Unmanageable

by Lavinia Kent

  It sounded like a question, but she knew from experience it was not. Instead, it was a royal command. Why the hell hadn’t Charlotte told him she was coming? “Of course.”

  “Then you’ll get your RSVP in the mail immediately. There isn’t much time left. She wants to get the seating chart done. You know how important it is to get these things taken care of properly.”

  “I already RSVP’d—and Charlotte told me she’d received it. I’m not quite sure what the confusion is.” She wouldn’t have thought her father would care at all about something as silly as a wedding, but clearly he did. Was Charlotte playing some type of game? It was probably an oversight, but…

  “Good. It’s so important that everything go smoothly, that you have the chance to talk to the right people. I’ve got some contacts I want you to make. When I retire it will be important that you know them.”

  Ah, that made more sense. It was all about business. “I know how important it is.”

  He gave her a somewhat doubtful look.

  Why could he never see her as she was? She hadn’t ever in her adult life done anything to embarrass him—and not during her childhood either. It had always been about making him proud. Hell, the only thing she’d ever done that he could complain about was being born—and that was hardly her fault. He was the one who’d gotten her teenage mother pregnant and he’d been the one to divorce her as soon as Veronica had been born. “You know, I’ve been meeting with clients for years. I do understand they need to be kept happy.”

  “Now, don’t be childish. We’ve just agreed that there’s a right way to do these things, honey.”

  She wasn’t sure she’d agreed to any such thing—and she hadn’t been a child for a long time. Those words almost slipped from between her lips, but she held them back. She’d been down that road before and knew where it ended. And to make matters worse, he’d called her honey, as if he couldn’t be bothered to remember her name—he called half the women in the office honey. She needed a drink. A drink and her dog. Somehow, she invariably felt better when Baxter rested his head in her lap and looked up at her with those trusting eyes, eyes that said she was the best thing ever. Why didn’t her father ever look at her that way? And that was a thought that would put her in therapy. “Of course, Dad.” A big fake smile flashed across her face. She knew he hated dad almost as much as she hated honey.

  His eyes flashed, but he didn’t say anything. They had been playing this game for a long time. “Charlotte’s inviting several of the firm’s clients. Perhaps you can spend some time with them? You do know how to be charming.”

  He meant it as a compliment, but still it stung a little. “Actually, I was planning to bring a date. It was a ‘plus one’ invite.”

  He stood up abruptly. “A date? Is that necessary? I do hope he’s someone respectable, another lawyer perhaps. You know that impressions matter. And you don’t want any distractions right now. There’s so much work to do, and with your sister getting married…”

  And she’d wondered why she worried too much about others’ opinions. She resisted the desire to roll her eyes. She hadn’t dated anyone who wasn’t respectable since high school, and her father didn’t know about those boys. Granted, she’d slept with a few men who…But her father didn’t know about them either. So why did she always feel so judged? “He’s mostly just a friend, but I’m sure he’ll behave perfectly.”

  “If you say so. Although if he’s only a friend, I don’t know why you need to bring him.”

  Again, she felt like he doubted her judgment—although to be fair, she wasn’t sure exactly how Brian would act—and she could only hope that nobody would recognize him as her dog walker. “I’ve already asked him, so it would be rude to cancel now.”

  His lips thinned. He would never admit to promoting rudeness. “I suppose.”

  She smiled, wishing the mood were lighter between them. “I’ve finished the Newport brief. Would you like a chance to look it over? I think I raised some winning points. The daughter really does have some valid arguments about the estate.”

  “I’m sure Brooks will fix anything needed when he looks it over. It is why I have associates work with junior partners.”

  Who then took credit for all her hard work. She knew this game almost as well as she knew the one she played with her father. “I still would like it if—”

  “You know I don’t have time.”

  Actually, she knew he did, but that too was an argument she would never win. Although, she was tempted to push. If he were seriously considering retiring and giving her a controlling share of the firm, surely he should…“Of course. Perhaps we can have dinner one night before Charlotte’s wedding.”

  “Perhaps.” He turned to go. “Don’t stay here too much later. You don’t want to reach the point of becoming less productive or of making foolish mistakes.”

  Someday maybe he would trust her. “I’ll be careful. I always am.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Was there anything else? A reason you stopped by?” She couldn’t help being hopeful.

  “No. I think that’s everything.” He walked to the door, stopped. “Oh, I was going to tell you I’ve made some decisions about my retirement. I think I’ve figured out a way to make everybody happy and to keep the firm running smoothly.”

  And then he was gone before she could ask him to clarify, ask him exactly what he meant. It was so typical. Her heart jumped at the thought that he was finally going to make her a partner, give her a major piece of the firm, show her and the world that she really was part of his life. Why else would he be telling her anything? But then, she’d thought that before and been disappointed.

  She glanced at the clock. She’d lost her desire to work. Conversations with her father tended to either push her to work harder or left her with no desire at all. This was one of the no desire times.

  It was too early to catch the next train, but perhaps she’d have a drink in the bar and read a book on her phone. It couldn’t hurt to spend a little time taking care of herself.

