You Dropped a Blonde on Me Read online

Sweat trickled between her breasts. “Jake likes you.” Why that left her irritated was a mystery to her.

  He grinned, ruffling the top of Jake’s head. “Who wouldn’t? I’m a likeable guy. So what brings you to my neck of the senior citizens’ woods?”

  If he noticed the roll of her eyes, he didn’t comment on it. “I didn’t know it was your woods.”

  Campbell thumbed over his broad shoulder. “Yep. This is my dad’s place.”

  Out of the two hundred units on this side of the village she could have randomly chosen to land in front of, why wouldn’t it be Campbell Barker’s? “I have to finish walking Jake.”

  “I’ll help.”

  “I don’t need help.”

  “Really? The way you were gasping for breath while you ran after Jake didn’t exactly suggest some hidden strength for the ten-K or your skills as an alpha pack leader. So I’d beg to differ.”

  Maxine ignored the calming influence Campbell had on Jake. Ignoring his beefcakeyness proved more taxing. Her eyes darted to the black paved sidewalk. “We just need to get to know one another.” She looked down at the dog with a half smile. “Right, Jake?”

  He took her in with one droopy eye and snarled.

  “How’s that working out? You know, the getting to know each other thing?”

  She sighed. “Fine. Walk.” While she knew she was irrationally angry for a multitude of reasons that Jake liked Campbell, it didn’t stop her from being so.

  Campbell took the leash from her raw, red hand and gave it a firm tug. Jake responded by taking his place beside his strong thigh, popping the squat she could have never elicited from him if Mr. Barker hadn’t shown up and turned everything all magical and shiny. “You just have to let him know you’re in charge or he’ll run rampant.”

  Maxine’s eyes widened. Wow. Mr. Hodge hadn’t been kidding. Jake shit big. She stooped to shovel his aromatic essence into the baggie and said out of the side of her mouth, “Thank you, Dog Whisperer.”

  He chuckled silky smooth like she hadn’t insulted him, maneuvering Jake into a steady pace. “Hey, I’m just trying to help make this big career switch from the Cluck-Cluck Palace to dog walking a successful one for you.”

  “Thank God for career counselors.”

  Campbell stopped, halting Jake and looming over her, blocking her view of anything else but him. “You know I have to ask.”

  Maxine’s chin lifted. “Knock yourself out.”

  “What’s up your ass, Max?”

  That took her by surprise. And, yeah. What the hell was up her ass? Aside from Finley’s fist. “I have no idea what you mean.”

  “You know exactly what I mean.”

  “Do not.”

  “Yeah, you do. You’re one cranky lady, and you know what I think this is about?”

  “So you don’t just fix broken pipes and soothe savage beasts, you have the psychoanalysis thing wrapped up, too?”

  “Just call me Dr. Campbell.”

  “So what’s my diagnosis?”

  “You have a severe case of Campbell-itis. You like me. I’d venture to say you find me pretty attractive. You don’t much like that. It burns your britches.”

  So? “I don’t like anything or anyone at this point in my life. I don’t much like me. How could I possibly like you?” Maxine bit her tongue. TMI, Maxine.

  The soft purr of a car engine brought her respite from his answer—which she was more than positive would’ve been cocky and riddled with Campbell-itis.

  The fading sun glinted off the hood of a sleek, midnight blue sedan as it crawled up the hill and slowed to a stop right beside them. A quick glance at the vehicle’s owner told her that, definitely, whoever was in charge upstairs was grudgin’ and she was at the top of that list.

  “Maxine,” Finley drawled out of the open window, but only after he’d scanned the length of her sweat-suit-clad body, eyes filled with distaste.

  Instantly, her stomach lurched and her intestines kinked up. Finley had never come here in the eight months since she’d flown his coop. In fact, she hadn’t laid eyes on him since he’d confirmed what the society pages had prematurely announced. Laying eyes on him now didn’t garner the reaction she’d given so much thought to in all this time. There was no longing for what might have been, no emotional connection. The sort of connection that was usually a lingering residual effect of sharing so many years together. Not even a twinge.

