Just Her Type (32 page)

Chapter 39

Dominic wasn’t alone.

A gorgeous woman with a chic micro-pixie hairdo
sat on the edge of an examining table with one pant leg rolled up. Dr. Dour
surveyed her bare foot and ankle. Dominic stood close by with a protective hand
on Pixie Chick’s shoulder. Though in obvious distress, she tittered at
something Dominic had whispered to her.

 
Dominic looked good.
 
Damn
manly-man good
. He’d buzzed his dark hair. He wore a plaid lumberjack
shirt, army jacket, jeans, and his favorite beat-up combat boots.

No glasses. A sure sign Pixie Chick was an “extra
special date.”

The neat scruff along his jawline had grown
darker, thicker,
beardier
. Kendra bit
her lip as that familiar gust of deep yearning overwhelmed her.

Kendra, at her bag lady best, wore a sloppy bun
smelling of baby spit-up because she’d gone three days too long without washing
her hair. She’d thrown on a long-sleeved pilling Pabst Blue Ribbon T-shirt,
moth-eaten leggings, a tatty parka, and mildewed galoshes though it wasn’t
raining outside.

 
When
stylishly attired Pixie Chick mentioned something about having fallen while ice
skating, Kendra assumed the pair had probably been to Rockefeller Center, the
kind of cute, but touristy holiday date followed up with hot toddies by a
crackling fire that Kendra would’ve enjoyed with Dominic.

“Oh, you!” Pixie Chick laughed at something else
Dominic said and shoved him.

“You know it’s true,” he said, continuing their
little inside joke.

“Yes and you are always right,” she replied
adoringly.

That’s what and who he deserved, happiness with
someone who clearly appreciated him.

Good for
you, Dominic. Good for you.
 
Kendra’s
fingertips eased to her trembling lips, and she blew him a small kiss. Her eyes
stung and her heart tumbled.

“You need some help, ma’am?” The question from a
hospital worker in scrubs startled her.

Kendra couldn’t speak because tears she refused to
release burned her throat. She shook her head. The young man continued on his
way.
 

She hurried along, grateful Dominic hadn’t seen
her.

***

“Dominic,” Brielle said,
“something wrong?”

“Huh?” Dominic replied.
 
Kendra had invaded his dreams at night,
and now he thought he saw her.
Everywhere
.
 
After looking to his left and glimpsing
a retreating profile, a deep, dull ache radiated through his chest. He didn’t
see the woman’s face, nor could he make out much about the body underneath that
bulky parka. But there was something about the way she moved that was hauntingly
familiar. That chest ache spread to a sinking feeling in his gut. His spirits
that had limped along all day, flatlined.

Dominic was far from over Kendra Porter.
 
If anything, her absence confirmed he
was madly in love with her. Even so, he wasn’t sure his love alone was
enough.
 
Still, he’d lost count of
the times he’d reached for the phone to ask her to see him. Once, he’d ventured
to her neighborhood hoping he’d happen to run into her. Pride be damned. Beg.
Plead. Grovel.
 

He desperately wanted to pursue. Every fiber in
him wanted to reconnect. He yearned to hear Kendra’s laugh, feel her soft,-
warm curves in his arms, inhale her intoxicating scent. But it took two, he’d
told himself before quickly retreating, vowing never to return.

Kendra had to want it to work as much as he did or
the relationship was doomed to fail. She had to meet him halfway.
 
And thus far, she hadn’t.

“Hey, where did you go just now?” Brielle asked.

Dominic blinked. “I’m sorry. I thought I saw
somebody I know. You were saying?”

“Whitney and Gage texted. Everyone’s meeting at
their place after they leave the rink. I can’t wait to see what they’ve done to
the house!”

 
“They
always go all out.
 
Over-the-top
with their place lit up like the Vegas strip. You up for that after your injury?”

“Are you kidding me? You betcha! You heard Doc and
saw the X-ray. Nothing’s broken, thank goodness.
 
Nothing a little ice and pain reliever
can’t fix.
 
I can’t believe what a
klutz I am.”

Dominic offered her his arm as she eased off the
examining table. “Not a klutz. I think big show-off is more like it.”

Brielle leaned against him as she hobbled toward
the patient checkout desk with the papers, care instructions, and the
prescription for a pain reliever the doctor had passed to her before he departed.

