“Yes. I’ll see you then.”
“Okay.” She threw up a wave and strutted off.
Antonio willed himself not to turn around but lost the battle within seconds and watched until she rounded the corner.
“Well, now. Looks like a reunion is in the air.”
“There’s not going to be a reunion. We’re happy with things the way they are.” Or so he kept telling himself.
“But you’d both be happier with more.”
He didn’t even want to think about the implications ofmore.
CHAPTER 7
It is only Tuesday,” Natasha mumbled as she leaned back in her office chair and closed her eyes. At this moment, she’d give anything for a long, hot candlelit bath with soft music playing. The one good thing was that she’d finished her friend’s interior design project. The purple and cream contemporary-styled bedroom had turned out better than she’d expected, and Daphne had promised to spread the word. In the meantime, Natasha hoped she’d be able to have a few more hours of rest this week.
Since she’d arrived three hours ago, she’d sent and responded to multiple emails, updated her website and social media pages with current listings, gone out to do a pre-offer home inspection and written up the offer, and met with an appraiser at another home. All before eleven o’clock. She planned to drop off the berries to her two clients who’d closed on new homes before she met with Antonio to take measurements of the things Chase wanted updated or replaced.
She sat there for a few more minutes and wondered which version of Antonio she’d see today. The last two times he’d reminded her of the sweet guy she’d fallen in love with all those years ago. Natasha had often imagined what her life would be like if she hadn’t made the decision to end their relationship. Or at least tried to talk to him about how she was feeling. But like most teenagers, she’d bought into theif-he’s-not-calling-you-he’s-calling-someone-elsenonsense her girlfriends kept whispering in her ear whenever she came home for a visit until the sound became a megaphone. It also didn’t help her insecurities that they kept saying how Antonio was going to make it big, while she’d be nothing more than a small-town girl who couldn’t compete with the classy women in his world. In the end she ruined a great relationship.
Natasha really couldn’t blame Antonio for his hostility, especially when she had never really explained the why. She knew they’d have to clear the air about it at some point, but she didn’t want to mess up the tenuous truce of sorts they had going on. Sitting up, she straightened her desk, made sure she had everything in her tote, and headed to the staff breakroom for the berries she’d put in the refrigerator. Serenity had also made Natasha a dozen for herself, and she couldn’t wait to dig in tonight when she got home, along with that bath. The dipped strawberries were her weakness, and it would take a herculean effort not to eat all twelve in one sitting.
“Hey, Brett.”
Brett turned from doctoring his coffee. “Hey, Tasha. On your way out?”
“Yep. As soon as I grab these strawberries.” She opened the fridge and reached for the two boxes. “You were here before me. When did you— Who the hell did this?” Someone had taken a strawberry from each box and bit into the rest. She slammed the door.
Frowning, he came over. “Oh, wow. That’s disgusting. You know, come to think of it, I saw Kathleen eating a chocolate-dipped strawberry about an hour ago. Or more like shoving it into her mouth when she saw me coming.”
“No doubt her trifling ass did this.” If she could get away with it without the police being called, Natasha would march down to the woman’s office and snatch her. She was so mad, her hands shook and her heart raced. Thinking she might need to start collecting evidence—it seemed Kathleen’s campaign against Natasha was ramping up—she dug her cell phone out and snapped a few photos. Afterward, she tossed the boxes in the trash and took a couple of deep breaths to calm her anger. It didn’t help.
“Good idea taking the pictures, but you really should let George know. She has a bad habit of taking what doesn’t belong to her, and he’s warned her before.”
Natasha massaged her temples. “It would be her word against mine, since I can’t prove she did it.”
Brett placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Like I said,Isaw her eating one. There’s no place around here that sells them, so she’d have to explain where she got it. Even more so if she’s smelling like champagne at eleven thirty in the morning. That’ll bring on a whole other set of trouble.” He angled his head thoughtfully. “Hmm, maybe this will be what we need to get her butt out of here.”
They shared a smile. “I’ll deal with it after I get back. Thanks, Brett.” She went back to the refrigerator to retrieve her lunch bag to replace the berries with hers. One more strike against Kathleen. Thankfully, she’d just stocked up on the boxes and ribbon yesterday. “See you later.”
After filling the boxes, she decided to take the remaining strawberries with her. They were in a cooler bag with a cold pack and the weather was cool, so she figured they’d be fine for a couple of hours.
She was still fuming when she made it to the Ward house, but she tried to put on a good face. Antonio drove up right behind her. “Hey. Good timing.”
Instead of responding, Antonio scrutinized her for a lengthy moment. “What’s wrong?”
“What are you talking about?” Obviously, she hadn’t done as good a job hiding her frustration as she’d thought.
He came and stood right in front of her and folded his arms. “You forget that I know you… better than most people. Time and our issues haven’t changed that. So, again, what’s going on? Talk to me, Tasha,” he added quietly.
Natasha didn’t want to admit how much his soft plea moved her. Despite everything, he was right. He did know her. Slumping against the car, she said, “I have a co-worker who’s tap-dancing on my last nerve.” She shared the past issues of Kathleen trying to one up her or conveniently moving things from designated areas so Natasha couldn’t find them. “But today she ate two of the chocolate-dipped strawberries I give to my clients when they close on a house and took bites out of the rest, then put them back in the refrigerator.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “Wait. What? And they sell chocolate-dipped strawberries here now?”
“No. Serenity made them for me. She loves to cook, and last year she was trying something new and soaked some strawberries in champagne and others in whiskey. I thought the champagne ones would be a great gift for my clients, so I pay her to make some for me.”
Antonio’s eyebrows knitted together. “Serenity? Your college roommate or a different person?”
