Cheater's Regret (Curious Liaisons Book 2)

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “Just call me if it hurts.” He stood and held out his hand.

  Call him if it hurt.

  It always hurt.

  Always.

  But what to do when the man offering his help was the one who caused the hurt in the first place? I refused to tell him yet again how he broke my heart—that he’d broken us. That I was still upset and dealt with my tumultuous feelings on a nightly basis when I slept alone in my childhood bed.

  “Thanks for this,” I said lamely, pointing to my cheek. “I guess I should get working on my assignment, right?”

  “Yeah.” He rocked back on his heels. Silence stretched between us. “What time are you coming tomorrow?”

  I licked my lips as he finally stared me down, his face emotionless.

  “After class,” I finally said. “Possibly in time to take some really interesting notes on a rhinoplasty.”

  The corners of his mouth tugged into a playful smile. “Sounds exciting.”

  “I’m sure it is.”

  “Tomorrow.” He leaned in like he was going to kiss me and then froze. I was afraid to move.

  Finally, he leaned over and kissed my forehead, then walked out of my house basically the same way he walked into my life, with a slow, confident swagger that left me aching in all the wrong places.

  Mainly. My heart.

  Chapter Eighteen

  AUSTIN

  The cursor kept blinking at me. My new blogger site mocked me.

  Because the only stupid words I could think to type were things like, His hands were smooth as they cupped my breasts, his thumb an inch from my nipple as he measured. He was warm. I gulped. Large.

  And every time I typed those words, I had to delete, you know, because I wasn’t writing an erotic novel.

  I leaned my head down against the computer and sighed. After the trauma of feeling a piece of glass stick out of my cheek, I decided to go to bed and wake up early to write my first post before class.

  And there I was, an hour before I had to leave.

  Still staring at the blank screen where no words were present, and wondering how I was going to sound professional when every single touch had me nearly jumping out of my skin and ready to maul the good doctor.

  The difficult part—I knew what his mouth tasted like.

  I knew what his touch felt like.

  So, my body couldn’t help itself—it craved him.

  “Be professional,” I repeated to myself as I started to drily document what happened at a breast-augmentation consult and with my emotions during the appointment.

  I replaced the word “erotic” with “gentle.”

  Made sure to include that the experience was a bit jarring but that because there was a nurse present, it didn’t feel that awkward.

  The blog post wasn’t all that spicy—but it talked about boobs, made Thatch sound like a good doctor, and I knew that if someone was interested in legitimate content via a firsthand experience, they would find it in my post.

  I hit “Publish” and grabbed my things.

  The minute I stood, I had one of those flashbacks, the really aggravating ones where your mind goes, Wait, we didn’t get to overanalyze this moment last night, quick, do it now.

  I groaned.

  And closed my eyes.

  I could almost feel the brush of his lips across my forehead.

  What the hell did that even mean?

  And why!

  Why would he do it?

  A forehead kiss was almost worse than a mouth kiss—because it conveyed a degree of tenderness.

  And sadness.

  Love.

  He just had to go and ruin a good night’s sleep and a productive day by kissing me on my stupid forehead.

  Whatever. Thatch had his chance and he rejected me—he even had his chance to explain—he chose not to.

  So, forehead kiss or not—I wasn’t for him.

  I just wished my body and mind found it easier to align with that simple fact.

  Besides, after I passed this stupid class, I’d have absolutely zero reason to hang out with him.

  The thought was a bit depressing.

  So, I focused on happier ones.

  Like the fact that at least for today, I was going to see him.

  Yeah, I was screwed.

  “So, how’s it going?” Avery asked with concern as she handed me a MoonPie and winked. “You know, other than the weird Band-Aid on your face and that dreamy look in your eyes.”

  She’d texted me with all caps that if I didn’t give her an update on the Thatch situation, we’d be on a friendship time-out, and last time that had happened, I’d had to buy her a week’s worth of Starbucks to get back into her good graces. Besides, maybe she’d have some Thatch wisdom. God knew, I needed to be fully armored every time I walked into that man’s office.