 
“So I
thought it was like riding a bike, okay?” Brielle laughed. “I used to be very
good, you know.”

“Okay, Katarina Witt.”

Brielle laughed and gave him a shove.

Gathering for an evening of classic holiday
specials, movies, and stacks of pumpkin spice pancakes was a Tobias family
tradition Dominic had enjoyed since childhood.
 
That year, he’d planned to bring Kendra
as his date. The thought only added to his misery.

Brielle passed the pink sheet and her credit card
to the attendant at the checkout window, and then turned to Dominic. “I hate
that you had to leave the rink to bring me here.”

“Anything for my favorite sister-in-law.”

“Haven’t I heard you refer to Jen and Whitney as
your favorites, too?” she asked with a lift of her manicured brow.

“Busted.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. When you married Coop you got the
rest of us, too. You know that’s how we roll.”

 
Cooper
had flown out of town on a business trip while the rest of the Tobias family
had gathered at the ice rink earlier that day so the kids could get plenty of
exercise before settling in around the television.

When Brielle’s cell pinged with another text, she
read it with a smile on her face. “It’s Coop. I want to call him to let him
know I’m okay.” She hobbled a few feet away to put some space between herself
and Dominic, but he could still overhear her cooing, “I miss you, too, love
muffin. Darn last-minute business deals… I know. I know.”

Cooper and Brielle still shared sickening sweet
nothings after all these years. More than a twinge of envy assailed Dominic.
They had been a couple since their teen years. He recalled what Kendra had said
about people who had only been with their high school sweethearts. Brielle and
Cooper seemed content with their choices. Even if they didn’t already have four
kids, he couldn’t imagine either plagued by what-ifs or questioning the
decision to commit to each other for life at a young age.

“Hurry home, love bug, okay?” Brielle ended the
call and hobbled back over to Dominic. “Coop sends his thanks for helping me
out. Any predictions for what we’ll see first tonight? I sure hope it’s
Christmas in Connecticut
, my favorite,
but the younger children will want to choose first. What about you? What are
you in the mood to see first? ”

Dominic felt less
Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer
and more
How the Grinch Stole Christmas.
 
Or the more fitting
They Shoot
Horses, Don’t They?

Brielle rattled on, “Hey, you remember Chelsea.
Coop told me you think she’s attractive. I’m sure she’d love to—”

“No hookups.”

“What’s going on with you? I only see glimpses of
the old happy-go-lucky Dom. You’ve been distracted and so sad lately. C’mon,
let me call Chelsea. I know she’d join us. She’s a lot of fun. And I happen to
know she likes you.
A lot
.”

“Thanks, Bree, but I don’t need a matchmaker.”
 
Dominic wasn’t ready for another woman,
not with Kendra still on his mind and in his heart. “I’m just a little tired.
I’ve been busy with work.”

“Let me know if you change your mind about
Chelsea.”

“I will.”

“Now let’s hurry, I want to claim that bergère
before Manny beats me to it. It’s near the fireplace and the coffee table that
usually holds all the goodies. And it has the best vantage point to the TV.”

If Brielle had read Dominic, surely the rest of
his family would, too. To keep them off his case, he’d fake some holiday cheer,
even if it killed him. He pasted on a big smile. “Yeah, let’s blow this
Popsicle stand and hustle on over to Casa de Christmas!”

Chapter 40

A full bladder and
excruciating cramps sent Kendra, who was two blocks from home, racing to her
bathroom.

Her period had arrived.

Profound sadness she didn’t understand settled
over her as she reached for protection and the over-the-counter pain reliever
in the medicine cabinet. What the heck? Yes, she wanted to be a mother more than
anything. Someday.
 
The timing was
all wrong. Her eyes misted anyway.
 
The long, loud, ugly cry followed.

This is
nuts!
Her hormones could be crazy making at times. But she also supposed a
part, a part bigger than she wanted to admit, held out hope that a pregnancy
would give her a good reason to reach out to Dominic again.
 
As the father he would have a right to
know if she were carrying his child. Over the past few days, as her breasts
felt fuller and became more painfully sensitive than ever before a normal
period, she’d foolishly allowed herself to daydream, just a little at first.
And then she’d fantasized a lot as her fatigue and mood swings worsened.

What if?
Suddenly,
this particular possibility didn’t look as frightening as it had when she’d first
realized that condom had broken.

