around.
“You golf?” he said, pushing aside her teal golf bag.
“Taking lessons,” she muttered. “I belong to a group.”
“Of course you do,” he said, finding a hidden compartment and pulling out the spare tire.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” he said, as he swung the tire out and rolled it to the front of the car, “that everyone I met at your birthday party belonged to some club of some sort.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. There’s nothing wrong with cultivating my interests.”
He paused in the process of setting up some sort of tools. “Do you ever listen to yourself? Cultivating your interests? Is that really what you want your life to be about?”
Brynn felt her temper rising.“You’re seriously lecturing me on how to live my life? You, who hasn’t been in the same place longer than a couple years? You, who has no idea what it’s like to maintain a steady job? You, whose longest relationship was determined by how long it took you to figure out the color of her sheets…” She broke off, running out of breath.
Will was looking up at her with a cocked eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sorry, Ms. Dalton. Here I thought you wanted me to help you out.”
Think of the mayor’s daughter. Think of your career. Think of the big picture…
“Right,” she grumbled. “Sorry. Please commence with the man-moves.”
He snorted at her grudging apology, but returned to swapping out her tires. She told herself to watch what he was doing so she could learn how to do it herself. Not that she had any interest in being Ms. Do-It-All-Herself, but she sure as hell wouldn’t be asking him for a favor in the future.
But she couldn’t concentrate on what he was doing. Her mind kept going back to his barb about her clubs and hobbies. Is that really what you want your life to be about?…
There was nothing wrong with her life. And she didn’t understand why he’d said “clubs” with such disdain. Lots of women were in a book club. And a knitting club. And a yoga club…and…okay, maybe most women weren’t in all of those clubs like Brynn was, but how was she to remain balanced if she didn’t dabble?
Plus this way, if she had a falling-out with one group, she’d have the other ones to fall back on.
See? It was just good sense.
“So what’s so important?” he asked, maneuvering the spare tire into place with ease.
“What?” she asked, distracted by her internal moping.
“What’s the big hurry that you couldn’t wait for Triple A? Must be important if you resorted to knocking on my door.”
Seconds ago, Brynn had thought her reasoning completely sound. But for some reason now, when faced with Will sitting on the hot, hard pavement wrestling with her dirty tire, it felt a bit…shallow.
“Just an important client,” she said, striving for confident nonchalance. He was sweating, and it made his dark blond hair curl just the slightest bit and his shirt stick to his torso. It should have looked messy and unkempt. It did look messy and unkempt. It also looked…good. Really good.
“I didn’t know there was a such thing as an important client in orthodontics.”
“Why do you always do that?” she asked, tilting her head at him.
“Do what?”
“Belittle my career. You always make it sound like I sold my soul to the devil or something.”
Will stood and absently rubbed some tire grime off his hands as he examined his handiwork. “Just seems boring to me. Not to mention superficial. You get paid God knows how much money to tell kids they need to have you fiddle with their mouths in order to be attractive.”
“Now hold on,” she snapped. “First of all, you’re the last person to lecture me about noble careers. You’re not exactly curing cancer yourself. And second of all, several of my patients’ oral situations cause real pain and medical issues for them. I’m a doctor. Of teeth. And do you know how many little girls have sat in my chair, crying because
“You golf?” he said, pushing aside her teal golf bag.
“Taking lessons,” she muttered. “I belong to a group.”
“Of course you do,” he said, finding a hidden compartment and pulling out the spare tire.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” he said, as he swung the tire out and rolled it to the front of the car, “that everyone I met at your birthday party belonged to some club of some sort.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. There’s nothing wrong with cultivating my interests.”
He paused in the process of setting up some sort of tools. “Do you ever listen to yourself? Cultivating your interests? Is that really what you want your life to be about?”
Brynn felt her temper rising.“You’re seriously lecturing me on how to live my life? You, who hasn’t been in the same place longer than a couple years? You, who has no idea what it’s like to maintain a steady job? You, whose longest relationship was determined by how long it took you to figure out the color of her sheets…” She broke off, running out of breath.
Will was looking up at her with a cocked eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sorry, Ms. Dalton. Here I thought you wanted me to help you out.”
Think of the mayor’s daughter. Think of your career. Think of the big picture…
“Right,” she grumbled. “Sorry. Please commence with the man-moves.”
He snorted at her grudging apology, but returned to swapping out her tires. She told herself to watch what he was doing so she could learn how to do it herself. Not that she had any interest in being Ms. Do-It-All-Herself, but she sure as hell wouldn’t be asking him for a favor in the future.
But she couldn’t concentrate on what he was doing. Her mind kept going back to his barb about her clubs and hobbies. Is that really what you want your life to be about?…
There was nothing wrong with her life. And she didn’t understand why he’d said “clubs” with such disdain. Lots of women were in a book club. And a knitting club. And a yoga club…and…okay, maybe most women weren’t in all of those clubs like Brynn was, but how was she to remain balanced if she didn’t dabble?
Plus this way, if she had a falling-out with one group, she’d have the other ones to fall back on.
See? It was just good sense.
“So what’s so important?” he asked, maneuvering the spare tire into place with ease.
“What?” she asked, distracted by her internal moping.
“What’s the big hurry that you couldn’t wait for Triple A? Must be important if you resorted to knocking on my door.”
Seconds ago, Brynn had thought her reasoning completely sound. But for some reason now, when faced with Will sitting on the hot, hard pavement wrestling with her dirty tire, it felt a bit…shallow.
“Just an important client,” she said, striving for confident nonchalance. He was sweating, and it made his dark blond hair curl just the slightest bit and his shirt stick to his torso. It should have looked messy and unkempt. It did look messy and unkempt. It also looked…good. Really good.
“I didn’t know there was a such thing as an important client in orthodontics.”
“Why do you always do that?” she asked, tilting her head at him.
“Do what?”
“Belittle my career. You always make it sound like I sold my soul to the devil or something.”
Will stood and absently rubbed some tire grime off his hands as he examined his handiwork. “Just seems boring to me. Not to mention superficial. You get paid God knows how much money to tell kids they need to have you fiddle with their mouths in order to be attractive.”
“Now hold on,” she snapped. “First of all, you’re the last person to lecture me about noble careers. You’re not exactly curing cancer yourself. And second of all, several of my patients’ oral situations cause real pain and medical issues for them. I’m a doctor. Of teeth. And do you know how many little girls have sat in my chair, crying because
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