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She wandered back into the reception area with an orange. A lemony tang hung in the air. Emilio and his ever-present cleaning cloth must have passed through.
Her thumbnail stuck in orange peel, she realized Rory stood to one side of the reception area with Silas. Her pulse zinged. How long had she been daydreaming not to have seen them? Uh-oh. Rory wore his irritated look—hair spikier than usual, eyes on the squinty side, jaw set.
Vi’s stomach flipped as she stepped toward him. “Hey, long time, no-see.” His eyes softened when he looked her way.
Throwing Rory a careless glance, Silas beelined straight for her. Startled, she glimpsed a smirk before he enveloped her in a crushing hug.
“Silas!” Vi struggled as he lifted her off the ground. Why had she let her guard down? Men were so unpredictable. She raised her face from the hollow of his shoulder and commanded, “Put me down.”
Relieved when her feet touched the carpet, she backed away. “Not cool, Silas. Don’t do it again.” Panting, she drew a slow breath, willing her equilibrium to catch up.
His stance casual, Silas didn’t seem put off by her warning. Or Rory’s furious glare. “I would never hurt you, Vi. It’s true what they say. Your hands are to die for.” Silas swiveled. “We’ll talk later.” Then he sauntered away as if nothing happened.
Vi stared after him. Any questions about the cats could wait. Slowly, she turned to Rory. Lips in a flat line, he held out the orange she’d dropped when Silas swept her up.
Her cheeks warmed. “I don’t know what instigated the hug.”
Rory schooled his features with effort. He knew why Silas had hugged, even if Vi didn’t. He and Silas had hung out occasionally. It stopped about the time they both got interested in Vi. “I heard about the massage you gave him.” His molars ground so hard his jaw ached.
“Yeah, the front desk messed up. MTs get twenty-four-hour notice of who’s on the schedule.” Vi concentrated on peeling the orange. “Last minute for me, but not a big deal. Silas was an easy client until … the hug. I’m sure it won’t happen again.”
His disagreement must have shown on his face because Vi said, “There’s not a problem here, Rory.” She stood closer than usual.
Inwardly, he groaned. Yes, there is. Please don’t give Silas any more massages.
Rory cleared his throat. “We’re good. I … um … had fun last night.”
“You did? When Tina laid the smooch of the century on you? Or when I bailed about using the design center?” The challenge lurking in the blue pools of her eyes knocked him off-kilter.
“Tina smacked me on the cheek because my eyes were on you. Same reason Silas decided to play Tarzan.” Nice, dude. Totally eloquent. When Vi’s eyes widened, he stumbled to a different topic. “And I’m fine with how you want to handle the finishing choices.” Blast it all. Vi burrowed under his skin with the tenacity of a chigger.
“You’ll have to put up with me longer …”
“I’m good with that too,” he fired back.
“All right, then.” She stepped into his space and held up a tiny orange slice. “Wanna bite?”
Rory opened his mouth and bit the slice she placed between his teeth. The sweetness burst on his tongue, but it wasn’t enough.
Not nearly enough.
Three days until Christmas. Late afternoon at his office at Spence Enterprises, Rory sat with his phone glued to one ear, waiting on an investor. His fingers drummed the desk. The chair he occupied had better lumbar support. Swapping this chair for the one at his Peeps’ office would help. Resting his leg for two days hadn’t been horrible. The self-imposed discipline helped him catch up on paperwork, and he couldn’t deny the improvement. Adjustments to the prosthetic life seemed never-ending.
The faint smell of Paige’s classy perfume still lingered in the room. She used this desk more than he did. Paige epitomized class and style. Just not for him, though it relieved him to hear her say it. His thoughts drifted to Vi. Despite her size—good grief, the woman didn’t top five feet—he’d classify her as an entire army, invading every inch of his mental space. The takeover had been so swift, he’d had no time to regroup, much less retreat.
Rory clicked the phone off. Holding for longer than five minutes galled him, no matter how bright the prospect. He gazed absently around his office, a replica of Dad’s. The man himself walked through the adjoining door, rubbing his hands. Another reason Rory preferred his Peeps’ domain—more privacy.
“Want to hear some good news?”
An affectionate smile parted Rory’s lips. Dad’s good news centered on business projects. “You closed a deal.”
“Not any deal. I closed on the tract you and Jess want for Peeps’ expansion.” The older man’s eyes twinkled.
Rory’s grumpy attitude retreated. “You did?” He stood and closed the gap, hugging the older man. He stepped back, still gripping Dad’s upper arms. “This is great news! Best Christmas present ever.”
“What did you and Jess decide about the larger tract?”
Uh-oh. Rory had forgotten all about their plan to survey the other acreage. “We haven’t made it out there yet, but if you think it’s a good deal, I say go for it.”
