The Ex Effect

by Karla Sorensen

  Up until that untimely text from Ashley, the one where she couldn't believe I hadn't sent in my RSVP—even though it didn't matter because she and I both knew I'd be showing up alone and I was procrastinating just to piss them off—Matthew had been giving me serious, thoughtful eyes. The kind of eyes where you knew he was trying to puzzle you out, like a man puzzled out a woman he found interesting. Those kinds of eyes.

  Up until that damn text.

  He tried to call me once, but I let the call go to voicemail, then sent him a quick text that he did great in the interview, but I had a lot of work to do, and I'd see him around. Because it was Matthew, he didn't push me on my very non-cowardly exit, my very non-chickenshit text, and my very non-wussy absence for the past three days.

  The absence that was coming to a very abrupt end as I drove out to Allie and Luke's home on Lake Washington for a "Welcome to the team" barbecue. Since she wanted some of the longtime front office staff to attend, I didn't have much of a choice.

  Not that I would've skipped, because I am no freaking coward.

  As I took the exit to their house, I tried to settle the fluttery nerves in my stomach with a slow and steady breath, but it ended up being a wasted attempt.

  Just as I let the air out and felt the jumble in my head clear, my phone rang, the Bluetooth system in my car startling me as the sound echoed through all the speakers. And of course, it was my mother, whose timing was about as uncanny as Ashley's.

  My thumb hovered over the button on my steering wheel that would send the call to voicemail. But I was no coward, okay?

  "Hi, Mom," I said in a cheerful voice, so obviously fake that even I cringed at the sound of it.

  "Ava, you're ignoring us."

  Us? Oh, great. I was being tag-teamed. And sure enough, in the background, there she was.

  "Mom, she just doesn't understand the kind of stress an event of this magnitude entails. We can't really blame her."

  At the sound of Ashley's voice, smooth as silk, throaty as a phone sex operator, blah, blah, blah, I ground my teeth together. "Hi, Ashley."

  "Oh, you do remember you have a sister."

  "Couldn't forget you even if I wanted to," I muttered.

  "What was that?" my mom asked.

  "Nothing," I said. "I'm five minutes out from a work function. What's up?"

  Ashley snickered under her breath. She was a doctor, following my father's footsteps of becoming an anesthesiologist, so to say that they didn't respect my job or my career field of PR, in general, was like saying math wasn't very fun.

  Translation—massive understatement.

  My mom sighed as if I'd somehow inconvenienced her by placing a time limit on this conversation. "I'm going to assume your RSVP card is lost in the mail, and even though your sister thinks we should only count you as one, I'm going to be generous and plan on you having a plus-one."

  I rubbed my forehead. So generous. The one serious relationship I'd had in college was no one they ever met because I didn't hate him. My family usually operated under the belief that I was celibate or gay. I wasn't sure, but I didn't really care.

  "Okay," I said wearily. "What's the next thing?"

  Ashley's voice got louder, so she must have gotten closer to the speaker. "Just make sure you're not wearing white, ivory, cream or any variation close to my dress."

  "Hmm, I have a black dress that will do perfectly."

  "Or black," Ashley snapped. "I won't have my sister showing up like she's going to a funeral."

  I grinned.

  "Although," she continued, "black is slimming, so maybe that's a good choice for you."

  My smile dropped.

  "Ashley," my mom interrupted. Even as I held back the biiiiitch that I wanted to let fly, I felt my eyebrows pop up at my mom's unlikely defense. "Don't let her bait you. You're better than that."

  And never mind.

  "Got it," I said loudly. "No white, eggshell, cream, ecru, or ivory, and no black. Anything else?"

  "I think that's it, Ava," my mom said. Ashley mumbled something in the background, and my smile briefly returned that I'd made her mumble in the first place. Normally, my sister only spoke when she was sure everyone in the room could hear the precious golden nuggets of sound coming from between her flawless lips.

  "K, bye then." My thumb punched the button to end the call before they could. My heart was still hammering as I jerked the wheel of my car into an empty spot on the cul-de-sac where Luke and Allie's massive home was located. They used to be neighbors, but when they got engaged, they hired some hoity-toity architect to connect their two homes, completely updating the exterior so it was one huge seamless house.

