Trophy Wife

by Noelle Adams

Rob’s truck wasn’t in the driveway. He had a garage, but she’d noticed he never parked there. It was probably piled full of stuff.

  He must not be home. Maybe he was hanging out with his clingy ex-wife.

  It didn’t matter. He might be kind and funny and handsome and sexy as hell, but he wasn’t for her.

  She finished closing up the house and went to her bedroom to change. Her attention was caught by a folded napkin, which she’d laid on the dresser with her tip money.

  She picked up the napkin and smoothed it out, reading the words Rob had written that morning.

  You’re doing just great for a “new girl.” Don’t let anyone tell you differently. R.

  She smiled and was still smiling when she went to bed a few minutes later.

  Chapter 3

  On Friday morning Allison knew for sure that she’d never been so tired in her life.

  She hadn’t been a lazy slug while she was married. Her days had usually been fairly busy, and she’d always worked out a lot—since Arthur would complain if she started gaining weight.

  But after three days of waiting tables at Dora’s, she could barely manage to roll out of bed. This kind of exhaustion was different, and it was compounded by the knowledge of an endless succession of more days on her feet, pretending to be polite when she felt like wringing someone’s neck, trying to juggle about twenty tasks at once and very often failing miserably.

  Each day was the same, and they would continue to be the same for the foreseeable future.

  She tried to encourage herself by remembering that she was no longer under Arthur’s thumb. Once she’d gotten used to the work and saved some money, she could take more classes and finish her degree. This was just a transition period—not the rest of her life.

  It only helped a little bit, but at least she was able to get out of bed.

  A half hour later she was walking into Dora’s. She’d stopped going through her full dressing routine in the mornings. She just pulled her hair back in a low ponytail and applied only the bare minimum of makeup. It simply wasn’t worth taking the time to make herself pretty when she could be sleeping instead.

  She glanced in the mirror in the bathroom and barely recognized herself.

  The realization was startling and a little frightening, but she told herself she was learning to be independent. She was doing life on her own for the very first time. Of course she looked different. She wasn’t young and gorgeous and vulnerable and completely dependent anymore. That was a good thing.

  She greeted Trey and Chelle and Gus, the morning cook, and she tried to prepare herself to face customers. She could be this person. It wasn’t going to be forever.

  Fortunately, it was a slower morning than usual, and she’d only served three tables when Rob came into the restaurant, as he had every morning. Except this morning he was with a teenage girl. She and Chelle took turns taking tables, since customers seated themselves, and Chelle was up now, so she got to serve Rob and the girl. Allison pretended not to be disappointed as she smiled and took a menu over to an elderly man who had come in by himself after Rob.

  Rob glanced over at her and smiled, and she found herself smiling back.

  She wasn’t sure how it was possible, but he got cuter every time she saw him. Today he looked more casual than he normally did—in jeans and a black T-shirt—and her eyes lingered on his very nice biceps, which were visible beneath the sleeves of his shirt.

  She wondered who the girl was.

  The girl was cute enough, although her hair was too brassy a blond and her expression appeared to be perpetually pouty. She mostly stared down at her phone, which Allison recognized wasn’t unusual for a teenager. But Rob was trying to talk to her, and the girl was barely paying attention.

  Allison experienced a surge of pity for Rob when she saw an unmistakable look of frustration on his face.

  When she saw Chelle back in the kitchen, picking up an order, she asked, “Who’s the girl with Rob?”

  Chelle was nice enough, once you got to know her, although her manner was always slightly brusque. She glanced toward the door as if trying to remember who had come in with him this morning. “Oh yeah. That’s his ex’s daughter.”

  Of course. That made perfect sense. The girl even looked like that rude woman she’d seen on Tuesday.

  Chelle gave her a curious look. “Do you and Rob have a thing going on?”

  Allison’s eyes widened. “What? No, of course not. I was just wondering, since I didn’t think he had kids.”

  “He doesn’t. He was always good to that girl, though. Not that it did much good. She’s a handful.”

  “Is she?” Allison was tempted to ask more questions, but she realized it would just give Chelle more reason to think she was interested in Rob.

  She was interested. He was the most interesting part of her week here, but she knew nothing would ever happen between them. Despite what Vicki teased her about, she wasn’t really interested in a fling.

  She felt out of sorts when she left the kitchen with a completed order. When she served Rob, he always chatted with her—asked her how she was doing and if she needed any help around her house. She always told him no, of course, but she couldn’t resent his asking. He acted like he genuinely meant it.

  But this morning she had to keep smiling as this old man told her about all of his grandkids, keeping her from getting to the other tables. She occasionally glanced over to Rob at the counter, and he was still trying to talk to the girl.

  She wished she knew what he was saying.

  A half hour later he and the girl were leaving, and Allison tried not to feel disappointed. Rob caught her eye as he walked past a table she still needed to clear. He dropped a folded napkin onto the table with a little half smile.

  She gave him a very foolish smile in response, her heart jumping up in her chest. As soon as he’d walked out, she went over to the table and picked up the napkin.

