by Clay, Verna
She finished half the bottle and while she screwed the cap back on, she said, "What?"
His smile widened. "For being so small, you're not one to back down in a confrontation. You just about chewed my ear off at the diner. You were like a mama bear protecting her cubs."
Small. He thinks I'm small? Those words, more so than the others, stuck in Pilar's mind. She'd been called curvaceous, luscious, and many other adjectives, but never small. She almost smiled. The man was starting to grow on her, and that was something she could never let happen. Her bad marriage had cured her of all men, especially handsome, self-confident ones. She turned the ignition and started the car. "Do you want to run back or ride with me?" She could feel Max studying her profile.
"I think I've got the run out of me. I'll ride with you."
Chapter 9: Recruiting Recruits
Max woke confused. His bed was lumpy, his room tiny, and the colors surrounding him were all wrong—pink. Reality reared its head and he groaned. His luxurious RV had been switched out by Gramps and he was now residing in a Bounder, circa 1990-something.
He rolled over and reached for his watch—seven a.m. He'd overslept by at least an hour. His inner clock was getting rusty. Placing his hands behind his head, he stared at the paneling of the ceiling and sighed. At least the ceiling was gray and not pink like the rest of the room.
Thinking of Pilar brought a grin to his surly expression. After chastising him at the diner, she'd actually been worried enough to drive out and find him in the desert. And he was glad of that. He'd been so angry, he'd stupidly run without water. He'd been about to turn around and return to the park when she'd arrived and saved his hide.
Although he had no intention of getting to know Pilar other than as his neighbor, she was sure cute. Actually, she wasn't really cute or even pretty—she was adorable with eyes that turned exotic when she was angry. Maybe her appeal was her fearless attitude toward him. He had a reputation for making people cower, although he never knowingly tried to do so. He just refused to take crap off of people, no matter their job title or social status. He'd once had the president of a corporation in tears and had to go back later and apologize to the man.
But then again, maybe it's her dimples.
Climbing from bed, he groaned as he squeezed past the cramped space and then shouted profanities when he stubbed his toe trying to climb into the shower. The discomfort, however, only served to make him all the more determined to complete his six months of servitude and shove the accomplishment back in Gramps face.
After dressing, his first order of business was to make things right with the three slow-pay tenants. As he stepped outside, he saw Pilar walking toward the diner. He'd figured out that Desi watched her boy while she worked. He'd also gleaned that the boy's father lived in Phoenix and Pilar didn't think well of him. That made him grin. She'd probably kicked his ass to the curb royally.
Max turned in the opposite direction of Desi's trailer, toward Lilac's. From the water spills surrounding plants on her small patio created by using flat concrete blocks, he determined it wasn't too early to knock. The camper shell wobbled a little as she made her way to the door. He braced himself for an unpleasant scene. She was probably pissed about the letter.
Lilac opened the door and smiled widely. "Howdy, young fella'. Can I pour ya some coffee—just brewed?"
Max was taken aback. "Ah, no. I just had some. Thank you, anyway."
Lilac started down the three steps to the patio. Max frowned. The woman really needed a ramp. He reached and assisted her.
"Now ain't you a gentleman." She walked across her patio and pointed. "Lookee there. You're the first one to see this, 'sides me, of course."
Max glanced at a pot of roses.
"That's my first rose on that plant. I been tryin' ta git that thing ta bloom fer nigh on two years. Young man, I think you brought blessings to our park when you moved in."
Max could hardly believe his ears. The woman had received a letter from him adding another burden to her overload, and she thought of him as a blessing. He cleared his throat. "It has come to my attention that perhaps I was a bit hasty in sending out the letter regarding late payments and I'd like to discuss a resolution that would benefit both of us."
Lilac gently touched the petals of her rose before motioning to one of the two chairs on the patio. "Have a seat. I'm all ears."
Settling into an old wicker chair that had seen its heyday probably twenty years earlier, Max waited while Lilac checked a few more plants and rambled on about them. Surprisingly, he did not feel impatient.
