The Rebound Girl (Getting Physical) (24 page)

She dumped a stack of plates in the bag. Kendra and John were also supposed to be cleaning up, but they had conveniently disappeared into the night, leaving her alone in a stale, sweat-scented barn with the last man on earth she wanted to see on her birthday.

She wanted Matt. She wanted him in ways she didn’t know existed.

That
kiss
—that kiss had changed everything. That kiss was what women dreamed of and fought for and carried with them to the grave. That kiss brought life to parts of her untouched by the most inventive sexual positions. That kiss made her believe, for the first time in what felt like forever, that love might be worth the risk.

“You have until I finish clearing off this table,” she offered, feeling suddenly generous. If Jared brought out the worst in her, Matt brought out the best. “Go.”

“Who was that guy you were dancing with earlier?”

She twisted her head to peer at Jared. As always, his grim smile was difficult to read. “Really? This is your big grovel moment and you’re wasting it talking about my boyfriend?”

Boyfriend
. The word just slipped out, hovering in the air like a cloud—and now that it was there, she kind of liked it. Matt Fuller, her boyfriend. The local kindergarten teacher, her boyfriend. Her boyfriend, who kissed like a god and worshiped like a mortal.

“I think he’s relevant, don’t you?”

“I think he’s incredible, and I also think he’s none of your business.” She moved faster, sweeping up piles of napkins with her whole arm. Matt’s benevolent influence over her only went so far.

Jared squatted to retrieve a few fallen beer bottles. “But he’s proof that you win. Isn’t that what you want to hear? You win.”

“I win?” Red-hot anger filled her, twisting her insides and making her ill. Earlier in the evening, Matt had rescued her from having to confront this man, saving her from herself before she even knew she needed it. But he wasn’t here now, and she was on her own. “What the hell does that mean? A nice, handsome guy happens to like me for me. So, what? Is that so out of the ordinary? Is that such a stretch of the imagination I need a trophy to commemorate it?”

“Dammit!” Jared smacked an empty beer bottle on the table with a loud crash. “Can’t you see? You have
everything
. Our friends. Our private practice. My career. Family. Security. Love. All those things we set out to build together—it’s all yours. And there’s not a single scrap left over for me.”

“And whose fault is that?” Her heart swelled against the cage of her ribs, her body not nearly big enough to contain her emotions. “You could have had all of it. That whole life you’re imagining I stole from you was yours for the taking. Remember? But you didn’t want it—at least not as much as you wanted to feel a shiny new vagina wrapped around your dick.”

There was no mistaking the expression on his face this time. Fury twisted the saturnine features, and his hands balled into fists at his sides. Jared wasn’t a violent man—at least, he hadn’t been back when she’d known him—but she could see that he was reaching the edge of his endurance.

Sighing, she added, “I’m sorry you feel left out of our plans. With all your fancy world travel and media popularity, how were we supposed to know you even cared about this kind of thing anymore?”

“You could have asked. After you ran away from Guatemala—away from
me
—you could have answered one letter, taken one call. You could have let me know you were okay.”

Shock robbed her of breath and of the ability to come up with an appropriate reply. How could she tell this man that despite what he saw on the outside, she wasn’t okay? Family and a medical degree and friends were great recovery tools, but they weren’t a promise that she wouldn’t get hurt again. They weren’t a guarantee she’d be able to give Matt the love he so clearly deserved.

That was what Jared had really taken away from her in Guatemala.

“I’m okay,” she said flatly. “Sorry it took so long for me to get back to you.”

Predictably, her words only enraged Jared further. With a flourish, he cleaned up the last of the table, ending their conversation and leaving her feeling worse than ever before.

“Happy fucking birthday, Whitney,” he growled, and stormed loudly out the barn door.

Happy fucking birthday, indeed.

Chapter Nineteen

Matt came to see her parents off, brandishing a bag of freshly baked bagels for the road and promises to look them up on Facebook when he got home. It was a cute, boyfriend-like thing to do, and her mom practically salivated when he pecked her on the cheek and promised to look after Whitney.

