Not Your Match

by Lindzee Armstrong

  “Okay.”

  They pushed their way into the front lobby. Andi gave another wave to Elle and chased after Ben, practically jogging to keep up with his long legs.

  “Luke’s in love with someone,” Andi said. “He’s trying to win her back.”

  Ben grunted. Andi unlocked the door and they both climbed into the car.

  “He’s nice and everything, but I only see him as a friend,” Andi continued. Her words tripped over each other, tumbling around in her mouth until she didn’t know which ones to spit out.

  Ben gave Andi a fleeting smile, but it felt fake, forced. “You don’t owe me an explanation, Andi. I’m glad you’ve found someone that fits in with your plans.”

  The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She saw his frustration in the set of his jaw, the pain in the lines around his eyes.

  She shoved the gear into reverse and backed out of the parking stall.

  Sure, dancing together had felt amazing. They’d definitely shared a few moments together tonight.

  But his ex-fiancée was begging him to come back. Ben was far from available, and he had zero right to judge her dating decisions.

  Andi hadn’t wanted to get tangled up in the complicated world of relationships. It was too stressful, introduced too many variables. She didn’t want someone else to dictate her choices, and that’s ultimately what love did. She’d been right to lock up her heart and push love aside. Tonight had reminded her why.

  For the next few days, Ben avoided Andi. He spent his days at school and his evenings working on the condo remodel. He knew he had no right to be hurt by the fact she’d gone out with Luke. But New Year’s Eve—and their shared dances—had meant something to him. He’d thought they meant something to her as well.

  He tried to be logical. Maybe Andi really did just want to make Rachel feel better. Maybe Luke really did love someone else.

  But Luke Ryder was a billionaire, with more houses than Ben had pairs of shoes. And Luke had been voted one of this year’s sexiest men alive in a popular magazine. And Andi was perfect. Ben seriously doubted if Andi and Luke dated, they’d remain “just friends.”

  When he woke up the next morning, he had a text from Whitney. It was like she’d sensed weakness and pounced.

  Whitney: Let me make you dinner tonight and we can talk.

  He stared at the text, debating whether to respond or ignore it. He had no idea where she expected to cook, since she was staying at a hotel, but she was trying. Was he making a mistake by not letting her back in?

  He set the phone down on his bedside table and got up to take a shower without responding. Whitney didn’t text him again.

  By Friday, Ben was ready for the weekend. Luke had taken Andi on another date, and social media was exploding with how Luke had finally taken a Toujour match out for a second time. Andi and Luke certainly didn’t look like “just friends” in the photos, and there were plenty of them.

  At lunch, Ben checked his phone and found a text from Rachel. Something’s wrong with the water heater again and Adam can’t figure out the problem. Can you come over tonight and fix it? Might take a few hours.

  Ben sighed and texted her back, Sure. Be there after school. With any luck, he wouldn’t have to deal with Whitney

  At the end of the day, he packed up homework assignments to grade over the weekend and headed straight to Rachel’s. He breathed a sigh of relief. Whitney’s car was nowhere in sight.

  “Hey,” Rachel said, motioning him inside. “Thanks so much for looking at it again. Adam can’t figure out what’s wrong, and I don’t want to call a repairman if it’s a simple fix.”

  “I don’t mind.” Ben gave Rachel a quick kiss on the cheek. “I came straight here from work. Thought I’d see what the problem is and then go grab the tools I’ll need to fix it. What seems to be the problem?”

  “Um, the water is just cold and stuff.”

  Ben nodded and strode into the kitchen, Rachel trailing behind him. He flipped the water to hot and stuck his hand under it. “It’s not freezing,” he said, keeping his hand under the spray. Slowly it warmed until he had to jerk his hand away. “Ouch. That’s hot.”

  Rachel bit her lip. “Are you sure? It was ice cold this morning.”

  “Were you in the shower for an hour or what?”

  “Of course not.”