  She’d thought she wasn’t going to get a note from him today, since she hadn’t served him. He’d left her a note with his tip every day this week.

  She read the note quickly and then stuck it into her pocket as she piled up the dishes and carried them to the back. Once she’d dumped them in the sink, she read the note again.

  I missed you this morning. You look tired today. You should sleep in tomorrow. R.

  Allison was planning to sleep in tomorrow. She didn’t work weekends because Trey had regular weekend staff, and she couldn’t wait for a couple of days off. She was going to meet Vicki for lunch in the city and then they were going shopping. All Allison was planning to let herself buy was a comfortable pair of shoes, but still…she was excited about seeing Vicki, about doing something she loved again.

  She tucked Rob’s note in her pocket. She would put it with his other notes in the little box on her dresser when she got home.

  —

  On Sunday Allison woke up feeling good.

  She’d had a great day with Vicki yesterday, and she felt like she’d almost recovered from the week before. Today she needed to work on her yard. It was looking worse than ever, and she really didn’t want the neighbors to be secretly complaining about her.

  She also didn’t want Rob thinking she wasn’t capable of taking care of things on her own.

  So after drinking a cup of coffee and catching up on her emails, she put on a pair of shorts and a black tank top and braided her hair to keep it out of the way. There was an old riding mower in the shed, and she’d gotten gas for it on her way back into town yesterday. If the mower still worked, she was going to cut her grass today.

  She’d never cut grass before in her life, but the mower wasn’t difficult to operate. It made some grumbling sounds when she started it, but the engine seemed to be working. She felt very strange as she climbed on and started to ride around. She kept looking behind her to make sure the grass was actually getting cut. She had no idea how to change the settings, so she kept everything exactly as it was.

  When
she’d mowed a line across her front yard and she could see the difference in the grass heights, she couldn’t help but feel a little thrill of victory. Look at her. Allison Davies, formerly Collins. Mowing the grass.

  The yard was pretty large, so she was grateful for the riding mower. It would have taken her forever if she’d had to use a push mower, and she couldn’t imagine how tired she’d have been at the end of it. As it was, she wasn’t tired at all when she finished the yard an hour later. It wasn’t perfect, but it looked basically neat. Not bad for a beginner.

  Since it was still just ten in the morning, she decided to tackle a few of the beds that were overgrown with weeds. She could at least do the two beds in the front of the house, which people would see when they drove by.

  Pulling weeds wasn’t nearly as fun as mowing. A lot of them were prickly, so she had to go back inside and spend twenty minutes looking for gloves. She finally found a pair of leather riding gloves. They didn’t fully stop the prickles, but they helped. Some of the weeds were so big and deep that they were nearly impossible to get up, even when she tried to dig down to their roots. She’d only worked for forty minutes and gotten half of one bed done when she was drenched in sweat and breathless, her thighs and back hurting.

  Mowing had been a lot more fun.

  “You want some help?” a voice came from behind her, startling her so much she jumped up from where she was leaning over, tugging at a stubborn weed.

  It was Rob, of course, standing behind her in worn cargo shorts and a white T-shirt, looking like he hadn’t shaved. He was smiling, and she had the uncomfortable knowledge that her butt had been in the air, so he would have had a very good view of it.

  “I’m fine,” she said with a smile. “Don’t you have your own yard work to do?”

  Rob looked across the street at his perfectly manicured yard. “I think mine will do for the time being.”

  Allison sighed and shook her head. She’d seen him working outside on his yard on a couple of evenings, and she couldn’t help but wonder how he had the energy. He must not be as tired as she was after a day of working.

  “You did a good job mowing,” Rob said, eyeing her grass.

  Allison felt a ridiculous bloom of pride at this compliment. “It was the first time I’ve ever done it.”

  “Really?” He looked at her curiously.

  He must think she was some kind of freak, twenty-six years old and never having mowed a yard before. “I lived in downtown Charlotte,” she explained.

  “Oh yeah, of course.” He glanced down at her hands. “You need better gloves for that.”

  “I know. But I don’t have any.”

  “I’ve got a spare pair. I’ll go get ’em.” He examined the little shovel she’d found in the shed. “I’ve got some other tools that might help too.”

  Before she could tell him again she was fine on her own, he’d stridden back down her driveway and across the street.

  He was dead set on helping her, and Allison told herself it was fine. It didn’t mean she was helpless or dependent. Rob was just being neighborly.

  She did wish she looked a little more attractive, but she reminded herself that didn’t matter either.

  She was still working on the same obstinate weed when he came back over with two pairs of thick gardening gloves, a pair of clippers, and a couple of other tools she didn’t recognize. He showed her how to use them, and she was delighted by how much easier it was to get up the big weeds.

  They worked for about forty-five minutes, until both of the front beds were weeded. They only talked about the work they were doing, with Rob giving advice on how to keep the weeds from coming back like this. She was hot and exhausted when they were done, but she’d enjoyed working with him a lot more than she had the first forty minutes.

