"She was offering advice. I wasn't asking for it." I glance down at my phone and the incoming, unfamiliar number. "This might be a new client. I should take it."
"Take it." She looks over at the reception desk. "I'll get that prescription ready and pack up the food. Once you're done your call, find me and you can take this little guy home."
I nod, stepping to a quiet corner of the waiting room. I clear my throat, calm myself and answer the way I always do. "Brynn Janie Interiors."
"Brynn Bishop. It's been years. "His voice is pitched low, rough, and as sexy as I remember. My face flushes and my insides knot in ways I've never felt before.
"Who is this?" I ask, even though I know exactly who it is. Every cell in my body can sense the energy that's coming from him. It's palpable. Smith Booth's voice hasn't changed. Its effect on me hasn't either.
He huffs out a surprised laugh. "You know exactly who it is."
Charming egotistical asshole is still a part of his repertoire. Bitchy brat is still a part of mine when need be.
"Matthew? I've been thinking about you," I purr.
It's not a lie. I have been thinking about Matthew. He's a friend and a recent client. I redesigned his home office in rich dark tones and imported woods. He paid me my going rate and let me drag a professional photographer to his apartment so I could add the before and after images to my online portfolio. The sexual tension between us ranks below zero, but Smith doesn't need to know that.
"No. It's not Mathew," he replies flatly.
I take a deep breath. I'm tempted to end the call, but knocking Smith's ego down a notch or two is worth the anxiety I'm feeling talking to him. I pull the name of my dentist from out of the ether. The only thing about me that Dr. Tony Adami is interested in is my slight overbite.
"Tony, it's you, isn't it? Do you want to meet for drinks? I'm available now."
"It's not even noon, Brynn." His words come out as a warning.
I jump in before he can say anything else. "We can skip the drinks and go straight to your place."
"Jesus." The sexy rasp in his tone sends shivers down my spine. "How the fuck is this conversation happening? I'm not Tony."
I smile. Toying with Smith is fun, but I have a full day of work and taking care of Pike ahead of me. "My bad. Whoever you are, it's been a slice, but I need to run."
"You know who I am." The sound of a blaring horn punctuates the words. New York traffic is a familiar third voice in many conversations in this city. "Drop the act, Petal."
Petal.
He's the only person on the planet who has ever called me that. It started more than a decade ago when he caught me plucking the petals off a bouquet of daisies my middle school boyfriend had brought me. It wasn't a game of he loves me; he loves me not. I was in shock that day, knowing that Rhett Marin, the boy who had hand delivered the flowers, had kissed my best friend the day before. I knew he didn't love me. I doubt he even liked me very much. The flowers were a token gesture meant to patch my broken heart.
He'd used me to make my friend jealous and when she ignored him after that kiss, he turned back to me as his consolation prize.
Smith walked into our sun filled apartment on a bright Tuesday afternoon in early summer looking for Julian. Instead, he found me sitting next to our ornate dining room table with dozens of daisy petals at my feet.
He called me Petal and Rhett became a distant memory, replaced with an instant infatuation with my brother's best friend.
"Smith Booth," I whisper his full name. "What do you want?"
"You're not even going to ask how I am?"
I don't care how he is. I care what he did. A phone conversation isn't going to erase his past deeds. He can't undo the damage.
"I'm busy, Smith. I can't talk right now."
"I saw you at the gym." The thud of a car door slamming in the background draws my eyes to the street outside the vet clinic. He's likely miles from here. Manhattan may be an island, but there's always a way to avoid someone you don't want to see. Some people don't believe it's possible, but I know firsthand, that it is. I've been doing it with Smith since he got back to New York City. I was successful until yesterday when he walked into my gym.
"I didn't notice you," I lie.
"Bullshit." He sighs. "You saw me. Why didn't you say hello?"
Because I hate you. Except I don't.
