by Liz Talley
“That would be nice.”
“And perhaps you need to do the same, Dad. Take some of that therapy you’ve been immersed in and apply it to your life. Own your mistakes.”
She didn’t wait for her father to argue. Instead she turned and left the restaurant. Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Where are you? Thought you were getting coffee?
Ha. She was the one who needed caffeine. The events of the night before had tag teamed her dreams, making her toss, turn, and doubt everything she’d so carefully planned. Her fiancé hadn’t moved when she’d crawled into bed after leaving her stupid leather bustier on the bathroom floor with the pooled fishnet stockings. She’d scrubbed the red from her lips, wishing she could scrub away the taste of Gage as easily. It felt as if he’d imprinted himself on her. The way she’d felt in his arms, the taste of him, the smell—all of it conspired to undermine her intentions for her life.
When she woke that morning, Josh had been sitting next to her, tapping away at his computer. Alarm slammed into her, making her eyes fly open. Oh God. Did he know she’d been on his computer? Had she done enough to cover her tracks?
But when he felt her wake, Josh turned to her and smiled. “Morning, sleepyhead.”
“Morning.”
“You weren’t here when I got back last night,” he said.
“I went out for a walk. I felt . . . cagey for some reason.” Or maybe it was the gay porn on your computer.
“I tried to wait up, but that bourbon snuck up on me.” He stopped tapping on the laptop and reached over to run a hand through her hair. “Gosh, you’re pretty when you wake up.”
Guilt threatened to strangle her. She was such a bad person. Horrible. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
Josh’s blue eyes softened even more. “I get it—it’s all these people. Tonight will be even busier. Don’t know why your mom and friends thought this would be fun. I mean, it’s nice, but kind of . . . I don’t know, pretentious.”
Ellery pushed her hair out of her eyes. “You’re the king of pretention. Aren’t you wearing designer pajama pants?”
He looked down at the material between his computer and lap. “You bought them for me.”
“Touché,” she said, wiping her no-doubt puffy eyes. “I’ll make some coffee.”
“Good luck. The coffee maker’s not working.”
“What? No coffee for you? Great.” She slid from the bed. Since she’d abandoned her sexy lingerie, she’d had to sleep in a T-shirt and the thong. The thong had been as comfortable as dental floss up her ass. Granny panties were so undervalued by people her age. “I guess I can run up to the bed and breakfast and grab you some. I’ll also let them know the coffee machine is broken.”
“I could do it,” Josh said, his attention already back on his computer.
“You finish whatever you’re doing so we can have breakfast together.”
“I have a lot to do, babe.”
Ellery sighed.
Josh looked up at her. “But we will have breakfast. I have to get back to Shreveport for a big review for the test next week, but I will stay for the tour. How about that?”
“Goodie.” Ellery may have sounded sarcastic. Okay, she totally sounded sarcastic, but she didn’t wait around to listen to Josh’s stupid apologies or excuses. She’d heard them all by now. Their future. Every test mattered. He had to pull his weight for the group. Yada, yada, yada.
She pulled on jeans, boots, and her abandoned hoodie, inhaling like some lunatic to see if there was a trace of Gage left. Then she climbed the hill toward the bed and breakfast and followed her nose to the place where she smelled coffee. Then she’d seen her parents sitting close to the entrance. Then she’d heard her parents.
This was what people got for eavesdropping—the same thing a gal got for snooping on her lover’s computer—something she didn’t want to know.
And she still didn’t have the damned coffee.
Coming.
Ha. She wished.
Ellery spun back toward the dining room and hailed the waitress. She’d take Josh the coffee just as soon as she apologized to her mother. She couldn’t continue the weekend with things this wrong between her and her mom. And while she was at it, she would admit to emailing Evan. Clear the air once and for all.
It was a solid plan, and by the tour, everything would be okay.
“Ma’am?”
Ellery smiled. “Can you get me three coffees to go? I’ll be back in five minutes to grab them.”
