Page 15 of Tight Spot

“You took on a client who is only looking for something short-term?”

“I prefer to call the timing kismet.”

Kismet, my ass. There had to be something else going on with this, some kind of trick.

“Trust me, Hails. You’ll understand when he reaches out.”

I trusted Meredith with my life, my heart, my soul, the lives of, hopefully, my future children, and every single one of my belongings.

I trusted her, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. “Fine.”

“That’s the spirit.” She grinned. “Now, tell me how Suzanne and Ken are.”

My parents were wonderful, super people. A daughter to a former firefighter captain and middle school math teacher, I’d grown up having the perfect, suburban all-American upbringing. All they ever wanted for their children were to be happy and find their own brand of success. Tate did‌ that by becoming a plastic surgeon currently living out in San Diego. Charlie went to school for art and graphic design and was now working at a tattoo shop in Portland. My sister, Holly, and my closest sibling in age, was the only married sibling. She and her husband lived in New York and were both lawyers.

I was born six years later, at a time when my parents thought they were done having children. I didn’t have two parents, but five, and now that they were all off doing incredible things, I was still very much looked down upon as still a child, still trying to “find myself.” None of my siblings understood I liked the quiet little life I’d created outside of Nashville in our small hometown of Friendswood, Tennessee, where I ran a refurbished furniture business in our town’s small downtown. I scoured Facebook and garage and estate sales to snag incredible deals on vintage pieces, and then I refinished them. For me, it was perfect.

For everyone else in my family, it was supposed to be a hobby. It’d started out that way in high school, when I bought a nightstand for five dollars at a garage sale. From there, it grew. Now, I not only owned my own store, but it was successful. My siblings still kept wondering when I’d go back to college and get a business degree so I could manage it “better.”

“Suzanne is still out hunting for the perfect sword to run through Darrick,” I admitted, and Meredith laughed.

To say my mom was a Mama Bear was far too mild. She was a dragon, and she was pissed the hell off at Darrick for embarrassing me. Not quite so upset I didn’t marry him, though. She’d always tolerated him at a surface level.

Probably should have been my second red flag. The two women who knew me best didn’t quite like him. Sometimes, when I was alone in my small bungalow house, I almost wondered if the only reason I insisted he was perfect was to finally have something to make my siblings proud of me for doing. Get married. Be an adult. Check.

Holly, had called me almost every day since the wedding didn’t happen to check in on me. Two months later, though, her calls were now starting to include the suggestive, “You know what you should do now…” tone, and those things included going back to school.

No thank you. I barely survived college the first time around.

“I can’t wait until your mom gets a hold of him.”

“I’d prefer if we could all go on like he doesn’t exist.”

In a perfect world, I never would have met Darrick. Actually, in a perfect world, Darrick would have actually been the man I naively believed him to be.

“Enough about him.” I didn’t need to go to work with him on my mind.

“You’re right. Subject change. Help me do some shopping for our upcoming trip.”

Tuevo was taking Meredith to Puerto Vallarta next week.

She didn’t need shopping help. She had everything money could buy and everything money couldn’t.

“You’re leaving me now? When this guy is supposed to call me on Monday?”

“You’re right. I’ll text Tuevo right now and tell him we have to cancel the plans he spent months making all because you might be going on a date with some new guy. My bad.” She grabbed her phone and swiped her thumb on the screen to unlock it.

“Shut up. You know what I mean. You have to be able to tell me something about him.”

“I can do better than that, but you have to swear you won’t tell a soul. Not even Sloane or Misty until you meet him.”

“Cross my heart.” I made the sign of an X over my chest.

“Here.” She flipped her phone around, and on the screen was the guy.

The very guy I’d suggested last week. She wrote down my exact parameters and requirements and then had to go find someone who fit every single description.

Tanned skin. Hair at his shoulders. Muscles everywhere.

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