  There was just fear of Finley and the intimidation factor he wielded like Conan the Barbarian. Fuckall if that shouldn’t make her pissed as all hell. Instead, she found her knees shaking at a possible confrontation while her mind raced with a million different answers to the question of why he’d finally shown up. “Why are you here, Finley?” she croaked, clinging to the baggie housing Jake’s monstrous contribution. Oh, Jesus. Had she croaked? Yeah. She’d croaked the words.

  While she held a bag of dog poop. So sad.

  He popped open the door and slid out of the car with ease. Dressed immaculately, his black suit with the sharp creases in the pants and bright red tie made her cringe at her own appearance. Like wearing a Dior original would make her any less of a candy-ass anyway.

  Jake gifted Finley with the same low growl he’d given her. Campbell gave his leash another firm tug, placing a palm at his snout to quiet him. His next move was subtle, but meant for visibility, when he placed his free hand at Maxine’s waist.

  “I’m here to see my son. I figure if you’re going to prevent him from seeing me, then I’ll just come see him.”

  Right. In all this time it had been the scary Maxine who’d kept him from Connor. It was always someone else’s fault Fin wasn’t getting what he wanted. When he’d stuck his shank of love up any available vajajay, it was her fault. She wasn’t attentive enough. She didn’t make him feel like he was a man enough. Her thighs were too jiggly. There was never any owning up with Finley. Maxine’s cheeks flushed in indignation. Yet, her protest to his false accusation came out weak and downright sissified. “I did not—”

  Finley held up a hand to quiet her, the twenty-four-carat gold of his pinky ring flashing its brilliance. Just another of the many baubles he used to show off his financial stature. There was nothing he loved more than flaunting his goodies. But the thin line of his lips still had the bloody power to make her wince. “I’m not up to your bullshit today, Maxine. Just tell me where your mother’s house is and I’ll go find him myself.”

  Campbell rolled his tongue in his cheek, taking a step closer to her ex-husband. “You don’t know where your own kid’s been living?”

  “Leave Connor alone, Finley,” she crowed, summoning the will to defy him on her son’s behalf. He could manipulate her all he wanted, but the fuck she’d let him beat Connor down, too. “He’s obviously not ready to see you.”

  Finley’s cheeks grew sharply pronounced when his mouth puckered. Oh, she knew that look. It was the “You’re pushing my buttons, Maxine” look, and it immediately made her rethink her words. “He’s not ready because you won’t let him be ready. You’ve brainwashed the shit out of him, you and that crazy mother of yours. Now where’s your mother’s house? You can’t keep him from me, Maxine. I have a right to see him.”

  She caught the questioning glance Campbell shot her. The one that said, “Why don’t you pony up and defend yourself, chicken-shit?” But her throat was thick, her tongue sluggish, and her functioning brain matter uncooperative. “Talk to the judge, Finley,” she said, meaning for it to sound like a demand, but it turned out to be nothing more than a pathetic order.

  And Finley was all over that shit like fried on chicken. He fed off the power he’d convinced her he had. The only thing that had changed in eight months was that she was no longer going to be married to him. Pitiful. “I’d be very careful if I were you, Maxine. You can’t afford to lose anything else.” The narrowed slant of his eyes, the imposing feel to his stance, the twisted confidence in knowing he held all the cards, infuriated her. Yet the gurgling bubble of an
ger she so wanted to nurture just wouldn’t pop.

  However, Campbell didn’t seem to feel the same way. He wasn’t at all intimidated. Of course, he hadn’t lost his cute shoes and a place to live either. His posture was rigid, hovering a good three inches over Finley when he placed himself between them. “I think you’d better cool it, pal, and lay off the threats.” Campbell’s angular face was tense, his jaw muscles working overtime. The tight clench of his square fist around Jake’s leash flexed with a twitch.

  “And who the fuck are you?” was her soon to be ex-husband’s arrogant question. His shoulders squared, and his wide chest puffed out like he was looking for a good throwdown.

  Hoo boy. Finley felt threatened. No one threatened Finley Cambridge. When he became this confrontational, it was time to step in. She’d done it all of her adult life on his behalf.

  Some habits died hard, slow, agonizing deaths.

  Wonder of wonders, her vocal cords decided they’d cut her some slack, and her response to Finley’s question flew from her lips like a bullet from a gun. “He’s my boyfriend.”

  Niiice.

