our table. My mom was probably trying to figure out if Tia was fertile, and my dad was probably wondering if I could sign her to propel my business “to new heights,” which was one of his favorite catchphrases. My dad also ran a lawn mowing business, but if you listened to him, he was the Wolf of Wallstreet when it came to business decisions.
Tia was dressed in athletic gear that highlighted her fit body. She was wearing a sports bra that showed off her cleavage and also left her entire, toned midriff bare. “Chelsea tells me you’re finally going to take me on that date I’ve been wanting. I was in the middle of a conditioning session, but for you, I’ll make it up later.”
I thought about the smug look on Chelsea’s face and her blind certainty that I’d turn Tia down. She thought she was setting me up for disaster, and she was proud as hell of herself for it.
I had to weigh my options. I could turn down Tia and risk a fragile new relationship with my best bet at a replacement for my brother if he went off the rails. Or… I could go on the damn date and enjoy every moment of watching Chelsea squirm.
It should’ve been an easy choice, but for some reason, the idea of potentially sleeping with Tia felt wrong. I kept imagining how Chelsea would feel, which was ridiculous.
I wasn’t obligated to protect her. The only legitimate reason to avoid the date would be the obvious conflict with my policy of keeping work and relationships as far apart as possible. The scars Trish left were still fresh enough in my mind to tell me exactly why I should respect that policy.
But this was just a date.
Tia was still waiting, patiently watching me for an answer. I leaned back in my chair and shrugged. “Sure. One date can’t hurt.”
There. Is that what you really wanted, Chelsea? Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like what I want.
14
Chelsea
One of the worst things about being a smart woman is having the full mental capacity to realize when you’ve been an idiot.
I’d watched Tia Klein flirt with Damon and felt an irrational jealous bite in the center of my soul. Again, it was one of those moments where I was smart enough to know I was being stupid. Or so I’d thought.
I assumed my little maneuver of claiming he’d offered to take her on a date would kill a few birds with a single stone. It’d prove to me that Damon didn’t exclusively hate me—he hated all beings with boobs and vaginas. It’d also prove to him that he should stop trying to screw with me, because I’d happily screw back.
I’d been walking nervous circles on the tennis court where I was giving a late-night lesson to a grouchy boy who didn’t want to be there. I stopped walking, scrunching up my face. No. There would be no screwing back. That was a poor choice of words and a mental image I definitely didn’t need right now.
The last problem with my genius little plan was that it was supposed to expel any doubts I had about Damon from my mind.
Even if he did take Tia out and treat her to some of that mind-blowing, pushed up against the wall, sweaty and ferocious sex he’d given me five years ago… Even if that happened, I wouldn’t care. And I wouldn’t care because I didn’t have feelings for him.
Like a well-planned out activity with a toddler, all I could do was watch as everything came down in flames around me.
“Are we done, or what?” Aiden asked from the other side of the court. He was ten years old, out of shape, and a video game enthusiast. His father only signed him up with lessons from me to try to sneak some exercise into his life.
I groaned. As much as I wanted to wallow and keep trying to imagine what Damon and Tia were probably doing right this very moment, I needed to take my job seriously. All of my jobs.
I still hadn’t earned my first paycheck from being Damon’s personal assistant, and as a single mom, I couldn’t afford to take chances with my financial future. That meant continuing to keep up as many of my side gigs as I possibly could. It was Thursday night, and I needed to survive until next Friday until I got paid. Eight days. Seven and some change, if I counted