Page 5 of Engaging with Her Enemy

Becky barked out a laugh. “I’d like to see younotput him in his place if he makes some dumb comment.”

“You may be right.”

“I’m always right.”

Juliana mumbled something to Grayson. “Shoot, Becky! I gotta go.”

“Text me later. You’ll do great.” She smiled at Juliana’s string of muttered curses.

That man was in for a rude awakening if he thought a Southern woman didn’t have a backbone because she talked sweet and polite. Most Southern women could cut a man in half without uttering a single word.

With the cakes cooling on her counter, Becky sat back down at her accounting book laid open on the table. Stupid accounting. Boring as hell. And the damn book was heavy enough to use as a weapon. Or doorstop. She'd fallen asleep last night after her class instead of studying. Her next exam was tomorrow. Failing this class would set her back money and time. What damn teacher decided to give a test two weeks into a semester?

A knock at her door made her jerk. She grabbed her book and opened a kitchen cabinet and shoved it on top of a frying pan. Almost seven in the morning. Who expected her to be up this early?

She opened the door. “It’s too damn early for you to be making house calls.”

Cameron Dempsey crossed his arms. “Nice to see you, too. Where'd you run off to last night?”

She schooled her features. Cameron was one of her best friends, although she wouldn’t admit that out loud. The busybody, soon-to-be Sheriff, didn't need to know everything, though. “Out. Where'd you go?”

“Home. But you passed us about an hour from here. Addie actually spotted you, I didn't.”

“I didn't see your truck.”

“We were in Addie's car.”

That explains why she didn’t notice him. “Is that all you decided to stop by and wake me up to ask? It's my morning off.” She motioned to the cakes on the counter. “I need to ice these and get them to the diner before lunch.”

Cameron scratched his head, glancing around. “Actually, there’s a rumor I think you should hear from me.”

“From you?” She raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. “Why's that? Is the local Sheriff's Office doing door-to-door singing telegrams now?”

“I wanted to tell you in the name of public safety.”

“You are the perpetual cop.”

He rolled his eyes. “You might need time to cool down before you make it into town.” Cameron crossed her porch and leaned against the white, wooden railing. He fiddled with the radio on his hip, clipping it and unclipping it until Becky's nerves were frayed.

Becky grabbed a thick jacket from the peg near the door and followed him outside. She hated cold weather almost as much as early mornings. “Spit it out, Cam.” The boy always acted as if everyone around him had all day to get on with life.

“Hudson is back.”

Her vision shifted a moment. Last night clicked into place. How in the hell had she missed it? “Shit.”

The scars threw her off. And the height. And muscle. God, the muscle had thrown her off. The sexy, lumberjack beard. But that amused, expectant way he watched her. Just like the kid who'd humiliated her at their senior prom. That's why it'd felt so familiar.

“Becky?” Cameron set his hand on her shoulder.

She jerked away. “I'm fine. What do I care if he's come back?”

He held up his hands. “Great. I hope it stays that way. I'm glad I won't be called in to break up World War Three.”

“Don't you have someone's life to save? Or a traffic ticket to give out?”

“I was trying to save Hudson's life.”

Becky turned and stomped back inside her door. “Start worrying about your own life if you ever decide to bust into my house before eight again.” She slammed the door shut and leaned back against it.

---