by Ava May
"Christina?" Amanda called from the car. "Are you all right?"
She must look like a zombie, standing here and gawking with her mouth open. "Fine. Sorry, let me help you out."
Why in the world her mom wanted to have this event at a huge hotel, two hours from their home, Chris couldn't fathom. Robert and his family had to travel a distance to get here also. Couldn't they have picked a spot near one of them? A place not so hugely pretentious?
And really, was this how Robert lived? Did he think because he had a lot of money, he could throw it around on crazy things like a weekend at The Regency Hotel? Her mom might be impressed with all this glamour but it made Chris nervous. Like the rich people were always watching her, judging her. And she'd come up lacking, she knew. These kinds of people didn't wear plus-sized clothes and run around getting their ankles sprained playing football.
Three men dashed out to unload their car and fuss over the luggage. Once it had been placed on a cart, one of the men led them to the entrance, told them they were expected and bypassed the check-in desk. Money bought great service.
They were handed room key cards, no, suite key cards, their luggage was placed in the rooms, and when Chris reached in her purse for a tip, was politely told all gratuities had been taken care of. Of course.
Robert certainly knew how to impress his bride-to-be, Chris would give him that. Amanda couldn't stop exclaiming over every little detail in her giant suite. From the fragrant flowers blooming in an antique vase, to the bowl of fresh fruit, to the plush carpet that swallowed up her feet. Everything screamed luxury and money. Amanda strolled down the hall and took a peek in her room, which wasn't quite as large, but just as elegant. Or foo-foo, as she preferred to call it.
She stuck her nose back in her mom's room, and had to grin, watching Amanda run her hands over the satiny pillows and sheets. "I'm going to unpack and relax for a while, Mom. What time is dinner?"
"At seven o'clock sharp." Amanda looked at her watch. "Robert should be here soon. We'll meet in the Lilac room. Let me know if you need anything, honey."
A beer. Now. "I'm good. I might walk around a little, stretch my legs. I'll see you at seven."
****
Success! On the third try, Chris managed to cut one of the pain pills in half and not turn it into a crumbled mess. Her ankle throbbed and suspecting this dinner would be miserable enough, she absolutely couldn't go through the evening without some relief. She'd walked around the hotel for half an hour and couldn't locate a bar, and decided she really had to prop up her foot. It had already swollen up like a balloon. She managed to find a butter knife to chop the pill. A half a tablet should do the trick and not make her comatose.
Would everyone be terribly upset if she showed up in her fuzzy socks? Probably. Though Chris could care less what anyone thought of her, she didn't want to embarrass her mother. She'd behave like a good girl and pray for the weekend to end quickly.
Hair fixed, a touch of makeup on her face, drugs taking the edge off the pain, Chris blew herself a kiss in the mirror. She'd started this gesture after her douche-bag ex left her, to remind herself she was loved. Often, tears followed the kiss when she thought about Jason, but she wiped them away and carried on. Definitely not going to think about him tonight. She really had to concentrate on making a good impression on her new family.
New family. How was a person supposed to embrace a bunch of strangers, and call them family? It was wonderful her mom found a man she cared about, and one who had a good solid income. Chris was happy for her. Really. But now she'd have to move out of the house, live on her own again, face the fact that she needed to start dating and build her own relationship with a guy.
Despite Amanda's gentle encouragement, Chris had no desire to date again. After Jason's betrayal, Chris put a steel-plated shield around her heart and didn't have the courage or desire to take it down. Her work, playing sports, going out with friends, spending time with her mom, that was enough. Lately though, watching her friends interact with their partners, getting more and more wedding invitations, hearing about yet another baby coming into the world, Chris realized it was time to move on. Time to trust a man again. It would take a truly special one to break down her barricade.
The Lilac Room was every bit as glitzy as the rest of the hotel. By the time Chris limped her way there, her mother, Robert and Lila were already seated, all three laughing. Chris put on her happy-girl smile and entered the room.
