Control You (7 page)

“Sort of. I have to get a job and keep it for a while as part of a deal I recently set up with my dad.” I took another sip of my peppermint mocha and wondered why Cameron seemed so interested in getting to know me. Then I wondered why it felt okay to share everything with him, considering we’d just met.

Cameron stopped in front of the cell phone store. “You’ll have to tell me what sort of deal this is. I’m intrigued, but first, I need to go in here and spend fifty dollars or more. Want to help?” he asked with a grin.

I drew my eyebrows together. “Fifty dollars? Why fifty dollars or more?”

“It’s just something I like to do every now and then when I’m in a place that has local stores like this. I go in and spend at least fifty bucks in each of the stores to help boost the local economy. I haven’t done anything of the sort in Norhurst in quite a while, so today is the day.”

Cocking my head to the side, I stared at him. He didn’t seem like the type who would be considerate enough to think of something so selfless and awe-inspiring. “That’s a really cool idea. Sure, I’ll help.”

“Thanks, it was something my mom loved to do.” His smile remained in place, but sadness swirled through his eyes and he dropped his stare to his coffee cup. My heart ached for him. “So tell me about this deal you and your dad have going. What, he didn’t think you could get a job on your own or something? Are you attempting to prove him wrong?”

I laughed as I stepped into the cell phone store in front of Cameron. “No, getting a job isn’t the issue; keeping it is. The deal is, I have to keep a high-stress job for five weeks, and then he’ll let me drop out of school and open up my own clothing store like I want.”

We walked over to a rack of phone cases just inside the door. Cameron picked up a gray one and stared at it, flipping it over in his hand. “A clothing shop, huh? What kind? Used or new?”

I shrugged. “I don’t really know yet. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“You should make it a used store. It could sell gently used, name-brand clothes,” he suggested.

“Why?” I picked up an Asian-looking phone case and then put it back, deciding I didn’t need it. The phone case I already had was perfectly fine.

Shopping with Cameron was not going to make me look any more capable of being a responsible spender in my father’s eyes. No matter whether I tried to explain to him my newest reason—boosting the local economy. A smile twisted at the corners of my lips. I’d have to remember that saying for some other time.

Cameron shifted to glance at me, his hazel eyes locked directly on mine. In the bright lights of the store, they appeared to be made up of florescent greens and honey browns. “Who is your target group going to be for the shop?”

“Target group?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. Whether he was amused by my unthought-out plan or my lack of understanding his terminology, I couldn’t be sure. “Women? Kids? Teens?”

My eyes widened. “Oh, I was hoping for my age and body type.”

“Okay, so younger women, college age.” He slid a car charger off the rack and walked to the first aisle closest to us. “Generally speaking, most women in the sixteen to twenty-nine age group, am I right?”

I nodded and drank the last few sips of my coffee, amazed at how in-depth this conversation was becoming. “Yeah, that’s about right.”

“A used clothing store with high-end designs at a reasonable price would be appealing to them because, generally speaking, they’re on a budget. They’d also be drawn in if you did the traditional consignment shop concept with them—allow them to create an account were they can sell their items through you for a percentage of the money. Maybe seventy/thirty or sixty/forty. Obviously, you would get the bigger end. They could also have the option to cash out on a certain day or use their earnings as store credit. This is an incentive for them to return in your store at least once a month.”

My eyes widened. He was a genius! I never would have thought to open a consignment store. My mother would find it taboo. However, after listening to Cameron talk about it, I thought it might work for the area and me.

“You’re a mastermind. Has anyone ever told you that?” I asked.

“Only in bed.” He winked, and I felt my cheeks flush from his sexual innuendo. “Let’s go pay. This is what I’m getting.”

I walked with him to the register, still thinking about his game plan for my store we’d just created. The desire to whip my phone out, tap on my notepad app, and type out the details so I wouldn’t forget them later was nearly overwhelming.

“Did you want that phone case you were looking at?” He leaned against the counter and waited on my response.

“No, I’m fine. Thanks though.” I smiled. “I really just want to pick your brain now.”

“Pick away, baby.” He grinned.

