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CHAPTERONE
“OMG! Like, I know we’re not supposed to crush on our therapist, but like, I’d totally…”
—Amber from Orange County.
“Dean is as beautiful on the inside as he is on the outside, and I’d recommend him to anyone in pain.”
—Starving Starlet from LA County
“You can’t judge a book by its cover! I’ve never met a better listener, so don’t let his pretty face fool you!”
—Desperate Diva from Riverside.
“Kimberly, your two o’clock is here.”Shawna poked her face through the door and made a show of glancing at her watch. “And look, she’s only twenty minutes early. I’d tell her you’re out, but the sneaky bitch already stuck her fat head behind the desk and saw you back here.”
Kimberly bit back the smile she wanted to share with her work wife—AKA my assistant—and put her phone in her back pocket. “No, don’t bother,” she assured her with a resigned sigh. “It’s fine. Take her on back to my chair, and get her set up with a mimosa. And don’t forget to make it a double, or we’ll hear about it the whole time. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Kimberly closed her eyes and lightly ran her nails over her scalp. She wanted to rake and scrape, but she was still at work. Appearances and all that jazz. Can’t have San Diego’s top beauty salon’s top stylist running around looking like Phyllis Diller reincarnated. But good Lord, she needed the twenty minutes she’d now miss out on.
Twelve hours straight on her eighth day in a row and she’d only had ten minutes of the thirty-minute break she guiltily blacked out for herself. Now it was gone. She hadn’t even gotten the chance to eat yet; all she had time for was a trip to the bathroom and to nuke the Jenny Craig meal that was only now cool enough to eat. Kimberly thought of the meal she was forgoing as well as the short respite, and she smiled her billion-watt smile as she donned a fresh mask, then washed her hands thoroughly in plain view of her customer.
Kimberly continued to smile at the bossy woman who had no idea the value of what she was demanding—giving up those twenty minutes—went far beyond any tip. How it represented the way her entire life looked right then, like she put everything and everybody ahead of her wants and needs.
“Oops, that’s the call I’ve been expecting.” Kimberly pulled her inactive phone from her pocket and palmed it to her chest to hide the fact that there was, in fact, no one calling. “I’ll tell them my client was early and that we’ll have to reschedule. Give me just two secs. Have another, and I’ll be back before you’re done.” Shannon of the “I peaked in high school and it’s a good thing Daddy’s got money” variety smiled graciously, as if she both bestowed a gift and received one in return.Stupid bitch, Kimberly fumed inwardly.
She slipped back around the corner, then pulled her phone back from her pocket before she could think better of it. She needed to do something for herself. Kimberly needed someone to listen to her for a change—instead of everyone else always doing the talking. As she clicked on the link to schedule an appointment with a mental wellness counselor named Dean Ackles, she thought it would make a funny story someday, that she found her “shrink” through Yelp reviews.
Kimberly hurried to her station with a big smile back in place and feeling good about taking a positive step in a healing direction. As well as a healthy dose of curiosity. She’d chosen the man for the four-point-eight-star rating with over five hundred reviews.Of coursethat’s why she’d chosen him. However, she had to admit she was dying to find out just how good-looking he was.
I mean, the way some of the women—and men—talked?They did have her curiosity up.How hot can he be?
Very. He was very hot. The man was so hot, so mouth-wateringly hot, Kimberly dropped everything she’d been holding when she walked in his door the next day. Then tripped over it all like a dumbass.
Kimberly, being herself and knowing it was either roll with it or die, literally rolled with it and came up like Molly Shannon circa Mary Catherine Gallagher fromSNL. On one knee with both hands high in the air in peace signs, “Super star!” she barely wheezed out, mortified and stuck between laughing or crying.
“Jeez!”
She had to give him credit for not being a jerk. He neither laughed nor stayed seated; he was at her side within seconds.
“Are you okay? Here, let me help you. God, be careful. No, don’t worry about that stuff right now. Just leave it. Let’s get you up.” His hands were like unbreakable bonds on her wrists, and Kimberly wanted nothing more than to let him lift her up, up, and away. But she tried to wave him off, because she could take care of herself just fine. He wasn’t having it though and insisted on helping her to her feet. Then it was him, not her, who picked her things up from the floor.
Is it possible to fall in love in thirty seconds?she mused. Since she hadn’t spoken a word besides her epic fail, it couldn’t possibly be considered a doctor-patient thing yet, right? That would be creepy. This was purely based on his looks and the Prince Charming to the rescue routine that’d just played out, so not creepy at all.
Just incredibly desperate and sad, she thought with an inward huff at herself as she watched him sit back down.
Good Lord, the man was gorgeous. He had short, light-brunette hair that looked thick and soft.It has to be highlighted, she told herself, looking at the multiple hues with her professional eye, but if those shades were out of a bottle, she couldn’t tell. His eyes weren’t blue. This was San Diego, the land of Hollywood wannabes. His eyes were supposed to be blue. Then she could’ve chalked up his impossibly good looks as handcrafted, his fabulous hair as her next dye challenge, and tell herself he was just another aspiring actor cooling his heels until his big break came through.
But hedidn’thave blue eyes. They were green. Beautiful, heart-stopping green. And Kimberly fought an insane urge to flutter her hands over her heart and titter like a scandalized old spinster. His bone structure was so perfect.He has to be sucking in his cheeks to get his cheekbones to stand out like that, she mused in amazement. Is this what authors meant when they described a character as chiseled? ‘Cause this man looked hand-carved by God himself, and if that ain’t chiseled, then she needed a dictionary.
He smiled, only one corner of his mouth quirking up, dimples and laugh lines framing that side like little brackets of love. Kimberly heard herself sigh like a love-struck teenager at a Backstreet Boys concert—not that she was drawing from experience or anything.
“Go ahead. Take your time.” His smile bloomed fully across those impossibly perfect lips and turned cartoonishly self-assured. “I’m used to it.” Then he posed like a jackass with one hand draped over his bent knee and his other holding a pen up to his perfectly carved chin while he gazed off into the distance.
Kimberly burst out laughing. She slapped both hands over the bottom half of her face in a vain effort to muffle the sounds she was making. It didn’t help; she was chortling like a drunk monkey.
“Oh my God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Kimberly finally managed to gasp out. “I can’t believe this is happening. In fact… can we pretend the last two minutes didn’t happen and just start over from here?” She gave him her best “I’m a really great girl, so please take a chance on me” smile and held her breath.
“Hello, you must be Kimberly,” he said with another crooked, heart-melting smile. “How’d you get in here without me noticing?”
