Petal.
He's the only person on the planet who has ever called me that. It started more than a decade ago when he caught me plucking the petals off a bouquet of daisies my middle school boyfriend had brought me. It wasn't a game of he loves me; he loves me not. I was in shock that day, knowing that Rhett Marin, the boy who had hand delivered the flowers, had kissed my best friend the day before. I knew he didn't love me. I doubt he even liked me very much. The flowers were a token gesture meant to patch my broken heart.
He'd used me to make my friend jealous and when she ignored him after that kiss, he turned back to me as his consolation prize.
Smith walked into our sun filled apartment on a bright Tuesday afternoon in early summer looking for Julian. Instead, he found me sitting next to our ornate dining room table with dozens of daisy petals at my feet.
He called me Petal and Rhett became a distant memory, replaced with an instant infatuation with my brother's best friend.
"Smith Booth," I whisper his full name. "What do you want?"
"You're not even going to ask how I am?"
I don't care how he is. I care what he did. A phone conversation isn't going to erase his past deeds. He can't undo the damage.
"I'm busy, Smith. I can't talk right now."
"I saw you at the gym." The thud of a car door slamming in the background draws my eyes to the street outside the vet clinic. He's likely miles from here. Manhattan may be an island, but there's always a way to avoid someone you don't want to see. Some people don't believe it's possible, but I know firsthand, that it is. I've been doing it with Smith since he got back to New York City. I was successful until yesterday when he walked into my gym.
"I didn't notice you," I lie.
"Bullshit." He sighs. "You saw me. Why didn't you say hello?"
Because I hate you. Except I don't.
"I didn't see the point." I motion to Adley that I need another minute. She kisses the top of Pike's head.
"I want to see you." He exhales sharply. "I'm on my way to a meeting, but let's set a time now. Tell me when we can talk."
"There's nothing for us to talk about." I rub my fingertips across my jaw as I grind my teeth together.
"You're wrong." His voice lowers. "I thought we were friends. I know I hung out with Julian when we were younger, but we were friends too, Petal."
Friends? Friends don't stab each other in the back and twist the knife until it pierces the heart.
"You're Julian's friend. You were never my friend."
"That's not how I see it." His deep voice is husky. "I have to get into this meeting. Give some thought to sitting down with me. It could change your life."
He already changed my life in immeasurable ways.
I don't bother with the expected goodbye. Instead, I end the call, toss my phone back into my purse and try to reason away the pounding of my heart and the hunger for the man I've despised for the last three years.
Chapter 6
Smith
Matthew? Tony? What the actual fuck happened when I called Brynn?
I called her out on her bullshit, but now, a day later, I'm second guessing whether she knew it was me on the phone or not. If not, I have my work cut out for me.
I don't doubt that I can compete with any man in her life. I have the secret weapon of friendship on my side, although she threw that back in my face before she hung up on me.
She's pissed. She has every reason to be. I shut her down when she was seventeen and drunk on cheap vodka. She tried to kiss me at Julian's birthday party, I dodged her lips and I've regretted it ever since.
She was too young. I was too loyal to her brother and once that ship sailed and I left for Buffalo, I pushed the memory of the moment to the back of my mind.
"A yearly membership to the gym would be a more economical option for you, Mr. Booth." The attractive blond behind the counter points out as she hands me back my credit card. "I can sign you up right now with a special discounted rate."
"Is Brynn Bishop a regular?"
The question catches Heidi off guard. I assume her name is Heidi. That's what the small name tag pinned to the front of her tight yellow T-shirt reads.
"I can't disclose any information about our members, sir." She licks her lips as she looks at my mouth.
"She's my best friend's younger sister." I have no fucking problem using this woman's attraction to me to get more information on Brynn. If I make her believe my interest in Brynn is platonic, I stand a good chance of getting her to forget the rules and answer my questions. Having a face that women see first thing in the morning has its advantages. Fame comes with its own set of fucked up benefits and this is one of them. "I saw her here the other day but I didn't get a chance to say hello."
"Julian Bishop is your best friend?" Skepticism knits her brow. "If that's true, when is his birthday?"
How the fuck does this woman know when his birthday is? "September eighth."
She eyes me up. "That might be a lucky guess. What else can you tell me about him?"
"He'll be on Rise and Shine next Thursday during the eight o'clock hour." I lean an elbow on the counter. "He's going to announce that he's breaking ground early next year for the first Bishop Hotel in Paris."
The interview isn't a done deal yet, but we're close to making it happen. Julian reached out via email this morning to give me the heads-up. I asked for a sit-down and he's rearranging his schedule to accommodate. He'll make it happen. It's a great piece for me and an excellent marketing opportunity for him.
"You actually know him, don't you?" Her eyes widen. "What I wouldn't give to work for that man. Can you put in a good word for me?"
Since I know absolutely nothing about Heidi, other than her stalker like fascination with Julian, I'm leaning toward not sending her his way. "You want to work for Bishop Hotels?"
"They're rated one of the five best companies to work for in the country." She lets out a quiet laugh as if I'm an idiot for not knowing that. "I still can't understand why his sister didn't jump at the chance to work for him."
