Animal Attraction

by Kathryn Halberg

  Sulking? I have a freaking concussion, an eye the size of a grapefruit, a love life in tatters, and am stuck at home for the foreseeable future. Who wouldn’t be sulking?!

  Mom kissed Dad on the cheek and left for the office while Rachael shot daggers through her eyes. Or eye.

  “She’s just trying to get a rise out of you, honey. No need to be angry with your mom.”

  Dad could be pretty perceptive sometimes. Not always, but it was there.

  “I know.”

  “If you need anything, you call or text any of us. We’ll get you taken care of, pumpkin.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  After showering, she poked around and half-heartedly tried to locate her bag. She hadn’t seen her phone at all. While it was liberating, she did need to find it.

  When checking the obvious places proved fruitless, she picked apart the house, but there was still no sign of it. Well then. This would certainly make calling for help a bit more challenging. She grabbed her laptop off the bedroom desk and brought it out to the living room. Noting the gathering rain outside—et tu, Mother Nature?—she settled into the recliner.

  She shot out emails to her mom and Carlie, asking if they knew where her bag and phone were. Staring at her computer screen, she couldn’t help but think of the terrible moment that started all of the drama—that damn photograph. Ever since EHL Global became a household name, her family had been in the media spotlight. Staying in Ohio had kept the circus largely at bay, but when they traveled there always seemed to be stories that followed them, especially as she and Carlie came of age. Speculation and headlines were sometimes vicious, but they learned to ignore most of it. Unlike Gabe, who thrived on it and used it to his advantage. Rachael rolled her eyes. Gabe was a purebred media darling.

  Blinking away the memories, she pictured the bizarre scene in the yard last night. Those two morons were ridiculous. Fighting in the dark as if she wasn’t even there. At least Rick was forced to hear a taste of the truth, though whether or not he believed it was largely irrelevant. Or was it? What brought him here in the first place? She drummed her fingers on the chair, considering the multiple possibilities. What would happen if . . . ?

  “Stop it, Rachael,” she muttered. Best not to get her hopes up. She needed a distraction. She tapped a few keys and sighed in satisfaction. “Hello, Netflix.” Might as well Netflix and heal.

  Four episodes of The Office later, she broke the cycle and pulled up her email. No responses. Great.

  She wandered around the house, played with the dogs, and ran out of things to do an hour later. Only a few hours in, and she was already at a loss. These two weeks were just going to fly by.

  Stupid concussion.

  The doorbell rang. Rachael was half hoping for a door-to-door salesperson, someone to chat with for a little while. She would totally blame it on the concussion. Instead, she stood stunned, wondering why Nancy was here.

  Nancy smiled at her nervously, arms full. “Hello, there.”

  “Hi?”

  She handed over Rachael’s missing handbag. “You left this at the office. I thought you might need it. I didn’t realize it was still there until it beeped earlier. Nearly scared the pants right off me.” Nancy chuckled and blushed.

  “Thank you. I had no idea where it was.”

  “And this is from all of us. We’re all hoping for a speedy recovery,” she added.

  Rachael accepted the cheery vase of flowers and set it on the entryway table.

  Nancy shifted back and forth on her feet, and Rachael stared at her for a moment too long before remembering her manners. “I’m sorry, would you like to come in?”

  “As long as I’m not interrupting . . . ?”

  Rachael cackled. “Not at all.”

  Nancy watched her for a moment with concern, then crossed the threshold.

  “Coffee? Water? Liquor?” Rachael offered.

  Her eyes widened, but she refrained from commenting. “No. No, thank you.”

  Rachael led her guest into the sitting room, and Nancy looked around, settling on the edge of the sofa cushion uncomfortably. Olive came running from the other room and sat next to Nancy’s feet, gazing at her adoringly. Nancy scooped Olive up into her lap, cooing and petting her. She took a deep breath and met Rachael’s eyes. “Rachael, I owe you an apology.”

