Jo’s angry retort caught in her throat. “You’re pregnant? That was quick.” Jo wrapped Shelby up in a tight hug. “Congrats.”
Everyone had just returned from Shelby’s wedding in Italy two months earlier. It was, hands down, the most romantic wedding Jo had ever attended, and it had highlighted the fact she was lacking a man in her life.
She needed to work on that. Maybe that was why she’d reacted so strongly when she’d seen Chad earlier.
“Nick was in a hurry, so we started trying the night he proposed.” Shelby leaned back with a big, happy grin on her face. “I wanted to tell you first, after Nick, but you were in your . . . meeting.”
“That you probably had a big hand in arranging.”
Her expression softened. “What can it hurt to help him? Are you afraid you guys still have lingering feelings for each other?”
“No. He only loves football. There’s no room in his microscopic heart for anything else.” She smiled. “I’m happy for you guys. And I’ll let you off the hook for your heinous crime only if I get to be the godmother.”
“No one else qualifies.” Shelby tilted her head. “So you still love me?”
“Always. I have to get back to work. See you later.” She headed toward the double doors leading to the kitchen. Shoving one aside, she crossed to her little office in the back and sagged into her squeaky desk chair. She closed her eyes and laid her head on her folded arms.
She was happy for Shelby and Nick. Happy her best friend had found the perfect guy and that they would hopefully have the perfect baby. Multiple babies, if Nick had his way.
But talk of babies always conjured up memories of her pregnancy—with Chad’s baby. His manager told him she’d gotten knocked up on purpose to trap him into marriage, and Chad believed him. He’d come to his senses eventually and asked her to marry him, but it’d been too late. The damage had already been done.
Bryce. She’d held his tiny preemie body in her arms and experienced a new kind of love she’d never known possible. But then her beautiful son had died two days later. Before Chad, who had been out of town when their baby was born, ever got to see him.
Nope. Not going there.
Can’t go there.
Jo sat up and pulled the little box from her apron. Creaking the lid back, she stared at the ring Chad had begged her to take after he figured out she was telling the truth about becoming pregnant by accident.
But it’d been too late. His true colors had shown through bright and clear.
Would she ever find the right guy, or should she just give it up and become a nun?
2
IT’S BETTER TO TAKE CONTROL THAN TO BE CONTROLLED.
The next morning, when the breakfast crowd had finally thinned, Jo needed a break. After tossing and turning all night, she’d come up with a plan. One that a) did not include Chad and his tainted money, b) entailed doing what she’d avoided up to now and making a visit to her father later in the afternoon, and c) going on dates again. She needed to get back out there. Maybe the third time would be the charm.
Chad had been strike one, and then Eric, who was just after a better position and more money in her father’s medical practice, claimed strike two. But what if the next one was strike three and she’d be out? Cooked. Over and done with? Maybe c) needed a tad more consideration?
Nope. Seeing Chad again, and her strong reaction to him, made it clear she’d neglected that part of her life for far too long. She wanted a real relationship. The kind that ended up with marriage and kids. But for that to happen, she needed to actually go on dates. And try to enjoy them.
Before she could chicken out, she sat across from Shelby, who was typing on her laptop in the dining area. Not sure if her friend was deep into writing one of her children’s books or working on her online dating business, Jo quietly cleared her throat. When she was in a book-writing zone, a bomb could go off and Shelby’d never hear it.
“Hey, Jo. Great crowd today.” Her fingers continued to tap away, while her eyes remained glued to the screen. “I heard we broke a sales record this morning.”
“Yeah. It’s why I really need to make this expansion happen. I’m going to bite the bullet and talk to my dad this afternoon. But, um . . . There’s something else.” Maybe she should wait to start dating again until after she got the restaurant financing nailed down. It might be too much to date and remodel at the same time.
An imaginary bawking chicken echoed in Jo’s ears, so she forged on. “Remember how you said when I was ready, you’d find me the right guy? I think I’m ready.”
Shelby’s eyes narrowed. “Would this sudden change of heart have anything to do with Chad showing up yesterday? Did you go home last night wishing you were married with two kids just to show him how you’ve moved on so nicely without him?”
“No!”
Shelby’s right brow spiked.
“Okay, maybe. So does the offer still stand?”
“Of course.” Shelby chuckled as her fingers danced across the keys again. “I think I’ll let Lori have a go with you first. In the meantime, I’ll fix up your old online profiles.”
“Thanks.” It made her stomach hurt a little to think about getting back out there. “So how’s it going, working with your new sister-in-law?”
“Good. Between her awesome matchmaking skills and my talent for online enhancement, we’re killing it. We’ll find you just the right guy.”
Because Shelby was a writer, “online enhancements” was code for the way she could make a troll sound fascinating and fun to be with.
“Thanks.” Jo reached into her apron and pulled out the ring box and a list of good PTs for Chad she’d compiled the night before. “Will you please give this back to Chad for me? And these other options for PTs?”
“Nope.” Without looking up from her screen, Shelby shook her head. “If you want to give the ring back, you’ll have to do it yourself. Chad wants you to have it. He said if you didn’t want it, go ahead and sell it for the money for the expansion. And he doesn’t want anyone but you to help him get better.”
