Chapter Twelve
Brady
I check my watch and lean against the car outside of Amanda's apartment, waiting for her to come down. By now, she has to know that I paid her rent for the next year. I did it as a way of apologizing for getting her fired, of course – even though, I didn't really. If she hadn't been on thin ice to begin with, she wouldn't have gotten canned.
But I did it more as a way to get her attention. I really think that we can help each other and benefit from having a business relationship. I just need to make her see that, which is going to be no small feat. The girl is one of the angriest people I've ever met. She walks around with a chip on her shoulder the size of Texas itself.
But, I have to try. I have to find a way to make this work. I need the help, she needs the help, and we can both help each other. This is a good thing.
I've had a private investigator doing some background work and also tailing her for the last week or so, so I know her routine pretty well. Yeah, it might be a little creepy, but if I want to make my pitch to her, it'll be easier to do if I know where to find her – because I have a feeling, I'm going to have to make the pitch several times. And if there's one lesson I did learn from my father, it's that persistence pays off.
Okay, this probably isn't the way he intended that lesson, but I'm going with it anyway.
“Well, good morning, Amanda,” I say as she comes out of her building.
“You know, there's cheaper ways to get a girl to talk to you,” she says.
I give her a slow smile. “Probably so,” I say. “But I don't want to talk to just any old girl.”
In dark slacks, a white button-down shirt, and black jacket, she looks every inch the professional. I can tell from where I am though, that her outfit is well worn. It's definitely not new and it's most definitely off-the-rack finds rather than anything name brand. Probably things she found on sale at a discount store.
With her red hair tied back in a ponytail that reaches the middle of her back, skin the color of alabaster, and eyes that sparkle like polished jade, she's a striking girl. She's trim, but athletic. She's got an hourglass figure and I can tell that she works out. She's a beautiful woman – though most wouldn't define her as classic, or Hollywood beautiful.
She's not my usual type – which is probably a good thing for what I am going to propose – but I find that women are like exquisite pieces of art and can appreciate their own unique beauty all the same.
She looks like she wants to run, but instead turns to me with genuine fury in her eyes. Her chin up and head back, she marches over to me, her scuffed and worn heels click-clacking on the pavement.
“How in the hell do you know where I live, anyway?” she snaps. “Are you following me?”
I shrug. “No, I paid somebody to follow you.”
She looks at me with disbelief in her eyes. “Are you serious?”
“Well – yeah,” I say. “I needed to vet you.”
“Vet me?”
I nod. “I have a proposition to make and I just wanted to check you out a bit,” I say. “It's just smart business.”
The look on her face is one that is both incredulous and exasperated at the same time. “I can't believe you,” she says. “You invasive, creepy, son of a –”
“I didn't dig too deeply, darlin'. I didn't want to be too invasive,” I say. “I just wanted to know if you had a criminal background or anything. The good news is, you came back squeaky clean. Like I said, it's just smart business.”
“Gee, that's great,” she says. “I'm ever so glad to hear that.”
“It's also how I knew you were in trouble with your landlord,” I say. “It's why I wanted to help on that front. To hopefully, sort of make up for – what happened the last time we saw each other.”
“You mean, the day you got me fired,” she says – a statement, not a question.
“Yeah, that,” I say slowly. “I feel bad about it and wanted to try to make it up to you.”
She looks at the ground and sighs. I can tell she's not happy, but she also knows she's caught between a rock and a hard place. Finally, she looks back up and gives me a tight smile – one I can tell is very far from genuine.
“I suppose I should thank you for that,” she said, her tone icy.
“Well, it's traditional when somebody does something nice for you,” I reply, grinning. “At least, down here in Texas.”
She looks angry, like she's about to unload on me. If she had a gun, she might not hesitate to put a round or two in me. It's amusing. She looks at the ground and sighs and I swear that she's counting to ten. Finally, she looks back up at me, her eyes dark with anger and suspicion.
“Thank you,” she says, trying to actually sound thankful – and failing. “I appreciate your generosity. Just know that I will pay back every dime of this when I get back on my feet.”
I wave her off. “Don't worry about it, darlin'. It was my pleasure.”
Her eyes narrow and she looks at me like she wants to murder me even more than she did just two minutes ago. And I'm not entirely sure what has her so riled up.
“While I appreciate the very generous gesture,” she says through gritted teeth. “I will pay you back. And please, do not refer to me as darlin'. It's demeaning.”
I nod, finally understanding. “I'm sorry about that,” I say. “It's a Texas thing. I don't mean anything by it.”
“All the same, please stop calling me that,” her voice is tight.
I nod. “Noted,” I say. “As for the rent thing, consider that my way of trying to make it up for getting you fired. I know I played a role in that –”
“No,” she says and sighs. “That's on me. It's my fault. If I hadn't lost my temper – well, I did. No sense dwelling on it now.”
I see the pain flash through her eyes, but then it's gone in the next heartbeat. In that moment though, I realize that Amanda isn't a woman who likes to be thought of as weak. Unable to care for herself. She's wrapped so much of her self-image in her need to stand on her own two feet that she blinds herself to a lot of other things.
And then I grin to myself, shaking my head as Thomas' words float through my mind.
“Is something funny?” she asks.
“I was just realizing how similar we are, you and I.”
“Similar?” she scoffs. “Given the fact that you've got a mansion and a car with a driver and I have to rely on – you – to keep a roof over my head, forgive me if I'm not seeing the similarities.”
“I only mean that you have a hard time asking for help,” I say. “Or accepting it when it's offered. We're a lot alike in that way.”
A bitter little grin touches her mouth. “Given who you are, I also have a hard time believing you need a lot of help.”
“You might be surprised,” I say. “Where are you from? Originally, I mean. You're obviously not from Texas.”
She looks at me for a long moment, her arms crossed over her chest. The look in her eye is one of skepticism and suspicion. It's like she's debating with herself just how much personal information to give me.
“San Francisco,” she finally says.
“Ah, a California girl.”
“Oh, you know a little geography, good for you,” she says. “Apparently, those private tutors worked out well for you.”
I laugh and shake my head. “You know, you're pricklier than a porcupine,” I say. “Makes it hard for somebody to get to know you.”
“I don't want you to get to know me,” she snaps. “I want you to leave me alone.”
“But you haven't even heard my business proposal yet.”
“We have no business together, Mr. Keating,” she growls.
I shrug. “Well, not yet,” he says. “But if you hear me out, I think –”
“No, I don't want to hear you out,” she says. “My life is in ruins right now and I need to figure out how to put it all back together.”
I slip my hands into my pockets and try to give her a reassuring look. “And I think that's where I can help you,” I say. “And you can help me.”
Her expression is one of a woman who just had a bucket of ice water dumped over her head. And I can't tell whether she's going to hear me out or scratch my eyes out. I'm coming to realize that's just part of her charm.
“Look, I appreciate what you did for me. I really do,” she says. “But I really don't want anything else to do with you. I'll get you your money back as soon as I'm back on my feet. Now, if you don't mind, I really need to go.”
Without waiting for me to reply, she turns on her heel and marches swiftly down the street. I shake my head and sigh. This girl is going to be one tough nut to crack. But I'm a Texan and we're as stubborn as the day is long. And we don't give up that easily.