Her heart swelled with admiration for a man so wholly committed to wooing her parents that he’d remember to feed them. Who was she kidding? She swelled for him, period. But he had yet to look her squarely in the eye.

Something was wrong.

They stood side by side as her parents rounded the corner, waving, cheerful on all fronts. The moment the license plate was out of their line of vision, Matt jumped away and shoved his hands deep in his pockets. “Well, that’s done. We don’t have to pretend anymore.”

“Oh, poor thing, did your halo get a little tarnished these past few weeks?” Whitney strove to lighten the mood. Where was her cheerful Matt? Where was the man who made her feel better no matter what kind of gloom and doom lurked ominously near?

He squinted as he turned to face her, the morning sun casting a glow that was rather heavenly on his face, making him appear much younger than his already younger-than-her years. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do this.”

Her heart stopped. “Then don’t do it,” she replied, her words coming fast and automatic.

Illusions weren’t something Whitney harbored willingly, and she recognized his tone for what it was—the end of a relationship that had been stamped with an expiration date since day one. She’d pushed too hard to keep him away. He was finally tired of pushing back.

The thought of losing Matt just when she was beginning to see how wrong she’d been, scratched at Whitney’s throat, aching and raw. She wasn’t ready to pull the plug. Not now. Not yet. Something hot and sharp prickled in her sinuses.

“I mean it, Matt. Don’t say something you’ll regret—don’t give life to words you’re unsure of. Once you put them out there, you can’t take them back again.”

“I know that.” His face screwed up as if in pain. “Don’t you think I know that?”

Yes. She also knew he was much too noble to continue having sex with her once he made up his mind to move on. Dammit, he wasn’t ready—not when Laura still had her claws underneath his skin. Not when Whitney wasn’t sure she could exist in a world without him.

“Why don’t we go inside?” she said. Inside, where it was safe and she could lock the doors and make him listen.

Is this what it was like for Jared? Screaming with a thousand things to say, scared to death it was too late to say them?

Matt nodded once and followed her into her condo, his head ducked in a gesture of surrender. Unsure what else to do, she poured them both a glass of iced tea with actual mint floating in it. Maybe she could disarm him with domesticity.

It didn’t take. He ran his finger along the outer edge of the glass where condensation beaded, not drinking, not talking, not looking at her.

He was miserable. Galahad to the very end, unable to say the words that would rip her heart, still beating, from her chest. Well, she could at least give him this.

“Should I make this easy on you?” she asked softly, the words bitter on her tongue. “Hey, Whitney. It’s been fun while it lasted, but I think maybe it’s time you and I went our separate ways. I hereby declare myself successfully rebounded, and shall go on to enrich the lives of understated, quiet women the world over.”

She expected him to be grateful, to at least give her a few points for laying it out there, but when he looked up, the color had leached from his face and his eyes were stricken.

“It’s that guy from last night, isn’t it? The one you were dancing with?”

Whitney blinked, her eyes moist. “What are you talking about? What does Jared have to do with anything?”

Matt never knew how profoundly one word could affect a person. He’d long been a proponent of the sticks-and-stones motto, a staple when your primary demographic required rhymes and singsongs to understand complex social problems.

But that word, that name, worked more powerfully on him than a hundred sticks, a thousand stones.

“That was Jared? The one you used to date? The one who...”

“Acted like a certified asshole and cheated on me?” Whitney’s laugh was rough and shaky, and she brushed quickly at her eyes. “The one and only. He crashed my birthday party.”

Matt’s head spun. “I don’t understand. I thought he lived halfway across the world.”

Whitney took a long sip from her iced tea, staring at the empty region a few feet above Matt’s head. “He did.”

“Did?”
Past
tense
.

“Did, does—I don’t know.” Whitney sighed. “He says he’s here to help with the spa. Kendra and John want to make him our fourth partner.”

