Boss Meets Her Match Page 8

  She shrugged, sipping more wine. “Busy. Having lunch with the family tomorrow so hoping to get some downtime. How about you?”

  “Much better now.”

  She felt her cheeks warm. She looked down at her hands. Vincente reached over and covered her hand with his.

  “Now I’ve embarrassed you.”

  They were interrupted by a waiter. “Dr. Perez, your table downstairs is ready. I’ll get your drinks down to you.”

  Grateful for the reprieve, Lena rose and followed the two men down to the restaurant. She sent Sadie a quick “all clear” text. This wasn’t going to work. She couldn’t do this let’s-pretend-we’re-not-on-a-blind-date stuff. She sat in the chair he held out for her. Got to give him points for manners.

  “You didn’t embarrass me,” she said. “I’m just not very good at small talk.”

  “I see. I’m not either. Let’s try not to engage in it. Let’s be honest. We were set up.”

  “Ambushed.”

  “Yes.”

  He held up his wineglass and Lena tapped hers against it. Okay. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. They paused to listen to the specials.

  “Have you been here before?” Lena asked as she scanned the menu. It all looked good. And fattening.

  “Yes. The steaks cut like butter. The lobster pasta is divine. I’d highly recommend it. Steak, you can get anywhere.”

  “Sold,” she said, putting the menu down.

  The waiter magically appeared at the table. As Vincente gave their orders, adding an appetizer of deviled eggs, a movement across the room caught her eye. A woman with long, curly, dark red hair turned and scanned the room until her gaze landed on Lena. The woman smiled and gave a half wave.

  She seemed familiar. Lena squinted. Ah. Dr. Rutledge’s daughter. What was her name? Laura? Lauren? Something like... Uh-oh. Sitting across the table from what’s-her-name was Matt. Waving at her and grinning like a fool. She looked away, gritting her teeth and wishing with every fiber in her being that she could show him her middle finger. Freaking frat boy. What a massive, egotistical trust-fund brat.

  “Is there a problem?” Vincente asked.

  She shook her head. “No. Sorry. I was thinking about something I need to do tomorrow.”

  An uncomfortable silence fell. Lena struggled to find something to ask. Something not stupid. “So, what kind of doctoring do you do?”

  So much for not stupid. She couldn’t concentrate with Matt over there, laughing at her. She peeked. He was saying something to... Logan! That was her name. As if he felt her glance, he looked over at her. That earned her an evil little grin. She looked away again.

  “Urology” Vincente answered her question. He shrugged. “Not the sexiest specialty, but profitable. And the schedule is predictable. No hours and hours on call. My father was a surgeon. He was gone so much. I decided when I went into medicine that I would choose a specialty that wouldn’t make my wife a medical widow. That I’d be there for my children.”

  “Oh,” she said. Nice, Lena. Brilliant. “And you have children?”

  “Not yet.” He smiled at her. “I believe this is why we are here.”

  “Oh?” There was that brilliance again.

  “Your aunt said you were looking to settle down. Start a family.”

  She did, did she? Paula was dead. Dead. “Eventually,” she managed to stammer out. What was going on with her family? They expected her to just choose someone to marry based solely on his readiness to settle down and start impregnating someone?

  “I know this seems strange,” he said, closing his hand around her fingers. She fought the urge to pull away. She’d promised Sadie. “But this is how things are done.”

  “Done?”

  “Families arranging a potential match. I’m ready to settle down. You are also. We get to know each other. If we are each pleasing to the other, we can take the next step.”

  She stared at him. Speechless. Oh, Aunt Paula was more than dead. She’d kill her, bring her back to life and kill her again.

  “I’m sure your family didn’t put it as bluntly, but that’s what this is. They are picking suitable husbands for you.”

  “Lena?”

  She looked up with equal parts relief and horror. It was Logan Rutledge with Matt grinning at her like some evil imp from the whitest corner of hell. “Yes?”

  “I just wanted to say hello. You may not remember...”

  “Logan. You’re Dr. Rutledge’s daughter. I remember.”

