The Right One (3 page)

Liz leaned against the countertop. “And how are you going to feel when that ‘thing’ gets serious and he’s no longer available whenever you call him? You know, it could, will, happen someday. He’s every girl’s dream come true, someone will be smarter than you and take him off the market. If he lets them.”

The screen door slamming and muffled boots prevented her from answering. She let out a breath of relief as Alex walked into the room, patting the Stetson against his jeans. “Hi ladies.”

“Hi Alex.”

The tone in Liz’s voice begged for a reprimanding. Cami shot her a fractured glare, and regarded Alex, the questions in the intense brown eyes left answered. She knew Alex’d had a fair share of badgering over the nature of their relationship. Why people couldn’t handle the friendship was beyond them both. “Hey there, Alex. Ready to get to work?”

“For you? Do you even have to ask?”

Liz coughed and the urge to throw something crossed Cami’s mind. “I better get going. I’m not up for the manual labor. When you’re ready for me to sit down with the books, let me know. Might as well start putting this accounting degree to work.”

“You know I can’t pay you just yet.”

“What kind of friend would I be if I was looking for a paycheck to help someone who’s the only sister I’ll ever have?”

The two women hugged. “And think about what I said. You don’t let someone like Alex get away.” Liz whispered into Cami’s ear.

“Get out of here.” she whispered back.

Liz laughed and turned to Alex, voice syrupy. “Good seeing you again.”

“You too, Liz.”

She winked at Cami and left.

“What was that all about?”

She shook her head. “The same ol’ story. Why aren’t you and Alex a couple, blah, blah, blah. My parents were here earlier and reading the same riot act. You and I remain on the hot topics list.”

“Wouldn’t it blow all their minds if we ever gave them reason to actually be there?” Alex grinned.

Cami bit her tongue, fought a smile, her stomach fluttering.
Not likely
, she thought, eyes searching the room for distraction,
not when pushing makes me want to push back harder.

Chapter Four

Cami opened the mailbox with the wind blowing through her hair, the sounds of Bobcats and shouting men breaking the tranquility of an early Smoky Mountain morning.  She pulled a handful of mail out of the cheap metal box, thumbing through a dozen white envelopes, pausing at one. Tucking the bills and junk mail in a back pocket of her Levis, she ran a finger between the seal and pulled out the legal form. Smiling, she trotted into the yard, and saw Alex directing a couple men near the house.

“Alex! We’ve got it. It’s legal!” She waved the paper in the air, jogging to meet him. She leapt into his waiting arms and squealed as Alex spun her around. “It’s official.” She breathed, running fingers through the stray strands blocking her vision as Alex landed Cami on her feet. “Lockhart Sanctuary is now an official, legal non-profit entity, and the city won’t be fighting us anymore.” She handed the papers to Alex.

He scanned the words with a wide smile. “Congratulations. This is wonderful.” He leaned in and brushed a kiss across her cheek.

Cami swallowed hard, pausing, the feeling of his lips lingering against her skin. No reason to acknowledge the gesture. Safer to ignore it. She drew a deep breath. “Not just for me though. For all of us. And for those animals. Now I can get on the lines and start setting up arrival dates for the cats, and we can pull in our vets and arrange food, and, and, oh, there’s so much to do.”

Alex chortled. “Calm down, Cam. You’ve got this all planned out to the smallest detail. You took that council on like a prized fighter, and won, which we all knew you’d do. The rest is just details.” He rubbed a thumb over an ever present five o’clock shadow, muscles in the arm tense as he scanned the papers. “So what’s next?”

“Final structures need to be put in place. We can expand later. I’m hoping for at least six cats to start with, and think I’ve got three for sure. So we need those indoor enclosures constructed quickly. We’ve got, maybe, six weeks to finish. Think it can be done by then?”

“You just proved anything is possible. Yes, we have this covered. You get to work on things on your end.”

She smiled. One person she could always count on was Alex. “I’ll order a pizza for everyone at lunch time. Say, eleven-thirty?”

“It’s a date. I’ll let everyone know.”

Cami nodded, smiled and stared at the ground for a moment before lifting her head to nod and turned with a hop, jogging to the house.

*

Alex watched as she jogged off, smile beaming, Cami’s excitement contagious. Always had been, since the day he met her, blonde ringlets bouncing as she ran in the meadow not ten miles from where he stood, taking on a group of boys who wouldn’t let her play basketball. He smiled at the memory. And the instant crush. Taking the Stetson from his head, Alex patted it hard against a leg and pushed the hat back along his head. For most kids, crushes faded. His didn’t – it grew. But he also knew she didn’t return the love, and he wasn’t an idiot. He wasn’t about to jeopardize a twenty-four year old friendship for a love that was sure never to go anywhere. Finding love someday wasn’t a problem, he wasn’t worried. Not the same, but different wouldn’t necessarily be bad. He just wanted Cami in his life, in whatever way that meant.

