“I slept on a concrete floor last night.” Elliott looked over his shoulder again. “I need coffee.”
She stood, the red in her cheeks spreading down her neck. “I can relate.”
“Then have a seat at the kitchen table, and let’s talk while the caffeine convinces me that I’m in a good mood.” He braced both hands against the countertop while the coffeepot gurgled to life.
The chair legs scraped against the floor as she pulled it out and sat at the table.
When he had two piping-hot mugs ready, he turned to find his plan working beautifully.
Her eyes roamed over him.
He fought off a smile and set a cup in front of her. “Mine isn’t as good as Charley’s, but it’ll do.”
He took the chair diagonal to her. As he scooted forward, his knee pressed into hers under the table.
A visible shiver raced over her. Just like it had last night when he’d had her tender breast in his mouth, and she’d quaked beneath him.
She molded both her hands around the mug. “Maybe you should get dressed.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “And risk you running off like you did last night? Not a chance.” He took a sip, eyeing her over the rim of his cup. “Not unless you want to join me in my room while I change so I can keep an eye on you.”
Her lips thinned. “You insisted on staying in the garage. And you’ve brainwashed my dogs, so don’t expect me to feel guilty about leaving last night.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Can’t help it if they respond to my charismatic personality and irresistible charm.”
She rolled her eyes so hard the unusual color of her hazel irises disappeared. “I’ve met dope dealers and pimps on the streets of Portland with more charm.”
He knew she was joking, but he was also certain it was another clue. “You have experience with dope dealers and pimps.” It wasn’t a question, but he waited for her to respond.
She circled the rim of her mug with a finger. A finger that had romped through his hair, traced down his abs, and fumbled with his zipper.
“I have experience avoiding them,” she finally said.
“You’ve been on the streets of Portland, and not sleeping in a bed isn’t new to you.” He paused so she could let his words sink in.
He could swear she stopped breathing.
His chest squeezed, and his heart thudded at the thought of her being alone on the streets with no one except a drug-addicted mother. He drew in a deep breath and leaned toward her, his knee massaging up her thigh. “Rebel, were you homeless before or after your mom died?”
Rebel’s sharp intake of breath whistled as her lungs filled. Her heart expanded too, because of the softness in his eyes and the promise of acceptance in his voice. The need to touch him, kiss him, confide in him rained down on her until her chest was ready to shatter.
She stopped herself from blurting both. She’d known it wouldn’t take much for Elliott to fit the pieces together. He still didn’t know everything, though, and she planned to keep it that way.
“What are you talking about?” she asked. Denial wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, because a part of her heart splintered, the pain sharp and biting.
He let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Don’t insult my intelligence. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t care about whatever happened to you.”
She spun her cup around. “You want answers.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I do.”
He leaned forward, the friction of his strong thigh setting off a riot of lust that arrowed through her. Drops of water still dotted his muscled chest and starred his long lashes.
“It’s been long enough, don’t you think?” he asked. “What could it hurt to tell me now?”
If he only knew. Telling him everything would make him complicit in a crime unless he reported it to the authorities. It was doubtful he’d be thanking her for being honest once he realized she’d put him between her and the law. If he kept her secret, he’d have to live with the shame the same way she had. If he told the truth, the fallout for the resort could be massive because of their association with her.
She couldn’t do such a rotten thing to Elliott or his family.
“How about a game of truth or dare?” he asked. “I’ll go first.”
“What happened to old-fashioned chivalry?” she asked.
He shifted in his chair and slid his knee between her thighs. Which meant his package, which was so deliciously wrapped in nothing but a towel, was right under the table and ready for the taking.
She couldn’t go there. No matter how much she might want to.
He leaned in and dropped his voice. “I’m not all that chivalrous. But I’m especially ungentlemanly when I’m as close to naked as I could possibly get.” His tone was sultry and seductive.
Her mouth turned to cotton. Which only made the water droplets left on his pecs even more enticing. “Fine,” she croaked out. “Hurry and ask me something, or I’m leaving.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” His tone was challenging as he took another sip.
She tried to stand up just to show him she was serious, but he caught her wrist. “Stay, Rebel.” His voice turned to a plea. “Come on. The longer we put off this conversation, the worse it’s going to be for the camp.”
True. She let out a heavy sigh and sank back into the chair. Tension between her and Elliott might throw the dogs off when she needed them to focus on the veterans. “Go get dressed first.” His bare, hard chest gave him an unfair advantage.
“No.” He leaned harder on the table, and a lock of damp, uncombed hair fell across his forehead. It curled around his ears and the nape of his neck and made her want to run her fingers through it like she had last night.
God, was his body beautiful or what?
The man did have the goods to make a girl swoon. Or drool. Or straddle him and whisper take it off like a hussy, then slip a twenty in his towel.
“When did your mom pass?” He leaned back in his chair.
A flock of birds took flight in her stomach at the memory of her helpless dying mother lying in a hospital bed. “I get to choose whether or not I want to tell the truth or take a dare,” Rebel protested.
A sly smile curled onto his lips. “The Remington ‘dare rules’ are a little different.”