Sell the ring? After he’d kept it for nine years?
It must be worth a fortune. A fortune financed by the love of his life. Football. No, he could just take it back.
She tucked the box and the list into her apron, not relishing another face-to-face with him. “Fine. But why didn’t you tell me Chad’s father had passed away?”
“You can’t have it both ways, Jo.” Shelby slowly closed the lid on her laptop and sighed. “You said if I was going to remain friends with both of you, I needed to keep Chad’s business to myself. And I have. Until now. There’s one thing about Chad that I think you really need to know—”
“Stop!” Jo threw a hand up. “The less I know about him, the better.”
“But this is a really big thing, Jo.”
“Nope, don’t want to hear it. If it’s not bigger than Chad’s father dying, I don’t need to know.” She stood to get ready for the lunch crowd, but paused. “Chad’s mom is okay, right? I mean, health-wise and all?” She’d loved Chad’s parents with all her heart. They were the kindest, most generous people she’d ever met.
Shelby opened her mouth to answer, but then stopped and cut her eyes to the right.
Jo sensed his presence. Chad was standing right behind her.
His deep voice reverberated in her ear. “She’s having a hard time adjusting to life without my dad, but otherwise doing fine. Thanks for asking, Jo.”
She slowly turned and faced him. Her blood pressure threatened to hit stroke levels, but she’d promised herself she’d remain calm the next time she saw him. “I’m glad to hear it, but why are you here again? I thought I made myself clear yesterday. I won’t be your physical therapist, and I don’t want your money.” She dug the sheet of paper from her apron. “Here’s a list of some of the best PTs in Denver.”
She’d gone online in the middle of the night because she hadn’t been able to sleep. Not because she owed
him anything.
He glanced at the paper in her hand but made no attempt to accept it. “Thank you. But I want you.”
They were being so polite to each other, she wanted to scream. Their relationship had always been a playful, passionate one. They didn’t do polite small talk. “Well, that’s not going to happen.” She tucked the paper into the front pocket of his button-down shirt and gave it a pat. “I have to get back to work.” She started to walk away but stopped. “When did you have your knee surgery?”
“Two weeks ago.”
She shook her head and started for the kitchen. “You should be home icing and elevating. Have a nice day.”
Chad was tempted to go after her but flopped down in the chair next to Shelby. “Have a nice day? What the hell was that?”
“A polite F-you?”
He laughed to mask the hurt. “So, what’s my next move?”
Shelby shook her head. “I need to stay out of this, Chad. You’re going to have to do the rest on your own. Jo’s friendship means the world to me. And so does ours, so I’m officially backing out—after I tell you one last thing.” She crooked her finger to draw him closer. “First, I still can’t understand why you’re not playing your ace in the hole, but anyway, she’s going to talk to her dad today about cosigning on a loan. She hates the idea, but it’s her last resort. It might be worth a call to her father. Something like, ‘Hi, I’m in town and could you help me find a PT, Dr. Westin?’ If you get my drift?”
Yeah, he got Shelby’s drift just fine. It’d be a little underhanded to get her father involved, but effective. He didn’t want to show all his cards quite yet.
Even though Chad owned the property next door she needed for her expansion—it was a prime piece of real estate—he didn’t want to have to stoop that low. To force Jo to rehab him if she wanted to expand. “Good idea. But I think I’ll go give Jo one more chance to accept my offer before I make that call.”
“You realize she has knives back there, right?”
“I’ll take my chances. Thanks, Shelby.” He struggled to stand. Being a damn invalid sucked. It took him five times longer to do even the simplest things.
Pushing the swinging door open to the kitchen, he scanned the sea of spotless stainless steel but didn’t see Jo anywhere. One of the line cooks glanced up and smiled. “Hey. You’re Chad Jenks, right? Sorry about your knee, man.”
Chad hobbled over and shook both the wide-eyed cooks’ hands. He always made a point to greet fans. “Thanks. Do you guys know where Jo is?”
They pointed to a door in the rear.
After signing their chef hats, he headed her way. She sat at her desk, her back to him. She’d pinned her long, thick hair up in a sloppy bun with a pencil sticking out of it.
Massaging the back of her neck with one hand, she cradled the phone in the other. Jo always carried all her tension in that long, kissable neck.
When he’d first seen her, wrapping an injured ankle in a locker room in college, he’d been instantly attracted to her. When she’d finished, she’d stood and met his stare head-on. A tall, dark-haired beauty with a challenge in her eyes. How was it possible Jo had gotten even more beautiful?
He needed to stop those thoughts and keep his eye on the prize. Stick to his plan, and if he was lucky and Jo came around and finally forgave him, that’d be better than any signing bonus he’d ever received.
It sounded like she was talking to her father’s receptionist, trying to make an appointment for later that afternoon. He leaned against a file cabinet while she finished up her call. Her appointment was for three o’clock, so he had some time to get to her dad first.
