by Sara Whitney
“See you in three minutes.”
She yanked off the earpiece and dropped it next to the phone, setting the calls to go to voice mail for the next thirty minutes. When Faith Fox’s tall form appeared on the security-camera feed, Thea held down the button that unlocked the door and allowed her friend to push it open with her shoulder. She hurried around the reception desk to grab one of the carryout bags and peeked inside. “Soup. Oh my God yes.”
“Bread too. Can’t have soup without fresh bread. Conference room?”
Thea nodded and led the way down the hall, stopping to snag the paperwork sitting on her desk. She and Faith settled into one corner of the long, glossy table and unpacked their lunches.
“Thanks again for the delivery.” She talked around a mouthful of minestrone. “We should do this more often.”
Faith grimaced. “I wish we could. But no offense, babe, more time for lunch means things at work are slow. I love you, but I’d rather be too busy to leave the office.”
Faith nibbled at the edge of her baguette, expression tense. She worked at an educational nonprofit that was always on the brink of running out of funding, so busy was better in terms of keeping the lights on.
“How ’bout that state funding?” Thea hadn’t seen her friend for almost a month while Faith had been wrestling with Beaucoeur BUILD’s budgetary needs.
“Still writing letters to our rep.” Faith dropped the bread onto her napkin as if it had offended her.
“You’ll figure it out. You always do.”
“I do, don’t I?” She gave a breezy toss of her blue-streaked white-blond hair, and they both laughed.
Thea had been Faith’s biggest fan since they’d been paired up during the dissection unit in sophomore biology class. Back then, Faith was the prototype rich girl, polite and preppy and tightly wound. But just before college, she’d told her overbearing parents to go to hell, ditched her country club wardrobe, and started carving out her own path. Thea still admired the hell out of her for that bravery.
Faith tapped a finger on the printout resting between them. “What’s this?”
“Oh, nothing. Just the death of my dreams.”
Faith gave her a “lower it a notch, drama queen” look and picked up the proposed budget. “Ah. The princess house.”
“The princess house.” Thea propped her chin on her hand and watched as Faith’s eyes skimmed down the rows of numbers. Her friend was the only person in the world who knew why she wanted that house so badly; she hadn’t even discussed it with her mom. Every time she visited, her stepdad was hanging around, badgering her about one life shortcoming or another, which wasn’t exactly conducive to sharing childhood real estate fantasies. And she wasn’t even sure her mom wanted to hear them in the first place. The laughing Carly who’d been married to Lee Blackwell was night-and-day different from Peter Johnson’s brittle, agreeable wife, and it left Thea feeling like the only person on earth who remembered her dad.
Actually, that wasn’t true. Aiden remembered him. His generous mouth had curved in sympathy when she’d told him about the fairy tales her dad had spun for her, and he’d shared a memory himself, giving her a piece of her dad that she hadn’t had before. Emotion caught in her throat, and she swallowed hard.
“Hey, ladies. Can I crash?” Mabel Bowen, the station’s morning-show cohost, stood in the doorway with a lunch sack and a big smile.
“Sure!” Anything to chase away her melancholy. Amazing what a powerful bite grief had, even decades after her father’s death.
“No boyfriends allowed.” Faith lifted a brow. “It’s girl time.”
Thea’s smile froze on her face. Her oldest friend and her newest one didn’t know each other well, but when they were together, it always felt a little like letting a pair of alpha dogs sniff it out. They were each gorgeous and confident in their own way, leaving her feeling like the nervous diplomat between two nuclear powers.
Mabel floated into the room, unconcerned. “Jake got stuck on a conference call with some kind of numbers emergency, so it’s a man-free zone today.”
She claimed the seat on the other side of Thea, who was now surrounded by blond glamazons. She bet their feet always touched the ground no matter how tall the chairs were. Lucky bitches.
“We were just figuring out how Thea can afford her dream house.” Faith slid the sheets across to Mabel, who set her partially unwrapped sandwich back down.
“Ooooh, real estate listings. Excellent.”