  Ben grunted and headed to the half bath. Growing up, he’d had more than a few cold showers because Rachel emptied the hot water tank. He flipped on the faucet and turned it to warm. The water heated to a steamy temperature in only seconds this time. “Water’s fine in here too.”

  Rachel motioned to the door leading downstairs. “Can’t you go check the pilot light or something?”

  “The water’s fine.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes. “Sure it is, now. But do you want me calling you again tomorrow?”

  She had a point. Ben sighed and flipped on the stair lights, heading into the unfinished basement. He stepped around stacked boxes of recently taken down Christmas decorations and made his way to the utility room. He grabbed a flashlight from the shelf he’d put up before Christmas and started poking around the water heater.

  He heard a door open upstairs, and then voices. Adam must be home. Ben gave the water heater one last glance, then clicked off the flashlight and sighed. He’d tell Adam to limit Rachel’s shower time and their water problem would be solved.

  Wait. Both those voices were feminine. Whitney was back.

  Ben stared at the water heater, suspicion prickling in his mind. Rachel wouldn’t. Would she?

  He walked up the stairs, keeping his steps quiet and movements slow. He pushed the door open, wincing when it squeaked on its hinges.

  The voices stopped talking. Ben sighed and shut the door behind him, no longer attempting to be quiet. “Your water heater’s fine,” he said, walking into the kitchen.

  Whitney stood near the counter, looking beautiful in jeans and a fitted blouse. She gave him a winning smile. “Hi, Ben.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “I suspect nothing ever was wrong with your water heater,” he said to Rachel.

  “The water was cold this morning,” Rachel said quickly. “Right, Whitney?”

  “Freezing cold,” Whitney said.

  Dread built up inside Ben. What did the two of them have planned? “Sure it was.”

  They both ignored him. Whitney set a shopping bag on the counter and pulled a vase out of it. “I found this at a cute little boutique today. It’s hand painted. I wanted to get you a thank you for letting me stay here.”

  Rachel gasped, picking up the vase. “I love it.”

  Whitney pulled artificial flowers out of the bag and started arranging them. “I thought it would look great on that shelf in your living room.”

  “Yeah, these flowers match the colors in there perfectly. I think I have a clock in the basement that would match well, too. I’m going to see if I can find it.”

  Ben glared at Rachel as she scampered down the stairs. The little rat had planned the whole thing to get him alone with Whitney. He wondered who had been the instigator of their scheme and who had been the sidekick. He’d bet money that Whitney had come up with the idea.

  Well, he’d better get it over with. He gave the empty stairway one last longing glance and turned around. Whitney had disappeared. His brow furrowed, and he quickly scanned the kitchen before moving on to the living room.

  He gasped. Whitney had balanced a step stool on top of an end table, six books underneath each leg to hoist it higher. She stood precariously on tiptoes, the vase in both her hands as she struggle to reach the shelves.

  “What are you doing?” Ben yelled.

  Whitney looked back, a coquettish smile on her lips. “Putting the vase on the shelf.”

  “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  She laughed. “I’m not going to get hurt. I figured Adam probably doesn’t have a ladder high enough to do the job.” She turned back to the shelf, stretchi
ng so that her shirt rose, exposing a stripe of her back. Ben’s mind flashed back to a similar scene almost two years old, from when they’d moved into their last apartment together. They had laughed and joked and rearranged furniture all day, and he’d thought life couldn’t be more perfect.

  One of the books slipped, jostling the step stool. Whitney wobbled, the vase clutched close to her body with one arm while the other pinwheeled as she tried to regain her balance. Ben lunged forward, grabbing onto Whitney’s waist to steady her. She stopped swaying, her laughter tinkling around the room.

  “Whoops,” she said.

  “You’re going to break your neck.” His voice came out harsher than he’d intended, rough with fear.

  Whitney scoffed. “I’m not that fragile.” She reached up, ready for another attempt.

  “Please get down from there.” Ben clutched at her hips, desperation sweeping through him. Definitely mania. It made her reckless, convinced her she was invincible. This was low on the list of dangerous situations she’d put herself in, but his mind replayed the more terrifying episodes back to him—picking up a frying pan without hot pads, taking a sharp curve on a freeway off-ramp at nearly seventy miles an hour, and so many other instances.