  Especially after the day I’d had with him.

  He’d held a child’s hand and told him he was going to fix his cleft palate. I’d literally had to leave the room so he wouldn’t see me cry. The blog post was going to be killer. In fact, I couldn’t wait to write it and include research on cleft palates as well as up-to-date nonprofits that worked with children. Before I’d left, Thatch had given me a bunch of awesome resources, damn him.

  “Chocolate?” I pleaded.

  “Please.” She rolled her eyes.

  I dug into the MoonPie. Yes. That was what I needed. Sugar.

  Avery smirked and then pulled out a can of Mountain Dew. My eyes got so blurry, it was hard to see her. “You love me.”

  “This stuff will eventually kill you, you know that, right?”

  I snatched the can out of her hands, my fingers going numb from the cold, and popped the tab, chugging at least half before putting it down on the table. “How did you know?”

  With a sigh, Avery placed her arms on the table and leaned forward. “You do realize that when you get sad, you start sending me random emojis, right? A toaster. A high five. A chicken. Today you sent me ten shrimp.” I winced. “In a row.”

  “Sorry. It’s my cry for help.”

  “Yes, kind of like your bat signal.” She grinned. “So here I am, on a Thursday night, at your yet-again-empty mansion, cheering you up.”

  “You’re a good friend.”

  “Lucas says he’s going to run you over with his car and bury the body if you keep me longer than an hour.”

  “Geez, possessive much?”

  “He also said if I don’t show up, he’s coming here.”

  I groaned. “Is it really so hard to share?”

  “Funny. You’d think he’d be all over sharing, being the whore he is, but now that he’s in a committed relationship, it’s like he forgot all the rules of kindergarten.”

  I bit off another piece of chocolate goodness and sighed. “Honestly, I’m fine.”

  “And there it is, the ‘honestly.’”

  “Huh?”

  “Truthfully. Honestly.” Her eyebrows arched. “Those are your tells, basically you’re not fine, and I bet you ten dollars that if I checked under your bed, I’d find a half-eaten Snickers.”

  My cheeks heated.

  “Uh-huh.” She tapped her fingernails against the table. “So, are we watching a movie and ignoring the giant Thatch in the room, or are we going to talk about how much of a struggle it is for you to see him every day and not hump him?”

  I scowled. “I would never hump him at work!”

  She was silent.

  “I mean . . .” I shrugged, picking off another piece of MoonPie. “He does have this really sturdy desk that I’m pretty sure could hold both of us, and I’d probably be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it at least one time.”

  She coughed.

  “Or a dozen.”

  “There we go.”

  “But . . .” I banged my forehead against the table a few times before glancing up again. “It’s like he’s immune to everything! When he did the breast exam, he was all horny, I saw it, and he was sweet last
night, and now, ever since that day, he’s been super distant.”

  “It’s been three days.”

  “Exactly!” I threw my hands in the air. “Three days of him being so professional that I want to flash him!”

  “Yeah, maybe not the best life choice.” Avery scrunched up her nose. “Have you been wearing sexy clothes? Perfume? Makeup?”

  My mouth dropped open. “Do you know me at all?”

  She was silent and then pointed at my outfit. “Did you wear that today?”

  “No, I came home and changed for our date!”

  “Whoa!” She held up her hands. “I’m just trying to help.”

  “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

  “You’re in black skinny jeans, a tank top, and black heels. You look . . . sad.”

  I frowned. “I thought black was professional.”

  “It is, but you look like you’re in mourning.”

  Tears filled my eyes.

  “Oh, honey.” Avery got up and quickly pulled me in for a hug. “You’re still sad, aren’t you? About Thatch?”

  “I just don’t understand,” I sniffed. “And I hate that I’m this hung up on him, I’ve never been this girl!”

