The dog came right up to her and pushed his snout into her hand, nudging it. She got the hint and petted him, weird little charmer that he was.
“He wandered in off the street and never left,” Ivy said with a shrug before Hadley could ask.
“A stray?” A cold feeling iced her insides despite the warm day. No dogs here except Bowie and…this?
“He’s sort of Labradoodleish,” Mayellen said, emphasis definitely on the ish. The dog was a gangly-legged, tangly-haired mix of something. Hadley thought the dog might be looking at her but couldn’t really tell because his hair had grown over his one hopefully functioning eye.
“He had a collar,” Ivy said. “Your grandmother thinks someone driving through town dropped him off on purpose.”
“I can’t imagine why.” Hadley pet his ratty-looking head. She couldn’t help smiling a little as the dog leaned against her before flopping down to have his belly rubbed.
“His name is Jagger,” Mayellen said with a shrug. “He’s a lover.”
“Jagger?” Hadley said.
“Bowie’s friend. Cam thought of it.” Ivy immediately clapped her hand over her mouth. Even a hard left in the ribs from Mayellen couldn’t take that back.
“All right,” she said, tackling this head-on. “Where is he?” Why on earth were they protecting him?
Suddenly a voice sounded from the back room. “I don’t see any problem with turning the back room into a professional-sized kitchen,” someone said. “And wiring for all the big-screen TVs should be pretty routine.” A stout, balding man walked out of the back and spread a set of architectural plans on the counter.
A creepy sense of foreboding spread in Hadley’s chest. Kitchen? TVs?
“What do you think of the overall size?” asked a second voice.
Hadley closed her eyes. That familiar, low, rumbling voice could only belong to one person.
Hadley stared as the architect—was he an architect?—stepped aside and a tall, imposing figure suddenly filled the doorway behind the counter.
Oh, holy Levi’s. It was Tony Cammareri himself. And lo and behold, he was holding a pack of yellow sticky notes.
He strode out of the back, tall and leanly muscled and with shoulders as broad as a tank, dressed in well-worn jeans that hugged him like a glove. With Bowie hot on his heels, trotting along with the enthusiasm of a puppy.
Hadley wasn’t sure what made her more upset—the fact that Bowie was clearly enraptured with him or the fact that he was better looking than that day long ago when she’d first seen him walk out of the boys’ locker room and onto the gym floor for badminton class.
Except he wasn’t holding a birdie. The cowlick had disappeared, and he had at least fifty pounds of solid muscle on that sweet, skinny sixteen-year-old boy. And he was tall enough to make her crank her head up to look him in the eye.
That added up to about quadruple the good-looking-ness. But, she reminded herself lest she forget, definitely not as sweet.
She remembered how he’d left her, the summer after their senior year just before they’d both left for college. She’d been so upset she’d locked herself out of her car in the pouring rain, clutching that sticky note, his awful message running like mascara, and she’d had to call her dad to come get her. Cam’s appearance might still give the remnant of her teenage heart a flutter, but as a woman, she was wise enough to know flutters alone didn’t count for much.
Her head was whirling as she watched him lean casually against the old Formica counter, shove the sticky notes in his back pocket, cross his arms, and look up.
Their gazes collided at exactly the same time. His face echoed the same disbelief and shock that were churning her insides. Not to mention a healthy amount of I-wish-I-was-anywhere-but-here.
Not that she was still bitter. She’d long gotten over the fact that he’d turned out to be a jerk. It was just that he was in her grandmother’s place of business with an architect acting like…
Well, acting like he owned the place. She knew his type—after all, she dealt with big personalities every single day. And now Bowie was happily sitting at Cam’s feet, beaming up at him.
As she watched, Cam pulled out that sticky note pad, scrawled something on it, and stuck it onto the architectural plans.
She shuddered, but suddenly pulled herself out of her thoughts to realize that he was staring at her. “Hadley.” His all-too-familiar-voice reverberated deep and low. Hearing him say her name after all these years, businesslike, without emotion, was strange, even as his gaze swept her up and down in a thorough, assessing fashion.
She sucked in a breath. Because as their eyes met again, his were filled with heat.
She did a double take—but he’d started scrawling on yet another sticky note.
“Hi, Cam.” She managed to keep her voice steady.
He used to be just Tony to her. She’d never really joined the Cam craze.
“Hey, ladies,” he said, nodding at Ivy and Mayellen. “Thanks for letting us walk around. I think we’re about done.” They smiled back, clearly under his spell. Apparently, he was capable of mesmerizing pets and women alike.
But not her. Not anymore.
“No problem, Cam,” Ivy said.
Cam looked over Mayellen’s shoulder at the spread-out papers, and, to Hadley’s horror, started thumbing through them. Hadley’s first impulse was to swoop in and gather them all up. Why give him ammo to fuel the fire?
As Cam’s eyes roamed over the trashy tidbits, Hadley herself was momentarily thrown by his smile, flashy and white, but still tinged with boyish crookedness, just enough to make him irresistibly human. His Atlantic-blue gaze flicked from her to the papers and back again. She’d loved Seashell Harbor’s beautiful aquamarine ocean and she’d loved staring into those eyes, both so similar.
“You look pretty good for being in rehab all these months,” he deadpanned. Despite herself, she felt her face grow warm.
Of course, the first thing he would do was crack a joke. Poke fun at her expense.
How tacky.
She recalled that he’d often pulled out that humor when he was nervous, but his cool, level gaze and relaxed posture said otherwise.
He perused the tabloid. “It says right here you were weaving your way through a New York club and had to be escorted out.”
“No, it was just— Wait a minute.” She pulled back and pulled herself together. She didn’t owe him any explanations. “Why are you trying to buy my grandmother’s building?”
The alleged architect was off measuring the windowsills, unaware of any drama playing out.
Her nemesis was already working that Cammareri magic, derailing her anger with his humor and that sinful grin. Igniting her hormones and pulling her off course. But this time, she wouldn’t fall for it. No siree. She geared up to give him a piece of her mind. More than that. She’d stop him from taking advantage of an older person for his own gain, from tricking her parents and Gran’s employees into thinking he was a nice person.
“You don’t know?” Cam asked, surprised.
Mayellen’s gaze darted nervously between Ivy and Cam.
Ivy stared down at the floor, giving Bowie a little nudge with her foot.
“I heard something about your wanting to open a sports bar,” Hadley said. “But I don’t understand why you’re trying to swindle my grandmother when she’s at her weakest.”