To Get Me To You: A Small Town Southern Romance (Wishful Romance Book 1) (36 page)

It felt like an omen or a wall. So she didn’t run to him and slide her arms around him from behind as she wanted.

Hush saw her first, leaping up from where she’d been contentedly chewing on a rawhide to barrel down the aisle. At least one of them was happy to see her. Norah crouched and braced for the impact of Hush’s greeting, burying her nose in the big dog’s soft fur. By the time she came up from the hug, Cam was looking her way. Looking, but not moving.

Okay, this was a damn sight worse than weird. Norah felt the pleasure at her homecoming leeching away, replaced by wariness.

His expression was shuttered as she approached. Other than using a remote to turn down the music, he didn’t move, didn’t even put down the pot in his hands, as if he needed a physical barrier to keep her from touching him.

“You’re back.” Could he sound any less enthused?

“Yeah.”

Cue awkward silence. Norah could no more spew her news into that than she could fly. She drank him in, taking in the t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest, the well-worn jeans with stress points faded almost white, and the dirt smudge on his cheek she wanted to reach out and brush away. She was hungry to touch him, to taste him. To tear down whatever this wall was between them. She curled her hands to fists instead.

I’m happy to be home. I missed you.
She ached to say it. But not when he stood here like a stranger.

So she defaulted to business. “What’s going on with GrandGoods? Tucker said there’s been a development?”

He lifted a brow, the biggest shift in his expression since she’d arrived. “You’ve already seen Tucker?”

“He’s taking care of some business for me. I needed to sign some time-sensitive paperwork.”

Cam grunted at that.

“So the development?”

He sighed and finally set the pot aside, immediately crossing his arms, as if she hadn’t already gotten the message of
hands off.

“Ed Falk came to see me a week ago. He’s old as dirt and is the closest thing we’ve got to a walking law book for city government in this town. There’s a statute on the books that says if we can gather signatures from a majority of registered voters within a month of the passage of a law, the issue becomes a popular vote and can be overturned.”

A week. They’d had this development a whole week ago, and he hadn’t even emailed her about it. Norah absorbed the sting of that and tried to focus on the news itself. She did the math. “So you’ve got a little over two weeks left to gather petition signatures?”

He nodded. “Molly’s been coordinating teams, getting the coalition out on the streets.”

“That’s great.”

“If we can get enough signatures for a ballot referendum, we’re not only seeking to overturn the special use permit but also to implement a store size cap. There is absolutely no reason for any business in a town this size to be bigger than 40,000 square feet. That’s less than a third of the size of the store GrandGoods proposes. We think they’d pull out rather than scale down. And a store cap would protect the town from future incursions.”

“That’s brilliant! What recourse does GrandGoods have while the petition is going around? Is it something they can try to stop?”

“While the issue is up for vote, no action can be taken. GrandGoods can try to influence voters against the idea of a size cap but they can’t move forward even with the purchase of the land until this is settled.”

Did GrandGoods even know that the land was off the table entirely? Probably not since she’d literally just finalized the purchase. This was as good an opening as any for her to tell Cam about it, at least.

Norah took a breath. “I have something to tell you.”

The tension in the space between them ratcheted palpably higher. “I already know.”

“You…what?” Tucker had sworn to keep his mouth shut. Had Abe said something? If Cam knew, why did he seem so pissed?

“I know about Denver and Peyton Consolidated and the job.”

It was the last thing she’d expected him to say, and it took her a moment to recover. She hadn’t told anyone here about that. Not even Miranda. Unless someone had overheard Gerald’s offer. “How did you—”

“I came to Chicago.”

He wasn’t making any sense. “What? When?”

“Right after you left.”

“I don’t understand. I never even saw you.”

“No, you didn’t. I overheard you talking to your friend.”

What friend? Who had she seen other than her attorney? Cecily. Of course. And they had talked about the job when they’d met for coffee.

“And you were just…what? Lurking? Why the hell didn’t you come to me?”

“Like you came to me before you left?”

She flinched. “Look, I already explained that—”

“Yep, you did. I was under the impression when I left that we still had something to talk about, but you already made up your mind. Without me. Again. So I came home.”

Norah’s brain scrambled, trying to remember the conversation, what exactly he’d overheard, to understand what it was he thought was going on here.

Cam flashed a bitter smile. “The thing is, I don’t blame you. Not really.”

That stopped her. “You don’t
blame
me?” What was he accusing her of?

“You tried to warn me from the very beginning. It’s my fault for pursuing this, for believing you’d be able to change. For thinking I could make you happy.”

He thought she’d taken the job. He believed she’d made the decision to walk away from him without even giving him the courtesy of talking about it. That she was capable of being that selfish after everything they’d been through. The insult of that robbed her of words.

But Cam had no trouble jumping into the silence. “So I don’t need whatever pretty speech you’ve prepared to justify all this.”

He didn’t even want to grant her an opportunity to explain. He was so goddamned certain he knew what was going on. So positive he knew what she would say and do. And none of those views of her were positive.

“Well, if you know everything, then I suppose there’s nothing left for me to say.”
Except that you’re an idiot.

“Doesn’t look like it.”

Hush, standing between them, whined and butted her head beneath Norah’s palm. Automatically, she threaded her fingers through the dog’s fur, using her as an anchor as the world listed hard to one side, the man she loved turning into a stranger before her.

“I won’t say anything to the family about this. I don’t want to do anything to damage your relationship with them. You can handle that however you want.”

