Chapter Twenty
The spa opened with an impressive fanfare, given their inauspicious beginning.
For a while there, Whitney had been beset with visions of an empty waiting room, of hundreds of pounds of paraffin wax sitting in untouched bricks that would someday comprise all their worldly goods. In every one of these visions, John and Kendra smiled and nodded and reassured her that it wasn’t her fault.
Even though they knew it was.
“Well, it’s not the line out the door we were hoping for, but I scheduled two facials and a Brazilian this morning.” Kendra nodded like that was all it would take to begin them on their path to riches. “How’s your appointment book look, John?”
“Unlike the two of you, I’ve been helping old ladies all over town cross the street, extolling the virtues of massage for circulation and joints. I’ve got three patients coming in for evaluations today. And a hot stone therapy at three.” He turned, continuing the chain around the table. “Whitney?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Whitney studied the plate in front of her with renewed interest, rolling a melon ball in circles. She’d hung the sign outside offering free Botox to ten lucky winners. What more did they want from her?
“Morning staff meetings to share our client lists were your idea, Whit,” Kendra pointed out, her voice gentle but firm. “How bad can it possibly be? I thought you were finally getting a little interest.”
“May I?” Jared didn’t wait for a reply. He grabbed the delicate green fruit in front of her and popped it in his mouth. “I’m happy to report that Dr. Vidra and I are booked solid. For the entire week.”
If smug had a smell, Jared would be reeking of it right now. And Kendra and John would be bottling it up to sell out front.
“Solid is a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?” she scoffed. “Most of our appointments are for consultations only—which are free.”
Jared leaned back in his seat and steepled his fingers. It was a gesture she remembered well—arrogant and sophisticated and probably the reason three quarters of the female population were willing to drop trouser the moment he drew near. “Are you telling me you don’t have enough confidence in your own abilities to turn at least half of those consults into appointments?” He tsked gently. “You disappoint me.”
Whitney knew she was being baited, but as was usually the case with this man, she wasn’t strong enough to resist the challenge. “Oh, I can close the deal. Don’t ever doubt that.”
“Okay, so that’s good,” Kendra said brightly, shutting the manila folder in front of her. “Why don’t we—”
“Unless you want me to take them all.” Jared ignored Kendra and locked eyes with Whitney. “I bet I can close every last one.”
Ugh. The only way he could be any cockier was if he carried a big stick between his legs and pulled it out to play croquet. “Let’s just see how the day goes, shall we?” she asked, striving for calm. She pushed back from the table, but Jared’s hand, warm and insistent on her shoulder, stopped her from getting very far.
“What happened to the Whitney Vidra I used to know?” he asked, searching her. “She wasn’t scared of anything.”
“Funny how a person changes over time.” That was the understatement of the decade. “The Jared Fine I used to know would have never groveled his way home to beg for his old life back. Yet here we are.”
She heard Kendra and John suck in sharp breaths in the background.
Crap. She’d done it again, opened her mouth and let the anger out before she even realized it was there. Of course there was going to be workplace tension and friction and all those other physics lessons that accompanied a once-crushed heart, but she’d agreed to this, which meant she needed to put her big-girl pants on for once.
She could always ask Matt to rip them off with his teeth later.
“I’m sorry.” She turned to face Jared, thoughts of Matt taking away the last ebb of irritation. “That was way out of line. I’ve become so accustomed to using your face as a dartboard I sometimes forget there’s a real person in there.”
“At the risk of another rake down, I have to say you really have changed.” Jared looked like he wanted to put a hand on her forehead and check for signs of disease. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you willingly apologize before.”
“You better get used to it,” Whitney said wryly. “That won’t be the last time I yell at you without provocation. In fact, if you don’t stop smirking in the next sixty seconds, I’ll do it again.”
Jared surveyed the three of them, his smirk transforming into a genuine smile. “I’ve really missed you guys.”
Kendra snorted. “You miss Whitney overreacting and me ordering people around? You must have had a harder time of it out there playing God than we thought.”
Jared’s smile disappeared. “You have no idea.”
Damn. Now not only did she feel guilty, but she felt pity for the poor jerk. The mighty must have fallen when her back was turned.
“You know what, Jared?” Whitney stuck out her hand in a gesture of conciliation, though she was careful to keep an entire arm’s length distance between them. “You’re on for that wager. Fifty bucks says I book more appointments than you today.”
“Make it dinner and you’re on.”