  And she still needed to text Brian about Baxter. Even if she didn’t, everything would probably be fine, but…

  She typed the message in quickly, resisting the urge to flirt, to indicate that her mind might be changing. A night of hot sex would clear her thoughts far more than a book and a bath.

  An almost instant reply: I was just about to drop him off. Do you want me to keep him tonight instead? It might be easier. You could sleep in? I’m up early to run anyway. He’s no trouble.

  That was tempting, but she also knew she’d sleep better if Baxter was beside her in the bed. He made her life feel less lonely. Not that she was lonely. She was very happy with her life—but Baxter was an important part of the happiness. No. I miss my boy.

  I’d ask which boy, but I know the answer.

  That edge of flirtation. She should ignore it as she had the last few weeks.

  “Oh, you’re still here.” Charlotte stood in the doorway, looking fresh and lovely, more like it was first thing in the morning than the end of a grueling day.

  Veronica nodded. “Yes. Did you need something?”

  Charlotte pursed her lips as if the very idea of needing something from Veronica was unthinkable—or maybe she was projecting, reading too much into it.

  “My father was looking for you.” Charlotte smiled so sweetly. “Did he find you?”

  My father. Not our father. No, she was not projecting. “Yes, he just left.”

  “I am glad you had a few minutes. I so enjoyed having dinner with him. It’s such a wonderful habit we’ve fallen into.”

  Veronica’s hands curled to fists and she slipped them under the desk quickly. “It sounds lovely. Do you know why he wasn’t aware I’d RSVP’d to your wedding?”

  Charlotte’s smile grew. “I can’t imagine. It’s odd that he’d think you�
�d be so rude.”

  “I can’t either.” She gave her own sweet smile. “Did you need anything else? I’ve got important things to do.”

  Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. She understood a good insult. “Oh, it looked to me like you were about to leave. You do have that long train ride back to your lonely apartment. I am so glad I only have a few blocks to walk to Greg’s place.”

  “Oh, I remember exactly where it is.”

  Charlotte paled slightly. Veronica felt a twinge of guilt, but Charlotte had so clearly invited it.

  Charlotte didn’t even speak as she turned and walked away.

  That had not gone as she’d wished. Why did everything about Charlotte prod her the wrong way? She knew that Charlotte had never been happy to have a half sister. She always acted as if Veronica had been a shameful bastard instead of the child of a previous marriage.

  Pulling air into her lungs, she forced herself to relax, glanced at her desk—caught sight of her phone.

  I’d ask which boy, but I know the answer.

  Now, that would be a great de-stresser. The conversations with both Charlotte and her father had certainly left her needing one. She began to type.

  Can I help it if I don’t like to sleep alone?

  This time there was a pause before she saw him typing back. We wouldn’t want that.

  It was her turn to pause. She could still pull back. And Baxter only snores occasionally.

  I don’t snore at all.

  Damn. She’d walked right into that one. She wanted to ask if he delivered coffee in the morning. She bet he did. And why shouldn’t she? She was a grown woman who was more than capable of doing what she wanted. Only, she was also a grown woman who knew she was upset by something that had nothing to do with Brian. She might be rethinking her decision to keep him at arm’s length, but this was not the moment to act. You can just drop Baxter at my house. Knowing my boy, he’ll sleep until I get home and still not want to go out.

  A long pause.

  She gathered her stuff for a second time and walked out of the office and then out of the building. It was three blocks to the train station.

  I don’t mind keeping him until you’re home. I’m up anyway.

  Hmm. She could let him come by and then make any decision that needed to be made. Only…No, that’s okay. Don’t put yourself out for me.

  Another long pause.

  She reached the train station, looked toward the bar. She really didn’t feel like dealing with that crowd. She wasn’t putting off Brian only to be bothered by some dude who thought she looked lonely—and therefore easy.

  A reply. It’s honestly no trouble to keep him, but I’ll do what you want. Next time?

  Her turn to delay. She walked into Starbucks, ordered a decaf latte. At least there was plenty of empty seating and it was quieter than she would have expected.

  She waited for her drink, picked it up, walked to a table, sat—drummed her fingers on her phone’s screen. Pressed her lips together. Why was she so indecisive? It wasn’t like her at all. Maybe. Gotta go now.

  Night.

  Why did she hear his voice softly whispering the word? Why did it remind her so much of lying in his arms? Of what might have happened next if Baxter hadn’t licked her ankle? Why was she picturing his head next to hers on a pillow? Imagining him brushing back her hair, staring into her eyes?

  She pulled out her earphones. It was one thing to have sexual fantasies about the man. He certainly deserved them. He was the hottest thing she’d ever seen, and he’d demonstrated that he knew how to use it, was more than able to get the job done. It was quite another to have an emotional fantasy.

  But shit, she did need to check if he was still coming to the wedding. She’d debated canceling on him—assuming he’d even taken her first invitation as serious. He hadn’t mentioned it since they’d had sex—and neither had she. Still, she’d told her father she was bringing a date and that meant she was bringing a date.

  She picked up her phone again, started to type, then opened her audio book app instead. Tomorrow would be soon enough. She was not going to start another conversation, no matter how innocent.