  He'd added tall shrubs that obscured a black iron security fence that surrounded the gray and white home. The gate was open, but one of the Wolves' security team was leaning up against it, making sure everyone who showed up was supposed to be there.

  "Miss Baker," he greeted with a nod.

  "Hey, Charlie." Desperately, I tried to stretch my lips into a normal smile, but it must not have worked because he gave me a confused look. "Did they start without me?"

  "I'm sure they wouldn't dream of it," he assured me.

  As I walked around to the backyard and down some flagstone steps, I smoothed a hand down the front of my fuchsia sundress. I hated, hated that one ridiculous comment from Ashley could cause my mood to sour so quickly.

  Black is slimming.

  What a twat. She only said it because I was just barely smaller than she was and that never failed to piss her off. Any chance she got, Ashley made comments about my weight like it would magically conjure an extra twenty pounds on me.

  Nope, definitely would not imagine her face on the bag the next time I practiced my roundhouse kicks.

  As I turned the corner, laughter and easy chatter floated just above the music playing from the speakers mounted underneath the second story deck that ran along the back of their house. The smell of smoked meat made my mouth water, and I inhaled greedily. It was just enough to break the stupid choke hold Ashley held on my brain.

  Allie was standing next to one of our new offensive coordinators as I approached, and she smiled to excuse herself.

  Her eyes missed nothing, scanning my face with obvious concern. "You okay?"

  I waved it off. "I'll be fine. Nothing that some brisket can't fix."

  Speaking of eyes that missed nothing, I did a quick scan of the yard. No Matthew yet. Allie cleared her throat knowingly. "He's not here yet, but I know he's planning on coming."

  "I'm sure I don't know what you're referring to," I replied coolly.

  Allie was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "No, it's fine. We can play this game if you want."

  Her friend Paige, who'd become a regular attendee of Washington games with Allie in her owner's box, approached us with a wide smile on her face and a giant glass of wine clutched in her hands.

  "Ooh, what game?" she asked.

  Standing in front of these two women, both more beautiful than was even right, should've made me feel worse after the dig from my sister. But it didn't. They were both so nice and so kind, which almost made their looks even more unfair. Paige was a bona fide model. Like New York Fashion Week, cover of magazines model.

  Not that you'd know it now. Her red hair was up in a messy bun, and her face was clear of any makeup. Not that she needed makeup. Ugh. I really wanted to hate her for it.

  Allie lifted her chin in my direction at Paige's question. "The game where Ava pretends she doesn't have a giant lady boner for Matthew Hawkins."

  "Ohhhh, that game."

  I glared at Allie.

  Paige shivered. "Cannot blame you. They did a profile on him on NFL Network the other day, and his arms ..." Her voice trailed off, her eyes taking on a dreamy quality that made me feel a touch violent. I knew how big his arms were. I'd touched his arms. I'd had those arms around my body.

  I was one breath away from reminding Miss Pretty Pretty Model of that when Allie started
cackling.

  "Oh my gosh, your face, Ava." She wiped under her eyes. "You look like you're ready to stab someone."

  "I do not."

  Paige grinned at me over the rim of her wine glass. "You so do. Should I keep going, or are you ready for me to stop?"

  I sniffed haughtily, and they both dissolved into giggles.

  Their hysterics were starting to draw attention, so I smacked Allie on the arm. "Okay, that's enough," I hissed. "Fine. You assholes want me to admit it?"

  She nodded earnestly. "Yes please."

  Paige bounced on the balls of her feet. "Oh, we do love a good workplace romance, don't we, Allie?"

  Of course, she was referring to Allie's love story with Luke Pierson, our veteran quarterback.

  "There's no romance when it's one-sided," I reminded them. "He doesn't look at me that way."

  "You sure about that?" Paige mumbled, her eyes pinned over my shoulder.

  "Ava." Damn him and his voice. I felt it everywhere. My skin. My lips. On each individual strand of hair that lifted on my arms. Riiiiight between my legs. His voice was its own force of nature, for crying out loud.

