One Last Shot (Cupid's Conquests) (6 page)

Justin
shoved
the memory aside, pushed himself out of bed, and
paused
. Head swiveling from side to side as he took in his surroundings.
He’d been in so many hotels over the years, he forgot he’d actually slept in a ho
use
last night. A smile stretched across his face as
it all came back to him—e
very touch, every thrust, every gasp
.
Shelby Stephens. Goddamn
. He never thought he’d get to
be that close to her again
.
His
erection swelled against his thigh and he turned
to frown at the empty bed
.
He held still and listened
for the sound of a shower or sink, but the house was silent.

“Shel?” He glanced around for his clothes before remembering they were strewn across her living room. “Shel, you here?” He grabbed a towel from the bathroom, wrapped it around his wa
i
st and jogged down the stairs. His clothes were folded neatly on the bottom step
. The smell of coffee
wafted down the hall from the kitchen
. Trading the towel for his boxers, he
walked to the kitchen
,
calling her name again
. There was no answer, but a note stood propped against a blue mug. Disappointment at being walked out on
warred
with the satisfaction of being left hot coffee and a note signed “Love, Shel.” There were certainly worse ways to wake up.

He
filled the mug and took a seat at the kitchen table. It all looked the same with only a few new additions. The cabinets had been painted and there were blinds on the window instead of the yellow curtains he remembered staring at the night he’d asked her dad if he could take her out for the first time. He ran his hand across the edge of the table until he found the nick in the wood from when he
’d
teased
Shelby
one too many times and she’d thrown a metal spoon at him, hitting the table instead. So many moments shared in this house and now there was one more to add to the list.
He’d gone to the bar just to see her
,
telling himself that would be enough, but it hadn’t been. He almost talked himself out of coming to her house a dozen times
.
H
e’d even made it all the way to his car once before turning around and planting himself on the steps for a quick chat. That’s all it was supposed to be, but he couldn’t help the satisfied feeling that rose in him as he remember exactly how it had played out.

Grinning
,
he reached for
the mug and paused. It read “UCLA Dad.”
Shelby
was an only child, but her dad must have picked up the mug at a thrift store.
H
is
brother had told him he’d heard
she
’d gone somewhere in
Colorado
. There was no way she’d gone to UCLA
.
S
he would have told him.
She would have tried to get in touch with him.
A
pit opened in his gut as he ran his thumb across the ra
ised yellow letters on the cup and he knew he was wrong. But how could she have been right there all those years, just twenty miles from him at USC?

He walked through the house
,
looking for any other signs. The living room had family photos on the mantle and shelves full of books ranging from
John Grisham
to Jane Austen, but
there was no graduation photo or diploma displayed—nothing
to give away where she’d gone to school.
Panic rose in him
as each room turned up no clues as to where she’d been the last
decade
.
He thought he was over it, that enough time had passed. He’d told himself she was young and scared and it had nothing to do with him, but if she’d been in the same damn city as him and never tried to reach him
,
that blew his fragile explanations all to hell.

He took the stairs two at a time and
looked
over each shelf in her room
, trying to find any kind of paperwork
.
She didn’t have a desk at home, but there was a box on the top shelf of her closet with “office stuff” written on it.
Palms sweating, he pulled
it down and
dropped it on her bed. Several business magazines were stacked on top with at least a dozen file folders beneath them. He scanned the labels, most meaning nothing to him, until he reached one with “
RESUME
” written in all caps.

Guilt rose in him at digging through her personal stuff, but he’d lost her for ten years with no explanation. His desperation to know where she’d been won out against his better judgment. H
e slid the first page from the file, scanning the document until he reached the education portion: B.A. Business Economics UCLA.
He slumped onto the bed, knees weak, heart hammering out of control
.
His weight shifted the box and it
spilled over the edge, files sliding across the wood floor. Ignoring the mess, he held his head in his hands a few moments, his mind circling through explanations
that didn’t make sense. A decade’s worth of suppressed emotions swimming to the surface to swallow him whole. He’d buried himself in training and practice and games, fooling himself
into believing he was over her, but
one mug had shattered it all
.
And now he wanted answers.

He grabbed the box to clean up the files
and noticed a
worn copy of
Louis L’Amour’s
Sackett’s Land
cradled
in the bottom. She’d teased him since seventh grade about reading the cowboy adventures and he’d bought her
Sackett’s Land
as a joke for Christmas one year.
Hands trembling, he
thumbed through the book, nostalgia swelling, cooling the adrenaline coursing through his veins. The pages halted at a bookmark and he spread the
book wide
to scan the last passage she’d read, but his eyes stopped as he took in the makeshift
placeholder
.
His throat closed as he
stared down at the Dodgers
ticket
stub
from his
rookie
game
.
She’d been there all along and he’d never known.