She should’ve known better. It was too early to
experience such intense symptoms, anyway. Kendra dried her eyes and finished up
in the bathroom.
Okay, so there is
definitely no baby who will have Dominic’s dark chocolate eyes and your nose.
Get over it.

With relentless thoughts of Dominic and the baby
that never was distracting her, a romance novel was the last thing she needed
to read. However, to stay on schedule, she had to get back to work. She settled
in her favorite chair and finished reading an early draft of the seventh novel
in the popular Harmony Hamlet series by client Dreya Carlson.
 
Kendra usually looked forward to curling
up with a new installment featuring the handsome and addictive Colton brothers
who leaped off the pages and wrapped themselves around readers’ hearts.
However, Dreya’s latest offering lacked the usual spark. Was it Kendra’s funky
mood? Or worse, had she subconsciously bought into that irksome double
standard: The hero is given carte blanche to unleash all manner of jerkdom as
long as he charms while at it, eventually sees the error of his ways, and then
declares his undying love at the end. The heroine, however, must qualify as BFF
material and behave in a manner above reproach for the bulk of the novel or
risk getting flayed and labeled “highly annoying” and “unlikeable.”
 

 
Kendra
filled margins with her Sharpie and attached a stack of sticky notes, most of
them about the heroine’s character arc. Nope, it wasn’t Kendra.
 
Dreya had not done her best work,
possibly due to tighter deadlines and a recent cross-country move with her
husband and four grade school-age children.

Kendra looked at her notes again.
 
The heroine could stay true to who she
was, but also display believable growth in character. That was not the case
here. As a result, the story had peaked midway, and then nosedived to an
unsatisfying denouement. Angst mistaken for emotional depth. Her “redemption”
did not ring true, therefore, the happily-ever-after felt unmerited, along with
her suddenly successful home-based calligraphy business.
 

What had she learned that she didn’t know before?
And why
her
? What was it about
her
that made this particular,
swoon-worthy Colton brother want to give up his free-wheeling bachelor
lifestyle and position of power heading a multimillion-dollar conglomerate and
move back to Harmony Hamlet for good and take over a small hardware and feed
store?

Before
he found out she was pregnant with his twins.

Even for a guilty pleasure read, the ol’ magical
twat (or cock) rationale was too much of a stretch for Dreya’s discriminating
readers. Kendra made more notes about the heroine:
delve deeper.
 
She
attached that sticky note to the manuscript before putting it aside. She went
to the kitchen for a glass of water while she gathered more thoughts for her
revision letter, but her own life kept intruding.

Was Kendra worse than Dreya’s one-note, shrewish
heroine?

Dominic was far from perfect with his massive ego,
sometimes-controlling proclivities, and double-wide competitive streak, but he
was a decent guy with a good heart. A guy who loved his family, job, books,
eighties pop culture, cornball jokes, Technicolor shirts, sweaters, socks…
and her
.
 
A diehard romantic, Dominic had put his
feelings out there from the start. What had she done? Tried to smother their
sparks with a blanket of suspicion and resistance. Should she try to get him
back?
 

Kendra prayed for answers to that question and
listened with her heart. While she believed in a higher power, she’d never been
as churchified as the Millers. Thinking that might be part of her problem,
she’d started accompanying her aunt to services again two weeks ago. In
addition to gaining a deeper understanding of the Word, it calmed her restless
spirit and gave her somewhere different to go on Wednesday evenings and Sunday
mornings, besides the Starbucks around the corner, where she used to escape
with a bundle of submissions.
 
The
pastor’s messages had resonated with her.

 
Kendra hadn’t picked up her needles and yarn in weeks. Maybe she should
start knitting again. Her aunt’s advice came to mind:

It’s not a
race. You’ve got to be more patient, honey. And it’s not about the quantity of
stitches, but the quality of the stitches. I know it’s tedious, but you’ve got
to be willing to frog it.

Frog
.
 
As
in rip it, rip it, rip it, rip it. Apart. Stitch by stitch. Row after row after
row after row.

Unravel.
Unravel. Unravel.

Don’t give
up.

It’s okay to
try again until you get it right.

Phone Dominic?
 
It appeared as if he’d wisely moved on
with stunning Pixie Chick in the ER. He looked content. Was it even fair to go
to him now?
 