"You look lovely, darling," Amanda said, though Chris knew her mother well enough to hear the slight disappointment in her voice.
The other two women wore their pink dresses and both looked adorable. Chris looked like a large, pink whale when she'd tried hers on. Sending out a silent pray for happy accidents, Chris squeezed her mother's hand, then took her place at the table.
"Hello Robert, Lila. I guess Mom told you I hurt my foot and can't wear high heels today."
"You hurt it playing football, Miss Amanda said." Lila bounced in her chair. "I play soccer at school. I hurt my hand one time."
"Soccer is fun too." Chris smiled at the young girl, a genuine smile this time.
"She's also taking piano lessons, aren't you?" Amanda asked, smoothing down Lila's collar. "It's important for young ladies to know how to play a musical instrument."
"Why?" Lila bounced some more.
"Because it shows you're smart, and it's elegant, and men like smart, elegant ladies. Can you sit still while we're at the dinner table please?"
Chris bit her tongue. Why did people always want to stifle children having fun?
"Okay." The young girl sighed but quit moving around.
"How about we check out the swimming pool here later? Do you like to swim?" Chris asked. If the pills kept working, she could probably splash around for a while.
"Sure do! We have a pool at our house. I'm a good swimmer." The light shone back in her eyes. "Look! It's Ben."
Lila stood and ran across the room to hug the man who had entered. Chris turned and for the second time that day, her jaw fell open.
Ben. The doctor from the emergency room. Oh hell no, this could not be her mother's fiance's son. But Robert also stood and smiled as the young man walked to the table and shook his hand.
"Good to see you, Ben. Sorry I haven't been home much while you're getting settled in. Trying to get business wrapped up before our big day. You remember Amanda."
Ben stuck out his hand. "Of course. How could I forget?"
"None of that. Give me a hug." Amanda grabbed him.
Chris looked longingly at the exit. She could bolt now. It wasn't too late. Ben hadn't even turned her way yet. But now he did.
"And this is Christina, my daughter."
In two heartbeats he recognized her. To his credit, he didn't immediately shout, or run from the room. He did, however, stand there, same as her, arms at his side and a scowl on his face. Finally, he extended his hand.
"How do you do?"
"Fine. And you?" She shook it stiffly.
Good. He would play it cool, not mention their earlier encounter. They both held that position, hands locked, glaring at each other, until Amanda cleared her throat.
"Um, the server is here for our drink orders. We should sit down."
Ben crossed the table and sat next to Lila.
"I thought you and Christina could sit together. Get to know each other."
"I'd like to sit with my sister, if you don't mind. We don't get to spend much time together, do we, rug rat?" He tickled her, producing squeals of laughter from Lila.
Relieved, Chris slumped back into her chair. At least she didn't have to be right next to the rude guy.
Damn. Of all the stupid ways her life could get worse, having this pompous asshole for a stepbrother ranked right up there at the top. She'd already steeled herself to spending time with Robert and Lila, which wouldn't be so terrible. But Ben? If he treated his patients so badly, she could only imagine how he acted with his family.
"Wh
at would you like to drink, ma'am?"
Alcohol. Yes. "A beer, a lager. And a shot of whiskey, bourbon if you've got it."
Ignoring her mother's kick under the table and disapproving stare, Chris grabbed the server's arm.
"And make that bourbon a double."
It would be a long dinner.
Chapter 3
Playing shuffleboard against yourself was actually kind of fun. Chris was delighted to discover, when she finally located the hotel bar, it had an old, somewhat working shuffleboard table squeezed into a back corner. The electronics didn't keep score correctly, but she didn't care, since she had no real opponent. Having survived dinner was win enough for the evening.
The meal hadn't been too hideous. Like her, Ben appeared to be putting on his good-boy pants. He smiled when called for, made appropriate remarks, and pretty much ignored Chris, mostly paying attention to his delighted sister. The one time they'd accidently made eye contact, he immediately looked away.
