by Piper Rayne
“Do we have to?” I whine, and Zoe knocks me with her shoulder.
“It’s not that bad.”
I roll my eyes after she steps in front of me.
“Oh, Zo, you look great. Step up so we can see all of you,” my mom says.
She does, and the moms and Skylar discuss the good and the bad of the dress, not mentioning one aspect of Zoe’s body. I’m crossing my fingers that the same goes for me.
“Now you, Chelsea,” Sky says, and I share a look with Zoe like when is this going to be over.
I stand on the pedestal and look at myself in the mirror. Yep, now I just look horrendous times three.
“I love it. I think it accentuates your figure,” Aunt Liz says. “Would all the girls be able to pull this off like Chelsea?”
Sky tilts her head inspecting it. “Are you comfortable?”
“I am if you like it.”
All the women laugh except my mom. “I think we should look at something more A-line. Not so tight around her middle.”
There she is in all her glory. Be jealous ladies, she’s all mine.
“Why?” Aunt Liz asks, her forehead crinkled.
I step down from the pedestal.
“I just think it’d be more flattering,” she continues to appraise me.
“Let’s try on another style I guess,” Sky says, following us back into the dressing area.
My phone is ringing inside my purse, so I pull it out.
Minute Man flashes on the screen, so I press ignore and drop it back into my purse.
“You can get it if you have to Chels,” Sky hollers from outside my fitting room.
“Nope. I’m good.”
For the next hour, I try on six different dresses and stand in front of a mirror to be judged like I’m on that old reality show Swan where they’d look you over and decide what parts weren’t good enough and what needed to be improved upon. I might not have black marker all over my imperfections, but I now know exactly what my mother thinks needs fixing.
“I love the high neckline with the draped back and how it’s tight around the hips and flares out farther down,” Sky says. “Did you like the gold? I think it’s an elegant summer color.”
“Love it all.” I’m heading back to the changing room when my phone rings again.
“Why are you so popular tonight?” Zoe asks, darting across from her dressing room to mine in only her jeans and bra. “What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.” I push my way through the hallway, knocking Sky into the wall.
“She’s definitely hiding something.” Skylar runs after me, but by the time I reach the fitting room, Zoe’s on the bench staring at my phone.
“Who’s the new guy?” Skylar asks, joining us in the four by four changing room.
Zoe turns the screen for Skylar to see. “Minute Man?”
My shoulders sag. “Just a date.”
“Good or bad?” Zoe asks.
“Bad. Definitely bad.”
“Let’s see why he’s so anxious to speak to you then.” Zoe scrolls through, the smile on her face dipping with every swipe. Her head snaps up in my direction. “Is Minute Man, Dean?” Zoe whisper-yells.
“Shh.” I bring my index finger over my mouth and glance behind me as if Zoe saying Dean’s name could conjure my mother up.
“Chels.” Skylar takes the phone from her sister’s hands. “He’s called you four times since you’ve been here.” She hands me over the phone. They really aren’t ones to snoop, but Dean’s number in my phone is not going to go unquestioned.
I glance down the hall again. “I was going to tell you.”
Zoe slides over on the bench to make room for me. “How does he have your number?” she asks.
I shrug. “He’s the tax attorney for the foundation I’m working at. I just found out on Friday.”
“Wait.” Zoe puts her hand in the air. “Dean Bennett is an attorney and at that, he’s a tax attorney?” Her eyes are swimming in doubt.
“I saw the license on his wall.”
She crosses her legs and places her chin in her palm waiting for more.
“He wants to take me out and I refuse to let him.”
“Good girl, you do not need him in your life.” Skylar’s always a nut breaker when it comes to anyone but Beckett.
“What do you want to do?” Zoe asks.
You’d think when I went through my brief marriage that Skylar would’ve been the shoulder I cried on, but it was Zoe. Skylar was busy in the circuit trying to become a Winter Classics skier, so she had no understanding of how I felt for Dean. Zoe did and helped me through one of the hardest times of my life. Who am I kidding? The hardest time of my life.
“I can’t,” I say in a low voice, shaking my head.
“Good. Keep that train of thought and don’t let him railroad you like he did before.” Skylar hangs up the rest of the dresses.
“Sky!” Aunt Liz calls out and as much as I love my cousin, I’m happy at this moment that her presence has been requested elsewhere.
Once Sky’s gone, Zoe pats my leg. “Maybe you should. Let him know how much he hurt you. Let him know your own regrets. You guys were so young, and I’m sure over the years things have changed. Maybe he’s on the right path now.”
“But?”
“What if you still have feelings?” Her lips tip down.
“Yeah.” I hate the way my voice sounds so small, so weak.
“Then you deal with it. But maybe it’ll just let you put him behind you once and for all.”
No way I’ll ever let myself get to where I was five years ago. I use my knuckle to dab at the tears in the corners of my eyes. “Nope. I’m hiding out. Now if I could get him to lose my phone number.”
She taps the phone in my lap. “You could block him.” Then she stands and exits the dressing room.
Skylar would’ve stood overhead and watched me do it. If I didn’t, she probably would’ve blocked him herself.
