You Dropped a Blonde on Me

by Dakota Cassidy

  Finley stooped to pick up the keys, pocketing them. When he rose, his hot eyes zeroed in on Connor. “Is this the kind of respect your mother’s teaching you over there, living with that witch of a mother of hers?”

  Call it hormonal, call it impulsive, call it whatever you like, but the rage slipping up his spine and making the hairs at the back of his neck stand up exploded at the mention of his grandmother. “You leave Grandma alone! If it wasn’t for her, we’d have nowhere to live because you’re a cheap piece of shit!” he screamed, the words out of his mouth before he could remember his mom was going to have his balls when she found out. And she’d find out.

  A sharp crack to his cheek threw Connor’s head backward and had Finley up in his bobbing face quicker than he’d have given his dad credit for. “You watch who you’re talking to, young man! I won’t tolerate disrespect like that—ever!” he ground out between his cosmetically enhanced white teeth.

  Connor backed away, his ire now an ugly beast of more than eight months’ worth of pent-up frustration. “How can I respect someone who threatens me to love him or I’ll lose my Xbox and my stupid house, Dad?” he sneered, spittle falling from between his lips. “You don’t care about me, and you sure don’t care about Mom. You took everything away from us because Mom didn’t want to be married to a lying cheater, and now because I don’t want to come live with you, you’re taking the last thing I have left. Take the car—maybe you could give it to Lacey as a graduation present! I hate you!” he hollered as he took off running, caring little that half the track team had stopped all motion in the field facing the parking lot.

  Sweat dripped down the sides of his face and gathered under his armpits, but he didn’t stop running until he hit the corner of the building and stumbled into the back parking lot for juniors and seniors. His breathing was ragged, coming in harsh puffs when he leaned forward to suck air into his lungs.

  “Dude?” His one constant friend since seventh grade, Jordon Armstrong, rolled up beside him in his car. “You okay?”

  Connor took an angry scuff at the cement with his toe while he paced back and forth, kicking up dirt and loose gravel. “I’m screwed, man.”

  Jordon shook his head, turning off the ignition and jumping out of the car. “Shit. He took the car, didn’t he?”

  “You heard?”

  Jordon’s gaze was solemn but steady. “Dude, everybody heard.”

  Connor’s frustration resurfaced again when he spat, “You know what? I don’t care. Everybody’s talking about my father and Lacey and how poor I am anyway. I don’t care.”

  “Man, your dad sucks.”

  “Crap. My mother’s going to kill me. I said some shitty stuff to him.”

  The nod of Jordon’s shaved blond head was in agreement. “But he’s done some pretty shitty stuff to you and your mom.”

  No kidding. Looking up, he saw a bunch of the crowd he’d once hung out with in a circle, just waiting to pass the word that Connor Cambridge had a fight with his father in the Crest Creek High parking lot. Jordon slapped his back. “Ignore that jerk Nolan.” He nodded in the crowd’s direction at the biggest instigator of them all. Nolan Ford. “He’s a stupid freak with a big mouth. He was always jealous of you because Tabitha liked you first.”

  Connor shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t care anymore.” And he didn’t. School only had three days left before they broke for summer. Nothing mattered. Not the friends who now made fun of him, not his lack of wheels, nothing.

  His friend, loyal from day one, leaned back against his new Mustang, crossing his arms in a nonchalant manner over his chest, and smacked his lips. “If you don’t care, I don’t care,” he said on a conspiratorial grin. “So get in. I’ll give ya a ride home. Coo’?”

  Connor knocked knuckles with him. “Coo’.”

  When they drove past Nolan and his posse, Connor sat higher in his seat, refusing to look away, and fighting the temptation to lift both his middle fingers in honor of their shit-a-tude.

  No one was ever going to make him feel like he was some loser because he no longer had what they all had.

  “Hey, little mermaid,” her mother called from the living room. “How’d watercize go?”

  Maxine let out a tired sigh, poking her head into the living room doorway. “I’m guessing you don’t have to ask how it went. You already heard.”

  Mona’s laughter was deep from within her belly. “Whoo boy, did I ever. Maude called Mary the minute her big ole webbed feet were dry.”