  “Maybe it’s because he’s your first love.”

  I nodded.

  “Okay, so you know how we came up with this revenge plan, and it totally backfired and people still call him hero on the street?”

  I burst out laughing through my tears. “Yeah.”

  “So that wasn’t the best idea, but I think this one may cheer you up even more.”

  I blinked and wiped another tear from my cheek. “Okay, hit me with it.”

  “Dresses.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Short dresses.”

  “Short dresses,” I said dumbly. “That’s your plan?”

  “No.” She grinned. “Keep up!” She jerked me to my feet. “It’s yours!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  THATCH

  “I’m in fucking hell.”

  “Cheer up.” Lucas slapped me on the back. “It can’t be that bad.”

  “That. Bad,” I growled. “Did you not hear what I just said? How the hell did you do this? Work with Avery without using whatever power you had as her boss to make her—”

  Lucas grinned. “No, keep going. I’ll just beat the shit out of you rather than offer you whatever wisdom I was going to bestow.”

  Groaning, I finished my burger and wiped my hands. “I’ve worked with her four days. It’s Thursday, Lucas, and I’m ready to lose my mind.”

  “Don’t forget you still have to fake an injury or sickness so you don’t have to go riding with her dad tomorrow.”

  “Helpful,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’m not sleeping, I’m constantly hard as a rock around her—yesterday, a middle-aged grandmother came in for Botox, Austin watched and kept sucking on her lower lip, and I literally had to excuse myself like I was ready to shit my pants—and go take care of business.”

  Lucas burst out laughing and then stopped when I glared. “Sorry, it’s not funny.”

  “She is shadowing me for two more weeks.” I groaned into my hands. “It’s a nightmare, a complete and total nightmare.”

  “What if she shadows another doctor?”

  “I sent her to Turner’s office, and that jackass checked her out so long that he’s lucky to still have all of his teeth, no chance in hell am I dangling her in front of the single partners.”

  “Hmm.” Lucas grabbed his sunglasses and twirled them around in his hand. “So, let me get this straight. You’re going crazy because you want her, but you don’t want her, yet you don’t want anyone else to want her? Do I have that right?”

  I opened my mouth, then shut it.

  “Still feel like keeping silent on why you broke up with her after she was willing to forgive you for tonguing another woman?”

  The silence was going to eat me alive.

  Right along with the guilt.

  And shame at why I did what I did.

  But I’d prefer to have all of it and protect her rather than leave her exposed in the way her family already was.

  Just thinking about it made me sick to my stomach.

  “You look pale,” Lucas whispered.

  “I gotta go.” I tossed my napkin down on my plate. “I guess I’ll just count down the days until she’s gone.”

  “You could always make one of those Christmas chains,” Lucas said helpfully. “Or . . .”

  I paused, my sunglasses halfway up to my face. “Or?”

  “You could always just kiss her.”

  My body leaped at the thought, my heart hammering so hard against my chest, I thought it was going to beat right out and go running down the street. “Yeah.” I laughed. “And hell could freeze over.”

  I heard a sharp gasp.

  Austin was standing right behind me with Avery.

  Well, hell.

  I wasn’t sure how much they’d heard, but by the tears welling in Austin’s eyes, it had to be most of the last minute.

  “Austin.” I swallowed back the lump in my throat.

  “Uh, hi.” She waved at me even though she was a foot away. She was wearing a short black T-shirt dress, slouchy boots, and carrying her ever-present giant-ass purse.

  “Sweetheart.” Lucas stood and kissed Avery on the mouth. “You’re twenty minutes early.”

  “We went shopping, and I wanted to get your approval on Austin’s new wardrobe. I mean, we needed a guy’s opinion from someone who wouldn’t eye-screw her.” Her voice was strained.

  I was such an idiot.

  A few minutes earlier and Austin would have known that I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. A few minutes earlier and she’d have known just what type of pull she had on me, and how damn difficult it was to keep her at arm’s length.

