“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I do. Joe’s smart, and kind, and he treats me with dignity and respect, like I’m an equal in the relationship.” Now that she thought about it, her fake relationship with Joe might be the healthiest one she’d ever been in, and how messed up was that?
“What, you actually think he wants a relationship with you?” Dennis laughed as if that were the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “The only thing a guy like that wants is a hot piece of ass. The second he gets tired of you, he’ll drop you like a bad habit.”
The comment touched on one of her insecurities, but she refused to let it show. “What makes you think I don’t want him for the exact same reason?”
“I know you better, maybe even better than you know yourself.” Smile smug, he moved toward her, and she angled the cart to keep him out of her personal space. “You need a man who can give you stability, a man who can keep you safe.”
“You never kept me safe,” she said. “You kept me under your thumb.”
Anger creased the corners of his eyes, a crack in the veneer of his civility. It sent a shiver through her. She’d seen that look plenty of times before, usually right before things got ugly.
“Fiona!” a woman’s voice called out.
She glanced over her shoulder and spotted Renee Castellano, the math teacher whose classroom was two doors down from hers, headed toward her from a few rows over. Two teenaged girls trailed in her wake, matching mortified expressions on their faces.
Relief loosened the tightness in Fiona’s chest, because she knew Dennis wasn’t dumb enough to make a scene in front of witnesses.
Squaring her shoulders, she pushed the cart around him and opened the trunk of her car. “Goodbye, Dennis. Don’t come near me again, or I’ll file a complaint with the department.”
Chapter 14
MuchtoFiona’sdisappointment,the thrift store’s selection of Christmas decorations had been thoroughly picked over. There hadn’t been a single item she wanted for her new holiday collection. But she’d found a good deal on baking supplies, so she stopped at the grocery store on her way home and got to work on a massive batch of holiday cookies.
Determined not to let a lack of decorations, or the confrontation with her jerk of an ex, put a dent in her Christmas spirit, Fiona took the last batch of cookies from the oven and set them on the rack to cool. In all, she’d made three batches: gingerbread, peanut butter, and, her personal favorite, chocolate mint with dark chocolate chips. It was her first time baking since she’d left Dennis. Her cookbook was still at his house. But she’d made the cookies so many times she practically knew the recipes by heart, so it wasn’t really any big loss.
Her phone sounded with an alert from her brand-spanking-new security system a second or two before she heard a knock at the door. Curious, she swiped at the screen, and she couldn’t help but grin at the sight of Joe in the hall.
Okay, maybe this was becoming something more than just a relationship of convenience. At least it was to her. She’d always considered Joe physically attractive, but now that she’d gotten to know him as a person, she felt something far deeper, more intimate. Without a doubt, their relationship had moved beyond the boundaries of friendship. Perhaps, once his family was back in New Jersey and Dennis stopped being such a pain in the butt, they could explore this thing they’d started.
Fiona crossed to the foyer to open the door, and like every other time she laid eyes on him, her heart did a little flip.
Still in the clothes he’d worn to work, Joe looked dark, dangerous, and blatantly masculine. Temptation personified.
He smiled, a slash of white in his five o’clock shadow. “Did you get an alert before I knocked?”
“Yes, I did, and I checked the camera before I opened the door. Thank you again. You really should let me reimburse you for this.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. I feel better knowing you’re protected when I’m not around.”
There it was again—that warm, soft, fuzzy feeling that started deep in her chest and radiated out to the rest of her body. It happened a lot when he said stuff like that.
He tipped his head up and sniffed the air. “Are those cookies I smell?”
“Yep, I made three batches.” She opened the door a little wider so he could step inside.
Joe followed his nose to the small galley kitchen, where every inch of counter space was covered with bowls, containers, cookie sheets, and baking racks.
He stared for a few moments. “That’s a shitload of cookies.”
“I couldn’t decide which recipe to use, so I ended up making all three.”
“From scratch?”
“Well, I cheated and used a box mix for the gingerbread, but the other two were from scratch.”
A smile teased the corners of his mouth. “I should probably try them. You know, for quality control purposes, if that’s okay with you.”
“Be my guest.”