“Hey Alex! Which way are we going with this?” Mason, the youngest of the crew at only twenty-four, interrupted the tirade of thoughts, the final roll of fencing forcing a heavy lean.

He pointed westward. “Head out that way first, then we’ll wrap back around.”

Mason nodded in Cami’s direction. “What’s the story between you and Ms. Lockhart?”

Alex shrugged, hoping he looked less interested than he felt. “There is no story. We’ve been friends nearly our entire lives.”

“You’re lucky man. She’s sure something to look at. I’d sure love to take her out sometime.”

Alex’s nerves pricked.  “And your boss. Remember respect.”

Mason grimaced as he concentrated harder than needed at the fencing. “Sorry. Didn’t mean nothing.”

“Maybe not, but keep that kind of talk for someplace else.”
And someone else
. “Not here.”

“Sorry.”

“Hey, boys. How’s it coming over here? Mason, you’ve got that fencing unrolled yet?” Tank slapped Mason on the shoulder, who stumbled and glared.

Alex smiled, and wished Tank’d slapped Mason just a little bit harder. “Hey Tank. We’re getting there. Your team done with the back of the property?”

He nodded. “Waiting on you slackers. What’s the news with the boss lady? Any new executive orders?”

“Just to get moving around here.” He grinned wide, chest puffing out. “We’ve been approved and full steam ahead. Buckle your seat belts children, the ride is about to begin.”

“She was approved?”

Alex’s forehead wrinkled. “You sound surprised,Tank. Didn’t think it’d happen? You oughta know her better than that.”

The big man shrugged. “No, no. Not at all. Her determination is really, eh, something, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well, she is too.”

Tank slapped Alex’s shoulder. “Do yourself a favor and ask her out. Stop being such a wuss.”

Alex stepped forward, Tank’s words hitting a nerve. “Say again?”

Tank chuckled. “No harm meant, man. Just … hey, gotta go after what it is you want, don’t you? And if she doesn’t want you, there’s lots of other fillies out there.”

Alex sighed. Tank was right, as much as he hated to admit it. Time to start dating. She wasn’t the right one, despite his feelings. If Cami was, she’d be his.

Playing the field would help him find the
her
, whoever she was. Alex could settle down, start a family.

Nothing wrong with always being there for a friend.

Chapter Five

Cami pulled a gallon of milk from the refrigerator and poured a glass, licking the white mustache from her upper lip and looking to the front of the house as chimes announced a visitor. Taking another sip, she rested the glass on the counter and headed for the front door.

Peeking through the peephole, she sighed. What did Paul Schotter want now? With a grimace, Cami opened the door, leaned her head against the frame. “Mr. Schotter?”

“Hello, Ms. Lockhart.”

Her eyes followed his black suit pants and crisp white shirt, cuffs rolled enough to display a gleaming gold watch. Cami smirked. Just like a stuffed shirt to come to a ranch in office attire. “Is there something I can help you with?”

His eyebrows arched strangely and a tentative smile played with his lips. “The documentation cleared today regarding the sanctuary. I came to give you the news.”

Her head tilted into a shoulder. “Well, I appreciate the gesture, but the mail arrived an hour ago and the papers were with it.” She cleared her throat. “Why are you really here? An in-person visit wasn’t required to share that news with me. You’d’ve known the papers would be sent to me.”

“Like I told you the last time I was here, you’ve peaked my curiosity.” Paul leaned a shoulder against the frame. “I was hoping you’d reconsidered my invite for dinner, maybe allow me a tour.”

I hope the house gets your shirt dirty
. She chortled. “Okay, look, if you are really that curious, I’ll take you up on the offer. Maybe some education would do you good.”

Paul smiled. “Then this evening? Maybe four?”

Cami sucked her lips over her teeth. “Okay. Four. But don’t think you’re going to get something juicy to use against the sanctuary. I’m serious about what I’m doing here. It’s important. And I’m not going to let anyone tear it down. Do we have an understanding?”

He nodded, eyes sparkling. “I’m not a shark, Ms. Lockhart. I had concerns, yes, as did many others. But from what I’ve heard so far, you’re taking every precaution humanly possible to protect everyone involved. I don’t want to destroy your dream. I’m even a bit fascinated by it. And you.”

Cami laughed. “That’s a nice line, Mr. Schotter. But I’m not going to fall for compliments any more than I did for anything else. I’ll see you at four, and then I’ll kindly ask you to respect my privacy. Where would you like to meet?”

“Henry’s? Do you like barbeque?”

“Of course, but it doesn’t bode well for blueprints.”