I’m not sure what’s best as I sit in a bridesmaid dress in a place where most people who enter are giddy with happiness at the prospect of what lies ahead.
I tuck my phone inside my purse.
I’ll do it when I get home.
Even I know that’s a lie.
Chapter Six
“Now I can totally see why delivery people are so happy.” Victoria enters my office and places a bouquet of chocolate candy on my desk. “I do wish the recipient was happier though, but I was smiling the whole way down the hall.”
“You can pick them up, turn around and head right back down that hallway. Give them to Jade.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t let Jade have this much sugar.” She turns on her heels, leaving the bouquet on the corner of my desk.
I tossed and turned last night, hoping to find sleep, but only saw Dean and imagined where we’d be if we’d stayed together. Would he have become a lawyer, or would I have been supporting him? Would we be scraping by, would he have been faithful, would he have ever been able to be the man he promised to be when he proposed to me?
“Victoria,” I warn, sliding the chair out from my desk, stalking after her down the hall with the bouquet in my hand.
“I told you, the dentist said Jade couldn’t have sugar anymore.”
“That’s bullshit and we both know it.” I drop it on her desk.
“I don’t want it, Chelsea.” Victoria’s words have lost their amusement.
“Whose is that?” Hannah comes out from her office, appraising all the chocolate.
I give it to Dean, he’s got the memory of a dolphin.
“It’s another special delivery for Ms. Walsh.” Victoria leans back in her chair, rocking it back and forth.
“I don’t know which one I like better. I mean the fact he sent a specific flower that meant forgiveness or the fact that, well wait.” She points to the bouquet. “Are these your favorites?”
I inspect the 100 Grands, Butterfingers, Snickers and Whatchamacallits. “Yeah.” I shrug.<
br />
“Then my vote is for this one. I mean anyone can look up what flower means forgiveness. Not my asshole ex, of course, but it doesn’t take memory.”
“Thanks for the support guys,” I deadpan.
“What’s the meaning of the tin?” Victoria asks.
I look down to see a tin with the logo of the restaurant we used to go to in college to eat wings and drink beer. The same place he met me.
“It’s the place we met.”
“Do tell.” Hannah slides into one of the chairs in front of Victoria, waiting.
“Don’t we all have work to do?” I ask, exasperated.
“Nope,” Hannah answers for both of them.
I sit in the adjacent chair. “I was with my friends. He was with his. He approached me, and I turned him down. See, Dean was the big man on campus. He was the star pitcher for the baseball team and a senior to boot. I was a freshman who thought her shit didn’t stink. I knew Dean had his pick of women, and I thought that if I resisted him, even for a little while, he’d chase, and I’d become the girl he wanted.”
“And did you?” Hannah asks.
“Well, we got married.”
“And you weren’t pregnant?” Victoria asks.
We all chuckle because we know that’s what led to Vic’s walk down the aisle with her ex, Pete.
“No.” I shake my head still remembering the impromptu proposal only months after we met. “I dared him to eat the hottest wing the restaurant made. I told him if he did it without drinking anything for five minutes afterward, I’d go out with him.”
“And he did it?”
“I might’ve caved after four minutes and let him drink a glass of milk.”
They both laugh and retelling the story is the lightbulb that’s been dim for the past five years. It just needed screwing in all the way and now it sheds a new light on our whole relationship.
“See, this is why he thinks he can walk all over me.” I pluck the note off the bouquet.
* * *
See me for your chocolate milk.
Love, Dean.
* * *
“If I would’ve held out the whole five minutes, he would’ve known he couldn’t walk all over me.” I point my finger like I’m making a case to a jury.
They both stare at me like I just took acid and I’m tripping while they’re sober.
“I mean, think about it.” I stand, pacing back and forth as I work it out in my head. “I never thought about it until now. I gave him the instructions to get a date with me but didn’t make him adhere to them. That’s why he thinks I’ll always roll over for him.” I shake my head. “I’m such an idiot.” I jog back to my office, grab my purse from the desk chair and head back to Victoria’s desk. “I’m going to tell him I’m not going to roll over like some obedient dog. There’s no chance for us. It’s over.”
Neither of them says anything as I grab one of the Snickers bars. “Shut up, I need the energy.”
Hannah holds her hands up in the air. “No judging.”
I open the door to our office and press the button on the elevator.
Watch out Dean Bennett because here comes the ass kicking I should’ve given you five years ago.
* * *
I round the revolving doors, my eyes locked on the security desk.
“Dean Bennett with Heiberman and Lipe Law Firm.” I stand in front of the man I had to beg days earlier to let me up.
“Back again?” the big guy asks, not moving to get me a badge.
“It’s obviously still working hours, so why don’t you grab one of these badges, type my name in the computer, and send me on my way.”
His bushy eyebrows furrow. “You seem a little upset. Is he expecting you?”
“Yes,” I answer because I know if that man calls up to him, Dean will allow me up thinking he’s won me over.
He picks up the receiver to the phone, dials the number. “You can ask to be put on a guest list if you’re a weekly visitor,” he says while he waits for someone to pick up.
“This will be my last time here.”