Thea slurped her soup as Mabel’s eyes flicked over the numbers that told Thea what she already knew: even with a reduced labor cost, even if she was willing to be patient with the renovations, even if she put off work that could be delayed, she couldn’t afford it. A howl built in her chest, but she pushed it down. “You know, Faithy, if you’d come to yoga with us, we could hang out like this every Sunday.”
Faith gave an elegant shudder. “I don’t do yoga.”
Mabel snorted. “You are aware that ninety percent of the time we skip it and get donuts and coffee, right?”
Another twitch of Faith’s shoulders. “I also don’t do Sunday mornings.”
“Your loss.” Thea grabbed the budget sheets and folded them once, then twice, hiding that crushing total from sight.
“So.” Mabel picked a piece of lettuce off her sandwich. “Aiden, huh?”
“Yeah.” Thea cast her a sharp look, not sure what that tone meant. “Is that weird for you?”
Mabel gave an epic eye roll. “For the last time, we’ve always been just friends. He’s a great guy. He was just never going to be my great guy because I’d already met my great guy—I just hadn’t accepted that my great guy was actually my great guy yet.”
Faith raised her brows at Mabel’s tortured explanation.
“You missed out on so much relationship drama with those two,” Thea explained before turning back to Mabel. “And Aiden’s not the great guy for me either. He’s just my contractor. Or he would be if I could afford any of this. Which I can’t.” Another pang as her dream slipped further from her fingers.
“Ah, but he could be so much more though,” Mabel said smugly.
That pulled her mind off her house disappointment. “So much more what?”
“I may have been half-dead from misery at the time, but I saw the way you looked at him in Jamaica.”
“Oooh, how?” Faith leaned forward in interest.
Mabel looked past Thea to address Faith. “Like he was the jelly-filled donut in the middle of a box of glazed.”
“I prefer glazed,” Thea muttered, tossing her crumpled napkin into her empty bowl and intentionally missing Mabel’s point.
“Nobody prefers glazed, and you’re intentionally missing my point,” Mabel said. “You think he’s attractive.”
“Empirically, he is attractive.” Thea threw up her hands. “There are eighty-year-old nuns who consider tossing their wimples at him when he shows up to do repairs at Saint Mark’s.”
Mabel blinked. “He told you about his volunteer work?”
“He must’ve mentioned it at some point, yeah.” She shifted in her chair. “I mean, we’ve known each other forever.”
Mabel leaned back in her chair, eyeing Thea speculatively. “Hmm.”
“Oh stop.” She turned to Faith, who’d been suspiciously quiet during all this. “And what about you? Any weirdness from you?”
“Why, Thea Blackwell, are you asking if I’ve ever hooked up with Aiden?” Faith smiled a Mona Lisa smile and brushed her mass of wavy hair back from her face.
Blood rushed to Thea’s cheeks because yes, that’s exactly what she’d been asking. Aiden hadn’t given any indication that he’d slept with her best friend when she brought up Faith’s name the previous weekend, but then again he wasn’t known for bragging about his hookups. And if Faith actually had slept with Aiden, that would definitely put a crimp in all her daydreams. But Faith just shrugged.
“It’s wild, but somehow I managed to resist the allure
of the Murdoch cock. He’s all yours.” Faith serenely returned to her soup while a bolt of heat shot through Thea’s belly. “Anyway, one hookup with Aiden Murdoch hardly qualifies a girl to feel proprietary. If that was the case, half the female population of this town would be at war with the other half.”
“Gee, thanks,” she managed. “I’ll let him know he’s cleared to date me. I’m sure that’s the only thing stopping him.”
“Why shouldn’t he? You’re hot, babes.” Faith was the one who said it, but Mabel nodded along enthusiastically, bless them both.
“I mean, obviously I know I’m adorable,” Thea said matter-of-factly. “But I think he still sees me as the kid he had to rescue from the neighbor’s big scary dog when it got off the leash and started chasing people.”
“When was this?” Mabel asked in amusement.
