Selling Seduction (Your Ad Here #1) (14 page)

“From Woodhouse, this afternoon—
We need someone more flexible. Able to adapt to a constantly shifting market at the drop of a hat.
Funny how his words echo yours.”

Mercy’s confusion slid back behind rage and comprehension. “You think
I
told him that?” Too many thoughts assaulted her at once. “How do you imagine it went down? I added a slide that said,
The competition? I know that guy. Dynamite in bed, but a little stiff when it comes to change. You want flexible? I’m your woman.
”

“You did something.”

She refused to acknowledge the ache in her joints. The hurt throbbing through her veins, at what his accusations meant. “I sold my fucking product. That’s what you did, that’s what I do. Whatever conclusions they drew—correctly, I’ll add—about your inability to adapt, were probably because they’re fucking observant. I suppose now that you’re pissed at me, you want back these plane tickets I never asked for?”

“I didn’t buy you any tickets.” His voice shifted from irritated to a scarily low calm, with a heavy current running through it. “You made it clear we’re done. Do you really think that little of me?”

“I think you run your company like an uptight old man.” She was done holding back. “And speaking of how we feel about each other, do you think I’d compromise my ethics for a little bit of an upper hand? Is your opinion of my work so fucking low, that you believe I have to do that? Was all of that
I’m impressed with what you’ve done
just lip service?” Her last question echoed through the room.

Someone pounded on the wall next door and shouted, “
Shut up.”

“No. That’s not what this is about,” Ian said.

“You could have fooled me.” Mercy lowered her voice but couldn’t ignore the storm inside her. “I usually don’t get much satisfaction out of saying something like this, but tonight I will. Long distance doesn’t work. Competing for the same clients doesn’t work.
I told you so.
”

“Fantastic.” His sarcasm matched her irritation. “Too bad that doesn’t keep anyone warm at night.”

“No. But rage is a nice substitute.” She disconnected before he could say anything else. The last thing she needed was to hear more of his excuses. Another thinly veiled attempt to backpedal and pretend this wasn’t a big deal.
Fucking asshole.

She rolled onto her side, pulled her knees to her chest, and did something she hadn’t since that first stranger in Venezuela. She cried over a man.

Ian wanted to throw his phone at the wall. Instead he settled for screaming, “
Fuck,
” in the empty house. As soon as he’d said the words, the moment he accused Mercy of playing dirty, he knew he was wrong. It would have been nice if he figured that out sooner. Almost as good if pride let him take his accusation back, instead of digging the pit deeper.

He had to make this right. Tell her he didn’t feel that way. She deserved to be treated better. The moment his frustration ebbed enough he could think straight, he called her back. It went to voicemail. “Mercy, I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t make what I said right, but let me try?”

He leaned back against the sofa with an
oomf
and tried to keep his mind from scattering again. She’d been gone half a day after being back in his life for a week. He already missed her so much it hurt,
and
had offended her in one of the worst ways he could imagine. Liz was right; he was bad for Mercy.

His next message was a text.
Hear me out?

He wouldn’t beg. He didn’t grovel.
Fuck
. This was his fault. She kept him at a distance, but that didn’t make her underhanded or manipulative. As far as he knew, she’d always been upfront with him.

You don’t have to call me back. Just know, I’m so sorry
.

He didn’t know what else to do.

* * * *

Mercy ignored every ring and chime from her phone. The first call was Ian, and she deleted his message without listening. She wasn’t interested in seeing who the rest belonged to.

Would it be worse or better if he only tried the once?

Long after the tears dried up and the numbness settled in, she forced herself from the bed and crossed the short distance to where the plane tickets sat, taunting her. When she picked up the envelope, a note fluttered to the ground. She shouldn’t read it. She needed to tear it up along with the gift, and forget she ever knew Ian, He said they weren’t from him, but she had a hard time trusting anything he’d said right now.

She couldn’t help herself.

Melissa,

I was hoping to see you while you were here. If you have time, I’d love to have lunch with you and maybe start to make things right. The home number hasn’t changed. Call us if you’re interested.

Love,

Dad

Her tears spilled out, and an empty pit grew inside, threatening to consume her, as she sank to the floor.

Sleep didn’t come that night. She teeter-tottered between trying not to think about Ian, being furious with him, and wondering why she was considering using the tickets from her father. It was a chance to see Liz again, but Mercy couldn’t use a gift like this and not see the giver.

Why would she want to? Her family had never been anything but dismissive. Her two brothers and one of her sisters turned their backs on her when she left, but not before reminding her this was the kind of thing people burned in hell for.

Did Dad really want to make amends, or was this an excuse to lecture her about how badly he thought she screwed up her life? She shouldn’t care. But she did. Her home life as a kid was never abusive. Strict, intolerable, and suffocating, but it came from a place of love—misguided, but still love.

Mercy was tired of being alone. She had Liz and Andrew, and they were all but family, so why wasn’t that enough?

The thoughts were cyclical, haunting her until the sky peeking through the top of her curtains shifted from black to gray. It was after seven, back home. She wasn’t concerned she’d wake the household.
Home.
The thought made her snort. It hadn’t been home for ages.

She dialed her dad’s number from memory, heart slamming against her ribs with every ring.

“Hello?” A chipper female voice answered.

Mercy swallowed, struggling to find her voice. “Susan?”

“Oh, my heck. Mercy?” Her youngest sister, Susan—who was twenty now if Mercy’s math was good—was the only sibling who ever used her preferred name.

A smile cracked onto Mercy’s face. “It’s me. Is Dad there?” It felt so foreign saying the words, and Mercy couldn’t keep the timidness from leaking into her question.

