Tatum laughed, sitting in the rocking chair. She tried not to pay attention to Spencer as he knelt in front of the fire to add more logs. Tried not to think about how he’d stripped her down on the floor where her feet now rested... “Ask away,” Tatum answered unsteadily.
“What have you been up to?” Mrs. Ryan asked. “I know you finished out high school in California with your father, but after that? Lucy said you went to college there?”
“UCLA,” she said, shrugging. “Got my accounting degree. I get numbers.” People, not so much.
“Ugh.” Lucy winced. “No, thank you.”
“Okay, Miss PhD,” Tatum teased. “I met Brent there. We were married for three years. I was his wife, his accountant and his events planner...and we’ve been officially divorced for eight months.”
“I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Ryan said.
“I am too,” she agreed. “Wish I’d had the sense to get out sooner.” She smiled, trying to make light of the situation. But it was true. She’d worked hard to be what Brent wanted, keeping his books sound, his house tidy and his parties memorable. When he hired “more seasoned professionals” to do his books, the slight daily contact they had was gone. Things had disintegrated by their second anniversary. So why had she held on?
She felt Spencer’s gaze on her and glanced his way. He was studying her, looking for something. But what exactly? Instead of worrying about what he was thinking or feeling, she’d be wise to remember he’d been the first one to replace her with another woman.
Whatever spark remained was purely sexual. Which was fine.
“Good riddance,” Lucy chimed in. “His loss.”
“That’s sweet of you to say,” she laughed, even if it sounded a little forced.
“It’s true,” Mrs. Ryan agreed. “You’ll find the man that deserves you, don’t you fret.”
So not fretting. Worrying over her romantic future wasn’t on her top-ten-things-to-worry-over list. She didn’t know who she was or what she wanted—now wasn’t the time to fall in love. No, that was the main reason it had fallen apart with Brent: he defined too much of her. That, and he’d been screwing the most successful real-estate agent in their wealth
y, gossipy group of friends.
If anything, she didn’t want a relationship right now. She needed to figure things out, needed to live a little and try new things—for herself.
Like sex. Last night had been a revelation. She wanted lots of hot sex. But she only knew one person she was attracted to. She glanced at Spencer again.
Could she get up the nerve to really consider such a thing? Roommates with benefits? And ask him if he was interested. The potential for rejection gnawed on her insides.
But last night. She drew in an unsteady breath, flooded with a tangle of want-inducing images, sensations and sounds. They were already sleeping under the same roof. Neither of them was involved. And, hell, they were both adults.
He could say no. She swallowed, tearing her gaze from him.
“What are your plans?” Lucy asked. “Whatever they are, tell me you’re staying.”
She nodded. “Come home, regroup, get a job...start again.”
“Sounds like a good plan, dear,” Mrs. Ryan said. “Oh, I know. I’ll check in with George Welch, see if he knows of any openings in his office. He has the largest accounting firm in the county.”
Tatum held up her hand. “You don’t have to—”
“No, she doesn’t. But it’s what she does,” Spencer said. “With or without your blessing, trust me.”
Tatum smiled at him, then Mrs. Ryan. “Thank you.”
“Free today?” Lucy asked. “I’d love to spend some time with you.”
“I’d love that too,” she agreed. “Up for shopping? I have no food.” She paused, looking at the huge goodie basket on the table. “Well, I do now. But I’m thinking a Christmas tree might brighten things up.”
“You do decorate?” Mrs. Ryan asked. “I’m so glad. I know your mother... Well, I’m glad.”
“I do,” she said. “And I want this Christmas to be extra special.”
“You’ve got a great yard, Tatum,” Spencer said.