  “Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to thank you for your help with getting me set to open my own shop.”

  “You’re more than welcome. Just another day in the salt mines.”

  Logan motioned at Matt. “Do you know...”

  “Yes, I have met Mr. Matthews,” she said, putting as much ice and fire in her tone as she could. She was not in the mood for any of his crap tonight. Not when she was being offered up like a brood cow to strange men by her own family.

  “Always a pleasure to see you, Ms. Reyes,” Matt said. He put his hands on Logan’s shoulders. “We should leave these two alone, Logan. We are intruding. Enjoy your evening.”

  “Friends of yours?” Vincente asked as they walked away.

  Lena finished off her wine. “Business acquaintances.”

  “Ah. Yes. You have an accounting business?”

  Okay. This was too much. She should be recording this for Sadie. Prove that she wasn’t mean. “No. I own a financial management company. I make people rich for a living. And I’m very good at it.”

  “That’s admirable,” he said. Dismissively. Lena felt her temper pulling hard on its leash. “I’ll be honest. I chose a medical profession that would allow me time with my family. And I don’t intend to have my children raised by a nanny. I’m looking for someone who will put family and children before business.”

  She twisted the napkin in her lap between her fisted hands. Be nice. Be nice. Be nice. Oh, to hell with it. “And what does that mean? You’d like me to sell my business? Be a stay-at-home mother?”

  “If that’s what it takes.”

  “Why don’t you quit practicing medicine? Stay home with the kids? I probably make more money than you.”

  He looked shocked. “That’s just not the way things work.”

  She carefully placed the napkin on the table. “Maybe they don’t work that way in your world, Dr. Perez, but that’s how things are going to have to work in mine. I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time.”

  She took a deep, satisfied breath as she walked slowly out of the restaurant. She hadn’t been mean. She didn’t yell. She didn’t curse. She’d calmly expressed herself and left before she stabbed his condescending face with a butter knife. That’s progress. But dang, I wanted that lobster pasta.

  She hit the Uber app on her phone and was relieved one was just around the corner. She sent the request and began walking to meet it. She was sure Vincente would come stomping out of the restaurant, outraged Latino machismo on full display. As she climbed into the car, she realized she was exhausted. Tired of all the games. Everything. It was all forced and contrived and she felt like she couldn’t let her guard down with anyone.

  I wasn’t mean, she texted to Sadie.

  Why is your date over already? the return text read.

  I won’t sell my business and stay at home popping out babies.

  She got a thumbs-down emoji in response. Whether it was meant for her walking out or for Vincente’s old-fashioned idea, she didn’t know. All she knew was she wanted to be home with this damn bra off, in her pajamas, ordering Vietnamese food and watching Supernatural with her cat. Maybe she’d get a couple more cats. Embrace her spinsterly cat-lady future.

  Once on her couch, face scrubbed free of makeup, her hair in a haphazard bun, shoving red-curry beef sa
lad into her mouth with chopsticks, she felt more like herself. She clicked on Netflix and scratched Sass behind the ears. “This is more like it, huh, Sass? You and me. Dean and Sam.”

  Sass sniffed at the salad and returned to her corner of the couch. Lena’s phone vibrated. She glanced down, expecting a Sadie guilt trip. No. Seriously? A text from Matt? That sanctimonious prick. Texting her when she was on a date? She put the phone on Silence and turned it over so she couldn’t see any more messages. She turned the sound up on the TV. Sam and Dean and an endless stream of delivery food. That was all she needed.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE NEXT MORNING, she laced up her running shoes. Time to pay for the caloric sins of the previous night. Picking up her phone, she saw the message Matt had sent her last night. I have the materials together for translation. Brunch tomorrow?

  She frowned at the phone. Can’t, she texted back. Lunch with my family today. She tucked the phone into an armband. It lit up as she did.

  Can I come too? Smiley face.

  The arrogance of this man. No.

  Can I drop them off? Today is best for me.