Chapter
Four

Shelby
bounced
her knee
beneath the desk, trying anything to spend the rush of adrenaline pumping through her system before she exploded on the moron sitting across from her. She spoke slowly, fighting for control of her voice. “I don’t understand why it would be declined. You said the loan package was solid.”

“Your credit history is spotless, but you don’t meet the job history requirements so the loan has to be signed off by our senior risk analyst.”

“Which you said shouldn’t be an issue.”
It was the only bank that didn’t reject her immediately for being self-employed less than two years.

“I’m really sorry
,
Miss Stephens. I thought it would be okay, but he says it doesn’t meet our risk requirements.”

“
T
he business is free and clear and there’s still some equity in the house. I provided the financials and the current business plan as requested. Business has increased since I’ve taken over, not declined. There’s no reason to believe that will change.”

“I’m very sorry.” He shifted in his chair
.
S
weat gathered at his brow.

Shelby
gripped the edge of her chair, willing herself to remain seated. The level stare she gave him drained the color from his face. “I want to talk to your supervisor.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The man nearly ran to the back of the bank.
Shelby
rubbed her temples, staving off the rising migraine. The full weight of the bills in her office settled heavy on her shoulders. If she could just pull herself together and bury her emotions, she could appeal to his business sense and make this deal work. Business was her game, and she was a damn fine player
.
S
he just needed a hand to help cross the bridge of debt her father had left behind.

“Miss Stephens,” the man said.

Shelby
squared her shoulders, looked up, and felt a chasm open beneath her.

“This is William Tanner,” the young loan office
r
said.
Justin’s dickhead of a brother grinned down at her.

“You’re the senior analyst?”
Her day couldn’t get worse.

“That’s right.” The smug look on his face tore through
Shelby
’s veneer of self-control. She dug her nails into her palms, fighting the urge to claw the smirk off his face. He stepped closer and leaned against the desk, looking down on her with a shark-tooth grin. “I understand you had a question about your loan application?”

“The business plan is solid. The house has some equity and there are assets at the bar. There’s no reason to deny this loan. And besides that, you know me, Billy. You know I’m good for it.”

“You have an impressive work history…in
L.A.
But eighteen months as a barmaid in an establishment with a rocky past doesn’t give us the confidence we need to make this loan.” He leaned forward and spoke in a lower voice
.
“It’s a shame my dad spent so much on an education that you’re throwing away.”

Shelby
was on her feet before she knew it. “I’m a business owner, not a barmaid.”

Billy stood, his height forcing her to tilt her head back. “Most business women show less
cleavage
.” He made a point of looking down her v-neck shirt. “Unless you’re offering new services since you took over the bar.”

Her fist met his nose with a
satisfying
crunch.

“You bitch!” He cupped his nose, blood poured down his chin, dripping on his white button-up.

“Fuck you, Billy.
”

Shelby
stormed out, passing several slack-jawed customers as she went. The Mustang’s engine gave a satisfying rumble as she turned
it
over then revved the gas for good measure. Her tires squealed as she pulled onto
Main Street
and hauled ass to Shooters. Minutes later she
tore
into the bar’s parking lot
,
still shaking with anger. The delivery truck was waiting for her and John
had propped
open the door to start unloading. She took several deep breaths
, cracked her neck,
and forced herself out of the
car
.

“Morning, boys,” she called
as casually as should could pull off
.

“I thought you could use this after last night.” John handed her a steaming cup of Starbucks.

“God bless you.” She kissed his cheek and wrapped her hand around the cup, but John didn’t let go.

“What happened to you
r
hand?”

Shelby
pulled
it
back
;
the knuckles were bright red and starting to swell. She caressed her fingers, wincing as darts of pain shot through her hand and wrist. “I…uh…sort of hit Billy
Tanner
.”

“No shit!” John’s laughter echoed between the buildings as the delivery driver shifted beside them.

“Give me that.” She glanced over the delivery ledger and scrawled her name at the bottom. “Drop it inside the door on the left
.
W
e’ll sort it from there.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The driver gave her a copy of the ledger and
rolled his loaded dolly inside
.

“Did you give him a shiner?” John said, still chuckling.

“Nah.”

“Damn.”

“I broke his nose.”

That sent John into a
fresh
whoop of laughter.
“Not that he didn’t deserve it, but what’d he do this time?”

“Denied my loan at the bank.”

“Shit, I’m sorry, Shel.
I guess they won’t be too eager to work with you down there after that.”

“
I guess not.” A bit of remorse crept up inside, but she’d find another way. “
Can I have my coffee now?”

“You’ve damn well earned it,”
he
said
,
handing it over.