Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Getting to know new people can enrich your soul and your life!
From the self-help book for self-pitiers by psychologist Rachel James
Not for the people who meet you! - Connor
I’ll be honest, Rachel: It doesn’t go over well that you left town.”
She sighed and looked at the Galette's neon sign, which was almost certainly flashing: Your lawyer is right! in Morse code. She turned her back on the sign and stared instead at a row of trash cans to her right.
“I’m sorry, but what could I have done? I have to work, and if I can’t practice as a couples' therapist, at least I can apply my knowledge here! I’ve been postponing my move for almost half a year because of those stupid mediation attempts.
That back and forth exhausted me, and I… I couldn’t take it anymore!”
A sigh was the answer. “I know. You’ll have to fly back a few more times, especially if it actually goes to court — which I hope it doesn't. But right now, it looks like he’s not going to let up.”
Rachel lowered her gaze. She’d expected that. It had gotten…personal. Quickly. That should never have happened between her and one of her clients. But she hadn’t been able to keep quiet!
You weren’t doing your job. You lost your professional distance!
Yes. That was exactly what she hadn’t mastered: creating new distance. As was evident from her stupid bet with Connor. Around him, at least, she behaved about as professionally as a medicine ball on a tennis court.
“Obviously, I’ll be there when the trial starts,” she stated. “I’m not going to miss the chance to testify in court, under oath, about what a jerk he is. That’s out of the question.”
“Okay. Then try to relax a bit, I’ll be in touch with any news. See you then, Rachel.”
“See you then,” she replied wearily and hung up.
Shit. And she’d thought her father’s two missed calls were pressuring on her. But no.
She loved her job as a couples' therapist. She loved the notes from couples who were happily together again. She loved the emails from couples who had resolved to separate, and thanks to her help, had ended amicably or at least without mudslinging. She helped people. And yes, she also enjoyed matching people with Maddie. Her sister had good intuition about who was compatible without Rachel's help, though — and she couldn’t really afford Rachel’s salary anyway.
She had wanted to do both: open a new practice and help Maddie out, but now…
“What kind of trial?”
She jumped violently and whirled around. Oh God, not again. “Tell me, is this your hobby now?” she asked, annoyed, and tossed the phone back in her purse. “Eavesdropping?”
Connor shrugged and narrowed his eyes. “Not yet, but I’m always open to new things. So, what kind of trial?”
“None of your business.”
“What are you testifying about in court?”
“That you’re an asshole. Sorry, but I have to tell the truth under oath,” she replied calmly.
Besides, she hated that the guy was wearing another one of those white shirts that clung to his muscular shoulders as if they were the love of its life.
As if the shirt suffered from acute separation anxiety.
He was wearing black jeans that should have looked casual, but there were the muscles and that charisma. ..
“You’re staring at me,” he stated.
Shit. “Yeah, because I’ve never seen an ogre up close before,” she mused aloud, and the bastard smiled. Broadly. So much so that little wrinkles fanned out around his eyes, making him look almost amicable for a second.
“We learned from Shrek: Even an ogre can find a woman who loves him. So I’m confident.”
Rachel sighed. “Your first date was completely inappropriate, so your method is questionable.”
“Ah, my method?” He grinned. “I’m so excited about the guy you’re meeting today!”
The back of her neck prickled. She didn’t like that at all.
“But to answer your question,” he continued, “it’s statistically likely that I’ll find someone who wants to marry me, or at least be with me forever.”
She sighed dramatically. “Oh, everyone knows that math is what makes love truly romantic.”
“Says the woman who works at a dating agency that uses a probability algorithm.”
Shit. He was right. “Fine, I’ll bite. Why is it probable?”
“Because I’m in my mid-thirties, and I date women my age. Or at least women no younger than twenty-eight. When it comes to staying together, it’s not about who, it’s about when. Or why do you think everyone in their late twenties or early thirties suddenly finds true love?”
With pursed lips, she shook her head. “You’re initial C for cynical, aren’t you? There is so much wrong with that sentence. I’d gladly take a red pen to it.”
Connor shrugged. “Believe me: There is no such thing as the right person. There’s only the right time. And since I’ve decided that’s now…” His smile widened even further before he nodded toward the restaurant.
