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Their dog, Puck Fitzgibbons, is here too. He and Donut are tussling over a couple stuffed armadillos in the spacious living room, their happy barks and playful growls telling me they’re getting along. Frances Furbottom is already lounging in the guest room.
Take that, Madison, and your stupid rhinestone collar.
But even though I have a place for the night and, thankfully, my pets, I still feel so stupid. It’s not like I was in love with the guy, but I liked him enough to live with him. I liked him enough to think we could have a future.
I knock back some of the delicious bubbly then set it down. “How did I miss the signs, Aubrey? Why can’t I just pick a decent guy?”
She smiles gently. “It’s hard to know who to trust,” she says. “And it’s really hard to be out there dating.”
“He seemed so…into me. Calling, and texting, and taking me out. He was attentive. He took me to his networking events, and his dinners with advertisers, and his cocktail parties with sponsors, and he bought me these dresses to wear—” I stop as a sharp realization hits me like a slap to the face. “I was his advertiser candy! For that stupid site he runs. He needed to look involved so he could pitch advertisers on the articles and advice columns he runs on his man’s man dating advice site. That’s why he went all in on me,” I say, shaking my head, disgusted with him and with the way I fell for him. “How did I miss it?”
Aubrey tucks a finger under my chin and makes me meet her brown-eyed gaze. Waves upon waves of lush red hair frame her face. Freckles dance across her pale skin. “Because people wear masks, and it’s really hard to get them to take them off.”
“I guess Steven’s was like one of those sexy Venetian masks you wear to a masquerade. But underneath he was a chameleon.”
Like my mother. Always changing her mind about what she wanted—to eat for dinner, to watch on TV, to do a job. Then, whether she wanted a family or not. She’d promised to be there for us. Then one day she just…left.
She laughs. “He was. And listen,” she says, her laugh fading away as she sets a hand on my knee. “We’ve all trusted the wrong person. Given our hearts to the wrong guy. Gotten hurt.”
“We should have a club.”
“We’ll call it the Karma Club,” she says, then shrugs a playful shoulder, letting her gaze purposefully drift toward the hall and the game room beyond. Her guys are here tonight—Dev had a hockey game this afternoon, the same one my cat rescuers played in. Ledger worked in his plant shop all day and now the two of them are playing poker. Probably betting on who gets to please Aubrey first. Karma, indeed. “It’s when you upgrade to two hot guys,” Aubrey adds, twirling a strand of her hair. “You did say some Foxes helped you save the cat. Including Ledger’s cousin…”
I scoff, nipping her idea in the bud. Hollis Bouchard, Gavin Worthy, and Rhys Corbyn are friends. That is all. “The last thing I need in my life is another man. Let alone three. All I need is a place to stay. So thank you for letting me stay here.”
“Anytime, bestie.”
We finish our champagne, then I head to bed, crashing in a soft guest bed bookended by my cat and dog.
In the morning, I’m up early. I have to teach two yoga classes—one to the Sea Dogs, then one at a studio. After I shower and get dressed, I whiz through the kitchen, making coffee with Donut and Puck at my feet, when a text from Kailani blinks up at me.
Bad news, babe. No cats are allowed here at the rental. I can try to find you another one that permits cats though.
I wince as Aubrey strolls in, Ledger by her side. They’re both dressed for work—Aubrey’s heading to her salon, Ledger to the plant shop. Dev’s probably at a morning skate.
“What’s wrong, Briar?” Ledger asks, as I hand him a cup.
I read the text out loud to them.
Aubrey rolls her eyes. “We’ll watch your cat as long as you need us to, right, babe?”
Ledger nods. “We like cats. We do have one, you know.”
My brow knits. “But I thought your cat hated cats and, well, everyone?”
Ledger shrugs casually. “Jack did. But Hollis has a way about him. He comes over and trains him. My cousin has the Midas touch.” Ledger takes a swig of his coffee, then sets down the mug, and checks his watch. “I’m meeting him later today to work out. But last night I mentioned to him you were here.”
The memory of Hollis’s easy grin—which is also easily panty-melting—warms me up. So does the memory of his touch. The way he wrapped his hands around my hips last night and tugged me out of the cat door, I couldn’t help but notice how big and strong they were. How solid his grip was. How sure.
Like Gavin’s, too, when he boosted me up. He had the confidence of a man who knows what he’s doing with his hands. And his whole damn body.
But given my garbage bag life, it’s best to shake off those thoughts of the two of them.
After Steven’s insults about my little yoga app, I’m more determined than ever to launch Flow and Flex Fitness. I’ve been making videos online for over a year that focus on how yoga can help people of all ages and body types, from seniors to athletes, with flexibility and balance.
I’ve raised my profile teaching yoga first for the Golden State Foxes and now for the Sea Dogs. I’ve made great relationships with both teams. When the Foxes wanted to hire someone full time to work for the team and its minor league affiliates—a job I didn’t want since I wouldn’t have been able to do my own thing too—the strength and conditioning coach with the Foxes recommended me to her counterpart at the Sea Dogs, Nova. And I have a great relationship with Nova, who’s been supportive too of my goal. It’s time for me to get my new business up and running. To rely only on myself like my dad has always taught me. To live alone and without the help of a man.
That is my new goal.