“Nice try, but I think you’re forgetting one small thing.” Whitney dropped her hand. “My boyfriend.”
If she’d been afraid that the word would stick in her throat the first time she said it out loud for real, she was happy to report that no such fears existed now. Matt was her boyfriend. He wasn’t exactly a boy, but he was definitely her friend...a very good friend. The sooner Jared accepted that, the better it would be for all of them. She shot him a triumphant look.
But Jared deflected it with a laugh. “I’m not asking you to sleep with me, Whitney. It’s a meal between colleagues. Two people and forks and maybe that conversation we’re way overdue for. You are allowed to eat with other people, aren’t you?”
Did he seriously just ask her that? “Of course I am.”
Yes, she and Matt had made things official. And yes, she was still very new at this being a good girlfriend stuff. But the one thing Matt promised her was that she didn’t have to change for him. The old Whitney wouldn’t have hesitated to rise to the challenge, to accept Jared’s taunt and show him who called the shots.
A gnawing doubt nipped at the edges of her stomach. The old Whitney was also someone who thought about herself first and thought about herself often. Did you forget the part where Matt came inside you—shared a part of himself he doesn’t give to just anyone?
“So we’re on, Dr. Vidra? Loser buys dinner? And works the first volunteer hospital shift?”
She was painfully aware of Kendra and John staring at her, waiting to see what she’d say. It felt like a kind of test, two warriors circling to see who came out on top.
She stuck out her hand, happy to find it didn’t waver as Jared gave it a hefty shake. “I accept.”
If there was one good thing about having a liberal-minded boyfriend who respected women and forgave his ex-wife for adultery, it was this.
Matt wouldn’t care about one tiny dinner with Jared.
Even if she did.
* * *
“Why do I smell delicious food?”
Matt heard the rattle of Whitney’s keys as they hit the counter. The sound was followed almost instantly by a pair of arms winding around his waist, the softness of Whitney’s body as she pressed against him.
“More important,” she murmured into his neck. “Why do I smell delicious food in my very own kitchen? Are you making me dinner?”
Matt held up a glass of red wine and felt it being plucked from his hand. A pause long enough for her to drink filled the air, and her soft moan of appreciation came soon after. “You have no idea how much I needed that.” She dropped a wet kiss on his neck and seated herself at one of the island stools. “If you tell me you cleaned too, I’m making you quit your job to become my barefoot housewife.”
Matt grabbed the wine bottle and poured a liberal amount into the pasta sauce he was stirring. “It’s a compelling offer, but there is no way I’m tackling the hoarder’s nightmare that is your living room.”
“You can’t blame a girl for trying.”
“I don’t blame the girl for anything.” He held up the bottle in a toast. “Happy first day of medical spa ownership, Whitney. I want to hear all about it over dinner. You have no idea how hard it was for me not to call you about twenty times today to see how it was going. I’ve never been a stalker before. It’s exhausting.”
Whitney’s smile dimmed, and she buried her face in her wineglass. Matt knew it was going to be a stretch—setting this scene for her to come home to—but this was supposed to be what she wanted. The relationship, the domesticity...him.
Well, this was what it looked like on the inside. This was who he was.
“Don’t look so sad.” He waved a spoon at her. “I only called and hung up twice. I thought I showed admirable restraint.”
All he got in return for his attempt at a joke was a small half smile and a request to refill her empty glass.
“It smells absolutely wonderful,” she said. “And I can’t tell you how much it means that you would go to such lengths to make my first official day at work special.”
He stirred harder, splashing marinara sauce along the tiled backsplash. “But?”
She came up behind him again, this time pressing a deep kiss just below his earlobe. “But I made dinner arrangements already. Work stuff.”
Matt relaxed a little. She wasn’t freaking out about the insipidity of an evening spent at home—she simply had plans.
“Invite Kendra and John over.” He turned to accept her kiss and got caught in the dizzying distraction of her lips for a full minute before he realized he was dripping sauce from the spoon onto her hair. “I made more than enough for everyone, and I can make myself scarce if you guys need to talk. I should be getting ready for conferences next week anyway.”
“You’d do that? You’d drop your whole fancy seduction routine just so I can get some work done?”
“You think this is a fancy seduction routine?” And here he’d thought it was dinner. Curious, he added, “Is it working?”
She let out a soft snuff of laughter, her breath warm against his neck. “Like you wouldn’t believe. Nothing gets me hotter than a man in a frilly apron making me pasta.”
“Mmm,” he murmured. “There’s garlic bread too. I expect quivering loins for that.”
