A Date with the Other Side (Cuttersville #1)(39)
Author: Erin McCarthy

They were barely acquaintances, only seeing each other occasionally when she visited her father at the office, or at corporate parties where Amanda was usually draped appealingly over the bar.

“I’m staying in a little gray house that looks like the seven dwarves might pop out at any minute. The ceilings are so low I have to duck to go through the doors.” She waved her hand, adjusting her Hermès bag on her shoulder. “I can’t imagine why I rented it for two months.”

“Two months?” He sounded like a castrated parrot, but damn, he couldn’t help himself. Amanda Delmar was like glass—beautiful to look at, but capable of slicing you to ribbons.

She wouldn’t be so dangerous if she wasn’t smart, but she was. Smart, bored, and rich, a bad combination all around.

And her boredom had brought her here to Cuttersville, for him, apparently.

He was so fired.

All his revenue generating, increased plant efficiency, and years of dedicated loyal round-the-clock service to Samson Plastics would mean nothing if Brett thought he was bouncing his only daughter.

“Yes, two months, isn’t that just absurd? But four grand seemed so reasonable for rent and I am so bored in Chicago, I’ve been doing nothing but lying at the pool and counting my mai tai umbrellas. I decided it’s time to see America.”

“Starting with Cuttersville, Ohio?” he asked wryly, already trying to think of a way to get her back to Chicago. Maybe he could tell Amanda about the vengeful ghosts, get Mrs. Stritmeyer to refund her money, and have her on a plane by dinner.

“Sure.” Amanda shrugged. “I was thinking the relaxed setting would give us time to get to know each other, away from Dad and all the pressures of Samson.”

“I do work here, you know.” He was just going to ignore that comment about getting to know each other. Maybe if he played dumb, she would get bored with him, just like she did with everything.

Brett had told him Amanda ran through men just like she had colleges, a new one every quarter. Her father had made the comment blithely after discovering that Amanda had maxed out her credit card buying gifts for a boyfriend, and she was destitute, as she’d put it.

She wasn’t looking destitute these days if the five-thousand-dollar bag on her shoulder was any indication. Shelby could probably live for five months off the money invested in that pink bag. Amanda had probably taken an entire three minutes to buy it.

“I know you work here, you dolt. Why do you think you’re here? Daddy sent you away to save you from me.” She looked incredibly amused by the idea.

Boston wasn’t amused at all. He was astonished, followed quickly by red-hot searing anger. He had been sent there, to the land of dead cows, cornfields, and back fat, to protect him from Amanda Delmar’s expensive clutches? It was infuriating, offensive, unprofessional . . .

“Well, don’t look so pissed, Boston. It means Dad likes you. He wants to keep you financially solvent and focused on your job.” She ran one glossy fingernail over her pouty lip. “I have a reputation for distracting men from their careers and forcing them into bankruptcy.”

Boston knew the only way to play this with Amanda was to be as nonchalant as she was. He could not let her know that he was even a tiny bit concerned. Which he was. Exactly how long did Brett plan to cloister him here like a Victorian virgin?

But he could handle Amanda. Probably. “So is it true?”

She laughed. “It’s exaggerated. It’s true, I probably do distract men when they’re dating me. I tend to dive into new relationships whole hog.” Amanda smirked. “Listen to that, I’m picking up the local lingo already.”

There was something appealing about Amanda, and it wasn’t just her looks. She was so cavalier, so confident, that Boston could see men getting sucked into her vibrant vortex. He wasn’t one of them, though. His tastes ran more to natural, no-game-playing tour guides.

“And the bankruptcy charges?” He smiled at Amanda, gesturing for her to sit down on the sofa.

She did, tucking those long thin legs under her, the little skirt covering only the essentials. “Is it my fault if men want to buy me things?”

Boston laughed, seeing straight through Amanda Delmar. Underneath the flirtation and the designer clothes and the self-deprecation, she was lonely. He should know. He’d felt exactly the same way until he’d come to Cuttersville. Until he’d met Shelby.

He decided that whether it jeopardized his career or not, he needed to play it straight with Amanda. Boston dropped into an armchair that he usually avoided because it was rickety and narrow. He shifted and looked at Amanda.

She was waiting expectantly, features carefully amused, but just a touch of wariness in her eyes. Boston thought most people wouldn’t notice it, but he did. “I appreciate your stopping by to see me, Amanda. And I’ll be happy to show you the charms of Cuttersville, such as they are. But just to be up front with you, I’m dating someone here.”

There was no reaction. Amanda was good at covering her emotions. She tilted her head a little, the sunglasses starting a slow slide out of her heavy hair. “Really? I never would have imagined that. Well, enjoy your little down-home dalliance.”

She reached up to adjust the sunglasses, her tight top stretching way up on her thin frame, exposing ribs and the concave flesh between. Amanda was a gorgeous woman, and maybe once upon a time he would have seen that bare flesh and been aroused. Now he could only compare her glossy perfection to Shelby’s natural beauty, and Amanda fell far short.

“She’s special.”

Now Amanda did blink. Then she threw back her head and laughed. “That’s unbelievable, God, Boston Macnamara falling for a girl in the sticks. But I wish you all the best and all that other pleasant bullshit.”

He thought she meant it, as much as Amanda could. Her attraction to him had never been about him, but another way to jab at her father. It was a feeling he understood, had entertained himself, though he’d never acted on it. Of course, he didn’t know where his father was.

“Thanks.” Boston tapped his thumbs on his knees. It wasn’t any of his business. But he had to ask. “What gives between you and Brett? Why the animosity?”

He expected her to laugh and pretend she didn’t know what he meant. Or to tell him to go to hell and take her father with him. But she just shrugged. “He wants me to be you, that’s the problem. I was supposed to be a boy. Instead he got a girl, complete with br**sts and a brain and a penchant for eye shadow. He never knew what to do with all of that.”