My cheeks heated as his stare remained on me for a moment too long. I blinked and looked away first. I pushed my mind to think of other things besides how incredibly sexy I found him in dark-washed jeans and a simple T-shirt, which accented his sculpted body hidden beneath. My mind latched back onto the conversation we’d been having, and I wished I’d talked to him before my brunch with my parents—at least then I would have had a better investor speech planned out. I wracked my brain in an attempt to come up with more questions to ask him.

After zinging a few at him, my stomach warmed. This was one of those fuzzy moments of being in the right place, with the right person, at the right moment. I couldn’t deny the fact that I was enjoying hanging out with Cameron, but I also couldn’t forget that Craig had warned me to stay away from him.

Maybe Craig had been wrong about Cameron, because there didn’t seem to be any tendencies of an addict present in his demeanor. People could change; maybe Cameron had and Craig just wasn’t willing to recognize it.

CAMERON

I thought about the hour I’d spent with Paige this afternoon during my drive to Scott’s office to sign my papers. Our conversation about her opening a consignment shop had been completely off the wall, but interesting nonetheless. For whatever reason, owning a shop of that nature didn’t seem to fit her in my mind. Instead, I’d pictured her pursuing something more snobby and plastic like what Genevieve was doing, simply because her boyfriend wanted it. Craig was all about appearances, so that would be par for the course, and her owning a consignment shop was definitely not going to fit into his picture-perfect life. I chuckled as I thought of how big of a deal breaker that might actually be for him.

Paige was too good for him anyway. Surly, she’d realize it sooner or later.

The cream-colored two-story office building, with the sign “Owens and Keller Attorneys at Law” hung above the door, looked exactly as it had when I’d first started coming here. I parked in front and cut the engine of my car. Swiping my hands across my pants, I pulled in a deep breath, and resisted the urge to light up another cigarette and smoke it before heading inside. Every time I signed these fucking papers, I got nervous. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but I wasn’t.

I opened my car door and climbed out. Walking up the three concrete steps from the road to the sidewalk, I crammed my hands into my pockets. Pulling another deep breath into my lungs, I gripped the cool handle and opened the door to the building. Stairs were one of the first things you saw when you walked in the door—beige carpeted stairs leading up to the offices on the second floor. To the right was a black leather bench seat pressed against a dark-paneled wall, and two matching chairs with a small table between them sat along the farthest wall from the door. A cutout area for a receptionist was beside that. I started toward the blond puff of hair barely visible behind it.

“Nice to see you again, honey,” Trish said once she spun around in her desk chair to see who’d walked in. Trish was Mr. Keller’s wife. She’d been the secretary here for as long as I could remember. “Scott is in his office, waiting on you.”

I smiled at her and nodded. “Thanks.”

Starting up the stairs, my heart pounded. Each time I came to see Scott, the process of signing my papers was always the same. There was no reason to be as nervous as I was. Nerves were just one of those emotions you couldn’t explain the reasoning behind sometimes. The fourth step creaked under my foot as I expected it to, and I smiled. This small sense of familiarity relaxed me. Rounding the corner at the top of the stairs, I headed straight for the first door on the right.

Scott’s office wasn’t large. It was painted the same shade of boring beige as the carpet and there were no pictures on the walls, just his degrees framed in black. His desk was made of a dark wood and virtually free of any clutter.

“Cameron, how have you been?” he asked once I crossed the threshold into his office. He sat behind his desk, dressed in a navy blue suit with a reddish tie around his neck. His hair had gone a little more salt than pepper since the last time I’d seen him, but that was the only thing that had changed about him.

“Good, I guess.” I sat in the black leather chair that was the same as the ones downstairs in the waiting area. “I see you still haven’t taken my advice about letting Candace spruce the place up any, huh?”

Scott’s lips twisted into a smile, and I wondered how his mustache hairs didn’t tickle his nose. “Nah, and I don’t know that I ever will. She can decorate the house, but this is my space.”

“You can still pull off the serious vibe and have color splashed here and there,” I insisted.

“I’m sure, but you and I both know that’s just not me.” Scott smiled. His eyes locked on mine and the smile faded. “So, honestly, how have you been lately? Still doing okay?”