God, the confidence. Rolling her eyes, she followed and looked up in surprise when he held the door open for her and let her enter first. A hot man with manners.
Romance novels were made of that. Maybe it was a good thing they were meeting their dates at the same restaurant, so she could be certain his wasn’t a success.
After all, she had another ace up her sleeve.
Connor entered behind her, and the heat radiating from his body made her bare back tingle.
But surely that was because the restaurant was air-conditioned.
That was why she shivered when Connor let the door close behind them and brushed his knuckles, feather-light, down her spine to encourage her to step further into Galette.
She wore a backless yellow dress that reminded her of the sun and always made her feel good. But it was also a little cold inside.
Though she wasn’t feeling cold at that moment. More like hot.
“Rachel, move,” he said sharply, his raspy voice scurrying down her spine like searching fingertips.
She groaned inwardly. Her body couldn’t be serious.
Comfortable, familiar calm – that was what she was looking for in a man, not a tingling restlessness that put her on alert, resulting in adrenaline, confused endorphins, and nervousness.
God, tonight’s date had to go well! She needed a damn orgasm.
She hurried to the host and gave her name. She shouldn’t have been surprised that he led her and Connor to two tables next to each other, but she was.
“You’re not serious.”
Connor grinned, unfazed. “It’s cozy. Almost a double date.”
She sighed and scanned the QR code on the table with her phone, which gave her access to the restaurant’s menu. Their dates wouldn’t arrive for another five minutes, and she’d rather study the food and drinks in detail than continue talking to Connor.
The Galette was a French restaurant that focused on savory crepes and colorful cocktails, but they only used premium ingredients, which resulted in rather steep prices.
Rachel hoped her date would pay. She was all for equal rights, but she was also all for money in her bank account — and there wasn’t much left.
Connor sat on the chair almost across from her, apparently giving his date the more comfortable spot on the cushioned bench. She didn’t like the idea that he was doing it on purpose, simply out of politeness, but she wasn’t paying attention to him anyway, so it didn’t matter.
The waiter came over to take their drink orders. Connor ordered whiskey without ice, and she…
“I’d like a Gin Buck.”
The waiter blinked, confused. “A what?”
“A Gin Buck. It’s a cocktail.”
“Um, okay, but…” He frowned. “It’s not on the menu.”
She smiled pleasantly. “I know. But I’ve been craving a Gin Buck all day.
It’s my drink. You have gin on the menu.
You have ginger ale on the menu. And I bet you have lemon juice too.
That’s all a Gin Buck needs. I’ll take it with Hendrick’s though, not Bombay.
I know Bombay is cheaper, but you can either raise the price of the cocktail or rest assured that I’ll leave you the best Google review of your career.
For your kindness, your flexibility, and your fantastic cocktails — not to mention the extremely good-looking staff! ”
The waiter turned pink, but ultimately nodded and headed back toward the kitchen.
“Wow,” Connor murmured, “you ordered something that wasn’t on the menu.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I know what I want,” she stated. “In men, that trait is attractive, but when women do it, everyone wrinkles their noses.”
He frowned. “Did I wrinkle my nose?”
Well…no. He looked more impressed, but that confused her, so she quickly looked away.
Why should you justify being strong? His words echoed in her mind, constricting her throat.
Yes, why? Why did women do that automatically?
Apologize for being complicated even when a man didn’t bat an eyelid for doing the same thing?
She’d spent her life trying to live up to other people’s expectations.
Maybe that was why it was so easy for her not to be nice and thoughtful around Connor, like everyone expected of her.
He had absolutely no expectations of her. God, the man confused her!
“Can I ask you something?” he asked without waiting for her answer, confusing her further. “Why did Matt call you Perfect Rachel during the quiz the other day?”
She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and gave him a quick sideways glance. “Because…that was my nickname.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Who hated you so much as to give you such a horrible nickname?”
She blinked at him in surprise. “Horrible?”
“Yes. Horrible and inaccurate. What teenager wants to strive constantly for perfection? Are you seriously saying you never received detention for starting fights with your classmates?”
She laughed reluctantly. “What? No! I was…an angel. I was a leader and at the top of my class. My middle name is responsible.”
Now Connor laughed. “Bullshit.”
“Yes!”