Page 12 of Something New

Her door opened suddenly, and she stepped out, having combed her hair and touched up her makeup. Always putting on the right look for everyone, donning her armor for the crowd.

“You know the paparazzi aren’t here, right? They can’t get on the private beach, so you don’t need to be so damned perfect and made up all the time,” he snarled at her, words coming harsher than he expected.

Her eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed. “I don’t do this for the paparazzi. I do it for me, because I like to look nice for my friends.” She let her gaze travel over his worn jeans and UT football coach’s t-shirt. “You might try it sometime.”

He arched a brow at her. “I’ll risk it. My friends like me for who I am, not what I wear or what I look like. Can your friends say the same?”

She flinched, but the hurt was quickly masked by a cool expression on her face and a hair toss. “My friends like me too.”

He stepped forward into her personal space, forcing her to look up, a defiant expression on her face. “And which friends are they? The ones you haven’t seen in five years or the ones you ostensibly have in California?” Judging by the flash of hurt in her eyes, he had scored. Only he wasn’t sure if it was a victory or something else.

“I have plenty of friends, both here and there. I don’t need to kiss up.”

“Well, you’d better work on your technique if your meeting with Delaney was any sign.” He stepped away, heading down the hall, then stopped. “We’re going to be here for an entire week. You might want to let go of past frustrations and grudges if you want the week to go well.”

She folded her arms in front of her and cocked her hip. “You’re one to talk, oh master of grudges.”

He paused and slowly pivoted in his sneakers, an icy chill of anger slithering down his back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Like you’re not still pissed off at me for living out my dream when you can’t. I see your anger every time you look at me. You snipe at me, make snide comments, and insult my job. But I remember a time when you supported me, encouraged me, and told me to go for it while you rehabbed your knee.”

He advanced on her, anger burning deep inside. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

She cocked her head, a smirk on her face. “What do you think? Your fragile ego can’t handle someone else being successful, especially me.”

“Fragile ego? Me? I do not have an ego, fragile or otherwise.”

“Of course you do. All men do.” Anna waved her hand in the air as if the words meant nothing. “Really, it’s no big deal, Wyatt. Only, you’re so quick to condemn me for something you did yourself five years ago. How long was it before you contacted any of your friends?”

She took a couple of steps forward, going on the offensive, getting into his personal space so he could smell the coconut scent of her shampoo and the unique scent he never could get out of his mind whenever he thought of Anna. “I was there, Wyatt, during your injury, surgery, and rehab. I had to force my way into your hospital room when you shut me out, not just emotionally, but even physically, trying to bar me from your room. As if your injury and risk to your career made you less of a man to me.” Her voice lowered, deepened with remembered pain and anger. “I fought for you.”

He struggled to take a breath, her words a painful reminder of the beginning of the end of his professional football career. “It was guilt you felt, nothing more. And, if I recall, you left eventually and didn’t bother coming back when I needed you.”

She lifted her chin, steel in her dark chocolate eyes. “Yes, damn you. It was guilt, but that’s not why I stayed. But I think you need to remember why I left and your role in that departure. Because you clearly have forgotten details of our history.”

She pushed past him, headed for the stairs, while he remained frozen in place. “How about you, Anna? Have you forgotten anything about our past?”

She paused at the top of the stairs, hand on the railing, staring straight ahead. “I have forgotten nothing. I relive it every night.”

* * *

Anna rushed down the stairs but hesitated to go out onto the patio, needing some time to compose herself. She wandered into the front sitting room, enjoying the soft French countryside touches Caroline’s mother had added. Instead of making the house pretentious or a showpiece, she had kept the cozy, homey quality, as if it truly was a family home and not a magazine spread. Anna sank into one of the chairs and strove for a measure of control, practicing her breathing to tame her racing heart and ping-ponging emotions.

Coming back to Texas was going to be hard, that much she had expected. When she had come back for the bridal shower a few weeks ago, she had been the triumphant heroine, returning home to accolades. She was no longer the forgotten middle child of a middle-class restaurateur family. No, Caroline’s family and her social equals admired Anna, asked for her autograph, wanted her advice on fashion, gossip in LA, and the next big thing. Anna was important.

What a difference a few weeks made. While no announcements had been made, the rumors were damaging. Her character was allegedly in a coma, and she had no guaranteed contract renewal. In the past, her popularity with the fans might have saved her role, but perhaps it was not enough anymore.

Wyatt’s slow and measured tread on the stairs alerted her she wouldn’t remain isolated for long. She headed for the patio and came to a halt when she saw Delaney and Wyatt in the doorway to the patio. Delaney had a genuine, relaxed smile while Wyatt’s head tilted to listen to her, a soft, gentle look on his face, a look Anna never saw aimed at her. Anna leaned against the doorjamb to the kitchen and watched the interaction, jealousy itching beneath the surface.

He treated Delaney as if she were spun glass, a princess in the tower, while he pushed Anna, prodded her like a sore tooth or, worse, something he found on the bottom of his shoe. She hated she was jealous of Delaney, hated that Delaney had more of a right to be close to Wyatt than Anna did, hated that Anna wanted to be the one Wyatt treated like she was special. But she gave up that right years ago, and even when they dated, it was less about being placed on a pedestal than the combustible fire that always seemed to explode around both of them. Maybe it was better that they had ended it when they had, before they went supernova and burned everyone out around them when they blew up. She got burned enough as it was with the scars to prove it, even though they were deep inside, where she could hide them from the world.

It was the hug that pushed Anna over the edge, forced her to act, even as she stuffed down the jealousy that burned like acid in her stomach, mixing with guilt for feeling jealous, all combined to churn up a sour taste in her mouth. And this was only the first day. Imagine how the rest of the week was going to go?

Anna pushed off the wall and stalked into the room just as Delaney stepped closer to Wyatt. Not a flirty come-on, and Anna knew it, but damn if she didn’t see red.

“What are you doing now?” Delaney asked, her head tilted to one side as if Wyatt was the most important person in the world at that moment. They probably taught that move in finishing school.

Anna glared at the cozy scene. "He’s coaching football now at our alma mater, UT. I would have thought you would have known that since you stayed here in Texas. Or is football beneath you, Delaney?" She tossed her long black hair and planted a hand on her hip.

---