“He had to go to work early. You just missed him.” Susan sounded painfully cheerful. “But he said, if you called, to tell you he’d drop everything for lunch. Are you coming back?”

“He’s not going to drop
everything
for me.” Despite the argument, a ball of warmth spread through the knot in Mercy’s chest.

“I promise he will. Is that a
yes
? Is this your cell number? What time will you be here?”

The attitude was contagious. “Plane doesn’t get in until eleven, so probably not until after one. That’s a little late for lunch.”

“Doesn’t matter.
Yay
, I’m so super psyched to see you!”

“Give me your cell, and I’ll text you when I get in.” Mercy scribbled the digits, to add to her phone as soon as they disconnected. Her gut churned, and her nerves marched quadruple time. She was going to do this. She prayed it wasn’t a huge mistake.

The next few hours passed in the most agonizingly slow blur she’d ever lived.

At the boarding gate, she texted Liz.
I’ll be in town tonight, after all. Do you have time?

Liz’s answer came back within seconds.
Always.

Followed quickly by,
Wait. Maybe. Back in town why? To see Ian?

His name left a lump in Mercy’s throat she couldn’t swallow past. There was too much to say in a few short words, so she decided to ignore the question.
Why maybe? Are we not there?

It’s not like that. But plans change, you know?

Mercy smiled and managed to push down the ache Ian’s name carried.
Is this a living life for the moment kind of thing?

Something like that. Tell me when and where, and you’ll know if plans change.

Mercy frowned at the odd phrasing but couldn’t figure out why it felt off. Still, seeing Liz again would be fantastic. Her mood lifted another notch. She boarded the plane when they called her row number, and she settled into the business-class seat.

When the plane took off, the butterflies inside soared, while the rest of her stomach lurched. She recognized the feeling. It settled in every time she hopped on a flight to wherever she called
home
at the time. A nervous anticipation that rolled under her skin and pumped her with adrenaline.

Today it was amplified tenfold, and she was just visiting the damned place. She pulled up some work, but it didn’t hold her attention. Tried to read but couldn’t focus. The games on her phone failed to distract her. Her gaze kept drifting out the window, to the mountains and desert below. She tried to guess where they were, based on how much time passed. Was that St. George? The little town nestled in the hills had to be Cedar City, right?

And then the nervousness spiked. She knew Provo. The flight attendant announced they began their final descent. About forty minutes, and she’d be on the ground. The snow-covered mountains rose and then fell away, revealing the next valley over. She tapped her fingers on her leg. The nervousness hadn’t been this severe in… She didn’t know how long. This felt like coming home more than any place she’d ever been, including Atlanta.

She missed it here. The realization slammed her in the gut, making her shake. Despite trying to run from it for so long, denying that she ever wanted to be here again, it really was home
.
Liz was here. If she was lucky, Susan and maybe more of her family was here.

And, as much as she hated to admit it, she adored that Ian was here too. God, she missed him. Not as the little girl with ideals and stars in her eyes, but as his equal, opposite, challenger, lover… More. His words from last night still hurt, though. The assumptions he jumped to yesterday were proof he didn’t see her the same way. Could she reconcile that? Could she forgive him? She knew better than to get attached to someone she was fucking. Why did she let herself get sucked into the fairytale?

She stashed thoughts of Ian behind happier things. When she touched down, she grabbed a shuttle to take her up the mountain, and texted Susan that she was on her way. Liz was staying down here, so Mercy would get an airport hotel room when lunch was over, and spend the rest of her time in town working and catching up with her best friend.

The ride into Park City was gorgeous, as Mercy expected. Snow glinted in the sunlight, and the mountains flowed into each other. Her attempts at being calm failed when she stepped out in front of the restaurant. Would they be waiting for her inside? God. Was she really doing this?

She passed through the front door and heard a squeal from the far end of the trendy bistro.

“
Mercy.
” Susan pushed back from the table where she sat with their dad, and half skipped to meet her. Her sister could have been her twin, except her hair barely reached her ears and had a bright blue streak running through it. Her fitted T-shirt read,
Screw the Establishment.

The substituted cuss word tickled Mercy’s amusement. Leave it to this town to take a rebellious message and jerk the steam out of it. “Hey,” Mercy said.

Susan threw her arms around Mercy’s neck. Mercy was startled but returned the tight hug. Her family was never touchy-feely. This was new.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” Susan grabbed her hand and tugged her toward their dad.

He stood as they approached, gave her a thin lipped smile, and took his seat again when they did.

That was the dad Mercy remembered.

“I’m glad you came.” His tone was stern and even. Like the last time she saw him.

Any peace she found on the ride up the mountains vanished, and her muscles clenched. “Of course.” What else was she supposed to say?

“I wanted to do this in person.” His voice shifted, and he studied his hands, clasped on the table. “I’m sorry for what I said the other day, and that it’s been so long since we’ve spoken. I’m sorry for a lot of things.”

Mercy’s brain ground to a halt, as she fumbled over the sincerity in his gaze. She had so many options right now—stand up and walk out; tell him it was too late; drag him over the coals until he groveled. Only one answer felt right, though. “Me too. To all of the above.”

“So, I… uh—” He cleared his throat. “I’d like to figure out how to have you back in our lives. No stipulations. No expectations. I can’t say I understand why you did what you did, but if it’s made you happy…”

“It really has.”

He smiled. “I’d love to hear about it, if there’s a PG-rated version.”

The warmth Mercy felt the night before rushed back. “There is. I promise.”

It all felt right, except the one missing piece. That one chunk with Ian’s name and all the hurt he managed to inflict with a few words. If she stayed in the valley her odds of bumping into him were low. Damn it, how long would it take to get over him?