Trying to hide my impatience, I lift my brows. She strikes me as the quintessential entitled princess who thinks her social life is the most important thing on the planet. Oh no, someone didn’t like my selfie on Instagram. Whatever shall I do? If she can’t give me a legitimate reason to see her or convince me that she’s here to work, I’ll turn her away.
“This isn’t the Dark Ages,” I say. “Many women lead long happy lives and never marry.”
“I know. And that’s not what this is about. Not even close.”
“All right.” I inhale slowly, taking a moment to rally my patience. “Why don’t you try explaining it once more.”
She lies back down, crossing her long legs at the ankles, her large eyes focused on the exposed wooden beam running across the ceiling.
I wait while she mulls. She’s hopefully realizing how silly it is to pay a licensed therapist, with a doctorate in social neuroscience, just to talk about boys. I never would have agreed to see her if I knew this was her “problem,” but Rose left a frantic message with my service last night. A short conversation followed, where she disclosed nothing and pleaded to see me first thing this morning.
Fast-forward to fifteen minutes ago. I get to my office before my assistant has arrived and find Rose walking around the hallway. My office is one of many on the second floor, so it’s easy to miss. Downstairs are several boutiques and a small coffee shop, where I practically live between patients.
Which reminds me that I skipped the latte this morning, and I’m wishing I hadn’t because I’ll need a heavy dose of caffeine to keep up with all the whining I’m hearing.
Yes, if I were a lesser man, I might be content to sit here all day, staring at a gorgeous woman while she rambles on about her love life. But I am not that man. I’m here to help people. And I think this woman came to the wrong place.
Rose
I knew it would be a waste of time coming here, but this exceeds my worst expectations. Everything about this guy says he doesn’t care. The drab gray tie, plain white dress shirt, and black slacks tell me he doesn’t have a warm bone in his body. All business. The polished concrete floor and a bland gray rug to accent his work space confirm he lacks imagination. And not one item in his office indicates he has any hobbies or passions. I don’t even see a family photo despite the fact he’s fidgeting with his wedding ring. Married. But he obviously doesn’t want to think about her at work. What does that say about him?
“Rose,” he says in a deep, authoritative voice that sounds rehearsed, “this session is only an hour, and I get paid either way.”
In other words, I should start talking if I want my money’s worth. But Dr. Bexley Hughes doesn’t seem interested in hearing anything I have to say. I doubt I’d be sitting here at all if I hadn’t begged him last night over the phone. But I need help, and now that his father is dead, I have no one else to turn to.
I squirm on his lumpy couch. The fabric is soft—some sort of white velveteen—but the springs are pushing into my ass. Another bad sign. He doesn’t care about his patients enough to buy comfortable furniture.
I get up and walk over to the wall of books behind the black leather armchair where he’s seated. I know he’s waiting for me to explain why I need to get married, but his intense stare makes it difficult. I don’t like it or him one little bit.
Ironically, if I saw him walking down the street, the two of us complete strangers, he’d have me looking twice. Dark hair, light blue eyes, and a hard jawline. Classically handsome. Just my type. Though he’s a little older, maybe twenty-nine or thirty.
Of course, all that’s irrelevant. Doesn’t matter if he’s good looking. Doesn’t matter if I like his personality. The question is, will Dr. Bexley Hughes help me? He seems more uncaring and heartless than my family, if that’s even possible.
With our backs to each other, I pluck a book off the shelf and thumb through the crisp white pages. It’s inscribed to Dr. Murdoc Hughes, his late father. Funny, they look nothing alike. Murdoc had warm brown eyes and an even warmer smile.
“I met your dad before he died.” I turn and speak to the back of Bexley Hughes’s head. “He was a good man. Maybe the only decent person I’ve ever met. I hoped you’d be like him. Are you?”
“You knew my father?” he says with a tinge of skepticism, pivoting in his seat to face me.
I nod.
“But you were never a patient.”
“No,” I confirm. “He told me to see you if I changed my mind.”
“Changed it about what?”