She glowered at him. When he didn’t give in, she decided to offer a small crumb of truth. “Less than a year after we left the island.” That was an honest answer without giving away too much intel.
“My turn,” she said. “Why did you move back to the island?”
The look on his face told her she wasn’t the only one with something to hide. Now she had a chip in the game.
He ran his fingers through his wet hair before he answered. “Dad needed help with the resort.”
Fair enough. The Remingtons were a tight family. Still, there was more to it than he let on.
“Why didn’t you come back here after your mom died? It would’ve been better than nothing.” He didn’t hesitate to spit out the next question, as though he’d already made a mental list of them. But his voice was tender. So tender that it made every cell in her body ache with sadness and regret.
“The bank foreclosed on the house while my mom was in the hospital.” The bird wings beat harder against Rebel’s insides, and silence hung in the air as she retreated in her mind to recover. Finally, she leaned back and crossed her legs, ready to volley another question back at him. “Why didn’t you ever get married?” Rebel wasn’t certain he hadn’t, but people usually carried scars from divorce, and Elliott didn’t seem to have any of the signs.
He shifted, propped his elbows on the counter, and stared into his mug. Then his gaze lifted to hers and caressed over her face. Regret filled his magnificent eyes when they lingered on her mouth. “Because . . . I was . . .”
For a second she thought he’d say, I was waiting for you. Foolish, she knew, but she couldn’t help but hold her breath.
“I was married
to my job,” he finally said.
She exhaled, not sure if she was relieved, disappointed, or both. But the way his voice was somber and filled with something akin to regret made her heart do a flippity-flop.
“My job is demanding.” He stared into his mug. “I’ve seen it tear a lot of marriages apart at my firm. I’d never do that to anyone, but especially not to someone I cared about.” He shrugged. “So I stayed single.”
It was his turn. Instead of firing off another instantaneous question, he stared at her mouth for an eternity. He reached out and brushed a thumb across her bottom lip. “Why didn’t you ever get married?” The heartache in his eyes and in his tone was her undoing.
Because no one ever compared to you. She wanted to shout it from the depths of her soul.
Where was duct tape when she needed it? Or a staple gun? Since neither was handy, she bit down on her tongue to keep from outing herself.
“Would you rather take the dare?” His stare stayed anchored to her mouth.
Only if the dare required her to unfasten his towel. “No. I’m done here.”
Before she could stick her foot any further into her mouth, she stood and stalked for the door without waiting for Rem or Bogart.
“Rebel,” Elliott called after her.
She didn’t stop. She flew down the steps of his porch and hurried past the garage, all the way to her room. She needed to think. Maybe she even needed to pack her bag and go back to Portland.
Because if Elliott looked at her again with such raw emotion, touched her again with such undisguised passion, she’d strip off every stitch of his clothing and shrink-wrap herself around him.
Chapter Fourteen
#SOBADITSGOOD
Of all the responses Elliott could’ve anticipated from Rebel when he’d asked why she never got hitched, silence was the biggest eye-opener.
It made perfect sense. In a completely nonsensical kind of way. The indicators were there, all pointing in one direction. She’d still cared about him.
The silent self-loathing over caring about her all those years was suddenly snuffed out. He hadn’t been an idiot. Hadn’t been blind. She really had loved him. And she must care about him now. Otherwise, why name her dog Rem?
But why leave the island and break off all communication?
He grabbed his wallet, phone, and keys; called for Rem and Bogart to follow; and drove to the garage. As he parked his Jeep outside at the end of the line of white resort vehicles, the first raindrops splattered the windshield.
Jax ripped open a gigantic bag of food as Elliott walked in.
While Dad supervised, Ben had several bowls lined up by the stacks of food, filling each with a scoop full. “Uncle Elliott! I’m gonna get my badge in no time!”
Some of the dogs became restless at his full-throttle tone.
“Inside voice, Ben,” Dad reminded his grandson. “Remember what Rebel said?”
“Hey, Dad. Did Rebel come this way?” Elliott asked.
“Haven’t seen her since she left to find you.” His dad helped Ben finish filling the bowls.
Elliott motioned for Jax to join him on the far side of the garage. “Have you seen Rebel in the last few minutes?”
Jax pointed to Rem and Bogart. “Not since she left to get those little dudes.”
There weren’t many places she’d go on the resort grounds. Elliott rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen, would you mind my leaving Rem and Bogart here for a little while?” Jax didn’t have much reason to go the extra mile for Elliott, considering how he’d treated the poor guy, but Elliott asked anyway. “The veterans might arrive late because of the storm, so I need to take care of something.”
“Sure thing.” Jax called the dogs to his side.
They didn’t budge until Elliott gave them the signal. Communicating with them wasn’t much different from the secret code he and his brothers had invented.
They trotted to Jax, who gave them a few treats.
Elliott turned to go, but then he stopped. “Hey, Jax.” This time that name didn’t seem quite so ridiculous. He lowered his voice so only Jax could hear. Truth was, Elliott was embarrassed for his dad to know he’d acted like a jealous teenager who could still be led around by his hormones. “I wasn’t very nice when we first hired you.”
