Reunion Flirts! 5 Romantic Short Stories Read online

  “I did hear something about that. But sometimes I’m old school, you know?”

  “Yeah, yeah. We still have a few people to convert.” Oh, his voice had gotten deep and sexy.

  Chelsea set her hand against her pounding heart. “Yes. Well. Speaking of school, our ten-year reunion is coming up, and I’ve been threatened to make sure you come because if you don’t, it will be a total and utter failure. Lives will be ruined, spirits crushed. I think they could even do a recall election on my class-secretary title, and how would that look on my résumé?” Why was she saying this? She should be encouraging him not to come. “But, I imagine you’re pretty busy. I’m sure you have plans in Fiji that week. With your gem polisher or something.” She coughed. “I can just tell the planning committee I tried.”

  “Too busy? Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ve been wondering what the plans were. Besides, my gem polisher has some vacation time scheduled, so that won’t be a conflict.”

  She almost dropped the phone. “So, you’ll be coming? Oh. Wow. That’s great. Everyone will be so excited.”

  “Are you?” he asked.

  “Coming? To the reunion? I’m not sure.”

  “No, excited. Are you excited I’ll be there?”

  Chelsea gritted her teeth. She could just imagine the smirk on his face. Well, she deserved some crap from him. She had it coming. And she had a lifetime supply of big-girl panties. She could take it. She’d go to the damn reunion. “Yeah, Tripp. It’ll be great to see you. I’ll be sure to make it.”

  “Actually, I’m going to be back in town this week, and I’d like to talk to you about the reunion. I’d like to help. Financially, that is. Whatever you want. I have some ideas.”

  “Tripp, that’s very generous, but you don’t have to. We’re going to do a fifty-fifty split or something to cover expenses.”

  “Oh, well in that case, it’s bound to be fabulous. That’ll get you a bag of chips and maybe dip. Chelsea, come on. I’d be a heel not to help given my situation. So can we meet? Say, Wednesday night?”

  Oh, she was so not ready to see him yet. She thought she’d have months to prepare for this. “It’s last-minute, but I’ll see if I can get the committee together.”

  “No, not the committee. Just you.”

  Her heart swelled for a moment. Then the feeling popped like a balloon. Of course he wanted to see just her. In person. Made sense. Rubbing her nose in his success would be much more fun all alone and in person. He’d look like a jerk if he did it in front of everyone. Hell. Guess she’d just double up on the big-girl panties and wear two pairs. “Wednesday will be fine.”

  “Marco’s Grille? Six o’clock work?”

  Chelsea tipped up her chin. “I’ll see you there.”

  “I’ll send a driver for you.”

  She balled up a fist on her hip. “No need. I have my license.”

  He laughed softly. “I remember. Do you know how long it took to crisscross your yard with caution tape in the dark that night?”

  She chuckled; she couldn’t help it. “I can’t imagine. Probably not as long as it took my father to move those dozens of orange cones from the end of the driveway the next morning.”

  “Well, I thought the neighbors ought to know you were going to be out and about with the car. Remember, you didn’t get it until your second try, and who knows if you were just flirting with the tester.”

  Chelsea could picture him stretching, folding his arms behind his head. “I wasn’t flirting. I’m just persistent.”

  “So am I. Although, I guess you didn’t know that about me. See you Wednesday, Chelsea.”

  He hung up, and Chelsea sat with the phone in her hand until someone came up and asked for some thumbtacks. She fished out a box from the cabinet behind her. It would have been very satisfying to hurl them across the room, but she didn’t, because she would’ve been the one stuck cleaning them up.

  ***

  Chelsea decided to wait until she met with Tripp to tell the rest of the committee about his offer. Was he going to pick up the bar tab? A DJ? She’d left messages with Lucy Jordan and Marti Klein, personally inviting them to the reunion. She hadn’t heard back yet. Shocker.

  Wednesday morning, she woke before her alarm went off. Her cat, Pooky Two, was perturbed by the early-hour jostling. He opened one eye and glared at her.

  “Sorry. And no, I am not up early worried about the date with Tripp tonight. The meeting. It’s just a meeting.”