  Not one to be left behind, Martini came chasing after Olive, checking out what the fuss was about. He sat on the floor a few paces away, not trusting this stranger who held his sister.

  Rachael sighed and sat back in the recliner, her good eye watching Nancy. “No, you don’t.”

  “I do. I misjudged you. It was wrong of me, and I apologize for my words and behavior.”

  Where did this come from? Did Rick tell her about last night?

  Rachael cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Nancy, did I . . . did I actually throw up on you?”

  Her cheeks pinkened as she laughed. “Heavens, yes! But don’t you worry, I raised four children. A little vomit never hurt anyone.”

  It was Rachael’s turn to be embarrassed. “Now I’m the one who owes you an apology. Or at least a cleaning service.”

  “Nonsense, honey. We all have our moments. It’s already cleaned up.”

  Tapping her fingers on the arm of the chair, Rachael couldn’t stop herself from blurting out: “Did Rick tell you what happened?”

  She sniffed and looked away. “No. But I did have an interesting conversation with your mother.”

  Of course.

  “She called you?”

  Nancy nodded.

  “I’m sorry. My mother has boundary issues.”

  Among other things.

  “All good mothers do, honey. She’s just worried about you.”

  “She needs a hobby.”

  Nancy laughed and shook her head, rising. “Well, I’ve said my piece and I don’t want to get you overtired. You look like you could use some rest. And you, sweet thing.” She tickled Olive’s jaw. “You come back and see me soon!”

  She set Olive on the ground next to Martini and stretched her hand out to him, palm down. He inched forward and sniffed. Evidently deciding the patient stranger was safe, he edged closer so she could pet him too.

  “You come and see me too, Martini.”

  The dogs and Rachael led her to the door, where Nancy turned to wrap Rachael in a surprisingly comforting and maternal hug. “I hope to see you again soon, Rachael. And I believe Rick would like to see you too, though he won’t admit it. Yet.” Her eyes sparkled as she turned and shuffled back to her car.

  Well then. That was interesting. So, did he or did he not want to see her? Of course there’s never a damn daisy around to pluck petals from when you need it. She watched Nancy’s car pull out of the driveway and debated what her next move should be. Did she want to talk to Rick? Should she call him? And if she did, would he answer?

  Life was so much simpler when her only passion was her work.

  22

  Her phone was dead. While waiting for it to charge a bit, Rachael checked her email on her laptop and saw a note from Mom saying her bag was at the animal hospital. Rachael replied and let her know it was delivered. She didn’t bother adding anything about her conversation with Nancy. It would only encourage her mother’s bad behavior. Once enough juice was returned to her mobile, she hit the button to power it on and headed into the kitchen.

  She grabbed a bottle of water and some painkillers, returning moments later to see her phone vibrating and lighting up like a freaking UFO. Watching it warily, she sat and waited for the notifications to cease. Rachael closed her eyes and leaned back. The glow from the computer was really bothering her. This concussion could take a hike.

  After a while, her phone was silent and she remained still, not ready to deal with it.

  She would just rest a few more minutes.

  * * *

  Olive pawed at her leg, and she jerked awake, noting it was nearly noon. Rachael laughed to herself. Well tha
t’s one way to kill more time.

  Letting the dogs out, she stood in the overhang of the patio door and watched the rain. This weather was so ridiculously fitting. The dogs came rushing back, leaving wet footprints all across the dry part of the deck. Glancing at the clean kitchen floor, Rachael groaned and closed the door, trapping them outside while she grabbed a towel. Either wipe their paws now, or clean the floor later.

  Once they were inside and dry, she snagged a bag of grapes from the fridge and stared at her waiting phone. It looked malevolent.

  What if he called?

  What if he didn’t?

  And which did she expect?

  Popping a plump green grape in her mouth, she continued to eyeball the phone.

  Rachael, you’re being a chicken. Woman up, girl!

