Page 21 of Holiday Hopefuls
I wish I could say I’d forgotten about his presence, but that'd be a bald freaking lie.
“Connie and my brother,” Ian says. He nods toward the band’s setup.
“They’ve clearly had a thing for one another for years,” I chime in.
“But they’re both oblivious,” Ian finishes.
The good doctor’s gaze bounces between us, narrowing a little more with each movement. But the final shift lands on me. “Why do you think it’d work between them?”
Being the focus of his attention makes me itch, just like we’re back in his office and I’m making an idiot of myself again.
“Aaron’s super laid back.” Ian to the rescue. Casual. Calm. Collected.
Too bad my nervous system can’t relate so long as the most attractive therapist in the room won’t release me from the world’s weirdest stare-off. This is probably how Rhodes gets his patients to confess to all kinds of things.
Theft. How they can’t stand their family.
Murder.
The good doctor’s eyes search mine. “Ms. Rutherford?”
I try my best to hide the gulp I force down. “Like Ian said,” I shrug, doing my best to look nonchalant, “and you saw Connie. She looks like she could produce a diamond if given enough time.”
The corners of those Adonis-like lips lift upward into a secret of a smile.
“Have you ever just tried getting them to talk?” John’s question allows me to finally break away from the intensity between myself and Rhodes.
“Trying to get Connie to talk about anything is like trying to convince Callie’s dad there’s any way other than his,” Ian’s grin mirrors mine. We’ve always managed to crack ourselves up.
“Frustrating, useless, and a complete waste of time,” I finish. “Maybe that’s how Chris has always kept so close to her,” I say. “They don’t actually have tosayanything to communicate.”
“Speaking of which,” Ian replies, “we should probably head to the table. Looks like we need to grab some new seats.”
I smile sweetly as every possibility of how to murder Chris with a chair runs through my mind. “Yep. But it was great to see you both again. And, um, nice to meet you, Dr. Rhodes.”
Ian pats my shoulder as his way of warning me he’s about to whisk me away.
Smiling one more time at the trio of therapists who now know way too much about me, I manage not to choke while meeting each pair of eyes before Ian guides me back toward the stage.
Relief floods my system with each step we take. And apparently, I’m not quiet about it.
Ian chuckles as the band starts their first song. He guides me to a freshly vacated couch near our original spot. “What wasthat about?” He has to shout to compensate for the newly added volume of the music.
Shaking my head, I send a warning glance toward my siblings. Raising both brows at my friend, I make sure he understands the message.
Ian nods once. Twice. Then it hits him. “Wait. You’re telling me?—”
“Keep it down,” I remind him.
It’s only then he remembers all the noise around us means we have to talk louder. Throwing an arm onto the back of the couch, he leans in to whisper, “You never said you actually went to see the guy.” I can hear his mischievous smile without even looking. Ian leans away, pretending to listen to the music.
Immediately in front of us, Chris involuntarily nods along with the beat while Connie looks starstruck.
Pain begins to radiate throughout my face as a grin makes its way from ear to ear. Maybe today will be the day my youngest sister finally does something for her own happiness, rather than the twins’ collective duo.
Watching the band, I shrug. “Guess I’m just ready for a little acceptance. Is that really such a bad thing?
I don’t have to look to see the mischievous glint that waits in my best friend’s eye. “Not at all. But if you team up with this Rhodes guy … ”