Jax’s brows scrunched. Obviously, he hadn’t noticed Elliott’s sour attitude.
He still owed the guy an apology, though. Not to mention a debt of gratitude for helping with the camp. “I was being an unprofessional douche.”
Jax still looked confused.
Wow. “I apologize for taking out my problems on the people around me. I’ve been out of sorts lately.”
Realization dawned in Jax’s expression. “Dude, no worries. Women do that to me too.”
Elliott tensed. It was his turn to be confused. “What do you mean?” Had it been that obvious? “What woman?”
Jax let out another surfer-like laugh. “Anyone with half a brain can see you and Rebel have a thing for each other.” He picked up the bag of kibble and moved it to the corner to stack it with the other bags. “That’s why I haven’t asked her out. I knew right away I didn’t stand a chance because you’re the one she wants.”
Apparently, Elliott wasn’t as smart as he’d once thought. Apparently, the IQ test had lied. Apparently, his numb skull was half-empty because he hadn’t seen it nearly as quickly as Jax. Jax. Who’d named a dragonfly and sat outside every afternoon waiting for it to come out and play.
Elliott had to let that sink in.
He stared at the concrete floor. Finally, he said, “Thanks, man. If you ever need a reference, just say the word.” Then he marched out of the garage; got in his Jeep, since the rain was falling harder; and drove straight to the main lodge.
Going to her room was crazy. Foolish, even.
But he wanted Rebel so much it hurt every time he looked at her. What he wanted even more was for her to tell him the truth so he could help. So they’d both stop hurting inside. Because as much as he hated to admit it, he’d never gotten over Rebel or the way she’d disappeared from his life. No way was she over it either or she would’ve answered his question before running out of the cottage.
When he entered the main lodge, he didn’t even take the time to flinch at Mrs. Ferguson’s neon-orange spandex pants, tank top, and headband as he passed the great room, where she had a hot chair yoga class in full swing for their older guests. He took the stairs two at a time, lengthening his strides to get to Rebel.
Standing in front of her door, he drew in a deep breath and knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again. Could be she wasn’t inside. A more logical explanation was that she was hiding from him. “Rebel, I’ve got a master key,” he said loud enough so she could hear him through the door if she was inside.
The Remington had a strict rule that every staff member followed, including family members: never go into a guest’s room without permission. She didn’t have to know he’d never break it.
Relief zinged through him when the sound of the lock turning echoed down the hall.
But the door only cracked. “What do you want?” Rebel peeked through the gap with one eye.
“To finish talking,” he said. “And I’m not leaving until we do.”
“I have nothing left to say.”
His heart pinched when the door shut in his face.
Rebel paced the length of her room, waiting for Elliott to go away. She couldn’t let him in. She couldn’t let herself be around him at all if she was unable to hide her feelings for him any longer.
She went to the closet and got out her suitcase. Only to toss it back inside and slam the door. Running away was not an option. Not with all she had at stake. She retrieved her phone from the desk and pulled up the commercial real-estate listing. After flipping through the photos of the property, she tapped the real-estate agent’s number.
When the call connected, she said, “I’m calling about the abandoned a
nimal shelter you have for sale.”
“At the tone, leave your name and number and one of our premier agents will contact you shortly,” an automated voice said.
Shee-ot. Rebel growled at the phone, then held it to her ear again to wait for the beep. When it finally made a blipping sound, she rattled off her name and the listing. “I’m working out of town right now, but when I’m back in Portland, I’ll contact you. I will be making an offer soon.”
There. A verbal commitment gave her a reason not to run. That property would be hers in the near future.
As soon as she got the paycheck from Down Home Dog Food in her hot little hand. She’d make the offer over the phone on the ferry ride back to the Cape, with Angel Fire Falls in her rearview. No one would ever have to know that she’d spend the rest of her life helping others who’d been damaged, abused, or abandoned by society as penance for covering up her mother’s crime.
She’d never have to see Elliott Remington again. Never have to answer any more of his questions.
She walked to the desk where his jacket was draped over the chair. She picked it up, held it to her nose, and breathed in his scent.
She’d never have the pleasure of seeing him, touching him, kissing him.
She pulled on his jacket and snuggled into it, closing her eyes against the pain of eventually having to leave him all over again without a full explanation. Which was why she couldn’t let herself get more personal with him than she already had.
A thud sounded on her balcony. Slowly, she walked to the curtains and pulled one to the side.
Her eyes rounded. “Elliott!” She jerked open the curtains, unlocked the sliding glass door, and threw it wide. “What in the world are you doing?” She ran out onto the balcony, where he was clutching the wrought-iron bars for dear life. Rain had soaked his clothes.
“The wind blew the ladder out from under me. I grabbed the bars,” he ground out. “But they’re slippery.”
“Give me your hand!” She wedged her knees between the railing for leverage.
“I’m too heavy. I’ll pull you over with me.” With an oomph, he eased a foot up onto the ledge, then used his strength to hoist himself up and over the railing. He leaned back against the balcony, closed his eyes, and tried to catch his breath. “I thought I was a goner.”
Dare Me Again Page 16