Finally, she sat in a matching wicker chair across from him. "Okay, Sonny, what's the solution to our predicament. You want money earlier than I got it to give to ya."
Puffing a breath, Max stared the old woman in her faded blue eyes and said, "How would you like to work for me and earn one hundred dollars a month. Twenty-five of which would cover your late fee and the other seventy-five would be yours."
An expression of surprise and then a smile lit Lilac's face. "Now that's right nice of ya. I told Helen Crawford…" she pointed toward the single-wide directly across the street, "…that you wasn't the money-grubbing, widow-thieving man she said you was."
Max frowned and looked to where Lilac pointed. A curtain moved and he saw someone dart sideways. Sighing, he returned his attention to Lilac.
She tapped her chin. "Now what might my job be?"
Max said as seriously as he could. "I need an Events Coordinator. Seems we have a recreation room but not much in the way of organized recreation. I would also hire two assistants to help you."
Lilac grinned so big he could see she was missing some molars. "We always git together fer the big holidays. But what was ya thinkin' fer other occasions?"
"I was thinking that a once a month gathering would be nice. Say, the last Friday or Saturday of the month, or whatever time works best."
Max could see the cogs turning behind Lilac's eyes. She tapped her chin. "I used to plan events fer a restaurant when I was young. It earned me extra money 'cause waitressing didn't pay all the bills fer me and my boy."
"Well, what do you say? Do you want to give it a try?"
She said excitedly, "We could have a bingo bash, or maybe a bunco bash; maybe an international potluck or a bake sale to support some local charity. Yes, Sonny, I think I'll take ya up on yer offer. When do I start?"
Max grinned. "You already have. Go ahead and write out the first event with an estimation of the cost. Of course, the park has limited funds, so expenses have to be kept to a bare minimum."
"You got it. Who're my assistants?"
Max stood and stretched. "I'm still working on that. I'll let you know." He said goodbye while Lilac continued her ramblings about different types of events.
Backtracking to Goody's trailer, he knocked and wasn't sure what to expect in the way of a greeting. He could hear Piggy barking. The old man opened his door and smiled. The fact that these people still treated him well after receiving his letter boggled his mind. In his business world, hard-assed confrontations were the name of the game.
"Hello, Max. Come on in." Goody stepped aside.
Max entered and almost tripped over Piggy. The wiggling bundle danced over the toes of his tennis shoes and Max bent to lift him, which resulted in several licks to his face. Chuckling, he set the mutt back down and Goody poured food into a bowl to distract the hyperactive pup. Joining Max at the small table, he offered coffee and Max declined.
Getting right to the point, Max said, "I'm here to discuss the letter regarding late payments."
"I figured you was and I been tryin' to rearrange my finances so's I can pay on time. Still workin' on it."
"I may have a solution."
Goody lifted his eyebrows in a questioning look.
"I've hired Lilac as an Events Coordinator and she needs an assistant. She'll be putting together once-a-month gatherings. The work won't involve anything strenuous. Physical labor can be accomplish
ed by Gator or me…or Hank." Max paused. The Gator and Hank revelation was something he was still getting used to. He continued, "I'm paying Lilac one hundred dollars a month to head it up. I'll pay you seventy-five to help, of which, twenty-five will be used for paying any late fees. What do you say?"
Piggy finished eating and wiggled over to his owner. Goody reached and lifted the pup into his lap. "I'd be a fool to refuse an offer like that. You got a deal. Do I need to fill out any forms?"
"No. I'll just make out a check once a month. If you owe a late fee, I won't record it on the books; just deduct it from what I owe you."
Goody stuck out his hand to shake on the deal. Max grabbed the old man's palm and Piggy sealed the agreement with several licks on their clasped hands.
Next on the agenda was the other late payer, whom Max had yet to meet. She wasn't so easily persuaded in accepting a resolution to her late payments. She was a cantankerous old woman of about eighty who had something negative to say about everything. Max tackled the subject from every angle, but the lady only frowned all the more. Finally, he stood and said, "That's the deal Mrs. Hightower. You think about it and let me know. If it doesn't work for you, then you'll become subject to the late fee."
