“Mhm,” he replied.
That’s it?
She looked up and was surprised to see that he was grinning broadly. Like, sunshine and rainbows grinning.
“What?” she scowled.
“I’m sorry, honey, but I’m so relieved. I thought you were going to say you’re pregnant.”
Pregnant?!
She stared at him in shock.
Then she felt it. A rumbling that started deep in her stomach. Great, booming laughter erupted. Rachael laughed until her stomach hurt and fresh tears streamed down her face. She laughed and whatever haze had enveloped her at long last began to dissipate.
“Oh, my God!” she wheezed. “No, I’m not pregnant!”
More laughter ensued and a wave of pained relief crashed over her.
“Thank goodness. But honey, you are one hundred percent crazy. You know this, right?”
Rachael grinned at his response and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. “I came by it honestly, Daddy dearest.”
He blinked with an owllike expression, and then they were both laughing.
They finally calmed down, and he considered her. “Are you okay? This Gabe, was he pressuring you?”
Rachael shook her head. “No. He wanted me to choose him, be with him, go on this world trip with him. And seeing him so upset . . . It’s killing me because I love him, but not like that. Does that make sense?”
“He’s not the right one for you. When it’s right, you’ll know. I did with Mary. From the beginning, I just knew. Your mother and I were inseparable. I don’t believe in love at first sight, but it was definitely a connection.”
She tried to picture her mom and dad, young and in love. It touched her heart to hear him talk about it. If only things hadn’t gotten so screwed up in her own life.
“And what if I felt the connection with someone who doesn’t return it?”
“If you call the wrong number?”
She laughed. “Yes, like that.”
“Then you hang up and try again. Or you don’t. You don’t need a man or anyone else to make you happy, Rachael. You just need to be happy with yourself.”
My dad. He’s the best.
She hugged him tightly and stood up, a new determination growing.
It was time to shed this funk and work on her.
* * *
She chewed on her thumbnail and waited for Carlie’s answer. She had to say yes. Who else was going to help with this?
“You want to do what?” Carlie squealed, astonished.
“Come on, Car. It’s not like I want a tattoo or something. I just want to get fit. Can I work out with you? Or run? Do goat yoga? Whatever it is you fitness freaks do now?”
Carlie snorted like Rachael had lost her mind, which was probably not far off. “Goat yoga? You have never, ever worked out before. Which is so unfair, I might add. I look at a piece of bread and have to switch to an elastic waistband. You eat the whole loaf and stay a size six.”
“Four,” Rachael mumbled.
“Whatever,” she chuckled. “When do you want to start?”
“Now.”
“Rach, it’s almost midnight.”
“Fine, in the morning.”
“If you say so. I’ll be by around six thirty. See you in the morning.”
They hung up and Rachael glanced at the clock. She was actually excited. A change was needed, and this fit the bill.
Dropping into bed, she closed her eyes and visualized what she was going to do. Rachael was going to make a change. She would be better, do better. She was an Eller, damn it, and she didn’t need anyone else to make her happy.
Far too soon, her alarm went off, and it took some serious mental acrobatics to get up. Who on earth woke up this early just to exercise?
“I guess I do now,” she muttered.
She grinned and rolled out of bed, happy to note both eyes were fully open.
See, Rach? It’s all about your attitude. Be positive and heal faster!
Less than an hour later, the positivity had been bitch-slapped right out of her.
“How . . . much . . . further?” Rachael huffed as she tried to keep up with her long-legged gazelle of a sister.
Carlie looked back with a comical expression and slowed. “Sorry, short stuff. We’ll go around the bend and pass the shelter house, then back out of the park. Almost there!”
She watched her younger sister with envy; she was barely sweating.
Bitch.
As they approached the shelter house, Rachael snagged Carlie’s arm. “Stop, please. Just a short break,” she pleaded.
They walked over to the picnic tables—well, Carlie jogged and Rachael dragged her sorry self over—and Rachael sprawled across the top of a cool wooden table. “You should stay standing, walk around a little,” Carlie suggested.
Rachael rolled her head to the side and glared, not speaking.
“Or not,” Carlie said, shrugging and sinking down onto the tabletop across from Rachael.
Slowly, Rachael caught her breath and the world stopped spinning. “Thanks, Car.”
“You probably shouldn’t be out running yet,” Carlie commented about thirty minutes too late, watching Rachael with concern.
Rachael smirked, amused by the strange imbalance of intellectual versus street smarts her sister had been dealt. “Probably not. But it feels good to get out of the house.”
“Want to talk about it?”
She sighed and crossed her arm over her sweaty forehead. “Carlie, I’m an emotional wreck.”
“And that’s new how?”
Rachael glanced over and saw the affectionate smile, halting her indignant reply. “It’s new because I don’t know what to do.”
“Gabe?”
“That’s part of it. He told me he loves me. He wants me to go travel the world with him.”
“Wow,” Carlie breathed. “What did you say? Do you love him?”
“I don’t know. I don’t love him the way he loves me. He’s one of my best friends. I had to say no.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t stop thinking about Rick.”
Carlie blinked. “The vet? Is he back in the picture?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.”