  Tapping the touchscreen, a slew of notifications popped up. Multiple missed calls and texts. Primarily from one of last night’s prizefighters.

  Apologies. Accusations. Demands. Pleas. All from Gabe.

  Poor guy.

  And one lone text from Rick: Sorry about last night. I was out of line. Hope you’re feeling better.

  What could she do? She royally fucked up. She’d like to blame it on the wine, but that wasn’t the truth. God help her, but after the run-in with Rick, Rachael wanted to sleep with Gabe. She wanted to be wanted, to be held. She wanted to forget.

  She wanted to be with Rick.

  You, Rachael Eller, are a terrible, awful, immoral human being. You don’t deserve either of them.

  Popping another juicy grape in her mouth, she read Rick’s text over and over again. Nancy’s words kept circling in her mind, and she wondered if things were as finished as she’d thought they were. Plus, he was at the animal hospital when she cracked her head like an egg. Presumably, he knew she was coming in. Maybe there was another act to this drama? And if there was, she now likely owed a thank you to Gabe. He surprised Rick last night with his admission of what happened—and didn’t happen—between them at dinner that night.

  Olive and Martini were snoring on the sofa, and Rachael smiled at their contentedness. What would it be like to be so at peace? To know you were exactly where you belonged?

  It wasn’t going to get any easier.

  The phone’s bright screen went to sleep in her hand as she wondered what to say to Gabe. Two more grapes, and she finally woke the device and typed out a message. Thank you for stopping by last night. I really appreciate it. I am glad I can count on you to be there for me. You are my friend, and I love you for that.

  That sent, she sat and debated what to say to Rick. This was harder. Infinitely harder. She munched on her grapes and watched the screen, searching for inspiration in the blank text bubble. Every time it started to go dark, she tapped it, refusing to let it go away. Wadding up the empty snack baggie in her hand, she took a deep breath and started typing.

  Thank you for bringing Olive home, and I’m sorry about everything else.

  Might as well give him carte blanche in determining all of her mistakes. And, she reminded herself, he was not pure and innocent in all this either. He seriously freaked out at the first hint of trouble, a photograph with a business client-turned-friend. Sorry, buddy, but that’s not the first time, and probably wouldn’t be the last time with a family like mine.

  Though usually it wouldn’t be with a man like The Playboy.

  Can I come see you? She got back from Gabe.

  File this under conversations she definitely didn’t want to have but desperately needed.

  Yes, I’m home. For the rest of my life it seems.

  Thank you, be there soon.

  Here goes.

  * * *

  Gabe parked his black Audi in front of the door, and ran through the rain, entering without knocking. His long black hair was pulled back and he had a few scrapes and cuts that made him look dangerous and sexy as hell.

  Get ahold of yourself, Rachael!

  He leaned down, looking at her swollen eye and pressing a kiss to the other cheek. “Damn, Rachael, you look like shit.”

  “You sure know how to sweet talk a woman,” she teased, trying not to be self-conscious. She knew she looked bad. But still. Ugh.

  “Sorry.” He sat on the couch and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

  She jumped in before he could talk. “I’ve been thinking. What I did, seducing you, was terrible and unfair.”

  Gabe barked out a laugh, highly amused. “Love, you can’t play a player.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I knew exactly what you wanted. And I was more than happy to oblige, once I figured it was what you actually wanted.”

  “But . . . ?”

  “But what? You got what you wanted and I got to be with you. It’s a win-win.”

  She sat quietly, absorbing this. “And your words? Your invitation?”

  “I meant every word. And I do want you to come with me,” he forced out, standing and pacing. “At thirty-one years old, I fall in love for the first time in my life, and it’s with the one fucking woman who is completely closed off to me.”

  She flinched. “I am so sorry, Gabe. It’s killing me that you’re suffering because I am so screwed up. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. You are perfect. Funny and charming. Kind and patient. And obviously amazing in bed.”

  He grinned, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about, love. You know you are still my favorite girl in the world.”