  “Stop worrying,” Whitney said.

  “I’ll bring a ladder over tomorrow and help you put it up.”

  Whitney looked down at him, her eyebrow raised in a challenge. “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  She grinned, the smile catlike and terrifying. Ben kept his hands at her waist as she stepped down the ladder, not releasing her until both feet were solidly on the floor.

  “Found it.” Rachel’s reappeared, a large decorative clock in her hands. She set it on the counter and squinted up at the shelf. “Not sure how we’ll get them up there though.”

  Whitney smiled sweetly. “Ben said he’d bring his ladder by tomorrow and help us.”

  “Perfect.” Rachel rubbed her forehead. “You know, Whit, I’m not feeling so great. I’m not sure if I’ll make it to the Lakers game tonight.”

  “Oh dear.” Whitney pursed her lips. “That’s too bad. They’re expecting quite a showdown.”

  “Hey, Ben loves the Lakers,” Rachel said. “And he hasn’t seen a game since moving to town.”

  Ben snorted. They were so transparent. Neither girl enjoyed basketball—this had been their plan all along. “I’m busy.”

  Whitney grabbed Ben’s hand casually, the way she had a thousand times before. She flashed him a grin, the one that made him melt while simultaneously striking fear into his heart. It was her adventurous grin, the one that said she was up for anything.

  It was a dangerous grin when she wasn’t on her medication, because she would try anything.

  “C’mon, Ben. It’ll be fun,” Whitney said.

  Ben knew Rachel wasn’t sick. If he refused to go with Whitney, Rachel would go. But she didn’t know what to look for, what triggers signaled distress. Rachel could end up hurt as well. Whitney could crash the car on the way to the game because she was driving a hundred miles an hour instead of seventy. She could attempt to dash across a busy street because she didn’t want to wait for the crosswalk signal. She could try to jump down a flight of stairs, or drink an unhealthy amount, or any number of things.

  He couldn’t risk it. Whatever their relationship, his feelings toward Whitney wouldn’t allow him to knowingly let her walk into danger.

  “I’ll go,” he said.

  Rachel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but Whitney just grinned. “Excellent. We should probably get going if we don’t want to be late. Tipoff is in less than two hours, and traffic will be a beast.”

  Andi entered the executive suite, murmuring a “thank you” to Luke, who held open the door. He looked unusually casual in jeans and a T-shirt, but great all the same. It was their third date, and Andi was starting to feel more comfortable around him.

  Andi looked around the suite and let out a whistle. A counter ran along one wall and overflowed with food—fruit, soft pretzels, nachos, and chocolate dipped strawberries were just a few of the items she saw at a glance. She grabbed a pretzel, taking a bite and sighing. Perfect.

  Beneath the counter was a glass-doored chilled fridge, stocked with alcohol and soft drinks. Leather couches were stationed in front of a wide screen television. High tables with barstools sat in front of a glass window that looked out onto the balcony, where easy chairs overlooked the basketball court.

  Andi pointed to the television, which had to be at least fifty-two inches. “What’s that for?”

  Luke shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it onto the couch. “To watch the game.”

  Andi blinked, then started laughing. “The game is playing out live right in front of you.”

  “Yeah, but sometimes you want to listen to the commentary on the television, or see the instant replays.”

  Andi shook her head at the absurdity.

  “What are you drinking?” Luke asked.

  “Whatever you are.”

  He nodded and grabbed two Dr. Pepper’s, handing one to Andi.

  “No beer?” she asked. “Wow, I thought all guys enjoyed their games more with alcohol.”

  “Brooke doesn’t like it when I drink.” He popped the top and took a long swig. “I can get some of the guys from the team to come up after the game and say hi if you want. Might be a good photo op for the press.”

  “You can do that?”

  He shrugged. “I’m good friends with the coach.”