Rachael told her about the night after the hospital, their fight. “Granted, I was on some serious hospital meds and more than a little out of it, but it was crazy, Car. They literally got into a knock-down, drag-out fight. Only I don’t really think it was about me. It was some weird stone-age shit.”
Carlie squinted her eyes and watched Rachael for a minute, looking remarkably like their dad. “Rach?”
“Yeah?”
“I never dreamed I would have to say this to you, of all people. I love you, but you’re being a complete and total wuss.”
Rachael sat up and swung her feet to rest on the bench. “What?”
“You heard me. You are too scared to go talk to the guy.”
“I am not!”
“And he’s a pussy, too freaked or butthurt to come talk to you.”
Staring at her shy, quiet younger sister, Rachael grinned, wondering what their mother would think if she knew Carlie had even half this moxie. “Who knew,” she teased, “that you could lash out like that?”
Carlie winked. “Where do you think I learned it?”
“I would say me, but Mom would murder me if I had ever talked like that around you. Which leaves . . . Kim. Such a good influence on my baby sister.”
Carlie laughed and started stretching. “Come on, Rach. Let’s finish this and get some coffee. Are you okay to run, or should we walk?”
Rachael’s head felt a little less end-of-the-world woozy, so she decided to punish herself.
24
Clacking heels approached the kitchen, stalking after Rachael’s younger sister.
“Carlie Lynn Eller! Did you really take your sister running all over town?!”
Rachael hid her grin behind her coffee cup, watching Carlie nonchalant
ly put a single-serving pod in the coffee machine.
“Mhm. And guess what? She didn’t die.”
Their mother looked close to throwing something, but instead shook her head and stalked out of the room.
“Coffee?” Carlie asked the room.
Dad shook his head over the top of his paper. “You girls are going to send your mother to an early grave.”
“Nah, she’ll outlive us all,” Rachael said, grabbing a banana from the counter.
“I’ve got to run, Rach,” said Carlie. “But think about what I said, okay?”
“I will. Thanks, Car.”
“Bye, Dad. I’ll return the mug later. Love ya!”
Carlie walked out to the front, and Rachael heard her talking gibberish to Martini and Olive. Carlie was a sucker for those dogs. Not that Rachael was one to talk.
“What did you and your sister talk about?”
“Boy stuff,” Rachael answered, tossing the banana peel into the garbage.
He turned his paper over and made a show of scanning the top of it.
“What?” she asked.
“Just checking to see what year it is. Have we gone back in time? Please don’t tell me we have to relive your teenage years again. I don’t think I could take it.”
She laughed and walked over, dropping a kiss on his temple. “Love you, Dad.”
“You too, pumpkin. And glad to see you got out of the house a bit. One foot in front of the other.” He nodded and turned back to his paper.
The dogs begged the last bits of banana from her, and she obliged as she ran upstairs, stripping off her sweaty running clothes and taking a long shower. Carlie’s words kept echoing in her head. She was being a coward. Rachael. The same person who fearlessly walked into boardrooms and convinced stodgy relics to move into the new era of technology.
What had happened to her?
And why was she waiting for him to make contact? Sure, she’d sent him a couple of texts, but otherwise . . . nada.
She finished rinsing out her hair and gently scrubbed her face. This eye needed to heal up, pronto. While it no longer looked like a squished meatball, it was now approaching cosmic-color scale.
“Highly accentuated single eyes are all the rage this season,” she mocked into her microphone, a.k.a. loofah, imagining a wonky fashion magazine trying to sell this crap. “Don’t just have starry eyes, be celestial!” She groaned and finished washing up.
After drying off, she pulled on some capris and a baggy t-shirt, then looked closely at her face. The skin around her eye was certainly colorful, but the swelling had all but disappeared. Camera avoidance had gone from code red to caution. She gently dabbed on some concealer. Still discolored, but it didn’t look hideous.
Feeling marginally better about her appearance, Rachael returned downstairs to an empty, quiet house.
What to do?
She flipped through her email and messages, then brought her computer to the back patio, turning on some tunes and letting the dogs run around. Frowning at her screen, she skipped past the Sia and Train and went straight for classic rock. A dose of Aerosmith was just what she needed.
First, was she absolutely sure this was what she wanted to do? Her life was so full with work and the dogs she hadn’t even been able to find a new place to call home. Rachael had never wanted a relationship before. Could she pull this off?
Her mind pulled up Rick’s smile and their walk around the dog park, his generous spirit and passionate nature.
Yes. She wanted to do this. She was ready to do something different in her life. She wanted change, and she wanted Rick.
How to get him back in the picture?
Come on, think Rachael. You are good at this. Who are the players? The people? What do they want? Piece it together.
Gabe was leaving today for his globetrotting, so she could rule him out. Considering she didn’t know if she’d ever hear from him again, she doubted he was going to affect what happened with Rick. She could probably eliminate him as a player at this point. The loss still stung, but it was for the best.
Rick. He was the lead. The person who would make the decision, sign the dotted line. He was the person she needed to focus on, directly and indirectly.
