Hometown Holiday Reunion. Mia Ross
him with a pensive look. “It would go a lot faster with the two of us. Do you still have that old pickup of yours?”
“Course I do. They don’t make ’em like that anymore.”
“Meaning no air-conditioning, power steering or functioning gas gauge,” Natalie teased from behind her desk.
“Less complicated means less things to worry about,” he informed her with a grin. “Plus, when something breaks I can fix it myself. These days, even the best mechanic needs a fancy computer to tell him what’s wrong with a car.”
Erin rolled those pretty green eyes and sighed. “You sound like my big brother. Mike’s always complaining about how impossible it is to repair anything made in the last ten years.”
“It’s a conspiracy to make us all buy new stuff.”
“Yeah, he says that, too.”
Their discussion of modern convenience seemed to be over, and then out of nowhere he heard himself ask, “What do you think?”
He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but since he had, he did his best to look mildly interested in her answer. Erin had never been anything more to him than his buddy Drew’s annoying younger sister. But this morning, Cam had glimpsed a different side of her that he hadn’t noticed before. She’d always been sassy and too smart for her own good.
Now he knew firsthand what was most important to her and how she used that keen intelligence to get what she wanted. Employing a reasonable, logical argument, she’d convinced him to go along with something that only yesterday he couldn’t have imagined himself agreeing to.
Despite the fact that he’d been forced to give in, Cam had to acknowledge that he was impressed by her tenacity.
“I’m partial to old things myself,” she replied. “They’ve been around a long time, and I think they deserve to be taken care of.”
“Not so much a fan of shiny and new?”
In response, she held out one of her beat-up work boots for him to see. Chuckling, he took his copy of their lease from Natalie’s desk and handed the other to Erin. “Gotcha. So, when did you wanna get started?”
“Yesterday.”
The quick response was so like the determined girl he recalled that he couldn’t keep back a laugh. Opening the office door for her, he bowed slightly as he held it open. “Ladies first.”
“You can save your breath,” she informed him as she flounced past him and out of the office. “Those fake manners of yours don’t fool me.”
“What makes you think they’re fake?”
“I know you,” she shot back. Fortunately, she’d kept her voice down so the other folks on the sidewalk couldn’t hear the venom in her tone. “You haven’t changed a bit since you dated your way through the cheerleading squad in high school.”
“I was a football player,” he joked. “It wasn’t my fault the girls came with the uniform.”
“Whatever.”
She was pointedly ignoring him, even when he stopped and tugged her to a halt. When she looked up at him, he saw a bitterness that made him wish he could undo whatever he’d done to put it there. “You know I was only kidding, right?”
“Of course you were,” she spat back, as if the words tasted sour on her tongue. “You never took me seriously back then, so why start now?”
“I never took you seriously because you hated me.”
“I hated you because you never took me seriously.”
He opened his mouth for a sly comeback, then thought better of it. After all, they were going to be neighbors for at least the next three months. It would go better for both of them if they laid their less-than-glorious past to rest.
Holding up the papers he’d so reluctantly signed, he summoned patience into his tone. “We’re all grown up now, and that’s how I see you. We’re doing business together, aren’t we?”
“Because you don’t have a choice, not because you think it’s a good idea.”
They were finally getting somewhere, he thought. Lightly grasping her shoulders, he met her angry gaze with a calm one of his own. “Trust me, Erin. If I was the slightest bit worried that you were a bad risk, I wouldn’t have agreed to lease you that building. If it makes you feel any better, my foot-dragging was totally personal. It had nothing to do with you.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.” Letting her go, he stepped back and dredged up a wry grin. “Still hate me?”
Batting her eyelashes in a gesture totally out of character for her, she gave him an exaggerated Southern-belle smile. “Not as much.”
“Give it time, darlin’,” he teased in a heavy drawl as they continued down the walk. “Knowing me, it won’t be long till I do something to make you mad.”
* * *
Boy, did he call that one.
“Are you trying to drive me crazy?” Erin demanded when she saw how Cam was packing Great-Grandma Kinley’s china. Snatching the Bubble Wrap from him, she demonstrated on a plate that she took from the small hutch. “Wrap the whole thing twice, then set it down flat in the box. They’re very fragile, and if you put them on end, the rims might get damaged.”
“Okay.”
“These came all the way from Ireland on a sailing ship,” she persisted in frustration. “It would be a shame if they couldn’t survive moving from one side of Oaks Crossing to the other.”
“Sorry. I should’ve been more careful.”
It was the uncharacteristically humble tone that convinced her that his apology was sincere. Once her frantic, record-setting pace had been interrupted, she decided they could both use a breather. Carefully putting the heirloom dish into the padded moving carton, she turned to him and smiled. “Time for a break. I’ve got coffee and water, and I think there’s some cherry pie in the fridge.”
His gloomy expression brightened considerably. “Maggie’s cherry pie?”
“Of course. Mom made an extra for Parker and me and sent it home with us after Christmas dinner. Help yourself.”
Her everyday dishes were already packed, but the silverware organizer sat on the counter waiting for a box. Her resourceful helper tore off a couple of paper towels and served up a piece of pie for each of them.
Biting into a mouthful of his, he hummed in appreciation. “Your mother’s a genius when it comes to food. Must be an Irish thing.”
“It’s supposed to be,” Erin acknowledged with a laugh. “I guess it skips a generation or something, because my niece Abby loves to cook but I can’t stand it.”
“You’re good at other things.”
The compliment caught her off guard, and she gave him a long, curious look. “Did you just say something complimentary about me?”
“Huh,” he commented, as if it hadn’t occurred to him until she mentioned it. “I guess so. Can’t imagine what came over me.”
Mischief sparked in his eyes, and she couldn’t help laughing. “Are you really as bad as all that, or is it just an act?”
“You tell me.”
While they stared at each other, the playful gleam deepened to something she wasn’t sure she liked. The trouble was, she wasn’t sure she didn’t like it, either. Rattled by her conflicting emotions, she fell back on her usual defense. Tossing her head defiantly, she said, “I think you just want people to assume you’re bad so they won’t hassle you.”
“Then why do