  She tugged at her loaner bathing suit, wanting to be rid of the damp, sagging material. “And this is funny, how?”

  “He laid one on ya right there in the pool, Maxie, with his clothes on and everything—in front of everyone. How is that not funny? And romantic. Pretty darned romantic.”

  Fine. It had funny attributes. And romantic ones, too, if they were to split hairs. She shook her finger at her mother in warning. “Yeah, well, he’s in for one big surprise the next time I see him. I can’t afford to have those kinds of shenanigans going on when I’m trying to teach a class. Georgia will never ask me back again.”

  Her mother’s eyes twinkled with maniacal glee. “I heard you didn’t exactly say no to those shenanigans,” she taunted, slapping her thigh with the morning paper she was reading.

  Who’d had the time to say no? It wasn’t like she’d been given a chance to say anything. Like you would have anyway? Hello. Was that not, bar none, the best ever kiss of your entire life? Campbell’s lips and yours were like mac and cheese. Chocolate frosting and sprinkles, Sonny and Cher, Peaches and Herb. You know it. He knows it. “Fine, so I didn’t say no. I wasn’t exactly given a chance to say anything,” she echoed her thoughts out loud.

  Her mother’s sharp-as-tacks eyes gave her a pointed look. “And you liked it. Don’t lie to me, Maxie. You can fool plenty of people, but not your own mother.”

  Leaning against the doorway, she made a face of utter disgust. With herself or with Campbell, she wasn’t sure. “It was okay. Okay? Just okay.”

  “That’s not true, Max Henderson, and you know it,” Campbell called from the back portion of the house.

  Maxine gave her mother a pinched frown of exasperation. Naturally, seeing as the entire force of every senior in the village was on Campbell’s side, why wouldn’t her mother be, too? “Thanks a lot for the warning,” she mouthed before turning to find herself face-to-face with the kissing bandit.

  “You did so like it,” he accused glibly.

  Her mother chuckled in the background, garnering a narrow-gazed warning from Maxine. She let her eyes focus in on Campbell, who hovered over her, daring her to deny their kiss had been anything less than stupendous. “Is it that you like me being the topic of discussion over warm milk and strudel at the sewing circle or that you never want me to get another job in the village again? And to think I was going to apologize for being such a crappy date. You have a lot of nerve.”

  “I know. It’s a skill some don’t give nearly the credit it deserves.”

  She let an exasperated sigh escape her throat. “Why are you here again?”

  He thumbed a finger over his shoulder and held up a wrench. “Still having trouble with that leaky pipe,” he offered with that easygoing tone he’d perfected. As if nothing bad ever happened in the world.

  The heat, her humiliation, her ire that yes, she’d enjoyed Campbell’s kiss and he knew it, made her snap. “What kind of plumber are you, anyway, that you can’t fix some leak I can’t even see?”

  Always with an answer, he smiled all affable-like. “The kind who keeps coming back until he gets the job done. I’m no quitter.” He gave her a meaningful gaze, the smile never leaving his face.

  Was that a covert attempt at letting her know he wasn’t giving up? That he wasn’t like Finley? Or was her imagination on the run—maybe doing some wishful thinking? Either way, it made her regret over last night sting all over again. “That was a cheap shot I took.”

  He nodded gravely in
response. “You’ve taken a couple of those.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry, but—”

  “You’re still sensitive. I remember,” he drawled with a cocked eyebrow. “I bet you’re especially sensitive after that kiss, huh? Who could blame you? I am a pretty good kisser.”

  Heh. Yeah. “How about we call a truce?”

  “You mean like you don’t get all excited if I say something that rubs you the wrong way because I’m an impatient knuckle dragger, but instead communicate with me all The View-ish style?”

  Maxine giggled, finding herself leaning into him just so she could sniff his cologne. “So are we going to make up?”

  Campbell took a step closer. “Are you conceding that you took excited to a whole new volcanic level?”

  Maxine blushed. Maybe that was a little true. No, it was a lot true. She’d acted out because he made her feel things she was afraid to feel—to trust. “Now who’s exaggerating?” she joked with a deliberately flirty smile.