Heidi knows too much about the Bishops to just be the receptionist at this gym. "How well do you know Brynn?"
"Well enough to know that she's here almost every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at four o'clock." She taps the plastic strapped watch on her wrist. "Lucky for you, she's mid workout at this very minute."
***
"Brynn."
Her entire body stiffens when she hears her name coming from my mouth. She's standing next to the same treadmill she was on when I first saw her here days ago. Her back is to me, but I can guarantee that the look on her face is priceless.
There are at least ten seconds of silence before she responds. She doesn't turn to look at me but her words are loud and clear. "Leave me alone, Smith."
I rake her body. Today she's dressed in a pink tank top and black yoga shorts. She's everything I remember, right down to the small tattoo above her left elbow. One simple word encased in a heart. It's a word that means everything to her; family.
"Turn around." I reach forward to touch her but stop myself because if I feel her skin, I won't be able to control what happens next.
That's a lie. I never take what isn't offered willingly to me. I know she still wants me though. I see it in her labored breaths.
Her shoulders slump forward. "I'm about to do thirty minutes on this treadmill. I don't have time for you today."
"I'm not asking for eternity here." I step closer to her. "I'm asking for two minutes to clear the air."
She spins around and looks at me like I'm the clown from her tenth birthday party. Confusion, anger and curiosity are all layered in her expression. Her eyes land on the black tank top I'm wearing before they skim over my bare arms. They're impressive. I know it. Petal knows it too. The sudden blush washing over her cheeks tells me she likes what she sees.
"Two minutes?" Her index and middle finger jut into the air. "Two? You're fucking joking. Tell me you're fucking joking."
I've never heard that word come from her lips. My dick hardens instantly and I move the towel in my hand to cover up. A stiff cock isn't going to help me in this situation.
That's a statement I never expected would cross my mind.
"I'm serious." I widen my stance and raise a brow like I'm all kinds of right and she's wrong. She is. My only crime is that I didn't kiss her years ago. It's not like I ruined her life.
"You're an asshole."
There's a fire in her that I don't remember. This isn't the Petal I rejected. This woman is different, bolder. Apparently, when I dodged her kiss, I left a mark on her heart. It makes me want her even more.
I lose the towel and step closer, not caring that my cock has pitched a massive tent in my gym shorts.
Her eyes drop. "What are you doing?"
I rest a finger on her chin, tilting her face up to me. "I'm going to right my wrong. I was an idiot back then. I should have done this all those years ago."
I lean down, eager to kiss her mouth. Her eyes widen as her lips part. "Smith, are you going to kiss…"
"What the hell, Smith?" A sharp toned female voice interrupts the moment from behind me. I feel a hand on my shoulder, nails digging into my skin. "You fucked me two days ago. Did I mean absolutely nothing to you?"
Obviously, since I told her as much before I screwed her, both times. I wanted a hook-up, she seemed into it. Apparently, I read that wrong.
Brynn backs away, her gaze glued to the hand on my shoulder.
"Answer me, Smith." The woman behind me pushes against my back.
I turn and face her, reaching to grab both her wrists as she moves to punch my chest. "Caprice, stop. Just stop."
"Stop?" She literally screams the word in my face. "You never answered the text I sent you the other night. I've been waiting to hear from you. I can't believe you were going to kiss her when you and I have a thing going on."
The only thing we have going on is we're currently the center of attention in this gym. All eyes and several phones are on us. In my business, that's publicity I don't want. I have a public image to uphold, along with a paragraph in my contract that states I need to keep my shit together, so I don't embarrass the show or the network.
"Let's discuss this calmly, Caprice." I lower my voice. "Give me a few minutes to clean up and we'll talk at the pub across the street."
"I'd rather talk at my place," she mewls.
In other words, she'd rather fuck at her place.
"The pub, Caprice," I insist with a dimpled smile. "I need a drink. You look like you could use one too."
"We'll talk about going to my place, right?" Her eyes drop to the front of my gym shorts and thank fuck that my cock's interest is solely in Brynn. It's still impressive under the fabric, but at least it's not bordering on obscene anymore.
"Go change and meet me at the pub in fifteen minutes." I drop her wrists.
"I'm on my way." She pivots on her heel and takes off in a slow jog across the gym, her red hair bouncing off her shoulders.
"Look, Brynn." I take a deep breath as I turn. "I'm sorry…"
My voice trails. She's gone. I scan the entire gym but there's not one trace of Brynn Bishop anywhere.
Fuck.
Chapter 7
Brynn
The lash of a sandpaper tongue on my cheek awakens me. I turn to the side and reach out to pull him close. He jumps back, playfully pawing at my hand. I open one eye to see Pike's little brown eyes staring at me.
"You're feeling better, aren't you?" My voice cracks with emotion. "You're the strongest boy I know."
I'm rewarded with a bark and a whimper.
"You need your breakfast and your medicine," I say it as much to myself as to him. It's seven a.m., but I've only been asleep for an hour. Work and thinking about Smith Booth stole a good night's sleep from me.
I went straight to the Pentlows' empty apartment after I watched the exchange between Smith and his current lover in the gym yesterday. I walked away once I heard her remind him that they're involved.
