by Jill Shalvis
Surprised, Kevin looked up. “Cooking? Are you sure?”
“Very.” Even as Hope said it, knowing Mia could burn water trying to make tea, she felt a grim sense of satisfaction.
Now that should bring Mia from disappointment mode straight to temper mode, no problem. Temper was something Hope understood and knew how to deal with. “She said to come over and have a homemade dinner with us tonight.”
Pleased with herself, Hope went to her desk. Feeling someone looking at her, she turned around. The group of girls behind her, the popular girls, were glaring at her.
She smiled.
They glared harder.
Hope turned forward again, and a moment later felt something hit her in the head. It was a note, which read: We know what you did.
Too bad Hope didn’t know.
At break, one of the guys explained it to her. The girls blamed her for two things: Adam being suspended, and that she’d “put out” for him in the woods before they’d gotten caught.
Put out? She hadn’t put out, that rat-fink bastard!
Her neck was burning when class began again. She’d blown it in two out of two schools now. Nice record. She tried to concentrate on Kevin. He stood in the middle of the classroom holding a cylinder, head bent, boots unlaced, jeans looking as if maybe they’d been around for a few years, his T-shirt stretched taut over his shoulders and adorably frayed. Smiling.
He was usually smiling.
She loved that about him. She loved him. Not that she’d admit this upon threat of torture or even death, but sometimes, in the deep, dark of the night, she fantasized about him.
Fantasized that he was her dad.
It embarrassed her that she had that need, but it was there, burning in the pit of her belly.
He lifted his head and asked, “Okay, so if we use a vacuum on this cylinder and sucked out the oxygen, what’s left?”
She knew the answer but bit her lip. She’d long ago learned to keep it to herself when she got things too quick, but especially here, now that everyone hated her, it would be worse.
“Cole?” Kevin asked.
Cole shook his head. He didn’t know.
Kevin looked around. “Anyone?”
No one moved. No one appeared to even be breathing.
And Kevin let out a disappointed sigh.
Damn it. Hope raised her hand.
His eyes warmed. “Hope. I knew you’d know.”
Her heart took a flying leap and hit her ribs. “Nothing. There’s nothing in the cylinder.”
His smile spread. “Correct.”
The classroom was so utterly silent she could hear people breathing. Someone snorted, and someone else snickered. Heat flooded Hope’s face. Then, from behind her, Cole shifted, leaning forward. “Cool.”
In surprise, she craned her neck and looked at him.
At over six feet, he didn’t fit into his desk so well, his long legs bent at a funny angle, his elbows hanging off the tabletop. He had dark hair on the wrong side of long, falling way over his collar and into his eyes. And he was so skinny she’d always thought of him as a scarecrow, but he had the kindest eyes she’d ever seen on a kid his age, and they’d drawn her that first day.
They drew her now, too.
All this time she hadn’t spoken to him because the popular girls didn’t like him. A thought that brought more shame. It just kept following her, starting from that time back at home when she’d been accused of stealing the lipstick.
At the end of class, she walked alone to the teen center, trailing a group of girls so as to follow the rules. Halfway there, she heard running steps come up behind her and whipped around.
It was Cole.
“Hey,” he said, a little breathless but trying to be cool.
She didn’t have it in her to come up with any smartass remark, so she just kept walking. He fell in besides her. She thought maybe he’d try to get her to talk, or even draw her into the woods like Adam, especially since everyone now thought she was that kind of girl, but they walked in companionable silence.
Out front of the teen center, he stopped and touched her arm. “You’re too good for Adam” was all he said, and then he went inside, leaving her standing there, wishing she really was too good for Adam, wishing also that she hadn’t invited Kevin over for Mia’s home cooking. She really, really wished that.
Mia’s morning was long, made even longer by the worrisome, underlying tension in the firm and the rumor of more layoffs coming. Damn it. She was in a staff meeting in a conference room when she had to leave to take a call from a client. She ran down the hall to her office and found her plant mysteriously tipped over. Only problem: the water from the container had spilled out, soaking the desk—and her laptop.
Her fried laptop.
Rumors flew at that. Some said she had enemies, some said it was karma. Her favorite was the one that said she’d done it herself to get attention. Please. As if she needed that kind of attention.
She actually thought about going to Margot, just for another female opinion, but the truth was, though Margot did not possess a penis, she would enjoy Mia’s troubles.
But the bottom line was she couldn’t even properly obsess about any of it, because she just didn’t care the way she used to. Suddenly there were other things crowding her brain. She was worried about Hope, worried about Kevin, worried about Tess…Hell, she even worried about Mike. A new phenomenon, all this worry outside of work, but the list kept growing.
In an afternoon staff meeting, Ted came right out and criticized her methods of getting accounts, which he claimed were too aggressive.
Bring it on, she thought grimly and sat back because surely someone would defend her.
The deafening silence around her spoke volumes.
Others felt the same way.
The joy in the job was fading, and that scared her because this job had always been everything to her. Everything. But the tension was too high to handle. Normally she solved that problem with a man. She looked around her and realized she didn’t want just any man.