I knew what he was asking without him saying the words. Maybe this was why I got so nervous about coming here, because I knew it wouldn’t just be about signing papers. It never was. “I’m fine, yeah. Things have been pretty decent lately.”

“Have you managed to stay out of trouble?”

“Yep.” My jaw tensed. That wasn’t what he was really asking either. It was a roundabout way of finding out if I was using again.

Scott’s eyes skimmed over me. “You look good, Cam—healthy. I’m glad you decided to straighten yourself out some. I’m proud of you, and I know your parents would be too.”

I swallowed hard. His words touched me in that soft spot I’d been trying to harden since this morning, when I’d found myself standing in front of my old house. They made that ache in my chest I’d felt lately swell to new proportions. “Thanks.”

Scott nodded and slid some papers across the desk to me. “Here they are. All I need is your signature.”

I pulled a pen from his holder in front of me and readied myself. “I went by the house this morning.”

“I thought you stayed the night there? I talked to Craig earlier, and he said you’d invited a slew of friends over on Saturday night.” Scott raised an eyebrow at me. He didn’t appreciate my throwing parties in his house.

“Not that house, my parents’ old house.” I signed the first paper and slid it over to him without meeting his stare. I moved on to the next in the stack. “It looks good. You’ve been maintaining it.”

“I have, and my offer to let you live there still stands, as always. All you have to do is ask and the keys are yours.”

My heart picked up pace. Did I even want to step inside again? Could I ever handle living there without them? “I’ll think about it.”

I finished signing the last of the papers, and slid them across the desk to him. When I glanced up, I realized Scott was staring at me.

“Just let me know what you decide, okay?”

“I will. Thanks.” I stood and left the room—the building—faster than I ever had before.

Once outside, I pulled a cigarette from my pack and lit it. Inhaling the rich taste of nicotine and menthol into my lungs, I felt myself calm. Closing my eyes, I thought of the night I gained the scar on my right wrist. It had been a year ago.

“I’m such a fuck up.” My voice had cracked when the words came out.

“So change…”

Eva’s words echoed through my mind. I had changed. I’d taken her advice and checked into rehab. No one knew besides her and Scott; I’d kept it a secret. I’d even kept my failed attempt at suicide a secret. I’d been sober now for a year, and had been slowly working my way back to becoming someone my parents would have been proud of. Hearing Scott say those words to me today had meant more than he would ever know.

Taking a drag off my cigarette, I smiled.

After pulling out my cell, I dialed the one person I needed to be with tonight. She answered on the third ring.

“You know you shouldn’t call me at five o’clock unless you’re going to take me out to eat,” Eva muttered as a greeting when she answered.

I chuckled. “That’s exactly why I was calling. So, what’s your answer?”

“I get to pick the place and you can pay the bill.” I could hear the playful smirk in her voice as she spoke. We both knew she’d be paying for her portion of the meal. Eva never let me buy her anything, but it was fun to joke about it anyway. When I’d paid her rent for the year, she hadn’t even known until she attempted to make a payment a little late one month.

“Sounds fine by me.” I put my cigarette out and dug in my pocket for my keys. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Eva said in a singsong voice before she hung up.

I grinned like a fool as I slid into my car. She was going to be so fucking surprised at dinner tonight when I pulled out the bracelet I’d bought her. Hell, I might walk away from dinner with a black eye after she beat the shit out of me for buying her something. Tonight was a celebration of when she’d saved my life though. Eva didn’t know it, but I was about to pamper her ass for the night whether she wanted it or not. She deserved it.

PAIGE

Blue Agave was a new Mexican restaurant in Norhurst. It opened in the last month or so, and none of us had eaten there yet. We all had been a little hesitant due to the fact Blaire had first told Jason she was pregnant at Verde Guacamole—the best Mexican restaurant in Coldcreek—and were unsure if coming to another would be a reminder of that moment. Thankfully, they’d both been up for trying the place out. As we stepped inside, I prayed the food would taste even a fraction as good as the food at Verde Guacamole. The décor seemed authentic and the music fit well. However, the margaritas and food would be the decision maker for me.