I shut the book with a clap, place it back on the shelf, and walk over to the white couch, where I sit with hands clasped. I don’t know why this Dr. Hughes makes me so uneasy, but he does. It’s odd given how I’m no stranger to unpleasant people.
“I met your father last spring,” I say, “when he gave a lecture at my university about the psychology of storytelling. I am—I mean, I was an English major. I dropped out.” I had promised myself that no matter what my grandmother did or said, I wouldn’t leave school this time. But she has a way of slithering inside my head and undermining every positive thought, every productive intention—“You should be home, Rose, fulfilling the promise to your dead mother. There will be time for college later.” After weeks of being guilted, I finally gave in. Idiot.
Or maybe it was fate?
Had I not stopped taking classes, I never would’ve been home on that fateful day when I overheard a strange conversation my grandmother had with her lawyer. Then I wouldn’t have had that quiet nagging feeling in the back of my mind, telling me that maybe, just maybe there was more to my mother’s will. And I certainly wouldn’t have been prompted to go through my grandmother’s safe a week ago when she left it open by accident.
But now I know the horrible truth: The copy of the will shown to me all those years ago was a fake, and everything I’ve been promised is about to be taken away.
I continue, “I liked your father’s perspective about how every epic story has a villain, a victim, and a knight.” The older Dr. Hughes said that in the world of psychology, a therapist’s job is to make every patient their own knight, the hero of their story. “When I decided I needed to talk to someone, I looked him up. He called me back right away, and it was the first time I remembered anyone just listening and wanting to help. Nothing in return.”
I was really sorry when I found out he was ill, but he urged me to come in and see his son instead. Trusting strangers isn’t easy for me, so I told him I’d think about it. Of course, the situation I’m facing now is entirely different. It’s no longer about the guilt or the shame my family has poisoned me with. This is about justice. This is about wrong versus right.
I look away from the younger Dr. Hughes’s judgmental gaze and add, “Your dad told me if I ever needed someone to trust, someone who’d help me, it would be you.”
I suddenly notice Dr. Hughes’s face is a hostile shade of red, and while I didn’t think it possible for anyone to look more anal retentive and intimidating, he’s just proven me wrong.
He sets his clipboard on top of a little wooden table to his side and leans forward. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
I blink. “Sorry?”
“I can’t help you.”
“Did I miss something?” He’s clearly pissed, but what did I do?
“I am not the right therapist for you, Miss Hale, but I can suggest a colleague who specializes in relationships and commitment issues.”
I frown. “Why would I need help with that?” All right, yes, I have issues in those areas, but not how he thinks.
“Didn’t you say you’re here because you’re trying to find a husband?”
“Yes, but—”
“But then I’m not the doctor for you,” he cuts me off.
The anger percolates in my stomach. I’m done with being dismissed, and I won’t tolerate being treated like I’m worthless. Not anymore.
“You said you’re here to help people,” I argue. “
Well, here I am, needing help.”
He stands, walks to the door, and opens it. The expression on his face turns from anger to simple disgust.
What kind of therapist just shuts a person down like this? It’s humiliating, and with all I’ve been through, I’m not game for his special breed of head trip. He has no clue what’s at stake and the mental torture I’ve survived.
Doesn’t matter. He’s right. He can’t help me. I stand and walk to the door, stopping in front of him. I’m five seven, but he’s much taller, so I tilt my head back to look him in the eye. There is no compassion to be found in their soft blue hues. Just ice. “I don’t know what I said to piss you off, but you’ve got the wrong impression about why I came here. I’m just trying to survive.”
“Aren’t we all.” He jerks his head toward the doorway as if to say get the fuck out.
This man doesn’t just have a stick up his ass, it’s an entire forest. “You’re nothing like your father. You’re not even half the man he was.”
“Thank God for small favors,” he replies.
I sail out, wondering what he means, and the door slams behind me.
Heartless bastard. He couldn’t just hear me out?