  Campbell crossed his strong arms over his chest. “Fine. I’m blessed with the anointment of adulthood. I can go first in the game called communication. I moved in too fast. I didn’t mean to, but you have your moments of irresistibility. When you’re not crushing a man’s dreams, that is.”

  A shiver of warmth began low in her belly. “That was almost nice. My turn. What happened . . . well, last night flustered me and it made me react badly, and I’m sorry I overreacted.”

  “Don’t forget the reason why you reacted the way you did. Go on,” he prompted with a teasing grin. “Floor’s all yours.”

  God, all this open and honest communication was work. Maxine’s glance up at him was sheepish. “I did it to push you away—because it . . . what happened made me feel exposed . . .”

  His smile was one of satisfaction. “I’m glad you’re able to admit it. You’d be lying to yourself and insulting my intelligence if you didn’t. You also did it because I’m a handsome devil with skills of the carnal variety—ones the likes of which you’ve never seen.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  Her eyes strayed to the shag carpet on her mother’s floor. There was that. “And I—I—it—left me sort of raw, and sensitive . . .”

  “Sort of?”

  Maxine’s fingers toyed with a lock of her hair. “Okay. I was a lot sensitive. But I guess that’s where I am right now. The fallout my pending divorce has brought keeps surprising even me. So maybe we should just have a standing apology between us, because I can’t promise I won’t behave ridiculously again. I get a little carried away sometimes. I hate to drag my baggage with me, but my marriage to Fin shaped how I deal with situations. I know you’ll be shocked by this, but typically, when I’m stressed or feel cornered, I run for cover. Reasonable doesn’t always factor into my behavior.”

  “No truer words,” he agreed, letting his finger run over the landscape of her cheek, leaving her fighting a purr. “But knowing that’s where you are, having that knowledge means you’re willingly allowing it to own you, versus using it to learn and move on.”

  Maxine’s gulp was audible. Did he have to be so reasonable? So right? So fine-looking when he was? “You know what sucks the most about you, Mr. Barker?”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “What’s that, Max?”

  Maxine let her fingers flit over his shirt with a smile. “Not only are you cute, but you’re healthy emotionally. It’s damned annoying.”

  He laughed, capturing her fingers. “I can see how that would be a huge deficit on my relationship resume.”

  Mona stuck her head between the two of them on her way into the kitchen to answer the ringing phone. “I’m not watching that nancy Dr. Phil anymore, buster,” she cackled up at Campbell, never ashamed to interfere. “You just come here every day at three and spout off your words of wisdom to my daughter here, who needs someone—anyone—to knock some Godforsaken sense into her. And you,” she snapped the strap on Maxine’s bathing suit, “quit behaving like some abandoned puppy. The bad part of your life’s over. Let’s get on with some good. Lord knows, we could use some.” Mona strolled into the kitchen to answer the phone without looking back.

  “So, in the interest of getting on with the good, you think you might wanna try the dreaded date again? Maybe a little slower this time out of the gate with the woo-hoo?” Campbell inquired with a grin she was sure held a certain amount of satisfaction that her mother, once more, was agreeing with him.

  Her stomach gurgled with that unfamiliar battalion of butterflies. She was about to answer when Mona stuck her hand under Maxine’s nose. “The phone. It’s for you.”

  Maxine attempted to clear her head. “Who is it?”

  “The village president.”

  Taking the phone from her mother, she covered it to glare at Campbell, butterflies gone, instant blame at the ready. “If I get booted from subbing for people who’re sick, I’m going to own your ass, Barker,” she threatened, though her threat was followed by a grin. She jammed the phone against her ear. “Hello?”

  Words filtered in and out of her eardrums. All positive—complimentary, in fact. Yet she was struggling to put them all together in a cohesive thought. The most she managed was, “You’re kidding?” and “It was an unfortunate incident. Yes, I agree one hundred percent. I’d definitely look into making some kind of policy about trolls. My nose wouldn’t be opposed either,” and finally, “Yes! I’ll take it!”