  Instead, I’d hurt her.

  Her normally cheerful face was pale, her lower lip trembling as she stepped completely around me and stood in front of Lucas. “So, will you help?”

  Rejection hit me hard and fast.

  Right along with irritation.

  What the hell?

  “I’m a man.” I felt the need to point this out as the entire group turned to look at me. Yeah, I was a total idiot.

  “A man who’s late for his one thirty,” Austin said in a low voice.

  Damn her for knowing my schedule.

  “Aren’t you coming?” I challenged in a haughty voice I didn’t recognize. “You know, I am doing you the favor, right? If you’re not going to shadow me when I have the interesting cases, you won’t have enough information for your posts, and you’ll fail your class.” God, stop talking!

  Lucas shot me a “really, man?” look while Avery’s eyes narrowed.

  Austin glared at me. “Well, I would hate to fail, or upset you by taking advantage of your . . .” She tilted her head. “Kindness.”

  I was so turned on by the way her long legs looked in that dress that I was having a hard time seeing straight.

  Yeah, I was being kind.

  Or just an out-of-control idiot who had no choice but to keep it in his pants until she was out of my life forever.

  “Let’s go,” I barked.

  “Lead the way, boss,” Austin said under her breath. I knew she meant it as an insult; she was mocking me, whatever. It still made it painful to walk. I really needed to go out on a date or something—completely push her out of my system by way of another woman, but my body totally rejected the idea.

  Kissing someone else had about as much appeal as buying a frog as a pet.

  My office was two blocks from where Lucas and I had met for lunch.

  It might as well have been miles.

  A tense silence stood between us, making me feel so far from her that I wanted to scream.

  I opened my mouth to apologize about a million times, only to close it and keep silent. Maybe that was my problem—I was too good at not saying anything, because sometimes,
it was silence that saved people, not words. I knew that better than anyone.

  The elevator dinged.

  We walked side by side down the hall.

  “Dr. Holloway.” Mia nodded at me and winked at Austin. “Your one thirty is in exam room number four.”

  “Thanks.” I grabbed the outstretched clipboard and motioned for Austin to follow me into the room.

  “Justin.” I opened the door. “Hi, I’m Dr. Holloway, I have a”—I glanced at Austin—“student researching plastic surgery. She’s just going to sit in on our consult, if that’s alright with you? She’s signed a confidentiality agreement, so rest assured everything about your patient profile will be kept private.”

  “Fine with me.” He peered around me at Austin and smiled. “So, a student, are you studying to be a doctor?”

  “No, I’m getting an MBA,” Austin’s happy voice responded, and I don’t know why, but I hated that she was talking to him. “I’m just here doing some research for one of my final projects.”

  He was younger than me.

  Good-looking.

  Why the hell was he here again?

  I glanced down at the sheet and almost groaned out loud. “So, let’s talk about the calf-implant procedure, shall we?”

  Justin nodded. “Man, I’ve been working on my calves for years.” Impossible, he was a child. “And no matter what I do, they never get bigger, so I thought, ‘Hell, why not, I have the money. I mean, women get breast implants, why not get calf implants?’” He winked at Austin.

  It was tempting—the idea of plucking those eyelashes out one by one.

  Clearing my throat, I began asking him all the usual medical questions as I quickly went through his paperwork.

  “Well, you’re the perfect candidate, why don’t I take a look?”

  He was wearing shorts, which made it easy. “You have lean calf muscles.” I touched his calf and pressed the skin in. “Why don’t we go over a few pictures of implants I’ve done on men your size and shape and go from there?”

  When he didn’t answer, I looked up.

  Of course he didn’t answer, he was currently checking out Austin like she was available—and poor Austin was taking down notes like she usually did.

  “Hey.” I snapped my fingers. “If you’re serious about this, I need your full attention, alright? Elective surgery is still surgery.”