  After a long shower, she stared at her closet. She dressed up, then dressed down, not sure how to look good without seeming like she was trying. She settled on a cozy sweater and black pants, because what did it matter? Chelsea was Tripp McCall’s small-town high school ex, and he’d dated some of the most beautiful, glamorous women in the world. Women who didn’t have to think about what they were going to wear because they always had someone to pick out their designer clothes and dress them. Nothing she put on could compete with that.

  Work dragged and everything seemed to go wrong: the copier jammed not once, but twice, the meeting memo she’d sent out had listed the wrong start time, and the coffee ran out, all before noon. It was all just a reminder of how very not perfect her life was.

  When she finally got to the restaurant five minutes before their meeting, Tripp was already there, waiting. Her heart bobbed in her throat. She’d seen pictures of him since high school, but seeing him just a few feet away—damn. Double damn. She felt like she’d been punched. The restaurant hostess and three waitresses stood around him in a semicircle, laughing at whatever he was saying. Truth was, it was probably funny. Tripp was a trip, as people liked to say.

  He looked up at Chelsea and his smile widened. Of course it did. He had groupies surrounding him as his ex was walking in—the ex who hadn’t believed in him. She waved. “Hi, Tripp.”

  The four women stopped laughing and frowned at her.

  Tripp walked right over and set his hands on her shoulders. What a wide space he left between them. “Chelsea. It’s so nice to see you.”

  I bet it is. “Hard to believe it’s been almost ten years since I’ve seen you. Well, I mean, I’ve seen you of course, on TV. And the Internet. Magazines. The newspaper and that autobiography.”

  He smiled. “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

  “Are you ready to be seated?” The hostess flashed Chelsea a nasty look.

  “Yes, the two of us have a lot of catching up to do,” Tripp said.

  Not really, Chelsea thought. You’re a smashing success… and I’m not. Oh, and seeing you just makes me wish I’d never dumped you. All caught up.

  The hostess led them to their table and Chelsea remembered all the times they went out for dinner in high school. Usually something much more casual, like Denny’s or the Ridge Diner. But it was easy to travel back in time and remember when she’d been madly in love with a boy who seemed to have no future. It wasn’t the best match for a girl with big plans. And she’d broken up with him for it.

  “Still eating double bacon burgers with a side of blue cheese?” Tripp asked. “You always could eat.”

  Her cheeks felt hot. She was fortunate to have the metabolism of a lumberjack. The appetite, too. Of course that’s what he would remember. “Once in a while.” Back then, she usually ordered a bacon burger with blue cheese because she knew Tripp loved it too. She’d always saved him some. She didn’t think she could bear that today. “I’ll probably go with a salad.”

  “You don’t win friends with salad,” Tripp said, looking over the menu and stealing a glance at her.

  She smiled. “The Simpsons, fifth episode, seventh season,” Chelsea said. How many times had they watched those videos together? “Very cool that you got some of the cast members to do voice-overs on your website.”

  “You have no idea. I sat in the studio while they recorded. Bart Simpson’s voice actress saying, ‘McCall me, man.’ That was a moment to remember.”

  Chelsea di
dn’t know why her heart suddenly started pounding. Probably because she realized she was sitting next to one of the biggest business tycoons of the day, chatting like they were still together. How ridiculous to be wondering if he was thinking about what might have been between them.

  “Well, if you’re not going to get the burger, I am.” He pushed the menu away and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. Tripp had always been good-looking. Not the hottest guy in school, but pretty damn nice. His dark hair contrasted with his light blue eyes, which were deep set above high, wide cheekbones. He always looked like he was about to laugh. Somehow over the years, he’d gotten even more attractive. Filled out more. He looked like a man. “So, what are you doing these days?” he asked.

  And there it was. Right out on the table like a big plate of atomic buffalo wings she didn’t want to touch. But she had to. “Turns out the medical profession wasn’t for me.” She forced a smile and looked down. “They really should line up premed students before the first day of medical school to see your first corpse. Classroom theory and animal dissections is one thing. Working on a human is another. I had no idea I was so squeamish. I thought I’d be fine. But in the first semester of medical school, I realized I couldn’t hack it. So, I’ve been managing an office until I can figure out what’s right for me.”

