Page 73 of Just a Client

Wilson tensed, stood up straight, and was about to let it rip. And damn if I didn’t know what he wanted to say. I put my hand over his mouth, stopping the tirade before he could start. My sunburn was old news: our state of dishevelment took precedence.

I leaned close to Wilson, my lips brushing his ear. “Nothing about the sunburn. Or else. We need him to help us.”

His eyes flashed. I waited; no way would I lose our first mini argument as a couple. A couple. The idea made my knees weak. We were a couple. Like really together. I’d better tell Bailey and Lara before they heard a rumor. And kicked my ass. I could probably manage a text or two while Stephen worked his magic.

After an extended pause, Wilson rolled his eyes and nodded. I removed my hand and turned to our only hope: Stephen.

“Can you fix us?” I clasped my hands imploringly in front of my braless boobs and tried my best to sound utterly pathetic.

“Let’s hope so. Cami, makeup chair now. I’m going to have to airbrush that beard burn.” Stephen pointed at my neck and chest and sighed like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. “Wilson, we’re going to keep the five o’clock shadow. It will distract from the bags under your eyes. Put the clothes from that rack on while I get to work here.”

Chapter 27

Wilson

Ithadbeenalong day, mostly consumed by retrieving my car from the county impound lot. I owed the sheriff something special for that adventure.

Fun fact: there is only one Uber driver in Elmer, and it’s Wanda.

Over the thirty-five-minute ride, Wanda pumped me for my life story. I spilled everything, hoping she would do some much-needed good PR for me with the townspeople. She got all the details, from my blood type to the name of the first girl I kissed in middle school. In retrospect, I’d made a strategic error in giving her my mother’s email so they could swap Christmas cookie recipes.

My time in Wanda’s Honda was like an out-of-body experience. The entire ride was a blur of rapid-fire questions over a backing track of softly playing old-school country music. The CIA should hire her to interrogate the terrorist insurgents in the Middle East. She’d take down the network in a few days.

The gentleman at the impound lot had been uncaring and inefficient—a true public servant. After paying three hundred dollars and signing seven forms in triplicate, I got the car back. It was dusty from getting towed out there, but none the worse for wear.

Driving back to Elmer, I rolled down the windows to clear the cloying scent of Wanda’s perfume that lingered in my lungs. I reveled in the fresh air and scenic views along the Devil’s Backbone. The ridge was almost a mountain range, and the route ranked among the prettiest drives in Texas. It would have been the best part of my day, but I was taking Cameron on a date tonight.

The sun sat low on the horizon, and the breeze carried the distant sound of the high school’s marching band playing the Elmer fight song at a home ball game when I parked at Cameron’s house. I got out of my rental car and slammed the door. Pausing on the sidewalk, I smoothed the wrinkles from my slacks with sweaty palms.

According to my watch, I was five minutes early to pick her up for our first official date. There might have been time to stop at the store and buy her flowers. It would have been the right thing to do. My dating game sucked. Back in LA, I had an assistant who handled these things. He’d have had a bouquet waiting for me as I walked out of the office. The thought of my assistant picking out flowers for Cameron rankled. Next time, I’d get the damn bouquet myself.

I shook my head; the forgotten flowers weren’t why I was nervous. It was because I hoped this relationship would go somewhere. Not just two dates. But all the dates... stretching out into the future.

The herd of galloping horses had returned, running roughshod across my heart. I welcomed the pounding hooves in my chest as I strode up the path to the front door. The extra swagger in my step and the goofy grin on my face were all for Cameron.

“Hello again.” Bailey pulled the door open before I could ring the bell. Her blue eyes, a chilly replica of her mother’s, scrutinized me. Again, I regretted not having flowers.

“Bailey, good to see you. I’m here to pick up—“

“My mom. I know. Come on in.” She turned on her heel and led the way inside to the living room.

Lara sat on the couch in front of a muted TV tuned to a reality show about buying wedding dresses. I swallowed past a lump that had formed behind my Adam’s apple. Arriving early was a strategic error. I’d stumbled into a trap. One more reason to have stopped for flowers.

Upstairs, muffled music played, punctuated by thumps that sounded like dresser drawers being slammed closed and feet running back and forth.

“Won’t you have a seat?” Lara pointed to a straight-backed wood chair perfect for an interrogation.

“Lara, how have you been?” I gave her a friendly smile.

“Busy, but not as busy as you.” She pointed at the chair and snapped her fingers.

I sat.

Damn, a lot had happened in the two days since Cameron and I decided to give the thing between us a chance. One of those things must have been talking to Bailey and Lara about our new relationship.

“We,” Lara jerked her thumb toward Bailey, who stood behind the couch with her arms crossed enforcer-style, “have a few questions for you, Mr. Phillips.”

“Sure thing.” I had nothing to hide, so I tried to keep my tone relaxed despite the needles of uneasiness pricking the back of my neck.

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