All a girl needed was a plan.
Daphne made it back to her room without running into anyone else who might see the utter desolation in her eyes.
All the tension between her and Ellery now made sense. Ellery had been nursing a secret falsehood, petting it in the recesses of her heart. And why? Why hadn’t she asked Daphne about what her father had suggested?
But Daphne knew why—Daphne had discouraged any talk of the breakup. Any time Ellery brought up the divorce, Daphne sidestepped the conversation or out-and-out told her daughter that the details of what happened weren’t any of her business. She wanted to protect Ellery and refused to bad-mouth Rex in front of her. She’d taken the high road . . . and Rex had taken the low, dragging their daughter’s opinion of her down with him. That’s what Daphne got for trying to be the better person.
She pushed into her room and then collapsed on the unmade bed, where she gave free rein to her tears. It had been a long time since she’d cried, and it felt like a plug had been pulled and everything inside had to come out before it could get better.
So Daphne let it.
Eventually her sobs subsided into sniffles, and she heard a quiet knocking at her door.
Ellery.
Daphne struggled into a sitting position and grabbed a tissue from the box covered with a needlepoint image of a rose. Mopping her face, she went to the door and opened it, expecting Ellery to be standing there looking contrite.
But Clay stood there instead.
“Hey, I thought I would check on you,” he said, looking worried.
“I’m fine,” she said, sounding more like a frog than an actual person.
“You don’t look or sound fine. What was all that about?” He glanced down the hall, seemed to note someone there, and looked back at her. “Can I just come inside so we don’t have to hold this conversation in the hallway?”
Daphne stepped back. “Sure.”
He slid inside, and she shut the door. This morning Clay wore his regular tight, worn, romance-cover-worthy jeans, a denim button-down, and worn cowboy boots. His eyes matched the shirt and looked startling against his sun-kissed skin. He looked good. More than good.
Stop noticing, Daph.
“Great room. It’s bigger than mine,” he said, glancing around at the elegant fussiness of the room. “You have a porch and hot tub? Nice.”
“Clay,” Daphne said, trying to draw him back to their conversation so she could get him back out the door.
“Sorry,” he said, turning toward her, taking in her tear-streaked face and swollen eyes. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I told you I’m fine. Just some family drama that’s been simmering for a while.” Daphne ran a hand through her hair, aware she was a mess. She didn’t want to worry about what she looked like to Clay, but in this small space with that big bed so nearby, her libido overrode her common sense. She licked her lips and tried not to look so pathetic.
The thing was, Clay was standing here in lieu of either Ellery or Rex, the two people who should have cared enough to follow her and apologize. Neither of them had—this man she’d had mind-blowing sex with weeks ago had been the one to come check on her. No one in the world seemed to care for her but the one person she didn’t want to have a relationship with.
“They gang up on you?” he asked, moving toward her. “I got the sense they were.”
“A little, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. It was upsetting, but I’m fine now.”
H
e stopped in front of her, so sincere and . . . warm. “You keep saying that, but your eyes say something different. I hate to see you sad, Daph. You sure the hell don’t deserve to be sad.”
Then he wrapped his arms around her and held her.
At first Daphne resisted, pulling back, but he held her firm, tucking her head beneath his chin. His hands rubbed her back. Clay was solid . . . and warm . . . and so much what she shouldn’t want. But she did. God help her. His arms felt so good.
Which meant she stayed exactly where she was even as the mood shifted from comforting to the point where arms were not just arms and the hardness she pressed against not intrusive but very welcome. Her body took over before her mind could catch up.
His lips brushed her temple, and she felt that once forgotten but newly awakened liquid heat ignite in her pelvis. It would be so easy to give herself to him. Temptation scratched at her resolve.
What would it hurt?
Clay moved his hands lower, cupping her ass and pressing his erection against her belly. Damn, the man got hard fast.
Daphne lifted her head. His blue eyes were limpid pools of Come on in, baby.