  He reached his hand across the table to her, not quite touching her fingertips. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Sometimes it’s nice not to be wrapped up in the rat race.”

  She pursed her lips. She could not, would not cry. “I had big plans, Tripp. Bigger than overseeing the paper supply for one hundred people.”

  He was quiet, and thankfully the waitress came over to take their orders. Once she finished flirting with Tripp and left with their menus, Chelsea decided to change the subject. “So, let’s talk about the reunion.”

  “Yes, right.” He looked in her eyes and her throat clenched. It was too easy remembering when they were together, imagining they were again.

  “What do you guys have planned so far?” he asked.

  She hoped the right words came out of her mouth because she had so many things she wanted to say, but shouldn’t. “We’re thinking a three-day thing. Something casual at a bar on Friday, something more formal on Saturday, and a picnic on Sunday.” Her words sounded hollow.

  Tripp laced his hands behind his head. “I’d like to pay for the whole thing.”

  “What?”

  He grinned. “Let’s make it a party to remember. You only celebrate your ten-year high school reunion once.”

  “And you have a lot to celebrate.”

  He brought his hands down and leaned forward. “I do. I’ve been very blessed. But my life’s not perfect.”

  “I can join you in that one.” Chelsea held up her water glass and clinked it with his. “I’ll have to talk to the committee,” she said, eager to stick to the topic at hand.

  “You think they’ll turn down my offer?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “No. I think they’ll giggle and squeal and you’d better set a budget or Brandi will hire a hot-air balloon emblazoned with our school mascot.”

  “Huh. I’d like to see that.”

  “You probably will.”

  “It’s hard to believe ten years has passed since high school. It’s so weird being home,” Tripp said.

  She took a sip of water. “I bet. It’s got to seem pretty small to you now.”

  “It does, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing.” He drummed his fingers and fixed his gaze on her.

  The waitress dropped off their drink order. “Can I get you anything else right now, Mr. McCall?” She curled a strand of hair around her finger.

  “No, we’re just fine. Thank you,” Tripp said.

  “Just let me know if you need anything. Anything.” The waitress backed away without taking her eyes off him.

  Chelsea groaned softly. “I should have you test my food first. That woman would poison me in a heartbeat for a chance to be sitting here with you.”

  He didn’t take his eyes off her. “Well, I don’t want to be sitting with her. I’m happy to be with you.”

  “I’m sure you are. There’s lots to reminisce about.”

  He smiled. “Like how you said I’d never grow up. That I’d never stop goofing around long enough to get a real job.”

  She gulped. Here it comes. She clenched her teeth like she was getting ready to be thrown in a cold pool. “Yes, like that.”

  He turned up his hands. “Well, you called it correctly. I don’t have a real job.”

  She laughed. “Right. I read about the indoor skateboarding rink at your company headquarters. And the dorm rooms where people can spend the night if they’re on a roll with a project. You’re a dream boss. But we both know you made something of yourself and I never thought you would.”

  His smile fell and his voice lowered. “I have to be honest. It did hurt when you said that.”

  “Well, you win.” Chelsea shrugged. “You showed me, and now the girl voted Most Likely to Succeed is getting nothing out of the psychology degree she settled for.” Of course he was anxious to come back and foot the bill for the entire reunion. This was a comeuppance for the ages.

  “Chelsea…”

  She held up a hand. “Let’s just focus on the reunion.”

  He pursed his lips like he was going to say something else, then slowly exhaled. “I’m in town for a few days. Should we check out reception sites?”

  She wouldn’t look him in his eyes; she didn’t want him to see the hurt in hers. “Sure. The committee had a few places in mind; I’ll make appointments for later this week. I’ll try to arrange them all for Saturday.”

  Their food came, but she didn’t feel like she could eat. Half an hour with Tripp McCall made her realize what a big mistake dumping him had been. She still loved him.

  They finished up dinner without saying much more and she drove home to make more cookie dough.