She wasn’t one who
suddenly found a man more desirable because he was taken, but what if she only
felt this deeper yearning for him simply because the pressure was off?
 
Would a hasty reunion—if he’d have
her—merely awaken feelings of entrapment sure to lead to yet another
flight response?

Maybe she would phone Vanessa, whom she hadn’t
heard from in weeks. For real talk for once.
 

Or should Kendra leave them be?

Instead, she returned to her chair in the living
room and reached for the bamboo needles and a ball of an acrylic-wool blend.
She would start a simple potholder. Garter stitch, nothing more.

By the time afternoon turned to night she’d
produced three potholders. No-frills, level-one difficulty potholders.

The first one didn’t look pitiful, but the next
one wasn’t bad at all, and the one after that looked even better.
Stick to the basics. Take your time.

This more thoughtful approach showed in the work,
which grew progressively neater and uniform.

No more holes from dropped stitches.

No more curling edges, splitting yarn, rippling
cast-ons.

Kendra had only begun learning to knit because she
felt left out watching Brittany, Selena, and Alyssa enjoying something with
Aunt Jackie.
 
It had become a true
passion, a type of meditation, even more therapeutic now that she wasn’t
zipping through projects and anxiously thinking of ways to outshine her
friends, who’d been exceedingly patient in the face of her more exasperating
antics.

She put the knitting away and reached for a
notebook with “homework assignments” from one of her many self-help books.
She’d recently started the diary with exercises for more intense reflection.
The goal, chip away at her darkest recurring thoughts and self-defeating
habits. This was something she had not tried before. For insight, she’d work
her way down a long list of her relationships, her failures, and fears. She
wasn’t completely opposed to seeking professional help with this list if
needed, but she wanted to give this approach a try first.

Kendra’s phone chirped with a message from
Vanessa, who wanted to text dish about the “amazing” luncheon she’d had with
her Colorado-based blog followers. According to her, Ashton was giving her a
foot massage with Dead Sea mud.
Isn’t he
a doll? I have the best honey bear in the world!

Before Aunt Jackie’s disclosure about Vanessa,
Kendra would’ve been highly irritated by that text. So much so she would’ve put
off responding for at least a week, if she responded at all. Instead she hit
reply and typed:
Glad things went so well
for you and your Just Vanessa followers. I hear it’s beautiful in Aspen this
time of year. Tell Ashton I said hello. Not sure if I told you, but I really
like him.

Kendra spent the next twenty minutes responding to
Vanessa’s texts and multiple photos. After putting her phone away, she opened
the diary and didn’t stop writing until she filled fifteen pages. That purging
felt cathartic now that she viewed Vanessa’s most maddening habits through a
different filter.

Despite what she’d initially said to her aunt,
she’d been rethinking everything she thought she knew about Vanessa.
 
When she actually spoke to her again,
what would she say?
 
I know your story. Your full story. I
understand.

Would Vanessa interact with Kendra any differently
after that? If not, could Kendra accept it?
 
No way was it that simple. But the fact
that Kendra
wanted
to initiate
contact,
wanted
to talk, was
progress. And she hadn’t felt the urge to surf Vanessa’s blog and social media
accounts several times a day since she’d revealed that embarrassing secret to
her aunt.

Before turning in for the night, Kendra called
Aunt Jackie who sounded giddy with promise after her first date with Russell,
the mailman. The pair had taken in the latest Lucas Cameron action flick and
dinner at Outback. She went on to tell Kendra all about the mohair cardigan
she’d knitted and paired with the “sexy” new dress she’d purchased from Chico’s
especially for her date.

Aunt Jackie had lost her husband, the love of her
life, but had gradually moved through the stages of grief at her own pace. The
road from deep sorrow to healing had hairpin turns, detours, and loops along
the way.
 
But tonight was further
confirmation that Aunt Jackie was well on her way, which gave Kendra hope for
confronting her own obstacles. A lightness she hadn’t felt in a long while
swept through her. For how long? Only time would tell. A few days of naval
gazing, a couple of heart-to-hearts, and a round of connect-the-dots
revelations were hardly cure-alls. It had been a while since she’d gone longer
than a few months without a man or a plan to hook up with one as if it were a
science project. This unfamiliar course empowered her.
 
No boyfriends. No fiancés. No
elaborate hunts. During this break she would close that Cupid4You.com account.
She vowed to do the work. Hard work. She would dig deeper this time.