“Influencers?” He looked around, half expecting to see young fashion icons with huge Instagram followings modeling expensive clothing. But, no, it was just everyone they knew eating and drinking and having fun. She pointed toward the mayor, who was across the aisle visiting with the pie ladies, a few members of the town council by her side. “Oh, you mean the mayor? I just handed her a beer.”
“Exactly.” She crossed her arms. “You’re schmoozing the town council.”
Cam leaned in. Unfortunately, doing so gave him a whiff of her scent, summery, fresh, ocean-breezy, and it threw him. “You’re forgetting your grandma holds the keys to the front door.” He tried to sound firm, but inside his emotions were everywhere. He loved seeing her. He hated that they were fighting, hated more that he’d started driving along this road and couldn’t find a way to exit.
And even worse, it was getting harder and harder to fight his crazy impulses. Like the one he was having right now to reach out and kiss her frown away. He used to have the power to do just that. Crack a dumb joke, say something to make her blush, and nine times out of ten she’d abandon her bad mood and laugh.
Wait. What was he doing? He was supposed to stay safely on the other side of this chalk line they’d drawn between them. But he kept dangling his toes over into her territory.
“Look, Hadley,” he said, giving a smile and a wave to the people gathering in line behind her. “I intend to give every single person who passes by here a sip of beer and one of my sister’s outstanding pretzel balls and tell them about my restaurant because my strategy is winning. You’re welcome to employ your own strategy.”
She planted her feet in a stance that clearly signaled he should back down or else. “My strategy doesn’t involve political bribery.”
His anger flared. Instead of backing down, he went ahead and threw gas on the fire. “Yeah, well, you were apparently entertaining the vet school over there.”
She tossed him a you idiot look. Which he deserved. But he still couldn’t help egging her on.
“That was strictly business,” she snapped back. “Fuller was giving me suggestions.”
“And he was holding your hand for, like, three minutes.”
She gestured in frustration. “What has that got to do with anything?”
“Right. Single and holding hands and checking out your butt.” He was really burying himself. “I saw him.”
“I thought you said he was checking out my boobs.”
“Those too.”
“You couldn’t possibly be upset because I was talking to a vet about spaying and neutering animals?”
“See?” He jabbed a finger into the air. “You were talking about sex.”
Hadley was fired up and in his face. “At least I wasn’t handing out beer samples to women who were asking you to autograph their boobs.” She poked his chest. “Or to certain women that you slept with after we broke up.”
“What are you talking about?” Had she gone mad?
“You mean who. Mabel Martin.”
“Mabel? I never slept with her.” He waved his hands in exasperation.
Hadley snorted. “She told me you did.”
“You’ll believe anybody, won’t you?” he said. “You’d take any dog, and you’d take anyone at their word. Except me, apparently.”
“People have to earn my trust,” she snapped.
“Hey, you two.” Nick walked over. “Take the lovers’ quarrel into the bedroom.” He chuckled and dropped his voice, hanging his arms over each of their shoulders. “And you might want to be careful. You never know when someone’s going to press the record button on their phone, if you know what I mean.”
Cam lowered his voice. “Let’s face it, a nonprofit versus a restaurant…it’s not the same.” He held up an imaginary ball in each hand and pretended to balance them.
He was being an ass. He knew it. But he had to find a way to win his case. Now that he’d signed that contract, his reputation depended on it.
“As far as income maybe,” she said firmly, crossing her arms. “But not for value.” She leveled her gaze on him. “Pets have value. Besides, there is no restaurant. Not yet.”
“But there will be.” They were head-to-head now, the decibels increasing. A few heads were turning. But he couldn’t seem to stop.
“This is about more than just profits,” she said.
“Is it really?” he said with a sigh. “A restaurant would bring people downtown and then they’d stay there, fill their stomachs with some great food and then shop around. It’s hard for me to see that a nonprofit would do the same things for our town.”
“Success is measured by more than profit margin, Cam. We need an animal rescue. It fosters community. Your restaurant will bring noise, congestion, and car traffic, not to mention parking nightmares to the middle of town, a place where everyone walks. I can’t imagine why any of that would be a good thing.”
“That can all be worked out.” But secretly, he wondered if it could. He knew how much he needed this restaurant. He knew how much his good name depended on following through with the contract he’d signed. And he wished she would back down but it seemed she’d only gotten more conviction.
One thing he knew was certain—whoever won, it was going to make them enemies forever. Could he really stomach that? The sick feeling that simmered in the pit of his own stomach seemed to answer that question.
“I’ve got to get back to my booth.” She sounded as miserable as he felt.
A familiar bark had them turning their heads. Across the aisle at the Pooch Palace booth, Jagger had jumped up on the plastic fencing and was staring at them from across the aisle. He was excitedly barking and pawing at the fence.
“While we’re…discussing things”—Cam ignored the fact that a crowd had gathered from the commotion they’d created—“I want you to know that I think Jagger is a great dog. I’ve decided I want to give him a home.” Across the way, Jagger was now jumping and barking himself into a frenzy while Hadley’s grandmother and Kit tried to calm him.
“Jagger is my dog,” Hadley said. “It’s obvious that he’s attached to me. I’m his person.”
Well, that didn’t go well either.
“I love him too.” Cam planted his feet solidly on the ground, staring her down. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered—no, he knew—that they had somehow chosen to argue over buildings and dogs instead of address more important things between them. Yet blind frustration pushed that thought away.
She threw up her hands. “Now you’re arguing just to argue with me.”
A panicked scream broke through their heated words and made them both turn. The pie booth next door was in an uproar, the volunteers standing up, exclaiming, chairs tipping, people scattering.
They stopped squabbling and rushed over together to help, coming to a halt in front of the booth, only to find Jagger on his hind legs inhaling a pie.
“Jagger, no!” Hadley commanded as she fought through the crowd, which had devolved into laughter. “Down, boy!” she said as they approached the booth. Jagger stood across from them, the pie table between them.