  Superfly, Maxine.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Note from Maxine Cambridge to all ex-trophy wives on sucking it up: When attempting to put on airs for your soon to be ex-husband, quite possibly one should do so when not in a dingy gray sweat suit, holding a Ziploc bag full of dog poo. It carries just a wee bit less in the way of impact. Okay. It carries a lot less. In fact, it’s unseemly. In other words, don’t let your douche-bag husband see you sweat. Wear deodorant at all times.

  “So look who’s got a boy toy,” Finley taunted, cocking a silvery eyebrow in a manner that dripped with lewd suggestion. The sly innuendo that Campbell was nothing more than a man-whore irked her. Alas, because he was a douche bag, it was only natural he’d assume everyone else was, too.

  Maxine cringed, clenching her teeth, wishing she had the clangers to hurl Jake’s poop at him and watch it slide down the front of his immaculate suit.

  Campbell crossed his brawny arms over his torso, puffing his chest out, too. The nice thing about it was, his chest puffed farther than Fin’s. “I think it was a good move on Max’s part. You got Preteen Barbie, and she got me, and while I’m not a preteen, I’m definitely not sixty.”

  Score!

  As quickly as she inwardly cheered Campbell calling Fin out, she winced. Oh, sweet Jesus. Fin was going to run him over with his big fancy car. Her heart crashed, but she wasn’t sure if it was because she was afraid the two men were going to come to blows, or because Campbell had defended her.

  A tingle in her stomach began with a small clench and blossomed into a fistful of butterflies, taking flight in her gullet.

  Okay, okay. It was because Campbell had defended her. Duly noted.

  Finley’s foot scraped the pavement when he rounded on them, jamming his hands into the pockets of his expensive trousers. “And what do you know about our affairs?”

  Campbell gave him a distinct look of disinterest, shrugging his shoulders with indifference. “I don’t know anything about Max’s affairs. I just know about your affair,” he drawled with lazy syllables, moving his body in slow increments in order to fully cover Maxine’s. “Or was it affairs, as in multiples, honey?” he asked over his shoulder.

  Christ on a crapper. He’d gone there. Without any help from her. How had he known where there was? God, if he knew, she’d never be able to look him in the eye again.

  But that was okay. Who needed to look in his dreamy blue eyes?

  He had a nice chest.

  This had to stop before Campbell took Finley out. Stepping around Campbell, Maxine put a hand up, but she couldn’t make her eyes meet her ex-husband’s. They ended up fixating on the crisp collar of his shirt. “Look, Finley, what I do or who I do it with is none of your business anymore. This is about our son, and I don’t know if Connor will see you or not. In fact, I doubt it, but the judge did make it clear you had to call first if you wanted to see him, and I don’t remember getting a message that your receptionist called on your behalf.” So, hah. Hah, shit. That was weak, weak, weak, Maxine.

  Finley’s lips rippled his displeasure. “If you and your hag of a mother would stop filling his head with lies, there’d be no question about whether he wants to see me or not!” he shouted.

  Jake wiggled his back end, lowering the upper half of his long, lumbering body to display his discontent. A drop of saliva fell from the corner of his big, slobbery mouth. Campbell gave him a tug upward, pulling Jake behind him until he completely shielded Maxine from Finley. “I can’t believe you blame a cute little old lady for your crappy parenting. I think it’s time you roll, buddy.”

  “Was that a threat?”

  “Did it feel like one?”

  Fin’s eyes narrowed. “I think it did.”

  “I thought cars were your thing. Seems like maybe it’s rocket science.” Though Campbell’s face remained impassive and outwardly unimpressed, she felt his tension, saw the muscles in his back flex. That she took a moment to note there were two very different sides to Campbell Barker was a testament to how he’d affected her in just the matter of a day. He’d thrown a gauntlet down on her behalf, and it left her all atwitter.

  However, it was so on if the look on Finley’s face was on point. Maxine knew she had to step in and step in fast. It came naturally, saving the man she’d been married to for twenty years from all forms of kerfuffles. Finley’s temper was legend. She was keeper of the legend.