“Oh.” There didn’t seem much more to say. The love of Whitney’s life—the one man who’d had the power to touch her heart, who’d wasted the incredible opportunity afforded by her love—was here in Pleasant Park. A doctor. Rich. Powerful. By all accounts, a saint among men.

Matt had never felt so sick in his life, but more than the overwhelming urge to run and hide from this conversation, he wanted to hit something. A sweltering surge of anger encroached just on the edges of his vision, making it difficult to distinguish dark from light.

“Is that why you were arguing with him last night? Is he moving here?”

“What is this really about?” Whitney dropped her glass and stepped forward, warily, almost as if approaching a dangerous animal.
She
is
. Matt had never before teetered so close to the abyss. “Matt, what was it you wanted to say to me? What was it you promised you wouldn’t do?”

“I wasn’t going to ask about him.”
I
wasn’t
going
to
care
.

“Is that all?” She let out a shaky laugh. “I thought—”

But what she thought remained a mystery, because she shook herself and stopped in the middle of her forward movement. “Oh, my God. You know what this means, don’t you? You’re jealous. You’re jealous of my ex-boyfriend.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Matt firmed his stance. He’d never been jealous of anyone in his life. He felt the occasional pang of regret when friends got married, sometimes wished he’d made more attempts to further his career. And it was impossible not to regret Laura’s infidelity. But jealousy? No way. This felt mostly like he’d been plucked from the earth and tossed too near the sun, like he was still falling.

“Is it?” A small smile, tentative and unsure, crossed her face. “My ex-boyfriend slithers into town and you’re suddenly a new man, all territorial and angry. What would you call it?”

“You still have feelings for him,” he said, changing the subject.

“That is the one thing I can safely say I do not have.”

“I was watching you last night. You might not be aware of it, but there were feelings.”

Whitney stood up straighter and jabbed a finger his direction. Whatever lethargy she’d been feeling before was suddenly yanked out of the room, replaced by the brimstone and brilliance of the woman he loved. “Don’t you dare transfer your dysfunctional relationship over to me. You’re the one who hangs around your ex-wife’s house, buying her aspirin and refusing to sever the ties. Not me. I’m happy to report that what I feel for Jared is bitter and cold.”

Matt waited for her to continue.

“Don’t look at me like that. You should trade that skepticism for a pen and paper to take notes. When Jared cheated on me, I would have given anything to be able to leave him in my dust, but I couldn’t. I had to watch, wait, fester—exactly what you’ve been doing for the past year.”

A surge of emotion filled Matt’s chest, constricting his breathing with how forcefully it hit. Since when was taking care of someone in need considered
festering
? “So what does it mean inviting him to become your business partner twelve years later? Is there an expiration date on this sort of thing? Am I only allowed to help Laura a dozen years from now?”

Whitney frowned. “I didn’t invite him. He just showed up.”

“I don’t see the difference.”

Neither did Whitney. If anyone had asked her, the last thing she wanted out of this life was to ever look at Jared’s smug, conceited face again. She’d seen that face every day of medical school and residency, in all her peers begging her for a good word to try and get close to the great Dr. Fine and his feats of benevolence.
Fuck
benevolence
, she’d told them.
Build
a
nice
private
practice
and
buy
a
sports
car
instead
.

Yet here Jared was—and seemingly to stay. Maybe it was Matt’s sudden burst of jealousy, the reversal of roles that placed her directly in her ex-lover’s path, but she felt suddenly magnanimous. Screw it. Jared could help them open the spa. He could help them open a thousand spas.

Just so long as she had Matt by her side.

“I think we should start dating,” she announced.

“Very funny.” Matt didn’t look like he found it very amusing. “Didn’t you just break up with me?”

“Not on purpose. I thought you were going to break up with me first—I was trying to save you the agony.” When he didn’t exhibit any of the joy one might hope for in just such a situation, she added, “I’m sorry?”