“Daph,” he whispered, his gaze dropping to her lips. He lowered his head and brushed his lips sweetly against hers. Somehow the bare glancing of his mouth over hers was ten times more erotic than if he’d kissed her fully. He made his way down her throat, and though she had every intention of stopping him, she allowed it for a second, two seconds, because it felt so good to be wanted. His fingers slipped the top two buttons open, and the rasp of his whiskers against the tender slope of her breast made her catch her breath.
She wanted him so badly . . . but she couldn’t go there.
Couldn’t make that mistake again.
They had to stop.
Just as Daphne was about to press her hands against his rock-hard chest, a knock sounded.
“Clay, stop,” she said, shaking her head and stepping backward.
Clay did indeed stop the sweet torture he was performing on his way to her breasts. In that he was an obedient man. But then he took the three steps to the door and opened it before Daphne could protest.
Ellery stood in the hall with her hand raised in a fist.
Clay stood, looking at her daughter, his eyes still dilated, his tight jeans framing his arousal in an in-your-face display of manhood.
Daphne clutched her shirt, which gaped to reveal the edge of her lacy bra and probably the outline of her hardened nipples. She knew she looked flushed, turned on, and out of breath.
And totally busted.
Ellery’s hand dropped as her eyes widened. Then she snapped her gaping mouth closed as she took in the scene before her. Daphne could almost see the wheels turning in her daughter’s head. Mom with her shirt half-unbuttoned. Spin. Click. Clay standing with an unapologetic erection pressing against his fly. Spin. Click. Intimacy almost as thick as the overly plush rug in the hall. Spin. Click.
“Can we help you, Elle?” Clay asked. His tone told Ellery in no uncertain terms that she was interrupting something. Daphne could see exactly when her daughter understood what was going on. The realization crackled in those pretty blue eyes she’d stared into as she nursed her . . . as she taught her to ride her bike . . . as she betrayed her with her ex-boyfriend.
“I came to . . .” Ellery shook her head, her mouth pressing into a tight line as her angry blue eyes narrowed. “You know what? Never mind.”
“Ellery, honey . . . ,” Daphne said, starting toward the door. “Don’t go.”
“Nope. I can see I interrupted. Carry on.” Ellery reached out for the doorknob. Clay still held the door ajar, but as Ellery tugged at the knob, he released it.
The last thing Daphne saw before the door shut was the absolutely devastated and furious glare of her only child. Daphne’s heart hit her toes, and her stomach immediately cramped.
“Oh my God,” Daphne said, doubling over and clutching her middle. She backed up, hitting the tapestry chair in the corner of the room. “She knows. Ellery knows about us.”
“Who cares? We’re adults,” Clay said, moving toward her. He’d started unbuttoning his shirt, and the amount of gorgeous skin on display that had once been tempting now made her want to retch. Her daughter now knew she was intimate with a man way too young for her. After the earlier conversation with Rex, Daphne now looked like a horny slut who would do anyone who came along.
Great. Just great.
She looked up at Clay. “You can keep your shirt on.”
“What? Don’t be ridiculous. You want me, and I want you,” he said, grabbing her hand and pressing it against his large and still very hard erection.
Daphne snatched her hand away. “Are you insane? My daughter just caught us. You think I still want to screw you?”
Clay’s laugh grated on her last nerve. “Ellery isn’t a child anymore. She knows the score and what adults do in the bedroom. She doesn’t care who you sleep with, Daph, so let’s make each other feel good. Life’s short, baby.”
Daphne stood and pushed him back. “You treat sex like it’s commonplace. It’s not, okay? At least not for me. What I did with you a few weeks ago isn’t going to be repeated, Clay. I thought you understood that. I’m looking for more than you can give me.”
“I gave you plenty if I remember correctly,” he said, hurt flashing across his face before being replaced with a belligerent hardening. He followed her to the other side of the bed. “I’ve also given you plenty of time to see that you and I can work. That’s why I came here this weekend. I can be more than your contractor. Come on, I know what you need, Daph.”