He tips his head down. “Yes, it’s Justin down in security. There’s a Chelsea Walsh here to see Dean Bennett.”
How does he remember my name in a building this size?
“She wasn’t on the list.” He pauses. “Thanks.” He drops the receiver from his mouth. “She’s checking.”
I roll my eyes and turn my attention to the groups of people returning from lunch.
My fingers tap along the top of the security desk, and I sigh like I have much more important things to do. Well, I kind of do, but it’s not like I’m the mayor or Oprah or anything.
“Yes,” Chucks says.
I perk up and turn to face him.
“Great, I’ll send her up.” He hangs up the phone, looks at me. “Lucky day again.” His fingers type in my name and soon he’s handing me over the badge. “I feel like I should warn Mr. Bennett or something.”
I snatch it from his grasp. “Believe me, he can handle himself.”
Getting on an elevator is much harder this time of day, but I manage to squeeze through since a nice man held the door open for me.
By the time I’m on the thirty-third floor, I’m happy we work in such a small building. The mixture of perfume, cologne, body odor, and takeout food is enough to nauseate a bear that’s just woken up from hibernation.
This time when I push open the frosted glass door, there’s a woman sitting at the reception desk, poised and ready for me. “Ms. Walsh?” she asks.
Of course, she’s young. Blonde and beautiful. Not that Dean had anything to do with hiring her, but she fits his mold to a tee.
“Yes.” I wait at the edge of her desk.
“It will be a moment, he’s in a meeting.” She signals for me to sit and I look back at the chairs.
“Can I wait in his office?”
It’s bold and ballsy seeing she has no idea who I am, but I’d rather get this over with and not have to be polite while he escorts me down the hall.
“I’m sorry, he said he’d be out to get you in a few minutes.”
I grit my teeth then huff, rolling my eyes like a thirteen-year-old girl before plopping myself into one of the uncomfortable seats. Not interested in my phone, I grab a magazine from the side table and nosily flip through the pages.
Minutes later, I hear his voice talking with someone else. The closer it grows, the more it feels like there’s a rocket zooming around in my stomach.
I place the magazine down, wanting to be armed and ready for him.
He walks right into the reception area.
“Good meeting with you, David. We’ll get it all straightened out.”
A male probably in his fifties shakes Dean’s hand, gives me a friendly smile and opens up the glass doors to leave.
“Thank you, Kylie, for being so accommodating to my unplanned visitor,” Dean says to the receptionist.
She smiles up at him like he’s Bradley Cooper. Give me a break. “No problem, Mr. Bennett.”
I stand. “Charming. Can we go to your office now?”
His smile grows and his eyes heat which only pisses me off more. He steps out of the way and holds his arm out for me to go first. “You know the way.”
I narrow my eyes as I walk past him.
“Kylie, hold all calls.”
“Will do, Mr. Bennett.”
I walk fast so he doesn’t have long to stare at my ass. Back in the day, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from grabbing it.
Not wanting to stay long, I stay on the visitor side of the desk, assuming he’ll go to his chair. He shuts the door behind him and flicks the lock.
“That’s not necessary, I assure you.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Oh, no? My bad.” He shrugs, not unlocking the door and sits down on the couch against the back wall.
“You can sit in your desk chair.”
He shakes his head. “Nah.”
Of course, he’ll do
anything to infuriate me.
“Are you here for the chocolate milk?” A coy smile appears on his lips.
“No. But feel free to pour it over your head.”
He tsks me. “Now is that any way to thank someone?”
Leaning back, I rest my ass on the edge of his desk.
“Why don’t you come over here?” he asks, that seductive tone of his coming out as though he thinks it’s an on/off switch to turn me on.
“I’m good. Listen, I’m done with this chase of yours. I know you think it’s funny. You’re probably at home thinking of ways to torment me, but I’m done. What we had ended five years ago. It’s over. Now, I’ve told Hannah if you’re willing to work pro bono to keep you on, but you have to deal with Victoria. As far as this,” I waggle a finger between the two of us, “it’s done. The coffin is closed, sealed, and buried.”
His eyes dip to my lips and a sputtering sensation trips up my heart. He stands without an ounce of effort and saunters my way. I need to step away. My eyes flicker to the door until they’re drawn to his again.
“Now, Chelsea, you know how turned on I get when you’re mad.” He approaches me, the lust in his dark pupils slicing away my icy exterior. Before I can catch my breath, he’s in front of me. Dangerously close.
“Dean.” I put my hand on his chest and my eyes flutter shut from the surge of want that’s channeling between us.
“You feel it. I know you do. It was stupid of us to think it would fade.” His long fingers reach out and he tucks my hair behind my ear. “I can’t stop beating off at the image of you laying on my desk and my head tucked between your thighs.” He steps closer and I feel how hard he’s already becoming.
“We can’t. We already failed at this,” I continue to fight against the need coursing through my veins as my voice loses all its conviction.
“You’re telling me you can walk away right now and not lock yourself in a bathroom stall, pull up your skirt, dip your hand below the elastic of your soaked panties and finger yourself to visions of me grinding in and out of you over…” his voice lowers to a whisper. “And over,” he softly continues, “and over again.”