  * * *

  —

  “Well, boy, she wants you home.” Brian addressed Baxter, who lay under the table, not so gently snoring. “And I think she lied about how often you snore. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sleep without it and I’ve seen you sleep plenty. And I’m talking to the dog again. I really need a life. Although, it’s only you I talk to. I don’t seem to have an issue with any of the other pups. Granted, you’re the only one who spends the day with me. And you’re good company. If I’m going to spend the day hitting the books, it’s nice to have somebody undemanding who’s happy to hang. And you help make me avoid wondering when my test scores will arrive and what I’ll do if I suck.”

  Baxter gave no reply beyond another loud snore.

  “Okay. Okay. Sorry to bore you with my self-pity. Now, I gotta get you home. I have a feeling Miss Veronica would not be happy if I got you there after her—although, I admit it’s hard to tell. Talk about mixed signals. I don’t know if she’s avoiding me or truly is that busy. Aunt Mols assures me she’s one busy woman. And I still can’t quite get over that it sounded like she might be ashamed to be seen with me. I’ve never experienced that before. Maybe you can explain her to me.”

  Walking to the table by the door, he picked up Baxter’s leash.

  The dog opened one eye at the sound of the leash jingling. It was clearly one he knew. He still didn’t move.

  “Come on, Baxter.”

  Baxter gave a long sigh, but rose to his feet. He was starting to learn not to argue.

  “Come on.”

  The dog dutifully walked over and let Brian attach the leash. He gave the leash a little shake and Baxter followed him out of the house.

  “And once you finish explaining women to me, I’d love it if you could start on calculus.” He started off at a good pace and Baxter trotted to follow.

  The dog truly wasn’t as lazy as he led people to believe.

  * * *

  —

  She wanted those shoes. Veronica stared at the fiery red stilettos in the window of the small shop. They would make her feet ache, but she didn’t care. They were works of art. Mostly she shopped in the city or ordered online, but who could resist walking through Forbidden Cove’s small downtown on a sunny early fall day with that special crispness in the air? And it did keep her from thinking about Brian and the fact that she’d resisted seeing him again last night despite how frustrating her day had been.

  And for once, Baxter was behaving himself—although he was preventing her from going in to examine the shoes and see if they were as perfect as they seemed. Slobbery dogs were rarely welcome in fine clothing establishments. She could always tie him up outside. She’d certainly seen other dogs left outside while their owners shopped, but she didn’t trust him enough. He hadn’t yet escaped from his harness, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t. And if he didn’t do that, he’d probably start to howl, and he had a howl that could raise half the town.

  Oh well. The shoes would still be there later and her stomach was starting to rumble. The terrace at her favorite cafe, Lily’s, was open today and she could do that with Baxter.

  “Has your dog lost weight?” a familiar voice asked from behind.

  Veronica turned her head. Anne Petersen. “I think he has. But I don’t have a scale that works for him, and it’s been a few months since he’s been to the vet.”

  “Well, he’s definitely looking trimmer. That was him I saw running, or at least loping, on the beach yesterday with that handsome dog walker, wasn’t it? It wasn’t very fast, but I was pretty sure it was him—Baxter, not the dog walker. I know it was the dog walker. I make a point of getting coffee at that place near the beach every day
at about 11:00. He, the dog walker, is fun to watch.”

  Was that a spike of jealousy turning in her belly? Brian was for her to watch, not other women. “It was probably Baxter. I’ve been leaving him with Brian. He’s Mrs. Clouster’s nephew. She’s who I usually use.”

  “Oh, that makes sense. We’ve had her take care of our dogs the few times I’m away for a full day. I may have to think of an excuse to have them walked if that’s who’s going to show up. Do you think I could sprain my ankle?”

  Veronica suppressed another flash of jealousy that surged through her. “I thought you were happily married? Is there something you want to tell me?” she asked lightly. The Petersens were known for being a great couple.

  “You know I am. Jack is the perfect husband, but it doesn’t hurt to look,” Anne said with a giggle.

  “That’s true. I admit to enjoying a good look myself.” And a feel. She was not going to feel jealous. It had been her decision not to keep seeing Brian. Still, did her friend sound less content than usual? From what she’d seen, Jack was the perfect husband—a little on the older side, but still handsome and fit.

  “And being single, you get to do more than look.”

  Hmm, was Anne sounding jealous? It seemed odd. Veronica had never seen her less than delighted with her life. If only she could describe how much more than look she’d already done. She squirmed slightly at the thought. “If I ever take a break from work. I don’t seem to have time to do more than eat, work and sleep. I’m afraid Baxter is the only man in my life.” She pushed back the image of Brian in his running shorts; the image of Brian leaning in for a kiss; of Brian damp with sweat, pushing her against the wall; of his mouth coming down on hers; of his hands running over her body; of— Damn, she needed to bring this down a notch or Anne would be asking why she was suddenly redder than a robin’s breast. Still, the image of Brian’s ass as he walked away with Baxter, that dream of Brian beside her on her pillow in the morning, the image of…