around about much anymore, but he didn’t want to screw this Q and A up. “Good enough. This Fin, her husband.” He paused, forcing the word between his clenched teeth. “Did he ever hurt her?”
Len’s fingers stopped separating hot dog rolls. “You mean like physically hurt her? You mean beat her? I’d have killed him myself.” She shook her head, the dangle of her earrings swaying against her sharp jaw. “No. He didn’t beat her, but you know, Maxine wondered out loud once if that would have at least been more honest than the kind of covert, emotional manipulation and bullshit he pulled over and over again. At least the pain would have only been momentary. The kind of crap he dealt out lingers much longer than a bruise.”
She stopped with an abrupt intake of breath. “Shit. That’s more than I should have said. When it comes to that prick, I lose all objectivity. I want the world to know he’s a pig.”
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