He almost kissed me.
I almost let him.
I don't know what came over me, but I wanted the kiss. I wanted it as much as I did when I was a teenager. Smith barely knew I existed then. Yesterday was different. He sought me out at the gym. Heidi, the receptionist and a classmate from high school, told me as much as I was racing to get out of there.
He came there looking for me. He said he wanted to right the wrong but a kiss isn't going to change anything between us.
You can't kiss away a broken dream. It isn't that simple.
My phone buzzes just as I round the corner to the kitchen. I glance down at the screen and a notification that I have a new email. It's my work account. Since I only have one client at the moment, and she's somewhere in the Mediterranean with her Drill Sergeant, I put Pike down on the floor and open my email app.
I skim the message quickly, my gaze bouncing back to the sender several times. I rub my eyes before I read it again.
Is this real?
"Are we awake, Pike? I feel like I'm dreaming." I smile down at him. He's jumping on my legs, a subtle reminder that I promised him a meal.
I open one of the cans of dog food Adley gave me and empty a portion into Pike's ceramic bowl. I pinch a small amount of the soft food between my thumb and forefinger and push one of the pills Dr. Hunt prescribed into the middle of the bite of food. I bend down and feed it to Pike who eagerly swallows it before he eats every morsel in the bowl.
"I'll take you for a walk once I look at this email again." I pick up my phone and read each word of the email slowly. Then I do it again.
"You're up early." Sydney walks into the kitchen dressed only in a pink bra and panties. "Do you need to get to work? I can take Pikey for his walk."
I love that she adores my dog as much as I do. I couldn't ask for a better roommate. She's still in college, and now that she's on summer break, she's devoting her time to working as a barista.
"I was just about to take him." I look down at the short yellow robe I'm wearing. "I need to get dressed first, obviously."
She laughs as she reaches into the fridge to pull out a small bowl of fruit salad. "I'll save half of this for you. You should eat breakfast more often, Brynn. It's the most important meal of the day according to my dad."
Her dad is a cardiologist and his health advice always finds a way to seep into Sydney's good intentioned lectures. She's a clean eater who tries to stay away from anything with sugar or alcohol. I'm always joking with her that her virtue cancels out my sins. At least when it comes to food and cocktails, it does.
She does indulge from time-to-time and I was lucky enough to be the one to buy her a vodka and cranberry juice on her twenty-first birthday. We had a blast and our friendship has only strengthened since then.
"Read this email and tell me what you think it means." I push my phone toward her. She pops a piece of cantaloupe into her mouth as her gaze scans the screen.
"Brynn?" Her amber eyes light up. "Are you joking? You know exactly what this means."
"I think I know what it means. I need you to tell me it's real."
She places my phone down on the quartz countertop and tugs me into a tight embrace. "It's as real as it gets. Brynn Janie Interiors just landed the job of the century. You're about to become the most well-known interior designer in all of New York."
***
I walk past the security guard with my temporary visitor badge on full display. It's strung around my neck from a bright red lanyard that clashes with the light blue dress I'm wearing. I don't care how I look right now because the badge is my ticket inside The Beryl, the most widely anticipated residential development in Tribeca in years.
After I received that email this morning from an assistant to the developer of the project, I took Pike for a walk around Central Park. I wanted to reply immediately, but I've learned that appearing overeager is never a good thing in business.
Anna, the
assistant to Cooper Lannen, the developer, made it clear that Mr. Lannen had exactly thirty minutes to talk to me this afternoon. She was sparse with the details in the email she sent, but I read enough between the lines to know that my incessant emails and phone calls to him have paid off.
The Lannen Group NYC put the word out four months ago that they were considering hiring an up and coming interior designer to take on the task of creating a show suite for The Beryl. It's been called a risky move within the industry, but Mr. Lannen and his children have never played by the rules.
I haven't either so when I decided to throw my design hat into the ring with the thousands of others who want this job, I took a different approach. I didn't just create computer generated renderings of the two bedroom unit.
I transformed my bedroom and attached bathroom into my vision of what I pictured as the master suite of a space elegant enough to be considered as part of The Beryl. I made a video with the help of a friend who is enrolled in film school. As I walked through my bedroom and master bath, I spoke extensively about where I would source the materials for The Beryl from. I mentioned the psychology of creating a space for someone who wants to live in the heart of Tribeca. Then I moved on to spatial concepts and the necessity of creating customized units, so potential buyers will feel an immediate connection to the building the moment they walk through the doorway of the show suite. My goal was to create an experience that would strike a chord with Mr. Lannen himself. I've studied his past projects. I spent time understanding his vision of residential properties and I incorporated that into my pitch.
It was an expensive and risky gamble. I knew that even if I didn't land the job, I increased the value of my own apartment in the process. My dad might be impressed if he knew what I was up to.
I haven't said a word to him or Julian. They both know Cooper Lannen and that could have been my ticket to the top of the short list for this project. I never wanted that. I knew I could land this job on my own. I'm good at what I do. I've been obsessed with interior design since I was a little girl always asking my parents to take me to the furniture store that was two subway stops from our apartment.
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