“I thought sex with no strings attached means never having to say you’re sorry.”

A soft chortle escaped her lips. He was teasing her—now, of all times. Ah, how far things had come since the day they’d first met. She lowered her voice and dropped her eyelids seductively. “Think about it—you, me, buying pottery together. Isn’t this what you’ve wanted since the beginning?”

Matt’s movements stilled and he took a full minute to examine her closely. She tried not to squirm or make a face, but it was hard. Here she was, laying her heart out on the line, and he was judging, watching, tapping into his uncanny ability to unsettle her without saying a word.

“Define what you mean by dating.”

She released a slow breath. “Since when have you become such a cynic?”

“I’m a realist. What’s the catch?”

“No catch. I think we should go public, make it official. We’ll hold hands in the park, eat romantic dinners for two, make out in the back of taxis on the way home. You’d like making out in the back of taxis, wouldn’t you?”

“What’s the catch?” he repeated, his tone surprisingly firm. “Why all this now? Is it because you’re really ready to take our relationship to the next level, or is it because you want to prove to your ex-boyfriend that you’ve moved on?”

Damn
him
. Damn Matt and his nobility. Damn Matt and his never-ending pursuit of all things good and honest.

“The timing isn’t great, I’ll admit,” Whitney said. And there was no way to be one hundred percent sure Jared’s involvement didn’t have a role in spurring her on. “But I mean this from the absolute bottom, softest part of my heart. I want you. All the time. Day and night. With every fiber of my being. Please let me be more than your rebound girl.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Answer my question first.”

Impatience took the place of tenderer emotions. “Nothing is black and white. Sometimes there are lovely shades of gray thrown in. I like the gray area. It’s where the good sex is.”

“Can you be serious for one second?” He gripped his hair with both hands, his glance pained. “If you really want to be my girlfriend, I need to know where it’s coming from. I need to know you aren’t going to turn around and change your mind in a few days.”

She reached for him, but he backed away as if her touch could burn.
It
could
.

“I’m not you, Whitney. I can’t turn that part of me on and off like it’s a switch.”

Matt wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe her so much it was a physical pain, lodged in his chest, rendering him unable to breathe.

No matter how long she kept looking at him like that, how many times she promised today’s conversation had nothing to do with Jared, he kept coming back to two realizations. The first was that Whitney was clearly willing to go to incredible lengths to avoid her ex. The second was that no woman took such careful pains to avoid a man unless she either hated him or loved him beyond her own strength.

Matt suspected the latter. And it was killing him.

“You’ve seen all my tricks.” Her voice grew soft, pleading. “I’ve shown you my whole playbook. The sex part is all I’m good at—it’s all I know. For the past few months, I’ve used that to help you, to get you to realize that life exists beyond your ex-wife and the rules you’re determined to live by. Now it’s my turn for help. Show me how the rest of this relationship stuff works. Teach me how to care for you without losing a part of my soul.”

“I can’t.”

Whitney turned away, tears forming in her oversized brown eyes. He reached up and wiped them away, cupping her face and forcing her to look at him.

“Such a thing doesn’t exist,” he explained softly, “because in order to do this the right way, we both have to put our souls on the line. The only thing I can safely promise you is that I will give everything I have to make sure it’s safe while in my keeping.”

“Oh, Matt.”

He didn’t let go yet. “If we do this, I want you to understand—we do it my way.”

“And by
this
, you mean...?”

“All of it. Everything. I want to rent bad movies and eat good takeout together. I want to cuddle after sex. I want to be able to tell you how I feel whenever I feel like it.”

Her mouth parted, lower lip trembling as he made his demands.

“I want to take my time exploring every inch of your body. And I want to kiss you like I mean it every time.”

So he did. Unable to keep himself apart from her for another second, he captured her mouth with his. Falling into her was so easy. Her breath was a whisper, her tongue a gift, her lips a promise. Matt held her close, his hands entwined in her hair, unable to pull away. He could remain holding her in his arms forever.