Max took a step toward the front door and Mrs. Hightower said, "Since I can't afford a late fee, looks like you're getting cheap labor out of me."
Max turned incredulous eyes on the impossible woman. His look must have had the same steely edge that made others cower, because she flinched before saying hastily. "I accept your offer."
With a nod, Max stepped outside. Before he closed the door, however, Mrs. Hightower called, "I'm not washing dishes or cooking."
Max didn't respond or even slow his step. When he returned to his Bounder, he groaned, pulled out the accounting ledgers of the park, and attempted to find money to pay his new labor force.
Chapter 10: Pitcher's Relief
Max looked at the caller ID on his cell phone. He had stupidly given his number to Lilac and created a monster. She called almost every day with another "wonderful" idea for the monthly gatherings. And while her calls were bubbly and happy, Mrs. Hightower, who had gotten his number from Lilac, also called and complained about everything. She thought Lilac was too pushy, she thought Goody was too lazy, she didn't like the menu items of the first gathering. Menu items, Max thought with distain. I never should have listened to Pilar wage a case for these people. I should have stayed the hard-ass and charged them late fees. Instead of making money, now I'm losing it. I can't believe I run billion dollar companies with a profit, but a damn trailer park has me in the red.
Max wasn't happy when he hung up. Lilac wanted to know if he liked red or purple paper plates. Through gritted teeth, he'd said, "Lilac, I put you in charge of this, just do what you want. You don't have to ask me."
The woman, who was always happy, laughed and said, "You should have said that in the beginning. Okay, I'll go with the purple ones."
Max needed to walk off some frustration so he headed for the front of the park to check on the new sign that he'd ordered to be hung above the entrance. He wondered which handyman would be hanging it. Princess had revealed that her employee was a young fella' on disability because of a mental disorder—seems he had two personalities. Max sighed. Would he encounter Gator, an outgoing redneck, or Hank, a shy, geeky guy with slicked back hair?
Standing on a ladder, Gator was reaching to hammer a corner of the sign into place. "Howdy, Mister Rutherford." He pulled on the waistband of his jeans to cover his barely concealed crack.
"Hello Gator. Do you need help?"
"No sir. I got it covered. Just a few more nails to hammer in."
Max nodded with relief. Gator was an excellent handyman; Hank, not so much.
Walking back to his trailer, Max had to pass by Desi's space. Willie was standing in the road with Desi and winding up for a pitch. Desi looked like he needed a break. Before considering his words, Max said, "Hey, Desi. Would you mind if I relieved you? I haven't tossed a ball in years."
Desi said, "Now ain't that right nice of you. Yes, I think that's a good idea. Besides, Willie needs a better challenge than I can give." He removed his mitt and tossed it at Max.
Willie jumped from one foot to the other. "I been workin' on my curve ball. Wanna see it, Mr. Rutherford?"
Max grinned at the boy's enthusiasm and remembered a scene from his childhood—attending a game at Yankee Stadium with his father. His father had died a month later. Max beat his fist into his mitt, as if pounding the sadness away. "I'm ready, son."
"Yay!" Willie shouted and backed up to give them more distance.
Max easily caught the ball Willie threw. He returned the pitch, not too easy, not too hard. Willie had no problem catching it. The boy grinned, took up a pitcher's stance, and released a curve ball that slammed into Max's glove. Max was impressed. This time he returned the baseball, hard.
"That's what I'm talkin' about!" Willie exclaimed.
For the next hour, the two of them threw the ball with increasing agility. Max was having so much fun he didn't realize Pilar was sitting with Desi outside his trailer until Willie called, "Hey, Mom!"
Max fumbled the ball and it fell to the ground, rolling behind him. He felt like a numbskull. Retrieving it, he glanced toward Pilar and she waved. Since he'd made things right with the late payers, she'd become friendly, although still standoffish, with him.