“When I was five. In his eyes, I’m pretty sure I’m still five,” she said. “And okay, let’s say hypothetically I manage to buy the house and Faith throws me the housewarming party that I know she’s dying to plan—”
“It’ll be glorious,” Faith said. “No male strippers, I promise. Just lots of booze and dancing. Something tasteful.”
Thea ignored her and continued. “So let’s say Aiden miraculously decides to come to this stripper-free housewarming party, and while he’s there suffers a head injury of some sort that makes him think that he’d be interested in dating me. Can you even picture us together?”
Thea held her arms out wide and dramatically gazed down at herself. When she looked up, the glamazons were frowning in confusion.
“Not really getting your point,” Faith said.
“Look at me! And look at you two! You’re the women he goes home with. You’re both blond and your tits are magnificent—”
Mabel sputtered. “I’m sorry, have you been possessed by a thirteen-year-old boy?”
“Meanwhile,” she continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted, “Aiden has his pick of women in town while I’m just hanging out over here alone. Good ol’ Thea. Amazing personality, always smells nice, but no boobs to speak of. Ever wonder what Aiden looks for in his hookups? Here’s your answer: not these.”
She’d stood and slapped her hands against her chest to emphasize just how flat she was compared to the bombshells on either side of her, squeezing her slightly-larger-than-A cups for emphasis, when a fourth voice joined the conversation.
“I’m pretty sure I’m paying some of you to at least pretend to work, no?”
She froze as Brandon Lowell, the station owner, propped a shoulder in the doorway and tipped his head to study the three of them curiously. An excruciating few seconds ticked by before her brain sent the command to her hands: let go of the ladies. Face burning, she plopped into her seat and tucked her fingers under her thighs.
“We’re at lunch,” Mabel snapped. “Women only.”
Thea winced at the other woman’s sharp tone; Mabel had taken a dislike to Brandon from their first meeting and hadn’t seen any reason to change her mind since. But he was barely a blip on the scale of bad bosses Thea had experienced in her colorful work history, so he’d never bothered her much.
Not much bothered him either, and that included Mabel’s out-and-out rudeness. “Oh, I clearly interrupted some kind of female-empowerment session.” He turned to Faith with his toothiest smile. “Apologies if it was your turn next. I don’t think we’ve met. Brandon Lowell.”
“Faith Fox,” she said coolly, lifting her chin to study the blond man in front of her and somehow managing to look self-possessed and in command from her seated position. “I’ve heard… things about you.”
He didn’t even flinch. “Hope it was from this one”—he pointed to Thea—“and not that one.” His finger moved to Mabel, who narrowed her eyes.
“If I promise to cut that new Abrams Motor commercial this afternoon, will you leave?” she asked.
Brandon pressed a hand to the expensive suit covering his chest. “Why Mabel, I’m overjoyed to hear that you plan to do your job. Thea, let me know when that fax comes in from corporate. Delighted to make your acquaintance, Ms. Fox.” With one last smarmy smile, he disappeared.
“He’s the worst,” Mabel seethed.
“He’s not so bad,” Thea chided her.
“He still gets faxes?” Faith asked.
“I don’t even know why he’s here so often on site visits. Your actual office is in Minneapolis,” Mabel called to the empty door. Then she brushed her hands together as if she were knocking off the Brandon dust. “Anyway, I want to get back to your weird Aiden issues.”
“Agreed,” Faith said. “So you’re on the slender side. Audrey Hepburn was slender. Lots of guys dig that.”
“Not Aiden.” Thea crossed her arms over her chest. “He always goes home with the Marilyns.”
“Since when are you an Aiden stalker?”
She dropped her head into her hands at Mabel’s questions. “I’m not! He’s just always around, you know? Everywhere I go in town, he’s there with his”—she waved a hand helplessly—“with his smile and his tallness and his charisma.” God, she wasn’t doing justice to the overwhelming hotness of Aiden Murdoch. “It’s hard to miss where he goes and who he’s with.”
“Aww, kitten, I’m sorry he never took you home for a night of mediocre sex before forgetting to call you,” Faith crooned, stroking a hand down Thea’s back. “I know how special that is for a girl.”