  She hesitated. Hannah, the cousin who had agreed to do the translation, would be at lunch this afternoon. It would solve a lot of juggling to bring it to her today. Ugh. I’m heading out for a run. Text you in about an hour?

  That got her a thumbs-up emoji. “I’m heading out, Sass,” she called out. Sass, snoozing in a sunbeam, ignored her. “I should have got a dog.” Sass slowly laid one ear back. The feline equivalent to a middle finger.

  The morning air held a bit of a nip, reminding her that the perfection of October wasn’t going to last much longer. November would usher in the four months of hot again/cold again weather that passed for winter in the South. She walked across the expanse of lawn that was the center of Waterfront Park to the path directly along the harbor. As she stretched her hamstrings, she watched a pod of dolphins working their way out to the ocean. She lifted her face into the strong breeze and smiled. She was a long way from the trailer park.

  Best thing about an early run on Sunday was that the tourists were either still in bed or jostling for a spot at brunch at any one of a dozen restaurants. She had the High Battery almost to herself. Once she rounded the curve to the Low Battery, she began to pass other runners. She was going to have to have a talk with her mother and her aunts today. This crazy setting up stuff was going to have to stop.

  Tradd Street became problematic as she dodged the cars of the faithful, heading out to Sunday school and church. She felt the familiar tug of Catholic guilt. She’d have to make an appearance in church soon. Give her confession. Take communion. Keep the aunties, and the saints, happy.

  She slowed her pace as she finished her loop and reentered the park. Halfway to the Pineapple Fountain, she slowed to a walk, concentrating on getting her breath back and her heart rate down.

  “Ms. Reyes, you look lovely this morning.”

  The hell? She looked up. Matt sat on the low wall just across from the entry to her condominium building. Grinning. She scowled. “I said I would text you when I got home.”

  “I know. How was your date with the doctor last night? Since you are up so early, I’m guessing he didn’t sweep you away for a night of dancing until dawn?”

  Lena pressed her lips together against the extremely foul language that wanted to come out. It was bad enough that he’d witnessed the ambush at the hospital, but running into him when he was on a date had been humiliating enough. She wiped sweat off her brow with a forearm. “I could ask the same about your date with Little Miss Debutante.”

  That grin appeared again. The one that made his blue eyes sparkle with all sorts of delicious mischievousness. She scowled harder, ignoring the stirrings it caused.

  “Logan’s not a debutante. She ran away from home at seventeen.”

  “Oh, my mistake. A rebel trust-fund baby.”

  “Don’t be mean. She’s a nice person.”

  “So, y’all gonna throw your trust funds together? Make more little trustafarians?”

  He laughed at that barb. “Your slang is so ’90s.”

  “Whatever.” She held out a hand. “Give me the papers.”

  He pulled an envelope from the backpack at his feet. “I thought I’d go over it with you. In case you had questions.”

  She snatched it from his hand. “I’ll give Hannah your number. If she has any questions.”

  “Maybe I should go with you. I could talk to Hannah myself.”

  “Go. Away.”

  Lena turned away and stomped down the alley to the building’s entrance to the soundtrack of his laughter. Ay, Dios mío. Ese hombre. Por lo exasperante. One. What an arrogant prick, inviting himself along. Two. She’d smack a nun before she brought a white boy to the house in the midst of all this Hispanic Bachelor audition crap. Three. Why are you letting him irritate you?

  * * *

  BY THE TIME she’d showered, changed and made the almost-one-hour drive to her parents’ house, Lena had refocused her irritation where it belonged: her mother and aunts. She was early, which was good. Not too many relatives around to witness the scene she was about to cause. The men were lounging in rockers on the front porch. She greeted them properly, then went inside. All the women were in the kitchen, preparing the meal.

  Aunt Paula turned as Lena entered the kitchen. She made a face and turned her back. Apparently, Doctor Man was a crybaby too. What was it with men and their egos? Time to end this insanity.

  “Good,” she said, putting her purse down. “You’re all here. I’ve something to say.”

  “Magdalena,” her mother began.