Suddenly, I realize how alone I truly am. I stop in the hallway and cover my face with my hands, fighting off an imminent meltdown. I hate to cry. It makes me feel weak, and I don’t want to be weak anymore. But I don’t know what I’m going to do. The clock is ticking, and right now, the whole world is against me. Not hyperbole. Not a joke. Everyone I’ve ever known is against me, and I need at least one—just one goddamned person to trust.
MY PEN IS HUGE
(#5, the OHellNo Series)
COMING SOON!
“This is a man’s game, love. So step aside.”
My name is Leland Merrick and I’m a dedicated journalist—born, raised, and schooled in England. But don’t let the nice suits and accent fool you. There isn’t a muddy jungle I won’t crawl through, a freezing iceberg I won’t float on, or a scorching desert I won’t cross to get a sensational story. But bloody hell! What was I thinking?
My friend convinced me to take on an intern as a means of getting a free assistant. But this American exchange student I hired, Gisselle, was smart (and not so bad looking) and caught on to my scheme. Little did I know she was watching and learning all my tricks with the intention of becoming a real journalist. Now, everywhere I turn, the little minx is there in her sexy outfits, trying to distract me and steal my stories.
This time, I’ve got to throw her off my scent because I’ve come across the big one! The once-in-a-lifetime story people will be talking about for decades.
Besides, who does she think she is? The weight of my pen carries credibility, years of journalistic experience, and a knack for telling a good story. My pen is huge. She should take her little play-pen home and give up before I crush her.
For INFO and MORE:
www.mimijean.net/mypen
BRUTUS
The Immortal Matchmakers, Inc., Book #6
COMING EARLY 2020!
What can I say about this book? We know he’s in search of some very interesting women. There’s a kitten. He’s a sexy, but very tough man. It’s going to be fun!
FOR UPDATES AND MORE:
www.mimijean.net/brutus
Character Definitions – The Gods
Although every culture around the world has their own names and beliefs related to beings of worship, there are actually only fourteen gods. And since the gods are able to access the human world only through the portals called cenotes, located in the Yucatán, the Mayans were big fans.
Acan—God of Wine and Intoxication, and God of Decapitation. Also known as Belch, Acan has been drunk for many millennia. He generally wears only tighty whities, but since he’s the life of the party, he’s been known to mix it up and go naked, too. Whatever works. He is now mated to the lovely Margarita.
Ah-Ciliz—God of Solar Eclipses: Called A.C. by his brethren, Ah-Ciliz is generally thought of as a giant buzz kill because of his dark attitude.
Akna—Goddess of Fertility: She is so powerful, it is said she can make inanimate objects fornicate and that anyone who gets in the same room as her ends up pregnant. She is often seen hanging out with her brother Acan at parties, when not hiding in a cave.
Backlum Chaam—God of Male Virility: He was once a slave to the Maaskab and played a key role in discovering that black jade can be used to procreate with humans.
Camaxtli—Goddess of the Hunt: Also once known as Fate until she was discovered to be a fake and had her powers stripped away by the Universe. She’s now referred to as “Fake.”
Colel Cab—Mistress of Bees: Though she has many, many powers, “Bees” is most known for the live beehive hat on her head. She has never had a boyfriend or lover because her bees get too jealous.
Goddess of Forgetfulness—Also known as Forgetty, she once had no official name because no one could remember it. Now she’s mated to Távas and goes by Aurora. When she’s not out eating chicken wings at his new restaurant, she spends her evenings DJing at the Randy Unicorn, her nightclub.
Ixtab—Goddess of Happiness (ex-Goddess of Suicide): Ixtab’s once morbid frock used to make children scream. But since finding her soul mate, she’s now the epitome of all things happy.
K’ak (Pronounced “cock”)—The history books remember him as K’ak Tiliw Chan Yopaat, ruler of Copán in the 700s AD. King K’ak is one of Cimil’s favorite brothers. We’re not really sure what he does, but he can throw bolts of lightning, wears a giant silver and jade headdress with intertwining serpents, and has long black and silver hair.
Kinich Ahau—ex-God of the Sun: Known by many other names, depending on the culture, Kinich likes to go by Nick these days. He’s also now a vampire—something he’s actually not so bummed about. He is mated to the love of his life, Penelope, the Ruler of the House of Gods.
