“You don’t believe me?” He held her gaze.
“It doesn’t matter why you left or what you’ve learned. If a house is destroyed, what difference does it make if it happened by fire or tornado? It’s still gone. So, no, I don’t think there’s any hope for us.”
“You hate me that much?” He actually looked hurt.
Avery thought about it, admitting to herself some nonsensical chamber in her heart would always belong to him, for better or worse. She couldn’t risk allowing him to make inroads to that hidden place. “I don’t hate you. I just don’t see any good reason to let you back into my life.”
Matt hung his head and blew out a breath. “You always told me never say never.”
His hopeful eyes begged for a crumb of mercy.
“Well, that’s true.” Avery stood, restraining her fingers from tousling his hair. She’d always loved his hair. “But I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.”
“You can’t stop me from trying.”
“I promise, you’ll be wasting your time.” She sighed and shook her head.
Resentment served no one, especially not her. Life was too darn short to hold grudges, especially when she had picked herself up and moved on. By letting go of the hurt, she’d finally be freed from the past.
“I can accept you and Andy rekindling your friendship, because he needs all the support he can get. But don’t mistake my courtesy for more than that, okay? We didn’t work out before, and we wouldn’t work out now.”
She picked up her purse and stood to go.
“Andy says you’re working with Grey Lowell.”
“Is that a question?” She cocked her head.
Matt hesitated. “Is he the reason you won’t consider giving me another chance?”
“You know I can’t date patients.” Avery hoped the truth wasn’t too obvious.
“That’s not a real answer.”
“Well, it’s the best you’re going to get.” With that, she strode to her brother’s door, giving it a sharp knock before going into her own room, and closing her door gently behind her.
She belly flopped onto her bed and closed her eyes. In a few short months, her entire life had run off the rails. Her ex-almost-fiancé had returned to win her back, her brother faced bankruptcy and jail, and her heart couldn’t suppress its increasing infatuation with the most unsuitable man in town.
What else could possibly go wrong?
Chapter Eight
Grey tucked his finger inside the collar of his shirt. It had been forever since he’d worn a button-down shirt and slacks. Heck, he was surprised he even owned a pair. “I wish I hadn’t let you drag me out tonight.”
“If anyone needs a night out, it’s you—my treat. Besides, you should hobnob with the locals and other business owners.” Trip waved his hand toward the businesses lining the street. “According to folks I’ve gotten to know, Mamacitas is the place to go on Cinco de Mayo. It won’t kill you to try to schmooze a few of these guys.”
“Schmoozing’s your area of expertise.” Grey opened the door to the restaurant, letting the sound of dueling guitars playing flamenco spill onto the pavement. “Why can’t that be your job?”
“Because I’ll be too busy schmoozing all the women.” Trip winked and strode in front of Grey, hips swaying to the music.
When they entered Mamacitas, Grey’s mouth began to salivate at the array of churros, flan, and chocolate-pecan pudding thingies on display.
“I know it’s been a while, but you do still remember sex gives you a better orgasm than sugar, right?” Trip remarked before tipping his cowboy hat at the hostess.
Grey chuckled, although how he found any humor in his sorry sex life, he couldn’t quite say.
As they followed the hostess through the restaurant, Grey noticed the upscale surroundings. Each table was topped with flickering candles inside glass-and-iron hurricane lanterns. Deep reds and golds on the walls and tables complemented the antique wood floors, exposed brick wall, and wavy glass windows. Flamenco music enhanced the festive environment.
Baskets of chips and salsa and guacamole, along with pitchers of margaritas of varied flavors and colors, were scattered among the tables, too. Although a lot of single people crowded the joint, there were several families there too.
One little girl in particular—with a devilish glint in her eye—caught Grey’s attention. She’d tugged the fancy bows out of her hair and pulled at the collar of her embroidered cotton Mexican dress. The kind of spunky daughter he’d enjoy having one day.
He twisted his bracelet, letting the leather softly abrade his tattoo.
Years ago, he and Juliette had been in love and making plans. They’d even picked out kids’ names and daydreamed about what kind of house they’d have. It had been perfect, until it had been cruelly stolen. A once-in-a-lifetime kind of love he’d been convinced he’d never feel again, or at least he had been convinced until recently. But the complications surrounding a relationship with Avery increased the risk of failure. Could he survive another slam to the heart?
“Where’d you go, Grey?” Trip set his menu down. “You look morose.”
“Just an old ghost.” Grey picked up the menu. Pricier than he ought to be considering, but he’d grown pretty sick of PB&Js and egg salad these past several weeks.
“Uh-oh. Boomerang at eight o’clock.” Trip held up the menu like a shield before peering over its top. “Oh, but she’s not alone. Looks like a double date with her friend Avery and two guys.”
Luckily the waitress appeared before Trip picked up on Grey’s bothered expression. “Can I get you gentlemen a drink?”
“Black currant margarita, extra strong, and extra sugar on the rim.” Grey leaned back in his chair and tried to peek around the waitress to get another look at Avery without Trip noticing.
“I’ll stick with a classic margarita, thanks,” Trip said.
Grey recognized Andy, but who was the other guy? The athletic-looking blond with a too-broad smile pulled out Avery’s chair. The guy stared at her like she was a special on the menu, for chrissakes.
Who the hell was the man drooling all over Bambi?
Whatever appetite Grey brought with him fled. Why couldn’t he get past this infatuation? His hopeless fascination with his off-limits PT.
“Ghosts again, or is that scowl because your pretty PT might be on a date?” Trip pinned Grey with a knowing gaze. “This is going to be a long meal, isn’t it?”
“Nope.” Grey drummed his hands on the table, determined to move past his obsession. After the waitress dropped off their drinks, he said, “It’s May. We need to book more climbing tours in the pipeline or things will be very lean this summer.”
“You should update the website. Maybe start a blog or do some of that other social media stuff.” Trip hesitated, as if waiting for Grey to shoot down his idea. “We need buzz.”
“How much does it cost?”
“Don’t know, but the payoff could be well worth it. And as long as you’re grounded, you’ve got the free time to post blogs and tweet shit.”
“Yeah, have the dyslexic guy write every day. Sounds like a great plan.” Grey slammed back a swig of the sweet yet tart drink.
“Blogs and tweets are short and sweet. You’ve got spellcheck to help.” Trip stretched one leg out from under the table. “It’ll get the message out. Get people interested.”
When the waitress delivered their meals, Grey and Trip temporarily dropped all discussion of work. Grey swirled one shrimp in the habanero-lemon cucumber salsa before stuffing it into his mouth.