Whitney placed her hands on Matt’s shoulders and spun him, bringing them face to face. He had a smudge of something that looked like flour on one cheek, and he was, in fact, wearing a frilly pink-checked apron that looked to be about two sizes too small. In a word, he was gorgeous—and he was planning on feeding her. And, if she wasn’t mistaken, that one-dimpled grin indicated they might go ahead and skip dessert.
Coming home to a man was something she could definitely get used to.
“I wish it were that simple.” She dropped her hands and backed away, trying not to notice the way his smile faltered. “Jared already made reservations.”
“Jared is going.” Neither question nor statement, it lingered somewhere in an uncomfortable place in between.
Lying would be such an easy way out of this—an easy way to spare feelings Whitney had no desire to harm. She knew, without a doubt, that Matt was the last man on earth who would check up on her, ask nosy questions afterwards, send his brother in to spy—any of those tricks that might catch her in the act. But if she was supposed to be doing this whole grown-up relationship thing, she’d do it right.
“Just Jared,” she amended. “I sort of lost a bet at work today—just barely, mind you—and he wants to talk. This seems like as good a time as any.”
“No.”
She took a step back, recoiling against the sharpness of his tone. Matt never spoke to her like that. He never spoke to anyone like that. “I beg your pardon?”
Matt tossed the spoon into the pan and walked away from the oven, gripping his hands on the edge of the kitchen counter. He didn’t look up as he repeated, “No.”
“No, as in...you think it’s going to rain so I better stay in tonight?”
“No, as in you aren’t going to dinner alone with that man.”
“I don’t recall asking your permission.” Her hackles were definitely up now—hackles and something else, something that felt a lot like what John might be inclined to call a lady boner. She wanted nothing more than to rip that apron off Matt and ride him until he knew who was in charge here.
Good God, what kind of a woman had she turned into? How could the sight of two white knuckles holding onto the counter for dear life, of a man so angry he wouldn’t even look at her, be such a turn-on? Wasn’t that how all her favorite Lifetime movies started?
“I see the way that man stares at you, Whitney. It’s not the look of a guy who wants to chitchat about old times while he dines on steak. Not unless you’re the steak.” Matt finally looked up, and she could tell he was barely holding on to his self-control. “I accept that he’s your colleague and you need him for your business. I’m happy to be nice to him when we meet. But I don’t trust that man, and I don’t want you going out with him.”
Whitney laughed. Granted, it wasn’t the most appropriate reaction to the conversation, what with Matt on the edge of some sort of personal crisis and the smell of burning bread filling the air, but she couldn’t help it. Matt was forbidding her from seeing her ex. Matt, of all the men in the world.
“I’m glad this is so funny to you,” Matt said coldly.
“Please tell me you see the big, fat irony sitting in the middle of this kitchen. You’re telling me to stay away from my cheating ex-boyfriend? You, who probably stopped by Laura’s house this afternoon with some tea and a big hug? You don’t see me getting up in arms every time you break bread with that woman. In fact, I’d say I’ve been the most understanding girlfriend on the face of the planet.”
“That is a totally different situation.”
She didn’t say a word—she didn’t have to. Matt realized how unfair he sounded just a few seconds later, and the daggers coming out of his eyes wavered. “Fine. Do you want me to stop seeing Laura?” he asked.
“No. Yes. I mean—” She sighed. See what this messy relationship stuff did? Already things were growing complicated. She should have just jumped him when she had the chance. “I’m sorry that you went through all this trouble to make a meal I won’t be here to eat. I should have called or texted to let you know my plans. Can we try this again tomorrow?”
One lopsided half shrug was all she got in return. She marched up and planted a soft kiss on Matt’s mouth. He didn’t return the gesture, but she could feel his body responding. “There is no man I dislike more on this planet than Jared Fine. The number one entry on my personal bucket list is to see him die a thousand fiery deaths.”
“What’s the number two entry?” Matt asked, his forehead pressed against hers, resignation in his slumped shoulders.
“To go back in time and watch him die a thousand fiery deaths before he derailed my entire life.”
She got a soft chuckle that time. “I’m sorry.” Matt pulled away. “I don’t know what got into me tonight. Of course you should go to your dinner.”
“It’s okay. This is what normal people feel for their cheating exes. Hatred. Anger. Pulsating revulsion.”
“I didn’t even know revulsion could pulsate.”
“Believe me—with this bastard? It can do just about anything.”