  Rachael hesitated, knowing he wasn’t being completely honest, but if he was trying to move past it, so could she. “You’re not mad at me?”

  “When will you stop asking me that?”

  “I guess when I stop doing awful things that would make most people incredibly angry.”

  He crouched in front of her recliner, holding her hands. He looked beautiful and calm, but the storm hadn’t yet dissipated in his eyes. She glanced around, half expecting to see Rick come barging in again.

  “Rachael, I know you are entangled in something else, someone else right now. I knew it that night. I see that better than you do. I had hoped with our intense physical connection, it might be enough to turn your head. But now? After last night? I know that isn’t going to happen any time soon.”

  He bent his head and kissed the top of each of her hands, rubbing his thumbs over the moisture left behind. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, blinking away the unshed tears in her eyes.

  “Gabe, I don’t deserve you,” she whispered.

  “This trip is coming at a good time for us. I need to get away from you, my little siren.” He wiped the tear from her cheek, and cupped her chin, kissing her softly. “One for the road.”

  “I do love you, Gabe.”

  “I know, love. But I need to go. I can’t stay and watch what happens next. I’ll be back, and . . . and we’ll see what happens.”

  He rose to leave and it took everything in her to remain in her seat, to not follow him out and ask him to stay. He needed to go, and she needed to let him.

  It didn’t make it any easier.

  It felt like goodbye.

  Unable to talk, she tracked his progress to the door. Bitterly, she realized too late that he was perhaps the first true best friend she’d ever made outside of her family and Kim. When had he nudged his way into the core of her world? And how could she bear the loss of his comforting companionship?

  The phone calls, the quick incognito meals, the friend who seemed to know what she needed before she did.

  She’d ruined it. All of it.

  The tears chased each other down her face, and she choked on a sob when the door closed behind him. He paused on the doorstep, turning back slightly. Her breath caught and she wondered what she would do if . . .

  But he didn’t come back. He dashed out into the rain and jumped into his car, perhaps driving out of her life forever.

  “Goodbye, Gabe,” she whispered.

  She laid her head down on her arms a
nd cried, letting this fresh heartbreak wash over her.

  23

  Numbness claimed her, allowing her to pass the days in a haze. Her family thought the concussion was really bad. But she knew it wasn’t her head. Well, not only her head.

  Rachael didn’t hear back from Rick and her hurt was doubled.

  What if she had sent Gabe away for nothing? Could she have loved him? It hurt to have him gone, so maybe she did love him. Was this love? She missed him.

  No Gabe. No Rick. Nothing else to occupy her thoughts, her time.

  She moved through the motions, showering, eating, reading when her eyes didn’t hurt too much. Mostly she just thought, reliving the stolen moments with each. Feeling fresh pain when she thought of Gabe’s words. His pleading. Fresh pain when she recalled Rick’s anger over Gabe, thinking she had left him to be with another man.

  The sizzling passion, the unbelievable sex. If she had to pinpoint what went wrong, that’s where she epically screwed up. She lost herself in the physical, failing to see how important the connections outside the bedroom were to her as a woman. As a person.

  Rachael was terrified that she had ruined the two paths that could have led to real happiness. Considering her track record, that might have been her entire life’s allotment.

  “Honey, I’m worried about you,” Dad said, sitting down next to her at the breakfast table. No newspaper in sight.

  “I’m fine, Dad.”

  “No, you’re not. You spend all day brooding in the house, crying when you think no one hears you. What’s going on? Can’t you tell your old dad?”

  Her eyes filled with tears, then she began abruptly sobbing, gasping for breath. He reached around her and tucked her against his side, and she cried. She cried for what felt like hours. He rocked her back and forth and didn’t say a word.

  “It’s Gabe. He said he loves me. And I . . . I can’t be what he needs me to be. I can’t be his girlfriend. I don’t want to be,” Rachael admitted, hiccupping in the telling.