  The two aunts turned, hands on hips. Fire in their eyes. Lena rustled up some courage. You are a grown woman. They can’t boss you around. Except they still scared her. She straightened as tall as she could in her three-inch heels. Should have worn the four-inchers.

  “Lo siento, Mamacita,” she began. “But enough is enough. No more setups. No more ambushes. No more.”

  “You embarrassed the family,” Paula said, barely waiting for Lena to finish speaking. “Dr. Perez is a highly respected man and you just walked out on him? For shame.”

  She felt the heat of the flush on her cheeks, but held her head high and made eye contact. “Dr. Perez insulted me. I don’t think anyone in this family would tolerate me being treated as nothing more than a potential broodmare.”

  Ana sighed and wiped her hands on the apron tied around her waist. “Lena,” she said in that infuriatingly calm voice. “Listen.”

  “No,” Lena said, feeling like she was six years old again but pressing on. “I don’t know why you three decided to start with this foolishness, but stop it. I will find my own man, thank you very much.”

  Estrella let out a rude snort. “Haven’t done so well with that so far.”

  Clamping her mouth shut, Lena forced herself to count to ten. In the silence, her mother came to her and took her hands. Lena felt her anger crumple with her mother’s touch.

  “Lena. Listen to me. We didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just that you’ve committed yourself to your job and we feel responsible.”

  “It’s not a job, Mother. It’s my company. I built it. I’m not apologizing for being proud of that. And I’m not throwing it away to pop out babies for some man who has no respect.”

  Ana held up a hand. “No. You shouldn’t. What I’m trying to say is that we pushed you. From when you were a little girl, we pushed you. To succeed. To be the first to graduate from college. To do better than we did. It’s what every family wants for their child.”

  “I never felt pushed, Momma. I felt supported.”

  “Good. But now you can relax some. Look what you’ve done. You’ve not only lifted yourself from poverty, but you’ve brought the entire family with you.”


  “Well, that was the point of it all.”

  Ana leaned in close, capturing Lena’s gaze and holding it. “We’re fine now, Lena. We are safe. We have a roof. We have security. We are happy. You don’t have to keep pushing yourself. Take a breath. When was the last time you went on vacation?”

  Tears stung at Lena’s eyes but a swirl of fear stirred her gut. If not for work, what would she have? A fancy car and a cat. She pushed the thought aside. She loved her work. “That’s beside the point, Momma. I’m talking about you guys setting me up with all these men. It’s humiliating. And if you’re going to continue, try to find someone who has his ideas about women in this century and not 1950, okay?”

  The three women exchanged guilty glances and Lena felt the irritation rise. They had something planned for today. She held up a hand.

  “I don’t even want to know. Whatever it is, cancel it. I’m not going to play at this today.”

  “It’s too late for that,” Paula said. “And you will show respect under your mother’s roof.”

  Lena glared at her aunt. That she’d paid for said roof meant nothing and she wasn’t going to stoop so low as to point that out. The tense silence held.

  “Lita,” a voice called out as the front door opened.

  Jules. Lena swallowed down the fact that Sadie’s stepdaughter-to-be was the first to call Ana grandmother.

  Jules skidded into the kitchen, her dark eyes lit up to match the huge smile on her face. Sadie followed closely behind.

  “Guess what, Lita?”

  Lena looked over at Sadie, who was scanning the faces in the room. Sadie reached out and stopped Jules midstep. “Hey, Jules, hold up a minute. I think I saw cousin Sam pulling in behind us. Let’s go talk to him and I’ll make him tell you about the time he proposed to me when he was fifteen.”

  “But,” Jules protested, “I wanted to show my wedding dress!”

  “Later,” Sadie said firmly, guiding the girl out of the room.

  Great. Just freaking great. Now you’re the mean aunt who ruins everything. Jules’s crestfallen and bewildered face. The guilt in Sadie’s eyes as she backed out of the room was enough. “I can’t even deal with this anymore,” Lena said. She kicked off her heels and stormed out the back door. Slipping into the yard shoes Ana left on the porch, Lena hurried down the steps and across the lawn.