  ***

  Tripp hadn’t felt like this in a long time. Sure, when Amazon had tried to buy his company that was a damn good day, but nothing about that offer had hit him square in the heart. He thought he’d put her behind him. Lord knows he’d tried with enough women. But no one ever made him laugh like she had. He could’ve spent the whole night with Chelsea. But she’d been nervous just sitting down for dinner with him, and if he had any chance of starting things over, he’d have to take it slow.

  His buddy Joe Latham was waiting in the penthouse suite at the hotel when he got back. They’d been best friends since forever. Joe had been there for Tripp when Chelsea dumped him. Joe looked up from the couch with a beer in his hand. “How’d it go? You rub it in her face?”

  Tripp gave him a look.

  Joe tossed aside the magazine he was reading, set down his beer, and stood up. “No. No, you can’t still be interested in her. She dumped you in high school. If you weren’t good enough for her back then, then you aren’t now. I won’t allow it.” He crossed his arms.

  Tripp walked over to the bar, smiling. “She’s still hot. Hotter.” He poured himself a drink. “And still funny as hell.”

  Joe hurried over to the bar. “She said you’d amount to nothing.”

  “Well, those weren’t the exact words,” Tripp said. “She said we had different goals. That I was all fun and she had big plans.”

  “She dumped you,” Joe said. “You were miserable.”

  Tripp rolled his eyes. “We were kids.”

  Joe shook his head and flopped back onto the couch. “Adrianna, the swimsuit cover girl, didn’t dump you. Neither did that European princess.”

  “She was just a duchess.”

  “Whatever. No one dumps you now. Why go back to the one who did?” Joe snapped his fingers and nodded, grinning. “Ah, I get it. You want to date her then dump her, don’t you? Good one.”

  “No! And of course no one dumps me now. My net worth is available with a quick Internet search. Who wouldn’t want me? Chelsea li
ked me when I was making minimum wage bussing tables.” Sometimes she even picked him up from work when his brother had the car and they’d drive somewhere to look at the stars. Well, that’s how things would start out anyway. But Chelsea had been a good balance for him. Funny and sweet, but serious and ambitious enough to keep him on track. At least he had thought so. Just not enough for her.

  Joe dropped his head back. “You pay me for something. I’m not sure exactly what an executive adviser is supposed to do, but I figured part of it was to give you advice like this.”

  “But I’m the boss. That means I don’t have to take your advice.”

  Joe’s face wrenched into a painful-looking scowl.

  Tripp set down his drink. “Joe, I appreciate you looking out for me. You’ve been loyal to me for years. But sometimes you’ve got to trust me.”

  Joe let out a creative string of swear words. “Fine. You’ve just got something to prove. It’ll be a one-night thing. One week at best. Get it out of your system if you must.”

  “I must,” Tripp said. But he wasn’t sure what he wanted from Chelsea. “We’re checking out some reception sites in the next few days.”

  “But you’re not going to wait until then, are you?” Joe made no attempt to hide the disgust in his voice.

  “You know me well.”

  “Since second grade. You were an impetuous romantic back then, too.”

  Tripp shrugged. “Brandi Parkman was sitting under the slide just waiting to be kissed. I hope Chelsea’s waiting for me now.”

  ***

  Tripp sent roses to Chelsea the next day. He was probably coming on strong, but he’d restrained himself at three dozen. He could’ve had a flock of doves deliver them one by one. He wasn’t exactly sure why he was doing it; she hadn’t seemed particularly interested in him. If anything, he should have sent them to the hostess. She’d been salivating over him. It sounded smug, but most women did. He’d dated some of the most beautiful, famous women in the world, but one face was buzzing in his head.

  He spent the rest of the day going over a marketing proposal, totally distracted by thoughts of her. Did she like the flowers? He wished he could’ve seen her face when they arrived. Back when they were dating in junior year of high school, she’d been so mad at him when he dropped the ball on Valentine’s Day. The student government had been selling roses for the occasion but he didn’t buy her any. No, he’d gotten her a bouquet of plastic flowers instead. They squirted water. She hadn’t been amused when she got wet.