Not Quite Over You
Page 2

“She is in charge of commercial loans.” She began walking toward the exit.
All she had to do was get in her truck, then get home. She would go for a four-mile run, take a shower, scream into a pillow, and then mask her disappointment with a bottle of red wine and a burger. Tomorrow she would be strong and determined, but tonight there would be wine.
“Your loan application for the Airstreams,” he said, as if putting the pieces together. “The loan committee isn’t supposed to meet until tomorrow.”
“They decided to meet early.”
She could see the glass door leading to the parking lot, could almost touch it. Freedom was just. So. Close.
He stepped between her and the door. “She turned you down.”
Not a question and not anything she wanted to talk about.
Sarcasm would be easy. There were a thousand choices, each of them more biting than the one before. Sarcasm could be a weapon, as were lies and the act of simply ignoring him and walking away. They were also proof that she felt the need to protect herself, as if Drew could still hurt her. Twelve years after the fact, shouldn’t she not care in the least? Wouldn’t that be the real victory?
She summoned a genuine smile. One that made her seem smart and confident and more than capable—or so she hoped. Because to her at least, the truth was just so obvious.
“Drew, there was no way Libby was going to be anything but a long shot. I did my best and I wouldn’t change anything.” Not even falling in love with you all those years ago. Even if you were an immature jerk who didn’t know what he’d lost until it was too late.
Okay, that last bit might have taken away her claim to the high ground, but at least she’d only thought it rather than saying it.
“Let me talk to her,” he began.
“No. It’s done. Let it go. I’m going to.”
Even if letting it go meant not having two beautiful Airstreams to remodel. There would be other used trailers when she could save enough cash to buy them, refurbish them and gift them with trucks to tow them. She hadn’t done the math, but she would guess her time frame would be two years. Maybe three.
The thought of waiting all that time was too depressing for words, but hey, that was why there was going to be wine later.
“It’s not right,” he told her. “I saw your business plan. You’re an excellent risk.”
“According to Libby, I was right on the margin. Hardly an excellent risk.”
His gaze flickered. Ah, she thought. Some things never changed. Drew had never been a very good liar.
“We’re done,” she said, heading for the door.
Not just with the loan process, she thought, but with whatever had ever been between them all those years ago. She’d processed the anger, hurt, sadness, resentment and nearly every emotion in between. Facing him like this in a moment of disappointment and shame, she was happy to admit she felt almost nothing. Finally. Finally Drew was just some guy she used to know. Talk about a miracle.
She reached her truck, slid onto the seat and reviewed her plan. A run, a shower, wine and a burger. Celebrating the loan would have been a whole lot better, but that hadn’t happened so she’d earned a night to mourn. First thing tomorrow, she would get her butt in gear and start a new plan. One that didn’t involve banks or loans. She would be self-sufficient, she would be victorious and, truth be told, she would probably be a little hung over. But no matter what, she would be fine.
* * *
DREW LOVATO TOOK a couple of days to consider his options. Calling a special meeting of the commercial loan committee was one, only he’d checked the records of the last meeting and Silver’s loan application had been shot down 7–2. He doubted any impassioned plea on his part would make a difference. Libby had made her case first, and apparently it had been a good one. A single swing vote he could probably manage, but finding three people willing to vote yes instead of no seemed unlikely.
He didn’t know what his aunt had against Silver, but there was something, he thought grimly. Regardless, Silver still needed the money to expand her business.
Soon, he promised himself. When his grandfather retired and Drew took over the bank, policies would change. He wanted to support local businesses and help the community grow. That meant loaning money to entrepreneurs like Silver.
His second thought had been to set up a fake loan through the bank—using his own money. However, violating federal banking statutes was never a good idea. He doubted he would enjoy prison.
He could simply give her what she needed to buy the trailers. He smiled as he imagined how that conversation would go. Would she tear him a new one before or after she backed her truck over him? Silver was many things—beautiful, smart, determined. She was also proud as hell, highly verbal and occasionally impulsive. The combination made life with her interesting, to say the least, and sometimes it came with an unexpected thrown object.
Alternatively, he could offer to loan her the money, using the same terms as the banks. Whatever risk the loan committee might have worried about wouldn’t exist for him. He knew she would sell a kidney before defaulting on him of all people. Which meant she would probably say no. Or several versions of no, some of which would question his masculinity, his humanity and his relationship with everyone’s mother.
The last option, and to be honest, the one he liked the best, was for him to buy into her business as a minority partner. He would supply cash and together they would grow the business.
There were several advantages on his end. While he’d thought he was over Silver, in the past few months, he’d found himself thinking about her more than was healthy. There was something about her—some combination of determination and sass—that he found difficult to ignore.
He knew he would enjoy spending time with her and even if close proximity didn’t lead to them rekindling their attraction, he liked the idea of adding value to her small company. He was a banker by birth and by trade—his world was a happier place when those who depended on him did well. Improving the community was part of his job description, so he would start with Silver. The question was how to convince her?
After discarding the idea of asking her friends to help with an intervention, which they would all likely refuse, and drugging her and forcing her to sign the paperwork—a little too much like a Jasper Dembenski novel for a guy who basically worked in a bank—he came up with what he thought was the perfect solution. He would use Silver’s pride against her.
Smug in his brilliance, Drew purchased the two Airstreams and arranged to have them transported to Silver. He knew she kept her current trailer in the huge, fenced lot behind the graphic design and printing store. On the morning of, the trucker dropping off the trailers texted Silver that her delivery was thirty minutes out. He also gave Drew a heads-up. Drew arrived just as the delivery did and told himself the fireworks would be worth it. That or he would be dead, and hey, then he wouldn’t care.
Silver stood in the middle of the paved lot, frowning mightily, with her hands on her hips. Drew pulled up just as she started explaining to the delivery guy that she hadn’t bought the trailers.
“I wanted to,” she said, looking adorably confused. “I’ve been by to look at them a half-dozen times, but I never...”
Her voice trailed off when she spotted Drew walking toward her. He figured confusion would quickly spiral into good, old-fashioned rage any second now. Three, two...