“Yeah, okay, you turn me on. That’s apparent. But I want more in life than getting off, and I damn sure don’t need a man who thinks he knows what I need better than I do. Been there, done that, buddy.”
“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it. And I want more than sex. That’s what I’m trying to say.”
“Well, you’re doing a shit job of it, Clay. I can’t deal with this at present. You need to leave my room. In fact, you need to leave the bed and breakfast.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“So you’ve said, but I prefer to think of it as knowing my own damned mind. So please go. Now.”
Clay hurriedly buttoned up his shirt. “Jesus, I can’t believe you. I really thought you were cool and someone I wanted to pursue a relationship with, but it’s obvious you’re caught up in some Victorian code of conduct.”
“That’s because I’m old,” Daphne shouted at him. “That’s what I’ve been telling you this entire time. I don’t hook up. I don’t see sex as an action equal to . . . eating a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup.”
“Don’t make me sound like a guy who was in it for pussy, because I can get that anywhere.”
“I’m well aware, Clay,” she said, her voice slightly sarcastic.
Clay’s gaze hardened, but she could still see the hurt reflected in his eyes. She wanted to tell him she didn’t think that about him, but if her hard words would get him to leave . . .
“I thought you would never treat me like I’m nothing more than a big dick in tight jeans, but I was wrong. You’re too afraid to take what you want. You’re too busy kissing Ellery’s ass and being scared someone might think something about you dating a younger guy,” he said.
Was that what she was? Scared to fall for Clay? No. She wasn’t interested in Clay as a long-term, or even short-term, relationship. It was horrible to feel that she had used him to feel better about herself, but it was the truth. “I know what I think, Clay. That’s the most important thing.”
Clay shook his head. “Whatever. I tried to be what you wanted. I cared about you, but I can see you don’t want me.”
His pained words took the starch out of her. Oh, she was still irritated at his misogyny masked as good intentions, but she also knew Clay was a good person. He was hurt, and she’d done that to him, knowing it had to be done. She couldn’t have the temptation
of Clay around her. Her vulnerability dictated she push him far away. “This is for the best. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Clay.”
He walked to the door, shook his head, and walked out.
Daphne sank onto the bed, covered her face with her hands, and whispered, “Fuck.”
She wasn’t one for cursing much, but sometimes there was no better word for a situation such as this.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Ellery zombie-walked down the hallway. She may have passed someone. Or not. That’s how messed up she was after shutting the door on her mother half-dressed with Clay Caldwell.
So not only was her fiancé watching a video of a guy blowing another guy, but her mother, who Ellery thought had cheated to end her marriage but was now innocent of cheating, was, in fact, screwing the only guy who’d broken her heart.
Which was worse?
Adultery or pedophilia?
Okay, it wasn’t pedophilia, but it felt creepy and dirty and plain wrong that her mother would sleep with Clay. Yuck. Gross. Ugh. Wrong.
All Ellery knew at that moment was her life was completely upside down, and she had no idea how to spin it right side up again. Maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe fucked up was her new normal.
She emerged into the common area where the reception desk and small bar were located and immediately saw Evan McCallum. His gaze met hers before she could rip it away and find a place to hide.
“Ah, Ellery,” Evan said, setting down the papers he held in his hand onto the reception counter and walking toward her. “Good morning. Hope you had a nice time last night.”
“Oh, it was dandy,” Ellery said before immediately wishing she’d banked the sarcasm and proceeded with politeness. Maybe she was done with being polite. The fake veneer of cheerfulness she’d pulled on when she first arrived at One Tree Estates had worn off. Bitter deceit and bad behavior tended to abrade cheerful fronts.
Evan frowned, and she noted for the third or fourth time how handsome he was. He wore jeans and a deep-green Henley shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders. He looked Colin Firth–esque, and it dawned on her that she’d probably romanticized Evan to that exact degree. “What’s wrong? Was it the food? Or something at Vine House?”