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The building hushed. Outside noise faded. The pounding in his ears magnified.
You don’t need her constant refusals. Find somebody else.
He didn’t want anyone else. “I want Vi,” he muttered against the rebellious thoughts.
No response. Only the empty room and the mindless purr of the ceiling fan.
Why did she keep turning him down?
Rory wanted to go to her. Sit with her. Beg her to confide in him.
You’ve already tried. She rejected you before. Now she’s done it again.
His eyes squeezed shut. Talking would do no good. Not when she’d already dealt him two strikes.
The options without Vi were grim. An evening at home counted as a non-starter. Those ugly walls reminded him of another failure. He stretched one leg, then the other, as an idea wormed into his mind.
Rory ignored the small internal voice clamoring for attention. Instead, he strode to the coat tree by the office door. Rummaging through the pockets, he found a business card. Melissa Strom. He vaguely remembered her from a board meeting. Shoulder-length brownish hair and light brown eyes? Pretty in a made-up way. She’d flirted with him, pressing her business card in his hand when he left the meeting.
Up to this minute, Rory hadn’t given her a single thought. Fingering the card, he retrieved his phone. He needed a break from the drama. A casual dinner, a change of pace. A way to get his mind off a tiny red-haired woman. He touched numbers on the screen, then cleared his throat.
Rory’s phone dinged the moment he stepped through his townhouse door. Jesse’s name popped up. Well, crud. After his horrible evening, he hoped it would be Vi, however far-fetched the idea. As courteously as possible, he had cut the date short with Melissa, not confident he’d managed the courteous part. The evening morphed into a dreaded event the instant Melissa shrilled into a high-pitched titter before saying yes. Rory had forgotten that endearing detail. However, dread served as the appetizer—he’d gnawed on regret throughout their main course.
His ears bled from too much information. Chatty didn’t begin to describe the sheer volume of words falling out of Melissa’s mouth. His initial plan had existed as dinner. If it went well, maybe a stroll through the mall. It would be fun to have a woman’s opinion on gift-giving. Those ideas bolted within the first five minutes. And her father was the bank president who loaned Spence Enterprises most of its capital. Rory wanted to kick himself all over the fair city of Valiant.
With a sinking feeling, Rory read Jesse’s text.
Busy evening?
A few years ago, he’d thought up the brilliant notion of being accountability partners concerning the women in their lives with his best friend. Since Jesse couldn’t know about his date with Melissa, this had to be about Vi. Well, Jesse could ask all night, but Rory had no answers.
Still grousing, he thumbed a response.
Fixing a pot of coffee. Want a cup?
He maneuvered his aching leg into the kitchen.
Moments later, a knock sounded on the door. Jesse strode in, wearing his game face.
Rory scowled back. “Are you determined to make this conversation as uncomfortable as possible?”
Jesse jabbed his hands on his hips. “You tell me.”
“Let’s get coffee.” Rory relented.
They fixed their cups of coffee in silence, then settling on the couch with a mug, Rory inclined his head. “Fire away.”
Sipping his coffee, Jesse wore another familiar expression. The one where he sized up his opponent. Rory’s real foot tapped the floor double time. “Spill it, Jess.”
Rather than spouting back a sarcastic response, Jesse’s eyes appeared troubled. “I saw Vi tonight.”
“You did?” The eagerness in Rory’s voice sounded all too clear. “At Paige’s?”
Jesse nodded. “Her tough-girl veneer had cracked. Puffy eyes. Cheeks all splotchy. I think she’d been crying. You know anything about that?”
Rory’s defenses melted. He’d triggered the reaction. “Earlier this afternoon, I asked her out. She said no. Again.”
Jesse wrapped his hands around his mug and waited.