“Oh, shut it,” Thea snapped. “And anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’ve got to go send an email explaining that I can’t afford his services, so it’s all moot. I’ll go back to being that girl he sees around town sometimes and stops to chat with when he’s got nothing better to do.”
With that, she turned her attention to the rest of their woman-only lunch, or tried to at least. But the drumbeat at the base of her skull refused to let up: No house. No hookups. No changes to her life.
“Maybe I should get a dog.” The instant she blurted out the nonsense idea, it took hold of her brain, but Faith and Mabel merely stared at her with identical looks of confusion. “No really, should I get a dog?”
Mabel spoke first. “You know dogs are a lot of responsibility, right? Walking. Feeding. Walking again.”
“I’m not a child.” She heard the snap in her voice, but she was incapable of controlling her tone at the moment. If she couldn’t have her dream house, then maybe she could have a small furry animal to love.
“Obviously you’re not,” Faith said levelly. “But you are the person who broke up with her last boyfriend for being too clingy.”
“Well, he was!”
“He asked you to put his keys and sunglasses in your purse at the movies.”
She humphed and took a swig of her Diet Coke. “I’m not a pack mule.”
“Mmm-hmm. And you’re not great at sticking with things,” Faith said. “A dog would stick with you.”
“Ah, but a dog’s not a person.” And a dog wouldn’t ask her to change anything about herself other than maybe an increased tolerance for shedding. Then the reality of her situation hit her, and she deflated. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not getting my house, and my apartment’s no place for a dog.”
The urge to put her head down on the conference table and weep overwhelmed her, but this wasn’t her first go-round with disappointment. She’d learn to live with it eventually, and until then she’d lift her chin and smile and never let on that another little crack had appeared on her heart.
Six
“What’s the problem?”
Kimmie’s shove to Thea’s shoulder wasn’t enough to move her out of the packed aisle of the Baker Center Arena. They were standing in front of the correct row, and their two empty seats were waiting for them. But sprawled in the chair next to their spots was a walking reminder of Thea’s latest heartbreak.
“What is he doing here?” she hissed.
Kimmie looked over Thea’s head—not hard; Kimmie was another tall, leggy type—and gasped in excitem
ent. “Aiden Murdoch!”
Thea turned and shot her an exasperated shut it look, but it was too late. The guy who wasn’t destined to be her contractor smiled and lifted his hand in greeting.
“Go! We’re gonna get trampled!” This time Kimmie’s shove set her in motion, and Thea clambered awkwardly past the already seated Brick Babes and radio-station guests.
“Trade you?” Kimmie asked hopefully, again peering over her head at Aiden.
“Not on your life.” She’d rather be reminded of her lost princess house for three excruciating periods of Beaucoeur Anchors hockey than spend that time watching Kimmie giggle with Aiden.
“Hey, ladies.” The man in question leaned forward with a warm grin. “Repping the Brick tonight, I see. And in a coat this time.”
That last bit was said in an undertone for her benefit only, and she had to suppress a full-body shiver at being part of an inside joke with Aiden.
“I do learn eventually.” She shrugged out of her North Face and adjusted her oversized Brick T-shirt, tied at the back in a knot to pull it tight against her torso. Once she was settled into her seat, she leaned forward to greet Dave Chilton, who was seated on the other side of Aiden. “Hey, pal. Flying solo tonight?”
“Brought this guy as my date since Ana opted to be pregnant at home instead of pregnant in an arena full of maniacs.” Dave tilted his head toward Aiden, although his gaze didn’t budge from the Zamboni making its final pass around the ice before the game got underway.
“Just because you bought my beer doesn’t mean I’m putting out.” Aiden took a sip from his foamy plastic cup.
“Damn,” Dave said mildly, as always a master of comedic timing. Thea had admired the hilarity he and Mabel brought to their morning show for years and still couldn’t believe that she’d been able to keep up with him as his replacement cohost for a few months while the station was experimenting with some new programming. But wow, those early-morning hours hadn’t been for her. Neither was answering phones at the station, come to think of it, but it was fine for now. She’d move on sooner or later.