Dr. Westin was a celebrity suck-up who’d take his call but could barely make time for his own kid. His own adopted kid. Jo had never been treated quite as well as her brother, Greg, who was their biological son. He’d followed in the family tradition and become a doctor. Jo’d tried but hated it and became a physical therapist to make her father happy. Nothing made that man happy except for his work.
Her passion obviously lay with her restaurant. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t damned good at the PT job. He needed her to use those skills on him.
Jo hung up and then spun around, her chair letting out a long, loud squawk. “I thought you left.”
“That needs some WD-40. I might have some out in the truck.”
She crossed her arms and sent him a bored stare.
Maybe it’d be better to just hand her the check. He yanked out his wallet.
Jo shook her head. “Only two things come from men’s wallets. Money and condoms. I’m not interested in either from you, Chad. Please go away and leave me alone.”
“I’ll sweeten the deal and throw in that double-rack rotating oven to increase your baking capacity. Shelby said you’ve had your eye on it because the oven you have now is so old, it blows out the power occasionally.” He held out the check, but she kept her arms crossed, so he laid it on top of the filing cabinet beside him. “Cash the check or sell your ring. Either way, it’s better than having to beg for scraps from your father.”
She let out a low growl as her hand dove into her apron. The chances of her having a gun in there were pretty slim, so he held his ground.
“I’m going to say this one last time.” Her knuckles whitened as she clutched the little ring box. “I’m not taking money from you. And I’m not going to be your physical therapist. Please take your ring and go.”
Her arm reared back as if she meant to launch the ring at him, but then she checked herself and tossed it his way.
He caught it and laid it beside the check on top of the file cabinet. “It’s a fair offer, Jo. I hope you change your mind.”
He picked up his cane, then turned to leave, grateful they were in her office and not standing in her kitchen near those knives. He was pretty sure he’d end up with one in his back, especially if she knew what he was about to do.
But it’d be for her own good. He didn’t like the idea of Jo being indebted to her controlling father.
Jo flipped through a glossy ladies’ magazine as she waited in the lobby of her father’s plastic surgery practice. She did her best not to fidget. Her father hated that, and she was pretty sure there were cameras set up to observe the waiting room.
What if he said no? What would she do next? All her banking resources said they’d only loan her the money if she had a cosigner because she’d been in business for less than two years.
But her restaurant was kicking butt. They were in the black, but just barely. She’d used the profits to hire more people and pay them well so they’d stay and feel invested, but because of that, the restaurant didn’t look as good on paper. It didn’t bring in quite enough to make the balloon payment due in less than a year. But if she could expand to the empty former bar space next door, they would. Shelby said she knew the guy who owned it and that they could pick it up for a good price. Shelby’s real estate experience from when she’d worked with her developer uncle had come in handy more than once.
Finally, Fiona, her father’s receptionist, said she could go back.
Making her way down the hall to her dad’s office, Jo went over all the stats he was sure to ask for. She could do this. She just needed to stay unemotional and detached—like him.
She poked her head inside his office, but he wasn’t there. Figures he’d tell her to come back and then make her wait. It was all part of his power game.
Fine. She could wait.
She crossed the room, unable to miss the new photo montage dedicated to her brother on the wall across from her father’s desk. Greg had just returned from a stint with Doctors Without Borders. There were pictures of her brother in the jungle and with locals he’d befriended. She wished her father could see that there was more than one path to follow in life. Being a doctor wasn’t for everyone.
Instead of sitting in one of the chairs in front of her father’s desk, she crossed to a little side table that held breast implants. They came in all siz
es. Her real size Bs were fine with her, but she’d never touched an implant before and wondered if it’d feel fake.
She picked up a D-size one. It was a bag of goo that jiggled as she hefted the weight in her hand. Who would ever want to carry two of those around all day? They’d totally get in the way while kneading dough.
“Please be careful with that.”
Jo jumped at the sound of her father’s voice and dropped the boob on the table. When it rolled on the floor, she willed it not to break.
Mortified, she stared at it, grateful for no leakage, before her father reached down and then gently placed it back into its holder.
“Why must you always touch things? Like a child? You’re so much like your mother. What are you these days? Thirty-two, thirty-three?”
He knew exactly how old she was. He sometimes seemed to know things about her before she did. It was if he had spies everywhere. “Thirty. And I was just curious.”
Wait. Did her father mean she was like her real mother? Her parents hadn’t spoken of her biological mother in years.
Shaking his head, her father rounded his desk and sat down. Her father was a fit, tall man without an ounce of body fat. He’d have gray hair, but he dyed it black to offset his stunning blue eyes. A walking poster for his own services.
Impatient as always, he steepled his fingers, then raised his brows.
Her signal to start begging.
Damn Chad for saying that earlier, but he was right. That was what it was going to take, but it’d be worth it in the end. She’d show her father that she was a success yet.
A few moments into her well-rehearsed spiel, her father raised a hand for her to stop. “One question, please. Am I your last resort? Do you have any other means of obtaining this money without my help?” She’d swear he was fighting a grin. He’d just love being her last resort, wouldn’t he?
Perfectly Ms. Matched (Rocky Mountain Matchmaker Series Book 2) Page 2