He narrowed his eyes. “I’m wondering, Whitney.”

She shook her head. “You’re not. Not really. Not if you thought about it.”

“What the hell does that mean?” He felt the back of his neck tightening with frustration. He really hated this uptight, cool side of her. Clearly she’d been perfecting this persona or whatever the fuck it was over the past ten years because it was pretty damned solid. Even when he was saying things about bending over her desk or fucking her on the conference room table. She was just facing it all. And still saying no.

“It means that the story hasn’t changed. This is just chapter two.”

He scowled. “What?”

“This company, Hot Cakes, has always been my priority,” she said. She pulled in a deep breath. “It still is. Now even more than ever. Now I have a chance to really be a part of it in a way I haven’t before. I’m not going to do anything that would keep me from showing my family that they were wrong to not put me in charge a long time ago.”

Frustration slammed into him. Fuck this company. That was his first reaction. He was happy to be an owner now but—he had to stop even that train of thought. There was only one reason he was an owner. Aiden had asked him to be.

Aiden Anderson was his best friend. Had been since kindergarten. Aiden had wanted to come back to Appleby to be with Zoe and buying the factory had been a great investment and a way to save the town. That was right up Aiden’s alley. Cam was with Aiden on anything his friend wanted to do.

It was a definite perk that this company had been the reason Whitney had dumped him and he now had the chance to build it up and show everyone that the minute a McCaffery got involved was the minute things got really good. But at the time Aiden had wanted to buy the company, Cam had not had a single thought about returning to Appleby on any kind of permanent basis.

That had changed over the past couple of months as he’d been home more helping the guys get the company going in the new direction. He’d loved seeing his family more. He’d loved being back in his hometown. He’d loved seeing his friends and partners excited about their new endeavor. And yeah, he’d loved being around Whitney again.

But any happiness about owning a chunk of Hot Cakes was much less about the company itself and a lot more about lifting a middle finger to the Lancasters who hadn’t thought he was good enough for Whitney.

Maybe a bit of a finger to Whitney too, since she’d gone along with that.

“And you think that being with me would jeopardize you being more involved with the company?”

“There’s that risk,” she said. “If we try dating again and it doesn’t work out, there is no guarantee that we’ll both be fine and be able to be friends and it will have no effect on the company.”

“And you’re not willing to take a chance?”

She crossed her arms. “No.” She said it with her eyes on his, no hesitation, not even a blink.

“And what if one of us isn’t okay with us not trying it and keeps wanting to and makes everything uncomfortable?” he asked.

“Well, I would hope the maturity we’ve both found over the past ten years would keep that from happening.”

Yeah, that was probably how maturity worked.

He’d definitely done some growing up. He hadn’t punched anyone in the face in years. He punched them in the face metaphorically now. In court. But that didn’t happen as often as he’d like. One thing that came with their company’s increased wealth and power had been a decrease in the number of people willing to tangle with them. He hadn’t had a really good fight in a while.

Grant and Josie had gotten married a month ago so that she could have her gall bladder taken out and be covered on Grant’s health insurance. Cam had been hoping the insurance company would fight him on that.

They hadn’t. And he’d been annoyed.

He wasn’t sure where his contrariness and love of a good fight came from but most people said he got it from his grandmother. The one who had held a grudge against Whitney’s grandmother for half a century. That seemed to add up.

So he wasn’t quite as inclined to think that he was grown up enough to just let this go.

He wanted to date his ex-girlfriend.

His hot, intelligent, creative, buttoned-up, cool and composed ex-girlfriend.

Yeah, that buttoned-up, cool, and composed bit was part of it. That wasn’t the Whitney he remembered. The fact that he couldn’t really rattle her was also absolutely part of it. He’d always been able to rattle her—in really good ways—before.

Maybe he was bored.

Maybe he was immature.

Maybe he was still in love with her.

But which of those this was, was exactly what he wanted to figure out.

“Okay,” he said, he turned and started for her office door.

“Wait,” she called after him.

He glanced back.

“Okay?” She frowned. “That’s it?”

He shrugged. “For now.”

That made her look worried.

Good.

He stopped in her doorway.

“For now?” she repeated.

“Yeah.”

“So… you’re not actually going to drop it?”

He gave her a slow grin. “Do you remember the last time you broke up with me?”

She definitely looked worried now. “Yes.”

She probably wasn’t thinking about him getting drunk and in a fight with her brother. Or the week of incessant phone calls. Or him getting drunk and in a fight with fucking Carter Jackson when he said he couldn’t wait to take Whitney out. Or even how he’d broken her window by throwing a rock through it. He’d only meant to get her attention but he’d picked a rock that was too big. And he’d probably thrown in too hard.

Okay, he’d clearly thrown it too hard.

“You are not going to do that again,” she said firmly. But she was nervous. For sure.

Yeah, she was thinking about how he’d kidnapped her.

It had only been for twelve hours and no one had even known she was gone. But it had been a kidnapping by the strictest definition, he supposed.

“I don’t really drop things easily. As you know.”

She sighed. “Come on, Cam.”

“A few dates. That’s all I want. I’m not proposing. I’m not asking to move in. We don’t have to even let anyone know we’re trying until we figure it out. All I want is a chance to see how things go. It can just be between the two of us.”

She just looked at him, saying nothing, looking confused and concerned. Finally she shook her head. “Hot Cakes is too important. To both of us.”

Now, see, that pissed him off.

It was a total flashback to the past. She’d chosen Hot Cakes over him before.

And when he got pissed, he wanted to dig in, wanted to fight, wanted to win.

He felt the surge of anticipation that he always got when he heard the words, “We’re going to court.”

He didn’t punch people anymore. He wore them down with excellent arguments and being fucking right.

He gave her a big grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the dessert auction.”

Her eyes got round. Clearly, him grinning also made her nervous.

Good.

His gaze landed on the red dress draped over the back of the chair in front of her desk. He crossed to it in four strides, swept it up, and then headed for the door.