Cold Hearted Bachelor

“I can’t do this.”

She replies instantly.

“You can. He’s just a man. Are you wearing the dress?”

“Yes. But now I feel like maybe it’s too much?”

As part of my being over Vaughn, and maybe a little to show him what he missed out on, Gwen convinced me to wear a dress almost identical to the one from so many years ago. Her reasoning being, that I’m so unaffected by his rejection, I can flaunt it. If he even remembers. It’s all so ludicrous, I realize.

“Is anything too much for the guy who broke your heart?” she types back.

There’s no time to answer that, because the doorbell rings, and in a heart thumping daze, I slip the phone into my handbag and watch as Spencer welcomes in Vaughn. Wearing jeans and a black button down, he’s lean and manly, with no bulk. So far, so good. I didn’t swoon and land in a heap at the sight of his ridiculously sexy six-feet-two inches topped with tousled dark hair.

Blue eyes meet mine. His lopsided grin starts on the left, and slowly spreads to the right side as he takes me in, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

“Hey, Pea,” he says in a low tone. “Long time.”

“Hello,” is all I can muster as my mom bypasses me to bring him in for a hug.

Thankfully, my awkward lack of response is countered with the enthusiasm of the rest of my family.

Mom ushers everyone into the dining room, and to my dismay, Vaughn takes the seat next to me, across from Spencer.

He leans in, setting off alarm bells with his clean scent that I craved my entire teenage years. “Someone grew up.”

I fold my napkin in my lap and resist the urge to scoot my chair away from him. “That’s usually what happens over time.”

His gaze combs over my blonde hair, making my scalp tingle. But I’m unaffected, for the most part. My right pinky toe is definitely unaffected. Good job.

“Paisley bought a house,” Spencer says, as we all start digging in.

“A homeowner, huh?” Vaughn’s fingertips brush mine when I take the gravy bowl from his hand.

“Yes, I just closed and got the key.”

“Congratulations.”

My father chuckles from the head of the table. “Don’t congratulate her yet. It needs some major work. But Spencer is going to help her.”

“Actually,” Spencer says, “I was thinking Vaughn might be interested in helping out.”

Vaughn straightens in his chair. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Ok.”

I can tell Vaughn has no interest in helping me out. So I put him out of his misery. “No, seriously. It’s ok.” I don’t need his pity help.

Vaughn faces me, and our eyes connect. “Of course, I’ll help.” He nudges me with his elbow. “You’re practically like a little sister to me.”

Ugh.

“If you’re free, maybe you can swing by there after dinner,” my father suggests. “Check the place out.”

“Sure, Brian,” Vaughn says. “I don’t have any plans.”

“Listen, you don’t need to stop by tonight.” I like how no one even bothers to ask if I have plans. Maybe I have a date. It’s just assumed I’ve got nothing going on. Which is true, but still.

“I’d love to see the place,” Vaughn says to me, and then turns his attention to Spencer. “You coming, Spencer?”

“Can’t,” he says between chews of his roast beef. “I’ve got an early morning meeting with a potential client.”

Vaughn shifts in his seat, like the news Spencer gave him was not the answer he’d expected.

Obviously, he doesn’t want to go. And now that it will be just me and him, I don’t want to go either. “Seriously, you don’t have to go tonight.”

My father dismisses my words, “Hogwash. It’ll give him an idea of what they have to work with so they can make a plan.”

“I agree,” Spencer says. “Is that cool, V?”

Vaughn nods. “Like I said, I’ve got my whole night open.”

“Well, so do I.” I grab the napkin from my lap and mutter, “Not that anyone cares to ask me.” I’m not mad, but I sometimes feel like my family bulldozes past me to make decisions that are in my best interest. Of course, I’m grateful for everyone’s help, but this is not in my best interest to be alone with Vaughn.

“Sorry, Pea. Are you busy tonight?” His warm hand lands on my thigh. “Can I come and take a look at your new place?”

Like a teenager, I blush and proceed to ruin whatever notion I have of maintaining the facade I’m unaffected by him, “Sure, it’s a date.”

And now, I can add one more thing to the list of things I dislike more than this dinner—myself.

Two

Vaughn

* * *

I’m not a believer in coincidence. The dress Paisley’s wearing is almost an exact replica of the one she had on the night she asked me to kiss her. Clearly it’s not the same one, but it’s close enough to take me straight back to that night.