  It didn't even make sense. I went ten years without hearing that voice say my name. Ten years. Almost four thousand days. And now after only three days without, my body was reacting like he’d clipped a generator to my nervous system. It was such a strangely powerful reaction that I paused before turning to look at him, afraid of what he might see on my face.

  Allie's eyes were ping-ponging between us, and Paige was smiling at me with such wicked intent that I feared what might come out of her mouth next.

  Just as I turned to look at him, one of his hands cupped my elbow. My eyes fell shut, and I blew out a slow exhale.

  "Hey, Matthew," I said.

  His face was edged with concern. I could see it in the set of his jaw and the look in his eyes. If you didn't know him, you'd probably confuse it with intensity or some other word that wasn't quite right.

  He noticed. He noticed my very cowardly exit. He noticed my chickenshit text. He noticed it all.

  And I knew that he knew that I noticed it. Which made sense in my head, I promise.

  Paige cleared her throat. Loudly.

  Matthew blinked over to the women behind me and smiled politely. "Allie, thanks for inviting me."

  "Of course." She gestured at Paige. "This is my friend, Paige Adams. She's not part of the team in any way, shape, or form, but I can't seem to get rid of her."

  While he shook her hand, I couldn't help but notice that he'd yet to drop the one curled around my elbow.

  "I hope I didn't interrupt," he said, edging just an inch or two closer to me.

  I couldn't look at his face. I just couldn't. Not here.

  In the back of my head, I was well aware that I could control the narrative all day long, but trying to control whatever it was I was feeling around him was a different matter entirely.

  Either way, I mentally grabbed the reins and gave myself a firm jerk back to sanity.

  "Not at all," Paige insisted. "We were just about to invite Ava out for some drinks tomorrow night."

  "We were?" Allie asked out of the side of her mouth. Paige gave her a loaded look. "Oh, yes, we were."

  It was enough of a distraction, and God bless them for covering. Glancing over at Matthew, I found his eyes right on my face.

  Are we okay?

  I could read it loud and clear. Maybe the words weren't exactly what he was thinking, but I smiled at him as if they were anyway.

  We're fine.

  His face relaxed, and he nodded slightly. "Do you live downtown too, Paige?" he asked, once he'd turned his attention back in their direction.

  Before she could answer, Luke walked up to us and shook Matthew's hand, carefully balancing a plate piled high with smoked meat. "I can't wait to hear the answer to this question." He glanced meaningfully at Paige. "Go on, Paige, tell Matthew where you live."

  Like a game show host, Paige used the hand holding her wine glass to gesture to the massive home behind us. "But why would I move downtown when you have eighty extra bedrooms, all ripe for the taking?"

  Allie smothered a laugh, and Matthew smiled broadly. Luke's disgruntled expression made me bite down on my own grin.

  "Eighty is a stretch," he said.

  Paige pointed at him. "I live in the half that was Allie's, so it's up to her to kick me out." She glanced at Matthew and me, rolling her pretty eyes. "He pretends he hates it, but you won't see him complaining when he steals my smoothie recipes, or they have a free live-in babysitter for Faith."

  Luke sighed. "Matthew, feel free to eat however much you want while you're here because any leftovers today will just cement Paige's desire to stay under my roof that much longer."

  "It's true," Paige said. "Speaking of which, I'm ready to eat. Anyone else?"

  Allie raised her hand, leaning up to give Luke a peck on the cheek. He winked at her as she walked away. "Matthew, how about you?" Luke asked.

  He scratched the back of his neck. "Ahh, in a minute. I actually need to have a word with Ava real quick."

  If Luke was surprised, he covered it well. "No problem. I'll leave you to it."

  "Just making sure she'll give me a passing grade on the interview I did a couple of days ago," he clarified unnecessarily. I knew Luke couldn't care less whether Matthew wanted to compare grocery lists or proposition me in his backyard.

  When we were alone—or as close as we could be with thirty other people milling around the backyard—Matthew gave me a small smile. "You ran out of there pretty fast the other day."

  "Did I?"