“No rush. We can talk about the sanctuary and then have dinner. My treat for the inconvenience.”

“Dutch is fine. Henry’s then, four o’clock, and then we’ll take a ride across the property. You do know how to horseback ride, yes?”

“Ms. Lockhart, I was born to a thoroughbred raisin’ family. I rode before I could walk.”

You’re still not impressing me
. “Right then. I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

He nodded. “Until then, Ms. Lockhart.”

Cami closed the door, edged to the window and watched him leave. She wasn’t sure what angle Mr. Schotter was playing, but she’d go. Maybe he’d learn a thing or two.

Cami ran nail-bitten fingers through cascading hair. The long blonde hair, full and layered, draped down her back in soft curls, and looked much prettier than the fingers that tousled it. Glancing down at the nails bitten past the quick, she grimaced. It was a nasty habit, she knew, and one she’d stopped for a while. But recent nerves sparked the return of the disgusting quirk. She pumped the hand into a fist a couple times and dropped it to the side. Caring for the tigers and horses wouldn’t bode well for manicures, and she wasn’t that kind of girl anyway. But neither did biting dirty fingers. Time to quit.

Sliding on the cowboy boots and gathering a form fitting jean jacket, she headed downstairs in the white home that resembled an old farmhouse, complete with a wraparound porch and hanging swing out front. With only the two bedrooms upstairs, living room, kitchen with a breakfast nook, and a third bedroom she’d turn into an office, the house was more modest than the one she’d grown up in. She wondered if that was the reason she loved it. Money was good, could be useful, but what sometimes came with it left a bad taste in her mouth. A humble life with modest but comfortable surroundings suited her better.

Henry’s was the kind of restaurant people went to relax and kick back. With rough wood floors and tables more rustic than the floors, it had the best barbeque in the state. The kind of place where patrons wore food on their faces and hands without a second thought. A favorite of hers.

But Paul Schotter didn’t need to know that.

Cami glanced across the visible dining room, didn’t recognize the evening’s companion, and strode to the greeter’s podium. As the people ahead of her in line, Paul walked up beside her. “Good evening, Ms. Lockhart.”

No smile. He’d have to earn that. “Mr. Schotter.”

“Looks like we timed this well. You’re just arriving?”

She nodded, noticing the jeans and t-shirt, and wondered if he’d dressed down on purpose. Not gym built, a subdued muscular build no longer hid by white collar clothes. She swallowed hard.

“Good. Shall we?”

She nodded.

The greeter led them to a table against a far corner of the noisy restaurant and waited as Paul pulled out a seat for Cami and retreated to the opposite side of the table. The greeter handed them a menu and disappeared to the now hidden post.

She tucked the menu against the wall, knowing what she wanted. Not time to order yet anyway. Dinner depended on the man across the table.

Paul followed Cami’s lead and clasped his hands on the table. Large hands, no callouses. Not like Alex’s. Desk and paper hands. She bit the inside of a cheek.

“Thank you for coming tonight. I know you didn’t want to.”

She grinned. “I’d say that’s not true, but I’m not going to lie to you.”

He laughed quietly. “I like your honesty, Cami. Can I call you Cami?”

She glanced down for a moment in consideration and slowly lifted her eyes. “Okay. Is it Paul then?”

He nodded. “Of course.” He reached for the salt and pepper shakers, moving the condiments against the wall and carefully pushed the napkins and peanut basket aside. “So let’s keep this professional then, since I’ve lost your trust.”

Cami reached down to the soft briefcase leaning against the wall at her feet. “That’s the only thing it is.” Pulling out the plans for the ranch, she spread the last year’s preparations before her as Paul scanned the plans.

“This is a massive undertaking, isn’t it? I didn’t realize how immense at it is. You own a lot of property.”

She scratched the side of her nose. “You don’t know much about me at all, do you Mr. Schotter, Paul?”

He held both hands up in surrender. “Guilty there. No, Cami, I can’t say that I do. I only know you want to bring very large, very dangerous pets there.”

She swallowed hard, fighting the urge to lunge into the familiar tirade.
Pets
. Hardly. “They are not pets, Paul. These are animals that should be allowed to roam free thousands of miles away on a totally different continent. They were brought here in illegal trade, sent to private homes by people who thought they’d make good pets, or trophy animals they could show off to friends, and then discarded or neglected the animals when they grew out of the cute cub stage. Some even horribly abused. This is not about having cuddly cats to curl up on the couch with, Paul. This is about rescuing the lives of creatures that are helpless to help themselves.”

“I didn’t realize.” He looked up from blueprints with enticing eyes.

Cami looked away. “Not many people do. People hear, there’s going to be tigers living there, and they automatically assume I’m going to have a houseful of five hundred kitty cats roaming free. They don’t understand that’s what I’m taking these creatures out of.”

