into Robert Shelby’s expansive office on Monday morning. Shelby was already on his feet, hand out, coming around a desk the size of Montana. They shook, and he gestured Cameron toward one of two uptight-looking upholstered chairs facing the desk like soldiers standing before an enemy firing squad.
Which chair had his mom sat in the day she asked Shelby to reconsider foreclosing on their house?
“Cameron, thanks for making the time to see me today.” Shelby smiled, but his cheerful demeanor didn’t sit right. Something—desperation?—undercut the man’s words. “Would you like coffee? It’ll only take Mildred a few minutes to bring some in. Or perhaps something else?”
Tea and crumpets, maybe? “No, thanks.”
Shelby took the other visitor’s seat. “Since you agreed to chair the EcDev committee, I wanted to bring you up-to-date on its activities.”
Cameron’s rigid muscles relaxed marginally. So this wasn’t about him having his hands all over Shelby’s daughter. Over. Around. Inside. The memory of Allie’s heat and cinnamon scent had him shifting in his chair. Damned hard to find comfort in a chair someone had forgotten to stuff with padding.
“Chikkalo Bill’s has shown interest in Shelbyville as the location for their new biscuit bakery and distribution center.”
Whoa. Chikkalo Bill’s was the restaurant chain that had combined boneless chicken wings and buttermilk biscuits. Their “Hot Wings, A Real Man’s Breakfast” slogan was spreading across the country with every franchise they opened. He’d read in the paper they were heading into Asia, as well.
Their economic impact on a community Shelbyville’s size would be big shit.
But their CEO and founder was notoriously conservative, swerving somewhere to the right of right.
“Dylan Marfa himself wants to visit the area, get a feel for our culture and...morality.”
Even bigger shit. As in shit meeting an industrial fan.
“I would imagine you’ve heard about my daughter’s...counseling practice and her friend’s little sex-peddling shop.”
Heard about it? He was pretty sure he’d been a beneficiary last night. Cameron simply nodded.
“So you can clearly see we have a potential problem.”
If he’d been standing, Cameron would’ve staggered back with the force of that fan, now turned on him.
So this was why he’d been recruited to head up this business committee. Because no one else knew how the hell to reconcile Allie Shelby with Dylan Marfa. “Sir, you obviously have some agenda here. Why don’t you throw your cards on the table? I don’t like playing games in the dark.”
“Fair enough.” Shelby slumped back in his chair as if the world’s weight pressed on him. “I love my daughter, but I can’t pretend to understand her. What compelled her to counsel women on their—” his volume dropped, “—sexual issues.”
“You’re worried Marfa won’t choose Shelbyville when he catches wind of Personal Assets and Red Light.”
“So you understand our predicament.”
Ours? Yeah, it had become Cameron’s when he agreed to what he thought was a prestigious community position. Committee Chair? They should’ve named the position Economic Development Sucker. “What is it you expect me to do?”
“From your proximity in age and the Chamber meeting, I assume you know Allie.”
Yeah, real damn close to biblically. “We’re acquainted.”
Shelby glanced out the window overlooking a wooded area behind the bank. “She won’t listen to me, hasn’t from the day Elizabeth died. I certainly can’t persuade her.”
“Persuade her to what?”
“Either settle down and abandon this female sexual power nonsense.” He looked back at Cameron, his expression filled with fear, regret and resolve. “Or move her business to another town.”
* * *
Allie glanced at the Escalade’s clock. 11:34 a.m. She should know better than to schedule her appointments with only a fifteen-minute cushion in between, because she
Which chair had his mom sat in the day she asked Shelby to reconsider foreclosing on their house?
“Cameron, thanks for making the time to see me today.” Shelby smiled, but his cheerful demeanor didn’t sit right. Something—desperation?—undercut the man’s words. “Would you like coffee? It’ll only take Mildred a few minutes to bring some in. Or perhaps something else?”
Tea and crumpets, maybe? “No, thanks.”
Shelby took the other visitor’s seat. “Since you agreed to chair the EcDev committee, I wanted to bring you up-to-date on its activities.”
Cameron’s rigid muscles relaxed marginally. So this wasn’t about him having his hands all over Shelby’s daughter. Over. Around. Inside. The memory of Allie’s heat and cinnamon scent had him shifting in his chair. Damned hard to find comfort in a chair someone had forgotten to stuff with padding.
“Chikkalo Bill’s has shown interest in Shelbyville as the location for their new biscuit bakery and distribution center.”
Whoa. Chikkalo Bill’s was the restaurant chain that had combined boneless chicken wings and buttermilk biscuits. Their “Hot Wings, A Real Man’s Breakfast” slogan was spreading across the country with every franchise they opened. He’d read in the paper they were heading into Asia, as well.
Their economic impact on a community Shelbyville’s size would be big shit.
But their CEO and founder was notoriously conservative, swerving somewhere to the right of right.
“Dylan Marfa himself wants to visit the area, get a feel for our culture and...morality.”
Even bigger shit. As in shit meeting an industrial fan.
“I would imagine you’ve heard about my daughter’s...counseling practice and her friend’s little sex-peddling shop.”
Heard about it? He was pretty sure he’d been a beneficiary last night. Cameron simply nodded.
“So you can clearly see we have a potential problem.”
If he’d been standing, Cameron would’ve staggered back with the force of that fan, now turned on him.
So this was why he’d been recruited to head up this business committee. Because no one else knew how the hell to reconcile Allie Shelby with Dylan Marfa. “Sir, you obviously have some agenda here. Why don’t you throw your cards on the table? I don’t like playing games in the dark.”
“Fair enough.” Shelby slumped back in his chair as if the world’s weight pressed on him. “I love my daughter, but I can’t pretend to understand her. What compelled her to counsel women on their—” his volume dropped, “—sexual issues.”
“You’re worried Marfa won’t choose Shelbyville when he catches wind of Personal Assets and Red Light.”
“So you understand our predicament.”
Ours? Yeah, it had become Cameron’s when he agreed to what he thought was a prestigious community position. Committee Chair? They should’ve named the position Economic Development Sucker. “What is it you expect me to do?”
“From your proximity in age and the Chamber meeting, I assume you know Allie.”
Yeah, real damn close to biblically. “We’re acquainted.”
Shelby glanced out the window overlooking a wooded area behind the bank. “She won’t listen to me, hasn’t from the day Elizabeth died. I certainly can’t persuade her.”
“Persuade her to what?”
“Either settle down and abandon this female sexual power nonsense.” He looked back at Cameron, his expression filled with fear, regret and resolve. “Or move her business to another town.”
* * *
Allie glanced at the Escalade’s clock. 11:34 a.m. She should know better than to schedule her appointments with only a fifteen-minute cushion in between, because she
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