He didn’t respond, so she waved in the direction of his crotch. “You, um, seem a little…aroused.” She didn’t bother to hide the gloat in her voice.

“What can I say? Bitchy, ungrateful women apparently do it for me,” he muttered.

She put the car in reverse. “Thanks for helping with the tire,” she called. “And thanks for making me feel like a prostitute to pay for it.”

Brynn gave one last jaunty wave before she began driving down the street. She hated that he’d probably leave the flat tire sitting messily in her driveway, but it was worth it to make the dramatic exit.

And she’d needed to get out of there, fast. Another second with Will pressed against her and she wouldn’t have been thinking about braces, or the mayor’s daughter, or James. Heck, she probably wouldn’t have even made it into the office.

Thank God she hadn’t kissed him back. She wouldn’t do that to James.

Or to herself.

She heard her phone vibrating in her purse, and reached for it as she pulled to a stop at a red light.

It was a message from Will. You kiss like a houseplant. And you still owe me a favor.

All the smugness she’d felt a moment ago began to fade. Every instinct told her that being in Will Thatcher’s debt was very, very bad news.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A solid career will never let you

down the way a man can.

—Brynn Dalton’s Rules for an

Exemplary Life, #39

She needn’t have worried about not making it to work on time.

The mayor and her daughter were fifteen minutes late, and neither an apology nor an acknowledgment of the tardiness was forthcoming.

Basically, she was indebted to the devil’s son over a flat tire for nothing. Awesome.

“But I don’t want braces,” Lizzie Blanton said, folding her arms over her thin preteen waist, and sounding more like a spoiled five-year-old than an eighth grader.

“I can understand that,” Brynn said with a reassuring smile. “Few kids that come in here want braces, but I can pretty much guarantee you’ll be grateful you had them when you’re grown-up.”

Lizzie gave a huff. “That’s ages away.”

Brynn and the mayor exchanged a commiserating glance over Lizzie’s head. Not as far as you think, honey. After her near breakdown in the bathroom on her birthday, Brynn knew all too well how fast time went. No matter how carefully you planned, no matter how diligent you were, time kept chugging along and soon you were thirty-one and falling rapidly behind on all the things you’d thought you’d have checked off by now.

She wished someone would have told her when she was twelve not to let any of your life goals depend on someone else. Because even the most perfect guy could drag his feet to the altar and then you were screwed.

“Dr. Dalton?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Brynn said, forcing her attention back to her sulky patient.

“I can wait for a couple months? At least until after yearbook pictures?”

“I don’t see why not,” Brynn said with a careful glance at the mayor, making sure she wasn’t contradicting parental preference. “My braces recommendation for you is primarily for cosmetic reasons at this point. You won’t be doing any harm to your teeth or jaws if you hold off.”

Actually, Lizzie Blanton’s mouth would be just fine without braces for a lifetime, but Brynn wasn’t about to volunteer that.

Still, the cosmetically fueled recommendation brought to mind Will’s accusations that her career choice was superficial and shallow.

He was wrong.

She knew firsthand that having straight teeth wasn’t always about vanity.

Sometimes it was about confidence.

Twenty minutes later, the mayor and her daughter were off to buy some frilly “fro-yo” milkshake the mayor had promised, and Brynn was in her office reading a mind-numbing article about some newfangled retainer.

But she couldn’t concentrate.

It seemed she couldn’t go two minutes without some flare of self-doubt creeping into her brain, and the latest offender was wondering why she’d busted her ass to get to work for such a mundane appointment.

Not that there was anything wrong with the daughter or the mother, but they’d been pretty standard patients. She waited for the zip of excitement that she’d just met the mayor. But…nothing.

Knock it off. You love your job. You’re just irritated because you let Will Thatcher kiss you.

And the kiss had been fierce and unwanted. And if she’d felt a little bit of a tingle, it’d definitely been irritation. Not lust.

Brynn jumped at a knock on the door, seeing her partner and friend standing in the doorway.

“So how’d it go with the pseudo-celeb’s daughter? Was she a total prima donna?” Susan Wee asked.

Brynn smiled in welcome, gesturing her partner into her office. As far as work relationships went, Brynn and Susan were perfectly suited.

They were both calm, and friendly without being bubbly. Most importantly, they were damn good orthodontists.

When Brynn had decided to start her own practice, she’d known a partner would be inevitable, but finding someone she could trust and who wouldn’t drive her nuts had taken longer than expected. Susan was younger than Brynn had wanted—only a couple years out of school—but her work was flawless and her chair-side manner was perfect.

The fact that the women had become friends was icing on the cake.

“I wouldn’t say Lizzie Blanton is a prima donna,” Brynn said, idly tapping her pen against her desk. “She is, however, a major brat.”

Susan shrugged as she dropped into the chair across from Brynn. “She’s twelve. Of course she’s a brat.”

“I don’t think I was,” Brynn mused, pursing her lips.

“Me neither,” Susan said cheekily. “I was a perfect child. And pretty perfect now, if I do say so myself.”

Brynn forced herself to smile back. It was a long-running joke between the two of them. Perfect jobs, perfect boyfriends, perfect lives…

It was supposed to be a point of pride, having crafted her dream life through sheer organization and hard work.

But today it felt…stale.

Damn Will Thatcher.

Her wave of self-doubt should have been limited to one day of birthday blues, but instead her discontent had been hovering above her head like a cartoon storm cloud. His unexpected presence brought back too many memories of her less-than-stellar moments.

Like the time she’d keyed his car. Or the time she’d told his junior-year girlfriend that he was gay.

Or the time she’d woken up in his bed. Naked.

Don’t go there. The man had no bearing on her future.

Maybe that was her problem. Brynn was a big believer in always keeping one eye on the future, but perhaps she was trying to focus on too much at once. Her life list had become overwhelming instead of being the beacon of focus it was supposed to be. Perhaps it was time to focus on just one item.

The most important one.

Marriage.

And James would propose this year. She was sure of it. And then her next birthday would be perfect.

Except…while focusing on the future usually centered Brynn, today it wasn’t working. Did she really want to spend her life merely ticking off days until her next big Life Event?

Wasn’t there supposed to be…more?

“You okay?” Susan asked, tilting her head to study Brynn. “You seem kind of off.”

“A little PMS,” Brynn lied. “And the Blanton meeting gave me a headache. The mayor seems so levelheaded on TV, but up close she’s a little…intense.”

“Aren’t they all when it comes to their darlings’ teeth? Slight overbites are the quintessential first-world problems.”

“Does it ever get to you?” Brynn asked. “The fact that the majority of our clients come in for cosmetic reasons?”

Susan lifted a shoulder. “I guess I sort of knew it coming into it, ya know? I mean, I know it’s not saving lives, but it’s good money, good hours…”

“But is it fulfilling?”

Susan blinked in surprise. “Of course. I love my job.”

Brynn loved her job too. At least, she was pretty sure she did. Sometimes it felt a little less like love, and a lot more like…contentment.