  It was almost noon now, and the day had gotten a lot hotter. Rob was sweating even more than she was, and he kept raising the bottom of his T-shirt to wipe the perspiration off his face. Allison couldn’t help but see a tantalizing little trail of dark hair that led down beneath his low-riding waistband on his flat abdomen, although she immediately gave herself a mental lecture about looking.

  “Do you want something to drink?” she asked as they took off their gloves, deciding it was only polite after he’d worked so hard on her yard.

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  It was only as they were going inside that Allison remembered Rob would see how empty her house still was, since she couldn’t get the rest of the furniture up from the basement.

  Rob didn’t say anything as he accepted the water she offered him, but she could see him looking around. The kitchen connected to the dining room—which was empty except for a card table and two chairs—and off of that was a mostly empty living room.

  He took a swig of water, turning his eyes back to her.

  She waited for it, strangely nervous.

  He finally said, “I thought you said you’d gotten the stuff from the basement.”

  “I’d said I was fine and didn’t need you to help me.” She shouldn’t feel defensive but she did. She kept waiting for a condescending comment—like she’d always gotten from Arthur when she tried to do something he didn’t think she could do.

  He lowered his eyebrows. “What’s still in the basement?”

  “All kinds of stuff, but most of it I’m not bringing up. There’s a big ugly dining table and a monstrous china cabinet and a lot of stuff I just don’t need.”

  “Is there a couch?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s go haul it up, then.”

  She stared at him. “You think you and I can do it?”

  “Why not?” He looked bland, slightly curious, as if he couldn’t quite understand her.

  She wasn’t at all confident in her ability to hold up half a couch, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “Okay. Let’s do it, then.”

  They went down into the basement, and Rob looked around at the motley collection of furniture while Allison took the curtains and tablecloths off the couch so they could get at it. “So how are we going to do this?”

  He showed her how to lift one side of the couch so she wouldn’t hurt her back, and then he went to get the other side. Allison was surprised how well she could carry it until they started going up the stairs.

  Rob went first—and backward—but the strange angle and the need to watch where she was putting her feet made the task very difficult for Allison. More than once she almost lost it, and once she had to call out for Rob to stop so she could lower the couch to the stairs and catch her breath. He didn’t complain or patronize her, though—he just occasionally gave her instructions about lifting it higher or turning it slightly. And finally they managed to get it up the stairs.

  After that it was no trouble to carry the couch into the living room and set it against the long wall that faced the windows. Allison was so breathless and exhausted that she collapsed onto the couch, wheezing. “I can’t believe I did that.”

  Rob laughed, wiping his face. His eyes were softer than usual as they rested on her. “You’re a real trouper.”

  She wasn’t sure what to make of that comment but decided it had to be a compliment. She remained sprawled out, trying to recover, while Rob went back down to the basement.

  “What are you doing?” she called out.

  He didn’t answer, but she saw the answer for herself when he came back up a few minutes later. He was walking slowly, and she saw why when he turned the corner into the living room, carrying a leather wingback chair.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, straightening up.

  Before she could even get up, he was heading back down to the basement.

  “Rob!” She stood at the top of the stairs looking down. “You don’t need to bring anything else up.”

  “Just one more thing,” he replied, starting up the stairs with a small wooden television console that had been too heavy for her to move herself.

  She watched him carrying it up. It
didn’t even look like he was exerting much effort, but she knew for a fact how heavy that thing was.

  He was slightly out of breath when he placed it against an empty wall and then leaned over to pick her TV up off the floor and set it on the console. “There,” he said, clearing his throat. “Now the room isn’t so empty.”

  It looked a lot better now. Almost like a real room. Allison couldn’t help the surge of pleasure she felt at the sight. “Thank you,” she mumbled. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “Because it was my job.”

  “But you couldn’t do it and I could. No big deal.”

  She let out a breath, telling herself not to make an issue about it. “Well, thanks,” she said, not knowing what else to say.

  “You already said that.” He gave her a teasing little smile. “I wouldn’t say no to a sandwich or something.”

  She straightened up. “Oh. Yeah. I can make you something. I’m hungry anyway.” She felt better now that she had something to give him in return.

  She went into the kitchen to make sandwiches while he went to the bathroom. She rinsed some grapes and put them on the plates with the sandwiches and filled up their water glasses.

  When Rob still hadn’t returned, she started down the hall. The bathroom door was open, so she went to investigate.

  Rob was leaning over her sink with some sort of tool in his hand.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  She must have startled him because he jerked. He gave her a sheepish grin as he straightened up. “Your faucet was spraying, so I was fixing it for you.”

  “It didn’t need to be fixed.”

  He frowned. “Why not? All I had to do was tighten—”

  “You didn’t have to—” She broke off her own words, realizing she was overreacting. She knew she was super sensitive because of her experiences with Arthur, but there was no reason to assume Rob was trying to take over the way Arthur always had. “Sorry,” she said, smiling back at him. “Thank you. That was nice of you to do.”

  He relaxed, as if relieved. “You’re welcome. It was easy.” He folded his tool back up and stuck it in his pocket. “Anytime.”