Match Me If You Can (Chicago Stars #6)(118)

He cocked his head and gave her his huckster’s smile. “Hey, this is supposed to be like in Jerry Maguire. Remember? ‘You had me at hello.’”

“Skinny women are pushovers.”

His phony charm evaporated like the helium in the Goofy balloon. He shrugged, took a step closer. “My real name’s Harley. Harley D. Campione. Take a guess what the D stands for?”

He’d mow her down if she didn’t keep swinging. “Dumb ass?”

“It stands for Davidson. Harley Davidson Campione. How do you like that? My old man loved a good joke, as long as it wasn’t on him.”

She wouldn’t let him play on her sympathies. “Go away, Harley. We’ve both said everything we needed to.”

He stuffed his free hand in the pocket of his windbreaker. “I used to fall in love with his girlfriends. He was a good-looking guy, and he knew how to turn on the charm when he felt like it, so there was a whole slew of them. Every time he brought a new one home, I let myself believe she’d be the one who’d stick, that finally he’d settle down and act like a father. There was this one woman…Carol. She made noodles from scratch. Rolled the dough out with a pop bottle and let me cut it into these little strips. Best thing I ever tasted in my life. Another—her name was Erin—she’d drive me wherever I wanted to go. She forged his name on a permission slip so I could play Pop Warner football. When she left, I lost my ride, and I had to walk four miles to practice if nobody picked me up on the highway. That turned out to be a good thing, though. I ended up with a lot more endurance than the other guys. I wasn’t the strongest, and I wasn’t the fastest, but I never gave up, and that was a powerful life lesson.”

“Sometimes knowing when to give up is the real test of character.”

She might as well not have spoken. “Joyce, she taught me how to smoke and a few other things she shouldn’t have, but she had some problems, and I try not to hold it against her.”

“It’s too late for this.”

“The thing is…” He looked at the dock, not at her, and studied the boards at his feet. “Sooner or later, every one of those women I loved left. I don’t know. Maybe I wouldn’t be where I am today if one of them had stuck.” As he gazed back up at her, his old belligerence returned. “I learned early on that nobody was going to hand me anything. It made me tough.”

But no tougher than she was. She steeled herself and rose to her feet. “You deserved a better childhood, but I can’t change what happened. Those years shaped who you are. I can’t fix that. And I can’t fix you.”

“I don’t need to be fixed anymore. That job’s already been done. I love you, Annabelle.”

The pain was nearly more than she could bear. He was only saying what he knew she wanted to hear, and she didn’t believe him, not for a second. His words were carefully calculated, chosen for the sole purpose of closing a deal. “No, you really don’t,” she managed. “You just hate not getting your way.”

“It’s not that.”

“Winning is everything to you. The joy of the kill is your life’s blood.”

“Not when it comes to you.”

“Don’t do this! It’s cruel. You know who you are.” Her eyes filled with tears. “But I know who I am, too. I’m a woman who won’t settle for second place. I want the best,” she said softly. “And you’re not it.”

He looked as though she’d slapped him. Despite her own pain, she hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but one of them needed to speak the truth. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I won’t spend my life waiting around for your leftovers. This time persistence isn’t going to get the job done.”

He didn’t try to stop her as she left the dock. When she reached the sand, she crisscrossed her sweater over her chest and hurried toward the woods, ordering herself not to look back. But as she stepped onto the path, she couldn’t help herself.

The dock stood empty. Everything still. The only movement came from a bunch of balloons drifting off into the bleak October sky.



It didn’t take her long to pack. A tear dripped on her hand as she zipped the suitcase. She was so sick of crying. She picked up the bag and made her way numbly out the front door. With each step she took, she reminded herself that she’d never give up who she was for anyone. She came to a dead stop. Especially not for a man who’d blocked in her car with a sporty silver Audi…

He’d done a good job of it. A giant oak kept her from moving forward, and the Audi prevented her from going in reverse. The temporary Illinois tags left no doubt whose work this was. She couldn’t bear another encounter with him, and she dragged her suitcase back inside the cottage, but she’d barely set it down before she heard tires on gravel. She went to the window, but it wasn’t Heath. Instead, she glimpsed a dark blue sports car coming to a stop behind the Audi. The woods extended just far enough to block her view of whichever guest had decided to explore the campground.

It was all too much. She sank down on the couch and buried her face in her hands. Why did he have to make everything harder?

Light footsteps tapped on the porch, too light to be Heath’s. She heard a knock. Dragging her feet, she rose, crossed the room, opened the door…and screamed. To her credit, it wasn’t a horror movie scream, more of a yelpy kind of gaspy thing.