Paul leaned back, and Cami could feel him sizing her up. Her gut flinched, the scrutiny uncomfortable. She’d noticed the good looks the first time Alex came to the ranch, but sitting across from the table, those looks were distracting. The natural narrow slant to grey blue eyes, the narrowing of his cheekbones and tapering chin. Gritted teeth pained tightened muscles. He was the enemy, and she wasn’t about to think of him as anything else.

“Are there any other questions I can answer for you, Paul?”

“Where are the tigers going to be housed? You said something during the meeting about indoor housing. What will it look like? How much room does it allow the cats?”

Cami drew in a breath and settled back, easing some distance between them. No getting out of the meeting easily. “Each enclosure will be large, and we’ll keep as much natural materials - grass, mulch, hay, tree branches – as possible, along with enrichment materials like phone books or boxes. When possible, they will be double housed, since some studies show siblings housed together demonstrate less pacing, and other unsettled behaviors.”

He shifted the gaze back to the blueprints, index finger finding and pointing the areas. “And outside?”

“Brooks and pools, trees to climb, shade to sleep in, room to run. With the amount of space we own, along with the lack of overpopulation we are committed to, it will allow the cats the most comfortable housing we can possibly provide, in the most natural setting we are capable of giving them.”

Paul nodded, leaning in to study the plans further. “And you stated there would be an on-site veterinarian, along with guards, and trainers, nearly around the clock. How do you plan on paying all these people?”

She raised an eyebrow. “This is beginning to sound like another interrogation. I believe I’ve passed all the tests, and most of this, I’ve already answered during the probe. Were you not listening?”

He laughed. “You’re a tough one, aren’t you? No, I was listening, but everything you’re proposing must come with a hefty price tag. It makes me curious.”

“Seems like you’re curious about an awful lot still, especially for someone who wanted so badly to shut me down.” She sighed, glanced across the room, and regarded him once again. “Look, the sanctuary will be funded, nearly a hundred percent, by my own dollars. We are non-profit, so what will come in will be by donations, and most of our staff will be volunteer. I’m not in this to commercialize these animals, Mr. Schotter.”

“Okay, okay, you’re convincing me.” He afforded Cami a lopsided grin. “And it’s still Paul. I’d still love to ride around the property. I’m a visual person, I’m afraid.”

His eyes glistened and Cami pulled both arms around her chest. Scrutiny, or eager invitation, was not welcomed.

He clapped and clasped his hands. “Should we get something to eat, then you give me the grand tour?”

“It
is
open land right now with only fencing and skeletal buildings giving any definition, you do realize that?”

He nodded. “Yes, but just as I’m good at visualizing, I also have a strong imagination.”

Cami pulled back. The words weren’t settling well, and she didn’t like the vague inclination of pick-up lines. Still, if it urged him off the bandwagon of being in the way of the sanctuary, she’d put up with him. He didn’t seem dangerous, not in that way. “Okay. That is what we agreed on.”

Paul nodded and signaled for a waitress, who scurried to the table. Cami listened as he ordered a cheeseburger with fries, and grimaced. She’d had her heart set on the same thing, but refused to order it now. As the teenaged waitress turned to face her, she swallowed hard and thought fast. “French dip, please, with cole slaw instead of fries, and a Coke."

The teenaged waitress scribbled on a notepad, stole another quick glance at Paul and hurried away. They sat in silence, her fingers poking absently at the prongs of a fork, while he studied her.

“So, aside from very large, rather dangerous, cats, what do you like? Movies? Books? Running in the rain?”

A single eyebrow shot up. “Running in the rain? What, like wet t-shirt contests?”

He laughed. “No, no. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to offend you, although I’m thinking since I declared war against the sanctuary, there’s very little I can do or say now that won’t offend you. I simply mean, well, you must be an outdoorsy kind of person, wanting to spend your life caring for wildlife of sorts. So I can’t picture you sitting inside, pasting pictures to paper or knitting.”

“No, I guess you’re right on all counts. You, in general, do offend me, because the sanctuary is very important to me, and that’s putting it mildly.” Paul chuckled, and Cami stopped a grin short. She was being ridiculous.
Time to lighten up a bit Cami-girl
. “And yes, I love being outside, so I don’t do much scrapbooking, and no knitting.” She grimaced, “Although my family would be perfectly content for me to do that girly kind of thing, or be barefoot and pregnant with a husband coming home every night in tailored suit and real leather briefcase.”

“Which I’m guessing does not appeal to you.”

“A husband and kids, sure, someday. Barefoot and pregnant, not so much, and my husband certainly doesn’t have to be some hot shot lawyer or big wig at a company to make me happy.”