Was he patting himself on the back for that? Thinking that meant he was still putting her first, even though he clearly thought she was callous and horrible?

“Listen, I know you’ll need to be packing up and going soon, but I hope you can stay long enough to help set up something to get the word out about this referendum. The coalition can use your expertise. It’s the last shot we’ve got, and I know that this, at least, is important to you.”

The implication that he wasn’t important hung in the air between them.

She could fix this. Could clear it up with a few minutes of explanations. But did she really want to be with a man whose opinion of her could so easily turn? She needed time to think, to get past the insult and the hurt before she decided what to do next.

“Of course, I’ll help. I’ll get in touch with Molly and see what she needs me to do.”

“Thanks.”

He picked up another pot, and Norah realized she was dismissed. Bleeding from more wounds than she could count, she turned and walked out, without another word.

Chapter 21

The initial burst of temper had already bled away, leaving only a grief so deep Norah thought she’d drown. She didn’t dare go find Miranda or Aunt Liz to say she was back. She was too stunned, too raw from Cam’s accusations to face anyone from the family. Their well-intentioned concern or advice would break her. She wanted a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and a dark room in which to wallow, but that meant stopping at McSweeney’s Market and guaranteed running into
someone
she knew. Not knowing what else to do, she simply drove.

He hadn’t fought for her. In the face of his misconceptions, he hadn’t questioned, hadn’t confronted, hadn’t argued. He’d accepted as fact. And he’d let her go. Just like that.

She’d given up her whole world for him.

She found herself at Cam’s place before she realized. So ironic that she instinctively came here for solace when he was the one who’d just broken her reality. On autopilot, she climbed the stairs and let herself inside. God, the place smelled like him. Standing in the center of the loft, she waited to feel Cam’s rejection echoed through his space, but the apartment was much as she’d left it. He hadn’t moved her piles of research. The throw she favored was still draped over the chair. She’d half expected to find her things in a box.

He’d be home in a few hours. A part of her wanted to wait for him, confront him with the truth and set the record straight. But what if this was just an excuse? What if, in her absence, he’d realized he’d been caught up in the rush and he didn’t really want her? Certainly grabbing on to this idea that she was the one at fault would be easier than admitting to his family that he’d changed his mind.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t face another round of rejection from him after everything else she’d been through.

Hands shaking, Norah gathered her stuff. If she was wrong—and oh dear God, she prayed she was wrong—maybe this would be the wake up call he needed. If she wasn’t… Then at least she wouldn’t have to come back here to face him.

The bag barely fit in the back seat amid the pile of other stuff she’d packed to bring down here. What she’d intended to be the first phase of moving to Wishful for good. Something else she couldn’t think about right now.

She needed distraction. Work was the panacea for all ills. Work was her savior. So she called Molly.

“I didn’t know you were back!”

“Only just. I wanted to see if you were free to catch me up on what the coalition has done about the petition.”

“Certainly, but I thought you’d be with Cam.”

So did I.
“I’ve seen him. We agreed that this takes priority.”

“Okay then, come on over. I just put a pound cake in the oven.”

The two story ranch was a little worn around the edges. The landscaping needed some upkeep and the siding could use a fresh coat of paint. But everywhere around the house, Norah saw signs of family and permanence. A row of rocking chairs with names painted across the top. Hand-made wind chimes hanging from the eaves. A tree house in the branches of a big sycamore.

Molly opened the door with a broad smile. “Come in, come in. Welcome back.”

“Thanks.” Norah followed her inside, only dimly aware of the other woman’s friendly chatter as she noted the long hallway full of family pictures. Birthdays. Christmases. Sports teams. Dance recitals. Family vacations. The Montgomerys had been here a long time, raised four children, and the place felt full of love and comfort. The kind of home she’d been too afraid to admit dreaming of.

“—told Babette that we really had to work on—” Molly swung around as they entered the living room and stopped. “Norah, honey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Why did her voice sound so choked?

“Sweetheart, you’re crying.”

Mortified, Norah lifted a hand to swipe at her cheeks. “Damn it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” A hiccuping sob rolled up her throat. Shaking, she clapped a hand over her mouth, struggling to find some semblance of control. But that only made her quake harder. Damn Cam. Damn him for robbing her of this, too.

Molly took her free hand and tugged her down on the sectional. Without batting an eye, she wrapped both arms around Norah. “Go on and let it out, baby. You’ll feel better for it.”

Too exhausted to keep fighting, she pressed her face to Molly’s shoulder and wept. The older woman said nothing, just stroked her back and rocked, while all the stress and strain and heartache poured out, leaving her exhausted and hollow. Even when the tears stopped, Norah stayed put for a few minutes and let herself be soothed.

Then reality intruded again and the embarrassment returned. She’d just completely lost it with this woman who barely knew her outside a professional context. What was the correct response here?

She lifted her head. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Molly said it matter-of-factly, as if people fell apart on her all the time. There was no censure, no pity in her eyes, just a kindness and understanding that left Norah feeling out of balance in an entirely different way.

She scrubbed both hands over her face in a vain effort to erase the damage. “I am…not a crier. My family doesn’t encourage that kind of loss of control.”

“Sometimes you just need a good purge.” Molly handed over a box of tissues. “How long’s it been?”

The last time she hadn’t been able to choke it down or channel it somewhere else? Well that would be when Cam obliterated her defenses by clearing her name. Before that…“High school, maybe.”