  Andi put a hand on her hip. “You own the team, don’t you?”

  “My dad loved basketball. We have a company suite that holds about fifty, but this is my family’s private one.”

  “It’s amazing.” Andi ran her hand over the leather couch, in awe at the opulence.

  “The chef will be by later with dinner.” Luke walked over to one of the tables and grabbed a menu, handing it to her. “Just decide what you want by the end of the first quarter, and I’ll place our order. We’ll have it by half-time.”

  Andi shook her head and opened the door onto the balcony. Twelve leather easy chairs sat in three rows of four. She picked the front row and slid to the middle. Luke sat down next to her. The box looked out over the court, and she had a perfect view of the players warming up for the game.

  “I can’t believe this is your life,” Andi said.

  “Your dad’s a partner at a law firm. I doubt you grew up in poverty.”

  “Of course not. The firm owns a box here too, and we’d come to games occasionally. But it wasn’t as posh as this.”

  “I had my suite remodeled before the start of the season.”

  Andi smirked. “No wonder women fall over you. You’re handsome and rich.”

  He let out a harsh laugh. “A lot of good that’s done me in winning over Brooke. She doesn’t care about any of this.”

  “That’s good. It means she likes you for you.”

  He looked down at his soda, rubbing a thumb over the logo. “Brooke and I have been best friends since high school. Back then, Ryder Communications was a small company no one had heard of. When it went public and the money rolled in, a lot of people showed back up in my life, claiming they’d missed me and wanted to reconnect or whatever. But I knew all they wanted was the perks of wealth.”

  “But not Brooke?”

  Luke chuckled, taking another swig of his drink. “Definitely not Brooke. She’s got all these crazy rules for our relationship so we’ll stay in the ‘friend zone.’” He made air quotes with his fingers. “She added rule number eight when the money starting pouring in—no extravagant or expensive gifts for each other. For her birthday I wanted to get her one of those really nice purses that are popular right now.” He scrunched up his nose, thinking. “A Birkin bag? Yeah, I think that’s what they’re called.”

  Andi’s jaw dropped. “Yeah, I’d say that qualifies as an expensive and extravagant gift. Those bags cost thousands.”

  “Twelve thou
sand dollars,” he said. “I wanted to get her the pink one, since that’s her favorite color. Anyway, I lied and said it was a gift from a client so she’d accept the present. She carries it with her everywhere and has no idea how much it’s worth. Trust me, if she knew, she’d have chewed me out.”

  “Brooke sounds like a great girl,” Andi said.

  “She’s a pain in the neck. She’s stubborn and moody and afraid of commitment.”

  “But you love her anyway.”

  Luke nodded. “Yeah, I do. She’s worth the risk.”

  Andi pursed her lips. Maybe it was worth the risk for Luke. But for Andi, she wasn’t willing to go down that road again.

  “Have you made any progress with Brooke?” Andi asked.

  “I thought I had. What you said at the ice rink made me think. I’ve had this box since high school where I’ve kept stuff from our relationship—ticket stubs, flowers from dances we attended, that sort of thing. I knew she’d find it meaningful, so I gave it to her and told her how much I loved her. It almost worked. Then she freaked out and told me she’s moving to Italy. She’s made up her mind. I’m losing.”

  Ah yes, the move. Brooke’s Italian fiancé wanted to return home. “She really said she’s moving?”

  “Yeah.” He sat back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “I pushed too hard, and she wasn’t ready.”

  Andi ripped off a chunk of the pretzel and plopped it in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Why is she with Antonio? What does she get out of that relationship?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Andi gave him a pointed look. “If you want me to help, you’ve got to answer my questions.”

  “Okay, fine. I think she views him as safe. A security blanket. She likes that he sought out a matchmaker, and she’s always talking about how compatible the computer system says they are. She loves how his parents and grandparents and sisters have all been married for forever.”

  Well that didn’t make sense. “Your parents were married for a long time, weren’t they?”

  “Almost thirty years.”

  “So why doesn’t she see you as stable?”