She called, "Hello, Max. I think you've created a monster. Willie can throw balls twenty-four seven. I'll try to keep my son at bay, but I'm not promising anything." The dimpled smile Pilar cast in his direction made him fumble the ball again and he cursed under his breath. He hadn't behaved like an awestruck schoolboy, since he was a schoolboy.
Max threw a few more tosses and then said, "Willie, I think it's time to call it a day." He walked and patted the boy on the head.
Willie's smile was big and warm. "I promise not to bug you too much, sir."
Max knelt in front of Willie. "If I can't toss the ball with you because I have business to take care of, I'll be upfront and let you know. How's that sound?"
"Sounds good." Willie's tone and expression conveyed how serious he considered the subject.
Max stood and walked toward Desi and Pilar. She had changed from her diner uniform into jeans, a Duck Dynasty T-shirt, and a ball cap with Si Robertson's picture and a caption that said, "Hey, Jack." She looked adorable. Max met her gaze and said, "I'm going for a run, would you like to join me?"
Surprise flickered in her eyes and he could see her indecision. Finally, she chuckled, "I'm not much of a runner; thanks to my short legs, but if you want to walk fast, I'll join you."
Max smiled. "You got it. I'll meet you at your trailer in half an hour."
* * *
Pilar changed into jogging pants cut off at the knees, looked at her butt in the mirror, and cringed. Top heavy and bottom heavy, how's that for the luck of the draw? Sighing, she pulled on a long tank top that reached below her backside. A knock on the front door distracted her. She heard Willie open the door and invite Max inside.
Pilar chewed her lip and really looked at her reflection. She wasn't a pretty woman; she was passable. But for whatever reason, hot guys seemed to like her. Unfortunately, she'd learned the hard way that they only broke her heart. Her first love, when she was eighteen, had been the high school quarterback, but that had ended in heartbreak when he left for college and met someone else. Her next heartbreak had been when her husband of three years, an extremely handsome and successful attorney, cheated on her with his paralegal. After her divorce, while still living in Phoenix, she'd dated a couple of men who'd been persistent in inviting her out, but felt no chemistry with either of them. They'd been nice looking, funny, intelligent, kind, everything a girl should want, but she'd already been burned twice and couldn't face another emotional involvement. It was then that she'd decided to move out of the city. She hadn't known where to go, but during a spur of the moment visit to h
er cousin, Kade Blackwell, in Oasis, whom she hadn't seen since the age of fifteen, she'd turned her whole life upside down. The tiny community was just as she remembered and Kade lived in the same house he'd grown up in. He'd been raised by his paternal grandmother who was now frail and weak. To make a living, he operated an auto repair garage, but his love was motorcycles. Later, Pilar had discovered that he was so good at fixing bikes that owners brought their wheels from distant locations for him to diagnose, repair, or customize.
She pulled her ball cap on and drew her ponytail through the back. Thinking of Kade made her chuckle. Her cousin was stunningly handsome and she'd told him more than once that he could probably make a living as a model. He'd frowned and said, "And maybe hell will freeze. I'll stick to motorcycles."
Grabbing her sunglasses, Pilar entered her tiny living room. Max sat on the edge of the couch and his size made the room appear even smaller. Willie had his baseball card collection on the coffee table, thumbing through the pages. Max glanced up and Pilar's heart did a back flip. He was everything she wanted to avoid—self-assured, rugged, wealthy, and just plain hot.
Max smiled at her, looked back at a few more baseball cards, commented, and then stood. Willie closed the binder and grinned at the two of them like a Cheshire cat. Pilar knew that smile and she'd set her son straight about the "just platonic" relationship she had with Max.
Max gestured toward the door. "Ready?"
"Yes." He waited for her to lead the way. Pilar inwardly cringed when she thought of the view he was getting of her backside. Then she smiled. Hell, I'm probably turning the guy off and that's exactly what I want.
* * *
Max sucked a breath. Pilar was one desirable woman. She had the curves of a goddess. As they walked toward the trail, he suddenly couldn't think of anything to say.
She carried the conversation. "Thanks for throwing the ball with Willie, but if he gets carried away begging you to toss too often, don't feel bad about turning him down."