She wanted Kevin.
She checked her cell phone for the thousandth time, thinking maybe he left a message, something like Now that you’re back in your house, be sure to come knocking tonight.
Or anything.
But nothing is what she got, and when she complained to Tess about it on the phone, Tess laughed at her.
“Let me get this straight,” her supposedly best friend said. “You’ve told him you don’t want a relationship, but you’re mad because he doesn’t call you?”
“Well, damn it, when you put it that way, I sound crazy.”
“Honey, you are crazy. That is one fine, hot, sexy man. And I should know—his brother was just as fine, hot, and sexy.”
Mia sighed. “I knew he was going to break your heart.”
“He gave me my first man-made orgasm, you know.”
Ah, hell. Tess had been in plenty of relationships, but she’d always had a hard time achieving full glory until Mia had bought her a vibrator a couple of Christmases back.
“He really did it for me,” Tess said. “Without even trying, bam.” She sighed dreamily. “I’d have married him for that alone.” Her voice broke a little, and so did Mia’s heart.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, me, too. Did you know he thought I was sexy? Me.”
“You are sexy.”
“You aren’t going to keep me warm at night.”
“Damn it, I really want to kill him for screwing this up.”
“I just want to hug him.”
She sure as hell better not, Mia thought grimly. “He couldn’t have supported you.”
“Mia Appleby, queen of feminists everywhere, you did not just suggest I need a man to support me. I am woman, hear me roar.”
“I heard you got some more orders,” Mia said, executing a change of subject.
“Another thirty pounds a month. You were right, I need a bigger kitchen. I’ve applied
for a business loan. Cross your fingers for me.”
“I told you, let me loan you the start-up money.”
“I can’t take your money.”
“Who said anything about take? It’s a loan.”
“No. But thank you.”
“Tess—”
“You’ve helped me in other ways. Speaking of which, we need to go over marketing plans. How about tonight? Or tomorrow night? Doesn’t matter really, I suddenly have a lot of free nights.” Her voice got quiet and a whole lot less excited. “I don’t know how you do it,” she said softly, letting her pain be heard. “I loved feeling committed again.”
“I’m perfectly happy alone.”
Liar, liar.
“With no hold on Kevin? Really? Even knowing another woman could come along and snag him at any time? I’m just not built like that. I want a tie to a man. I want a diamond, damn it. I wanted that from Mike.”
“Tess—”
“When you meet the right man, you’ll understand.”
“And how am I supposed to know when I meet the right guy?”
“Because it will hit you like a one-two punch,” Tess answered softly. “You’ll realize he makes you smile, he makes you laugh, he makes you think.” She sighed. “And you don’t think you can live without him.”
“Jesus, Tess.”
“I know, it sounds so dramatic, but it’s the truth. You’ll just know.”
Mia supposed the problem wasn’t the knowing, but whether or not she even had the gene to love like that. For so long it hadn’t mattered. She’d had other things to obsess over, things like surviving, and her job. Meeting her goals.
But she’d done all that, and suddenly the life she’d always pictured herself with—the great job, great house, fat checkbook—all seemed just as Hope had told her…
Lonely. Everything.
And deep down an even scarier truth hit Mia—she no longer was satisfied by any of it.
Which meant she needed that elusive “more.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mia had her doubts about the day when she got a message that Dick needed to see her. In his office, he looked at her solemnly. “Have a seat, Mia.”
She shifted on her heels, feeling suddenly extremely vulnerable. “Okay.” She sat. “Let me be hopeful. You’re going to tell me you’re firing Ted for all his erratic behavior.”
“No.” Regret actually tweaked his features, and for a moment he looked almost human. “It’s you I have to let go.”
She stared at him as her world tilted off its axis. “What?”
“I’m sorry, Mia. We’re having cutbacks, you know that. I have to lose three account execs. You’re not meant to work in a place like this, as part of a team. You need to run your own ship, and helm it. It’s nothing personal.”
“Oh, it’s personal,” she bit out. “It’s extremely personal. Ted—”
He was shaking his head. “Had nothing to do with it. This was a decision based on your inability to play as part of a team. I’m sorry, Mia, but I’m going to have to ask you to pack up your things and leave.”
Mia’s heart had been racing, but right then it seemed to screech to a shocking halt. As if in slow motion, she stood up and gathered her pride to shake his hand. “Don’t be sorry. I’m going to be okay.”
“I know it. I’m banking on you being extremely successful on your own. Good luck, Mia.”
Somehow she walked out of there. I’m going to be okay? Had she really said that?
How? Her job was gone. She was her job!
Turning the corner she came face-to-face with Margot, who was smiling. “Hey, Mia, you should see the guys, they’re—” She frowned. “What’s the matter?”
“I—” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. She’d lost her job, her identity, and, with it, apparently her bravado. “I have to go.”
“You look pale. What’s happened?” She looked back at the direction Mia had come from, Dick’s office, and gasped. “Ohmigod! He let you go.”
Mia narrowed her eyes at Margot. “Why would you think that?”
“He did, didn’t he?” Margot couldn’t quite keep her satisfaction in.
