Chapter 3 #2
“It’s not my job to flatter you. That’s why I left politics.
” I’d forgotten. The summer I met Caroline, she was a poli-sci major.
I idly wondered how she went from a career in politics to personal stylist. “It’s my job to give you the unvarnished truth.
Which is—that your personal style should broadcast who you are, not who you don’t want to be.
And it definitely shouldn’t be a middle finger to your pretentious family.
” I swallowed. I had the uncomfortable sensation of being completely seen.
“Your father told me your business has been growing.” She continued striding toward the kitchen.
I followed, energized with a little burst of pride.
My dad had always made it clear that he didn’t approve of my work.
He generally referred to what I did as criminal.
I thought he had no interest in my growing business.
“He says you’re doing so well that you have a waiting list. But he thinks with my help, you could do even more. ”
“That’s a hard no.”
She gave me an implacable smile. “We’ll talk over dinner.” She moved toward the sliding glass door leading to the patio.
I jumped in front of her to stop her from going outside.
“I’m not going to change my mind, Caroline. I do not want you to My-Fair-Lady me.”
She stepped back, her eyes blazing, but not with anger. She was revved up, excited for the challenge, eager for the fight.
“The T-shirt is perfect. But your jeans...” She motioned her finger to suggest I turn around, and for some reason, perhaps her sheer bossiness, I complied.
“Not bad. But we can do better.”
“I don’t need my customers checking out my butt.”
“Then don’t wear those jeans. They’re too tight.”
“They’re my favorite jeans,” I whined.
“I’ll find you new favorites.”
“I will not wear circus pants.”
“We can find jeans that are not so dated and still comfortable.” She reached up and fiddled with the ends of my chin-length hair.
“I can’t wait to trim this shaggy mop and that...” She placed a hand on my beard; I felt it everywhere.
“You once told me you rather liked my beard,” I whispered.
She dropped her hand and edged back. Her eyes wide.
She knew exactly what I was referring to: her breathy comments about my beard as she kissed me six years ago.
She learned the next day that Greg hadn’t grown a beard.
But he did soon after. “In fact, you liked my beard so much, you begged Greg to grow one.”
“That was NOT why I asked him...” She put her hand over her mouth, realizing what she said. “Wyatt! How dare you?”
“How dare I what?”
“You know exactly what you did. You badgered me into admitting something I’d rather not.”
“I made an observation. That hardly counts as badgering.” Through the glass door, we could see my dad at the barbecue.
She lowered her voice to a low hiss. “If that had been your only comment, I’d let it pass.
I let the first one go. But if we’re going to work together, you can never, ever mention or refer to or even think about the kiss. Got it?”
“Fine by me. I don’t plan to work with you.”
“Wyatt!” She looked at me with half-angry, half-pleading eyes.
“Fine, I won’t mention the time I blew your mind with my half-drunk kiss.”
“Promise?”
“Caroline... you’re making too big of a deal about this—that kiss was nothing... a mistake.”
“Obviously,” she said, glancing again at my dad, who smiled as he put the steaks on the platter. A part of me was hoping she’d disagree. That she’d tell me that kiss shook her world as much as it upended mine. “But I can’t work with you if you’re always bringing it up. It’s not professional.”
“You’re in luck, because I have no interest in hiring you. Unlike you, I don’t care what people think of me.”
“Liar!” She placed her hands on her hips.
“I might be a try-hard, but at least I’m honest. See these pearls.
” She pointed to the pearl studs she wore all the time.
“And these shoes.” I glanced down at her tasteful off-white heels.
“They tell everyone that I want to make a good impression because I value you and your opinions. Note, I didn’t wear stilettos because I knew there was a good chance I’d be walking on a lawn.
These blocky heels tell you that I’m practical and plan ahead.
Meanwhile, with that...” She waved to my outfit.
“You’re telling the world: I don’t care about you or myself enough to make an effort.
And more than anything, I don’t want to look like I’m trying. ”
Caroline’s words hit. She was not wrong.
The Scott family was a bunch of try-hards.
And I put a lot of effort into not appearing like the rest of my mom’s family, particularly Greg.
That’s why I grew a beard in the first place—and when he grew one, I shaved mine.
“But you do care, don’t you, Wyatt? You care as much as I do, probably more.
” I didn’t know how I felt about Caroline Bingham getting me so well.
“Whoa!” I said. “Since when did you become the expert on me?”
“Seems only fair after you became the expert on my relationship.”
“Hey, I’m sorry...” She put up her hand to stop me.
“You don’t get to apologize. I prefer you pay penance by going along with this scheme your dad has concocted.” With that, she reached around me and opened the glass door. Her practical and pretty heels clacking as she crossed the patio.