  Damp bathing suit and her mother’s scorn be damned, she sat on the couch and clicked off the phone, dumbstruck.

  “What?” Mona bellowed with a question when she threw her arms up in the air. “What’s the matter?”

  Campbell placed his strong hand on her shoulder. “Maxine? Everything okay?”

  Her nod was slow in answer. It was more than okay. It was awesome with awesome sauce. Relief, slow and steady, thrummed through her veins.

  Mona plunked down beside her, concern in her hawk-like eyes. “What’s the matter, Maxie?”

  And then she couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “After almost nine months . . . I—I . . . The village wants to hire me to be social director and continue to sub for the seniors who are sick. That was Leonard Hammond—the village’s board president. He said they were flooded with calls about bingo. The seniors said I was more fun than a car full of clowns. It just took them some time to find out if they had funds to pay me a salary. Did you hear that, Mom? Pay me a full-time salary to organize events for the villagers, and the first event on my agenda is the end-of-summer dance!” It was almost the end of June. That only left her a little less than a month and a half to prepare.

  Oh, my God. She had a job.

  A j-o-b.

  Mona threw her arms around her daughter, planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek. “Whoopee, kiddo!”

  Big whoopee. Big and honkin’.

  Her good fortune flooded her, overwhelmed her as tears of gratitude stung her eyes. With a shaky hand, she pushed her hair from her face, and had a thought she shared out loud. “So the Cluck-Cluck Palace can stick their triple chicken-ator up their stupid curly fried asses! It’s not a lot of money. It won’t get me out of your hair just yet, Ma, but it’s something to start. Maybe I can tuck some away to take some business courses at Community.” Maxine’s mind went at warp speed with the endless possibilities a job reaped.

  Hopping up off the couch, she clapped her hands and spun around, falling into Campbell. “I did tell you you were good with the seniors, didn’t I?”

  “You did,” she agreed with a coy, nay, a flirtatious smile. “So I propose we celebrate by trying coffee one more time, minus the baggage.”

  Be it her adrenaline rush of good fortune, or finally admitting she didn’t want to miss the chance to know Campbell, she didn’t bother to analyze. Yes. She, Maxine Cambridge, had just asked a man out on a date. “My treat, of course.” Because she could actually cough up the shekels—her shekels—to pay for it.

  There was nothing, absolutely nothing in the world like the kind of inde
pendence of earning your own living did to your psyche. The eternal fist in her chest unclenched, relaxing just a little.

  Her smile beamed, her head whirled. She might not make the Fortune 500 list with the salary they’d offered, but she would at least be able to help her mother out—ending the cycle of the ozone suck she’d become.

  She could buy essentials at Walmart for her and Connor. Food, and oh, euphoria! A box of those Sno Balls in bulk. Maybe she’d eventually be able to buy another pair of jeans—a shirt—underwear. Sneakers for Connor. If things went well, and the village kept her on, maybe she could take some online courses.

  The slam of the screen door snapped her out of the list she was making in her mind. Connor strode in with his best friend, Jordon, both with their heads down. “Connor!” she shouted. “You’ll never guess what just happen . . .” Her words slowed when her son raised his head. Maxine gasped.

  His left eye sported a razor-thin cut, the edges of it an angry red, his eyelid swelling at an alarming rate. Maxine rushed to him, lifting his chin so she could have a better look with the sunlight streaming in from the picture window overlooking the front of her mother’s house. “Honey, what happened?” Looking to Jordon, her eyes questioned his. “Was there a fight with someone at school?”

  When Connor jerked his chin from her clutching fingers, Jordon spoke up. “No, Mrs. Cambridge. He didn’t have a fight with someone at school.”

  Connor shook his head with a fierce look at Jordon, but his friend made a disgusted face, his lips curling inward. “Naw, man. If you won’t tell her, I will. Just wasn’t right. She deserves to know.”

  A million scenarios raced through her mind as she examined Connor’s eye. “One of you better pony up. Now,” she demanded.

  “I’ll get ice,” her mother said, running a soothing hand over Connor’s back when she passed through to the kitchen.

  Campbell clamped a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “You okay?”