Mia stared at her, thoughts racing as she remembered all those times she’d been sure it had been Ted out for her blood.
But had it really been Ted?
Or Margot? How many times had Margot whined about Mia’s accounts, her office, her everything? “You know what I think, Margot?” Mia asked softly. “That you’ve been the one messing with me. That you started that fire in my office. That you messed with my files.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Margot crossed her arms, stepped back. “I didn’t even know how to access that Runner account. And as for the Anderson—”
“Wait.” Mia shook her head, then let out a laugh. And another. Because if she didn’t laugh, she was going to strangle the woman in front of her. “No one knew about the Runner account except me and—”
“Margot.” This from Dick, who’d opened his door at some point. He was frowning, fiercely. “I’d like to see you. In my office.”
“Um, I’m due in a meeting—”
“Now,” he said.
“And I bet you poisoned my plant,” Mia whispered as Margot moved past her.
Margot whipped around, all pretense gone, face furious. “No, that you killed all on your own.”
Dick pointed at Mia. “Please wait right there.”
Mia watched them vanish into his office, then felt an odd ping between her shoulder blades.
At least ten people had stopped working or walking or talking, and were staring at her.
She stared back and everyone galvanized into action, hustled to become busy again. She herself was nearly overcome with a need to look busy as well, but Dick had asked her to wait. Despite his faults, he was a man with ethics. When he discovered what Margot had done, he’d probably fire her instead and offer Mia back her job.
She went to her office and looked at her gorgeous desk. Damn, she was going to miss the desk. The plant sat on it, leaves all gone, dying, mocking her.
Lifting her chin, she picked up her purse and walked out, prepared to go as she’d arrived, with only the clothes on her back.
And yet at the last minute, she ran back in for her nearly dead plant. It would go well with the freshly fumigated house.
Mia’s cell phone began ringing before she’d gotten on the freeway. Dick. She let him go visit her voice mail. Pride was a terrible thing but, damn it, at the moment it was all she had.
Traffic sucked, of course, but she looked at it as a silver lining. She wouldn’t be dealing with it again, seeing as she no longer worked downtown.
Not a team player.
Maybe she was having a nightmare, and when she woke up she’d be standing in the middle of a single-wide next to a sewer plant, with eight kids and a husband in a wife-beater T-shirt with his beer gut hanging out, screaming for his pork chops.
The thought made her weak in the knees and she pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t asleep.
Nope, she was wide awake, and this shocking reality was her life.
A little while later Mia picked up a suspiciously quiet Hope at the teen center. The kid hopped into the Audi, slapped on her seat belt, and stared straight ahead.
“How was your day?” Mia asked, as if things were normal.
“Can we just go?”
Mia looked at the teen center, then back at the antsy teen. “What, you rig the place to blow and you need a getaway car?”
“You think I have that much talent?”
“Honey, I know it.” She pulled away from the curb. Silly to be wishing she’d caught even a little glimpse of Kevin. She didn’t need a glimpse of the man.
But, God, she did. Today she really did, even if he was imprinted on her brain, the whole tall, lean, rangy length of him, with those smiling eyes and wicked smile…Yeah, probably a mind-blowing orgasm from him would be greatly beneficial in lowering her stress level. “Th
e house should be cleaned and ready, I had a service come in today.”
Hope nodded and said nothing.
They drove home in silence, with Hope not noticing—or caring—that Mia had an elephant of panic in the car with them. “Yeah, I had a great day, thanks,” Mia said as Hope left the car and walked ahead of her into the house.
Mia just shook her head and felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. Tempted to answer it and agree to take her job back, pride be damned, she shut the thing off entirely. “You hungry?” she asked Hope as they went inside.
The girl had headed for the stairs, but went still. “Um…no.” She looked down, her expression giving out a big warning to Mia.
“What?” Mia asked. “Look, are you sure you didn’t blow up the teen center or something?”
“Okay, you caught me. I’m in cahoots with Satan, and occasionally I blow up entire teen centers just for fun.”
“You know what? Go ahead, step on my last nerve, see if I care. My head is only about ready to blow off my shoulders at the moment.”
“It’s always ready to blow,” Hope pointed out.
“Today I mean it.”
Hope rolled her eyes.
“Now what did I tell you about doing that? Speaking of which, could you stop telling people I’m threatening you with physical violence? It makes the other parents a little anxious, and I wouldn’t want you to lose out on friends on my account.”
Hope’s smile vanished. “I don’t have any friends.”
“Gee, really? With your warm, soft attitude? Imagine that.”
Hope went taut as a bow, and Mia could have smacked herself upside the head. This was one of those tread-carefully moments that Tess had told her about, where bull-in-a-china-shop Mia wasn’t needed, but a gentler, kinder Mia. “Okay, listen. I had a bad day. I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re right.” Hope’s face crumpled and she sat on the step, burying her face in her hands. “I got Adam suspended and now all the kids hate me. God, I hate boys! Every one of them are worthless and annoying.”
Mia climbed the stairs and heavily sat down next to her. “Actually not all men are worthless and annoying. Some are dead.”