But not before she saw a glimmer of pain in his eyes, and something else. Anger? Unease? Sure, this dinner had to be as uncomfortable for him as it was for her, but he looked like he had a huge burden on his shoulders.
Too bad he was such a dick. Now that she had a few minutes by herself, and the pain pill had fully kicked in and merged nicely with the alcohol she'd consumed, she had time to reflect on her ER visit. As she'd noticed in the hospital, Ben really was cute, in a rumpled kind of way. He didn't look like all the other doctors, so stiff and polished. His scrubs had been slightly wrinkled, and his name badge covered with something sticky. Chocolate, maybe.
Of course, he could have looked disheveled because he'd just moved to Maplewood and into the guesthouse at his father's home. She'd learned these facts over dinner, along with other tidbits of information. Ben graduated top of his class, had started a practice in Augusta, and was practically engaged to Marlene, a virtual goddess, the way Robert talked about the woman. A sore subject for Ben, Chris noted, observing how he gripped his knife like a lethal weapon and stabbed at his steak when her name was mentioned.
Chris didn't know any physicians personally, but Ben did not resemble her idea of a doctor. If she hadn't seen him act like an idiot, she might actually believe he was a fun guy. The kind who might enjoy a beer and a game of football.
"Are you winning or losing?"
Chris whirled around. She'd been standing in one spot, staring at the pucks on the other end of the table, lost in a daydream.
Speak of the devil. Ben stood watching her, his hands in his pockets.
"Both. And neither. What are you doing here?"
"Just finished having a cigar with the old man, I mean, my dad. He smokes those obnoxious things now and then, insists I join him. I finally escaped."
"Are the two lovebirds cooing together? Ewww, never mind, forget I asked that."
A slight grin cracked his lips, then disappeared, replaced by the look of unease she'd seen on his face all evening. "Can I buy you a drink?"
"Sure. If you're buying, I'll have a decent bourbon. Maker's Mark, not the house brand. Neat."
He turned and headed to the bar. Another drink wasn't the best idea, especially if this dude wanted to make small talk. Shit. Why did she let him do that? Now she'd have to spend time with him, probably listening to more of his doctor-ly BS.
"Bourbon. Don't see too many woman ordering that." He handed her the glass.
She set it on the table with a thud. "Really? Are you going to start that whole women-don't-do-that thing with me again?"
Ben rubbed his hand across his eyes. "No. Sorry. In fact, that's why I wanted to buy you the drink. To apologize about earlier today in the ER. I was way out of line and had no business talking to you like that. When I get stressed, I say stupid shit sometimes."
"Uh, okay."
Well. Not what she expected to come out of his mouth. "I, um, I guess I was kind of worked-up too. I don't usually fly off the handle like that. I could have been a little less rude."
He raised his glass and she met it with a clink.
"Here's to being offensive, then having the chance to apologize."
They both sipped. "I suppose you were looking forward to this weekend as little as I was. Except, I get to see my stepsister, so it's not a total waste for me."
She shrugged. "My mom is happy. I can do whatever for a couple of days. Do you play shuffleboard?"
Suddenly, Chris was talked out. She didn't want to think about family, about a wedding, about anything. She didn't want this cute guy apologizing, or feeling sorry for her, or feeling anything at all for her.
"I do. I have. It's like riding a horse, I guess. You never forget."
"Dude, I think that's riding a bicycle."
"Whatever. Rack 'em up."
A half hour passed quickly, the best time Chris had spent in weeks. Ben kept the conversation light and fun, and they discovered they had several things in common. Both liked classic rock music, nachos loaded with extra jalapenos and horror movies. By their third game, Chris had relaxed enough to laugh out loud, several times. Even Ben managed a chortle when one of his pucks jumped off the table.
But finally, the sprained ankle reminded her she'd been on her feet too long. She winced with pain when she landed on it wrong and nearly fell. Ben reached out to steady her.
"You okay?"