  She’d been smoothing things over to keep peace with anyone who got Fin’s goat for a very long time, and the habit was hard to break. “Campbell?” She wrapped her fingers around his upper arm, noting the bulk, fighting the urge to revel in its smooth texture. “I think we have to go. Isn’t Dog the Bounty Hunter on tonight? We don’t want to miss that. I mean,” she gave him a pointed look, “it’s Dog.”

  In an instant, Campbell was once again the man she’d been reunited with in the parking lot of the Cluck-Cluck Palace. His eyes cleared from the haze of anger, and his broad shoulders relaxed. With his free hand, he used an index finger to trail a gentle line down her nose. “You’re right. I’d be so disappointed if we missed Dog.” Turning to Fin, he smiled and said, “So I guess we’re out. I assume you know the way back to the gatehouse. And if not, I bet that fancy GPS can tell you.” Entwining his fingers with Maxine’s, they left a frustrated, red-faced Finley in their wake.

  While they plodded back up the hill to the tune of Fin’s car going in the other direction, Maxine had to fight to keep from sighing in girlish bliss. Campbell’s hand, callused, tanned, swallowing hers up whole, offered a security she was pretty sure she’d never quite experienced in this way.

  And she had to remind herself she wasn’t up for any more experiences just now. “You can let go now,” she said with a quick glance over her shoulder. “He’s gone.”

  But Campbell’s grip became tighter. “He’s an ass.”

  “Yeah. He’s an ass.” She showed her solidarity, quiet in tone, completely unconvincing, but solidifying nonetheless.

  “Any reason in particular you’re so afraid of him?” He asked the question with a ring of protectiveness to his voice.

  “I’m not . . . afraid.” Not at all. I’m careful.

  “You’re not exactly not afraid.”

  Her sigh was jagged and embarrassed. How could she possibly explain the kind of Vulcan mind meld her soon to be ex had on her? It made no sense to rational human beings of sound mind and body. She knew that, yet she couldn’t begin to describe the kind of uproar Fin left her stomach in every time she had to deal with him, during their marriage and in its current aftermath. “Finley’s imposing. He—I—”

  “Imposing isn’t the word I’d use. Showing his ass is.”

  “That’s more than a word.”

  “He’s more than a word, Max. He’s a lot of words. Some I probably shouldn’t repeat in front of a lady.”

  She giggled. “It’
s okay. I say them in my head about him all the time.” If only she could use her outdoor voice when she thought them.

  Still holding her hand, Campbell stopped when they reached Mr. Hodge’s, handing over Jake’s leash. Dusk had begun to settle, the pink and orange sky reflecting in his blue eyes. “Then why don’t you say them out loud and to him? He needs a good verbal assault.”

  Looking down at her sneakers, Maxine fidgeted in his grasp. “You don’t know Finley.”

  “And I don’t think I want to. So why do you let him talk to you like that?”

  Because each and every time she thought she just might have the market cornered on giving him a piece of her mind, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth like it had been freshly tarred there. Factor in her lack of quick retorts for the circles Fin was so good at talking, and she always stumbled. “What good does it do to argue with him? It’s better if I just leave well enough alone.”

  “Better for who?”

  Me, me, me. “Well, Connor, primarily. How would it look if his father and I got into a fistfight in the middle of a senior citizens’ village? If word got out, and if you know these women in the village, it would, how can I possibly preach to him that fighting isn’t the answer?”

  “Nobody said anything about fists. I’m just talking about standing up for yourself. He talks to you like he owns you. Like he has every right to be in your business, but you have absolutely no rights at all to his.”

  She held up a hand to correct him, then let it fall to her side with a slap of her thigh. Campbell was right. Her entire marriage had been based on Fin having all the rights, and her having none. How that had come to be deserved at least a little research.

  Tipping her chin up, his blue eyes settled on hers. “The way I see it, he was your husband for a long time, but he isn’t anymore—or he won’t be soon. He’s Connor’s father. Sure, that entitles him to certain things, though he definitely doesn’t behave as though he deserves any rights to his kid at all. But you’re Connor’s mother, not just the vessel he deemed important enough to procreate with. You have just as many rights as he does. Big money or not. You can give him hell right back, and you shouldn’t have to fear retribution if you do. He can’t take anything else away from you, right? He’s got all the money. He’s got all the power. As far as I can see, speaking your mind is all you have left.”