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My plans to meet Mark at Luigi’s the other night had seemed so promising. He was a successful IT manager, an intellectual match, and he talked about wanting to start a family one day. Something I crave more than I care to admit. Especially at my age.

Since losing my parents, it’s just been Grandpa and me. I love him, but I miss the warmth of a full house. I want a partner. An equal. Someone who can’t wait for me to walk in the door at the end of a long day. Who wants to celebrate my achievements as much as his own. A man who’ll lift me up when I’m down. Someone who makes me shiver with excitement at the thought of his full lips on mine. A man who can make my toes curl beneath the sheets, so I don’t have to finish the job on my own after they’ve fallen asleep. Not to mention, having someone like that in my life would probably help my career. These chauvinistic colleagues might actually see me as a committed professional rather than a spoiled little girl.

But when Mark didn’t show the other night at Luigi’s, the old dejection from high school came rushing back like a flood. I was transported back to the night of the homecoming dance. We’d been crowned King and Queen. It was customary the King would place a kiss on the Queen’s hand before asking for a dance. I stood there, my heart in my throat, only to watch him turn his back on me to dance with someone else.

The rejection of all rejections.

I’ve spent the last few nights drowning myself in hot showers, far too much wine, and Taylor Swift on repeat. It wasn’t about being stood up by Mark. It was the utter humiliation of realizing that all of these years later… nothing has changed. Regardless of all of my accomplishments, I’m still the girl waiting for a man who doesn’t want her.

And the worst part? That infuriating manchild, Sam Lee, had a front-row seat to the whole pathetic show.

My desk phone rings, jolting me out of the past. I swallow down the lump in my throat and pull my professional mask back into place as I reach for the receiver. “Dr. Patterson.”

“Alexis? There’s a Mr. Samuel Lee on line one. He says it’s urgent.”

Chapter Thirteen

Lexi

“Put him through,” I reply, my voice a lot more confident than my heart. The line clicks. For a beat, there’s only the soft static of the office phone and the sound of my own shallow breathing.

“Alexis,” he says. Just my name. He doesn’t use the playboy lilt or the mocking ‘Dr. Patterson.’ Or worse, that horrific nickname, ‘Queen P.’ His voice is lower than I recall from the other night, a rough baritone that vibrates right through the receiver and settles uncomfortably between my thighs.

Ugh. Why do I still get this way around this maddening asshole?

“Sam,” I acknowledge, leaning back in my chair and staring at the diplomas on my wall as if they can shield me from him. “To what do I owe the misfortune of receiving a call from you at my place of work? I’m assuming you’ve finally realized that a balanced diet of wine and poor choices causes erectile dysfunction.”

“Shit! That’s a thing?” he blurts. “Never mind. I never know when you’re fucking with me. My dick works just fine.”

Of course it does, I grumble internally. I opened the door for that reminder. Grrr. I hate him.

A heavy sigh is audible across the receiver, giving me pause. “Actually, I need to talk to you. In person. Can we meet for dinner tonight? Luigi’s. Say, 8:00?”

The mention of Luigi’s feels like a slap. I haven’t recovered from the recent humiliation there. He saw me waiting like a fool for a man who didn’t show, rubbed it in my face, and now this dickhead wants to return to the scene of the crime so he can continue the taunts?

My grip tightens on my pen. Suddenly, I’m not thirty-six and a surgeon. It’s twenty years earlier, sitting in AP Biology, trying to ignore the constant teasing by my ex-childhood friend. The only interactions that remained between us in our teen years were his continued attempts to remove my hair ties from my braids and the frantic popping noises that came from the seat behind me.

The sound is maddening. I can feel the heat of Sam’s warm breath on the shell of my ear as he leans in, his mouth full of Pop Rocks. It’s a literal explosion of noise inches from my brain. I’m too distracted by his proximity to identify the flavor. Every time I try to focus on the diagram of a cell, he leans closer, the snapping sound intensified by the fact that he refuses to close his mouth.

I don’t know which is worse, the annoying sound or the tempting nearness. His scent envelopes me. It’s all warm sunshine, fresh cut grass, and that expensive laundry detergent his nannies must use. It’s a sensory assault.

Later, at my locker, I’m hidden behind the metal door, shoving my textbooks into my bag. I feel the shadow before I see him. He leans his arm against the locker next to mine, trapping me. When I slam the door shut and turn to face him, he hasn’t moved. He’s right there.

Our mouths are a hair’s breadth apart. My breath hitches, trapped in my lungs. My eyes flick up to his, and for one heart-stopping second, his mocking class clown mask is gone. His gaze is anchored to my lips. I swear he inches closer… the space between us vanishing until I can feel the static electricity in the air. And then, just as quickly, he recoils.

“As if,” he scoffs, a jagged laugh tearing through the moment. “Like I’d ever actually touch you, Patterson. You’d probably taste like sour grapes.”

“Lexi? You still there?” The voice on the line brings me back to the here and now. I’m a professional woman in my white lab coat. I’m not that girl by the locker anymore.

“I’m here,” I say, my voice cold. “Everything about this is a bad idea, Sam. You’ve been nothing but a dick to me since we were teens. Why on earth would I want to spend my only free night this week watching you eat pasta and flirt with anyone in a skirt?”

“Because,” he says, and the levity is gone. He sounds tired. I shift in my seat. Maybe he really is sick. “Because I’m about to lose the vineyard, Lex.” The line grows quiet.

Tears well within my eyes as I picture that heavenly time long ago when we’d play hide-and-seek among the vines. I know he has no one to blame but himself after the way he’s lived his life. It’s not entirely his fault, given his parents’ behavior. But it’s heartbreaking, nonetheless.

Then confusion overtakes the sadness. “Why would you need to meet me?”

“For some reason, the only person I can think of who might be able to help me save it is the girl who used to steal grapes with me before I became… well, before I became the asshole you currently have on the phone.”