  My faux-innocent tone had him grinning.

  "It was Frankie," I said on a sigh. "If he doesn't eat by a certain time, he gets really cranky, and trust me, you do not want to see that."

  "A cranky Frankie?" Matthew tsked. "No, I probably don't."

  I bit down on my lips but lost the battle when I saw the way his eyes gleamed with humor. I shoved his shoulder, and he laughed loudly.

  "What did you want to talk to me about?" I asked.

  "Are your plans with Paige and Allie tomorrow set in stone?"

  I eyed him speculatively. Hell no, they weren't, but I wasn't letting him know that just yet. "Why?"

  Matthew glanced around us, tucking his hands into the pockets of his khaki shorts before answering me. "I've got someplace I need my official tour guide to show me."

  "Isn't the tour guide supposed to plan what we see?"

  His eyes warmed. "You'll love it, don't worry."

  I crossed my arms. "Maybe you shouldn't sound so certain about what I'll love or not. You're still getting used to this version of me, remember?"

  "Maybe I shouldn’t," Matthew agreed, his eyes holding mine steady. "But I don't think you'll turn me down."

  I'll let you in on a secret. Normally, I found cockiness to be incredibly unattractive. But facing him the way I was and hearing him say that, I wouldn't turn him down, so I started reworking my definition of what I did or didn't find attractive even though it had been forever since I’d been in this position with a man.

  Cocky? No.

  Sexy as hell confidence? Yes, please.

  "Okay," I told him quietly. "Tomorrow then."

  He grinned, a dimple appearing briefly in his left cheek. "Tomorrow then."

  And off he went, like he hadn't just overturned the entire trajectory of my day with one brief conversation.

  I was so busy turning the interaction over in my head that I didn't hear Paige approach.

  "Girl," Paige said, then whistled quietly. "Ain't nothing about that one-sided."

  I pressed a hand over my stomach, and I could feel the thud of my heart like it had dropped a foot inside my body.

  "Shut up," I told her with zero heat. "Where'd you get that wine?"

  Chapter Eight

  Matthew

  "I will cut you if you try it. Seriously."

  I was laughing so hard I had to brace
my hands on my knees. Ava leaned up against the brick wall of the building we'd just left, waiting me out, completely unamused.

  "You're really not going to share?" I asked when I could talk again, eyeing her prized possession and trying to figure out the likelihood that I could snatch it out of her hands.

  Pretty high, considering how many strip sacks I had last year. Plus, I was almost a foot taller than her.

  Ava gave me a look so cold, so deadly serious as she clutched the chocolate bar to her chest that I think my balls shriveled up a little bit. "Hell no, I'm not going to share. This is the greatest thing I've ever put in my mouth."

  Did she ...

  I froze. She froze.

  Her lips rolled between her teeth, and her cheeks flushed an instant, bright pink.

  My mouth opened, and she held up a hand to silence me.

  "I will give you a small piece of this chocolate if you absolutely promise to forget what I just said."

  Pushing my tongue into the side of my cheek so I wouldn't lose it again, I nodded slowly. "Fair trade."

  Ava flattened herself fully against the red and white brick of Theo Chocolate Factory. With careful fingers, she undid the blue wrapping. Inside the crisp folded paper, I saw the edges of the first piece.

  How did the woman describe it again? Homemade graham cracker crust, vanilla-infused caramel, and a cloud of marshmallow covered in dark chocolate with an alderwood-smoked milk chocolate flourish.

  Also known as the best thing to ever be inside Ava's mouth.

  Very slowly and very deliberately, Ava pulled one of the three pieces from the wrapping and presented it to me.

  "One bite," she said.

  "I don't get the whole thing?" Wearing my best wounded expression, I leaned against the building next to her, the tops of her shoulders barely reaching the middle of my biceps.

  Her eyes narrowed slightly, and I couldn't stop my smile. "One bite."

  She set the chocolate in my hand. Taking the time to study it carefully, I couldn't help but marvel at the fact I was doing this in the first place. Not eating the chocolate. I had as much of a sweet tooth as the next guy, and sweets were one of my few indulgences in the off-season.