Damn, he smelled good. Like some kind of aftershave, an expensive kind, cigar smoke, and whiskey. Holding her, one hand on her shoulder and one on her back, she felt his heat, merging with hers, and moisture formed between her legs. They both pulled away at the same time.
"You should elevate your foot. Put some ice on it."
"I didn't see an ice machine anywhere. I'll grab some from the bar."
Ben took his phone from his pocket. "There are no ice machines here. I'll have a bucket sent up to your room."
Ice machines. What an idiot she was. The warm, relaxed feeling she'd had with Ben instantly vanished.
"Don't bother. I can call them." She turned and walked away.
"What?" Ben caught up to her and grabbed her arm. "What did I do? Why are you pissed?"
"This, this whole thing." She waved her arms around. "It's just insanely too much. What the hell was your dad thinking, dragging us here?"
"My dad? Your mom planned this weekend. Don't blame my family."
"But your dad offered to pay for this ridiculous place. He could have suggested something more…normal."
She tugged her arm away and kept walking. Hobbling by now, really. Shit, where were those elevators?
"My dad just wants to make your mom happy. He has the money to indulge her, so he does. What's your big problem with that?"
"My big problem is, money doesn't solve everything. You have it, and you're miserable as hell."
There, finally. Elevators. Chris jabbed the button, desperate to end this conversation. Why in the world had she even started it? Had she started it? Drugs, drink, her mind was a cotton-candy swirled mess.
"Who says I'm miserable?"
Oh no, Ben was still here, getting on the elevator with her, but talking to her from far, far away. Touching her again, his stupid, strong arms around her.
"You smell really good, you know that?"
Then the lights went out.
Chapter 4
Soft, warm, comfortable. Chris sighed and burrowed into wherever she was.
"Hey, you awake?" Someone prodded her shoulder.
"No." She burrowed further. "Go away."
"Come on, open your eyes. Let me see your pupils."
Reluctantly, she did. Ben stared down at her, concern on his face. He sat on the edge of what she guessed was her bed in her suite. She allowed him to pull her eyelids up and obediently moved her eyeball around per his request.
"How do you feel?"
She pushed herself up. Still fully dressed. Good. Mouth didn't taste like vomit. Better.
"I'm okay. Had a bad reaction to the pain pill, I guess."
&n
bsp; He frowned. "You shouldn't drink alcohol when you take pain pills. Didn't you read the label?"
"Okay, you can leave now."
"This is my room."
"Then I'll leave." She sat up fully and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The room spun. "Oh crap, guess, I won't just yet. How did I get here, anyway?"
"You kind of walked, I kind of carried you."
Stronger than he looked. Chris lay back onto the bed. "I think I got sort of mouthy with you again. Sorry."
Ben shrugged, but even in the low light she saw a glimmer of hurt in his eyes.
"We're both pretty wound up. Maybe we should avoid each other the rest of the weekend."
"Yeah, that might be best."
But he hadn't moved from where he sat. Instead, he reached over and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Why did you say I'm miserable?"
Her turn to shrug. "I don't know. Delirious, I guess."
"No, I think you had a reason. Spill it."
Of course a doctor would be the type of guy to pay attention to details. "I just, I see in your eyes, you're not really happy. It's like, like something bad happened to you, or you feel guilty about something."
Those sad eyes flashed momentarily, then closed off. "You're wrong. I'm perfectly happy."
"No you're not. Right now, you look next to dead. You keep this blank expression in place, except for a few minutes, when you goofed around with Lila, or when you won a game of shuffleboard. But all through dinner, and even in the ER, you had this vacant look. Like you're hiding something, trying to make yourself dead inside, not feel anything."
Instead of reprimanding her or stomping off in a huff, Ben leaned over, closer to her, eyes searching.
"How do you know this? We've only met and you haven't talked to me that much."
"It's a thing I do. A gift. I don't know, I can look at someone, tell what they're feeling, even when they try to hide it."