Page 11 of Touch of Class

Daphne sighed and swung her legs lightly, bare heels bouncing off the cabinets below her with a muffled thump. “She is, but she doesn’t show it, which drives me nuts. It’s always driven me nuts. Like, if you think you’re better than me, fine. You’re welcome to your opinion even if I don’t care about it, but don’t do this fake … I don’t know how to describe it, like, do you know how people talk to you when they think you’re simpleminded? Like they feel a responsibility or sense of charity?”

“No one ever speaks to me that way, but I’ve had to use the methodology on clients a time or two.”

She stilled. “Shit. That’s it.”

Hugh glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows raised.

“She used her therapy face on me.”

He grimaced.

“I thought maybe she was trying to manage her own emotions, but now I think she was trying to manage mine! She did this thing where her face went completely still, but not blank. She still looked like she was giving me her full attention, which was weird in and of itself, because Gillian never gave anyone her full attention, but, like, she also wasn’t engaging what I said. She had this glaze of neutrality, like she was watching from behind plate glass, you know?”

“Yes, dear. She used her therapy face on you, and it worked. She didn’t give you anything to push back on.”

“Damn it,” Daphne said emphatically. “You’re right.”

“As per usual. And it bothered you because you wanted to get a rise out of her.”

“No.”

“Yes,” he said calmly. “You needled her on purpose, because you expected her to react badly to hearing what you do for a living, and from everything you’ve told me, it was a fair assumption. Except in trying to preemptively defend your professionalism, it sounds like you might’ve challenged hers.”

“What? I did not.”

He went back to browning the chicken. “You said you made a dig at her ability to learn whatever she needed to be successful.”

“It’s the truth. She’s always been good at anything to help her get ahead. Some people would see that as a compliment.”

“A compliment implying her standard of care is put on to achieve an end. Then you headed off any questions or conversation by challenging her to a staring contest when you suggested your news might go beyond her substantial ability to hold her cool.”

She scrunched up her face but didn’t argue, because she had done that.

“It’s fine,” he continued lightly. “She pushed your buttons, you pushed hers, and you have plenty of experience with women who look and talk like this Gillian being catty about what you do. I actually think it was smart of you to engage the therapist side of her, not the seventeen-year-old It Girl side of her. If you two must work around each other, it’s not exactly unfortunate to know she’s good at her job.”

She flashed back to Gillian’s openness and gravity when talking about her own practice. There was no doubting her genuineness in the moment, and even Daphne found it easy to understand why people would put their trust in that version of her. Hell, if she hadn’t known all the other sides of Gillian, she might’ve been taken in.

Maybe that’s what bothered Daphne the most. Seeing a new side of Gillian, thoughtful, passionate, authentic in her clear affection for her clients and colleagues, had the power to change something between them. Maybe a part of her wanted to test those boundaries, not to break them so much as to see how far they extended and how much they could hold.

If Gillian had offered her the same level of consideration, it might’ve been the start of something new. If she’d blown her cool, at least it would’ve confirmed who Daphne was dealing with, and yes, she may’ve taken satisfaction in that. Instead, she was suspended in some sort of conversational purgatory, unsure of where she stood while Gillian got to lift her chin and walk away, smugly secure in her own superiority whether it was warranted or not.

“Do you know the last thing she said to me?” Her face flamed again.

“After you told her you made no promises not to mattress tackle her again?”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, not my best moment, but I was unsettled, and maybe I wanted her to be, too.”

He scooted the chicken out of the pan and dumped some mushrooms in its place before turning to face her fully, revealing his apron with a giant rooster across the front. “And how’d that work out for you, Love?”

She frowned before admitting, “She said we were both back on-brand.”

He nodded. “I suppose familiar footing is better than no footing at all.”

She opened her mouth, unsure if she wanted to argue or accept his premise, but she never got to make up her mind as the back door flew open.

“I’m home!”

“There’s my girl,” Hugh exclaimed, and Daphne hopped off the counter as Izzy flew past her and into his arms. “How was your day?”