Máax—Once known as the God of Truth, Máax was banished for repeatedly violating the ban on time travel. However, since helping to save the world from the big “over,” he is now known as the God of Time Travel. Also turns out he was the God of Love, but no one figured that out until his mate, Ashli, inherited his power. Ashli is now the fourteenth deity, taking the place of Camaxtli, the Fake.
Votan—God of Death and War: Also known as Odin, Wotan, Wodan, God of Drums (he has no idea how the hell he got that title; he hates drums), and Lord of Multiplication (okay, he is pretty darn good at math so that one makes sense). These days, Votan goes by Guy Santiago (it’s a long story—read ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE WITH…A GOD?), but despite his deadly tendencies, he’s all heart.
Yum Cimil—Goddess of the Underworld: Also known as Ah-Puch by the Mayans, Mictlantecuhtli (try saying that one ten times) by the Aztec, Grim Reaper by the Europeans, Hades by the Greeks…you get the picture! Despite what people say, Cimil is actually a female, adores a good bargain (especially garage sales) and the color pink, and she hates clowns. She’s also bat-shit crazy, has an invisible pet unicorn named Minky, and is married to Roberto, the king of all vampires.
Zac Cimi—Once thought to be the God of Love, we now know differently. Zac is the God of Temptation, and his tempting ways have landed him in very hot water. Because no matter how temptingly hot your brother’s mate might be, trying to steal her is wrong. He is currently serving time for his crime in Los Angeles with Cimil, running the Immortal Matchmakers agency. He is now madly in love with his assistant, Tula.
Character Definitions – Not the Gods
Andrus: Ex-Demilord (vampire who’s been given the gods’ light), now just a demigod after his maker, the vampire queen, died. He is now happily mated to Sadie, a half-succubus who spends her days feeding off of her delicious new hubby and going to casting calls in LA.
Ashli: Ashli actually belongs over in the GODS section, but since she was born human, we’ll keep her here. Ashli is mate to Máax, God of Time Travel. Unbeknownst to him, he was also the God of Love. Ashli inher
ited his power after they started falling in love. Maybe the Universe thought a woman should have this power?
Brutus: One of the gods’ elite Uchben warriors. He doesn’t speak much, but that’s because he and his team are telepathic. They are also immortal (a gift from the gods) and next in line to be Uchben chiefs.
Charlotte: Sadie’s golf-loving half-sister and the intended mate to Andrus Grey. Only, Andrus, being the rebel that he is, decided he could pick his own damned woman, Sadie. Charlotte is now happily mated to Tommaso, Andrus’s BBF. They’re one big happy family! Oh, and her daddy is an incubus.
Helena Strauss: Once human, Helena is now a vampire and married to Niccolo DiConti. She has a half-vampire daughter, Matty, who is destined to marry Andrus’s son, according to Cimil.
Margarita Seville: Once a member of the Amish community, Margarita now lives in LA, following her calling to make the world a healthier place. She owns a successful gym and has a teenage daughter, Jessica, who’s hell-bent on making her life miserable. She is mate to Acan, God of Wine.
Matty: The infant daughter of Helena and Niccolo, destined to marry Andrus’s son.
Niccolo DiConti: General of the Vampire Army. Now that the vampire queen is dead, the army remains loyal to him. He shares power with his wife, Helena Strauss, and has a half-vampire daughter, Matty.
Penelope: Part angel and part human, Penelope is mated to Kinich. When he turned into a vampire, she inherited his sun god powers and became the Ruler of the House of Gods.
Reyna: The dead vampire queen.
Roberto (Narmer): Originally an Egyptian pharaoh, Narmer was one of the six Ancient Ones—the very first vampires. He eventually changed his name to Roberto and moved to Spain—something to do with one of Cimil’s little schemes. He now spends his days lovingly undoing Cimil’s treachery, being a stay-at-home dad, and taking her unicorn Minky for a ride.
COLEL (Immortal Matchmakers, Inc. Series Book 5) Page 21