Who influenced him? Nancy. Gil. His family.
Family was out of state, so they were out. Which left Nancy and Gil. And Olive and Martini?
As Aerosmith gave way to Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’”—that had to be a good omen, right?—she opened a fresh doc and started making notes. Then trashed them. Then made plans. Then scratched those out again.
Why is this so hard?
Who was going to influence him in this decision?
After eliminating all the players, Rachael realized the person who held the power in this equation wasn’t Nancy. It wasn’t Gil.
It was going to have to be her.
Under other circumstances, once she’d identified the primary influencer and target, Rachael would request from the prospects’ office a full write-up on the individuals, learning what made them tick, what they wanted. She was aware she had many blind spots where she was concerned. Rather than focusing on the unknown, she targeted growth areas where she could be more confident and stronger.
Spending the next few days working on herself, Rachael got a little less headachy and a little more headstrong. She finally got permission to drive, opening up the world to her reach again. But she made herself keep walking; she liked feeling stronger, increasing her endurance.
* * *
Rachael had plans to meet Carlie and Brent for dinner later, but had enough time to squeeze in some more “therapy.” She grabbed her armband, phone, and a bottle of water and hit the pavement for a walk. Securing her phone on her arm and cranking up the volume to her earbuds, she settled into a steady pace, swinging her hips and arms to the rhythm of the upbeat Latin music.
What do you want?
She smiled, recalling when Rick asked her that. His voice, his lips forming the words. Her mind keyed in on this. Rachael’s smile faded as she considered her own actions since then. While she didn’t do anything that night, she and Gabe did eventually move things way beyond the platonic level. Would it matter? Did he even need to know?
When did I want to act?
Soon. She didn’t want to lose her chance with him. But Rachael was also irritated at his mixed messages. He couldn’t be completely disinterested if he had been willing to interrupt things with Gabe, right? Or was that just his pride? What if he wasn’t trying to interrupt, but simply felt bad for her? Rachael took a swallow of water and tried to visualize all the ways this could go. What if he refused again? But what if he didn’t? Was he worth it? Yes.
But would it work?
So many questions, but that was the million-dollar question.
A light sheen of sweat formed on her brow and she wiped at it as she kept moving. A bug grazed her upper arm and she swatted at it, keeping her pace steady. The fat, lazy bumblebees were all over the place this time of year. A tap followed and she shooed it away again. Persistent bugs.
A moment later, a hand wrapped around her upper arm and she screeched in alarm, jumping back, trying to free herself. “What the . . . ?”
She stumbled in her escape attempt and windmilled as she started to fall, before strong hands firmly grasped her upper arms, holding her steady. One of her earbuds fell out, and the world slipped back into her ears.
“The last thing you need right now is to knock yourself unconscious or worsen your concussion.”
Rachael blinked, bewildered to see him and simultaneously noting the concern in his eyes. His hair was darker, wet. A light flush colored his cheekbones. She absently made sure her phone was still in place while her brain tried to make sense of this.
“Rick? What . . . what are you doing?”
He shook his head and dropped his arms to his side. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. You okay?”
A laugh bubbled up and she unscrewed her water, min
d racing. “I’m fine. But what are you doing here?”
“I was on my way back from the gym and saw you. I waved, and you weren’t responding.” He frowned and ran a hand through his damp hair. “So I pulled over and tried to catch you. I didn’t know I’d literally have to catch you.” He raised a brow.
“Sorry. Music,” she mumbled, holding up the errant earbud. “You were at the gym?”
Rick nodded. “I swim laps between shifts, or as time allows.”
Ah. That explained the long, lean muscles. She mentally fine-tuned her quarterback/baseball player to a stud swimmer. Yum. “Was there something you wanted?” She smothered her wince. That did not come out the way she’d intended.
He hesitated, looking uncertain. “I waved hello as I passed you. I wasn’t going to stop, but when you didn’t acknowledge me or respond, I thought . . .” he trailed off. He must have been nervous; he was repeating himself. She noticed the faint bruise on his chin.
“From Gabe?” she asked, touching the mark gently.
He winced. “Yeah. Sorry again about that whole thing. I don’t know what happened.”
“I’m sorry, too. I didn’t know he would hit you.” She reflected on her time with Gabe. Should she have seen that coming?
They stared at each other awkwardly, and miles of unasked questions ran through her mind. One was bothering her more than the others. “Have you been avoiding me?”
He considered, weighing his words. She had no idea what he was going to say, and the uncertainty made her anxious. Patience was not her strong suit, but she waited nonetheless.
“I wasn’t avoiding you. Well, maybe I was at first, but . . . since your accident, since that night, I’ve been giving you time to recover and consider what you want. Frankly, I had to figure out some stuff too.”
“You haven’t responded to my texts.”
“I didn’t know you were expecting responses. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to hear from me. You and McAllister . . .” he grimaced, “seemed like there were some unresolved issues there.”
So Gabe was gone because she wanted to try things with Rick, and Rick was avoiding her because he wanted her to figure out what the deal was with Gabe? And men thought women were the sensitive ones. Sheesh.
Animal Attraction Page 15
