I own this place. Well, technically I own fifty-one percent of it. I'm a silent partner though. It was a damn good investment. And it makes me happy to be able to take whoever I want here, whenever I want. Food's good, and so is the atmosphere.
I'm happy I brought her here. I finally have a moment with her where she's not trying to claw my eyes out.
I can tell something’s really bugging her. To be honest, it’s a bit awkward. Almost like a blind date. Except that I already know so much about her, and she hardly knows a thing about me.
“Listen,” she starts to say, but then a waitress comes with a pitcher of ice water and fills our glasses. The young woman sets the pitcher down gently on the table and presents the menus. She starts rattling off details that we don’t need to hear.
She offers some Shiraz for tasting, but I already know what I want. “Could we have a bottle of Screaming Eagle Cab?”
Elizabeth looks at me from the corner of her eyes with a smirk.
“I know it doesn’t sound quite right, but it’s from Napa Valley and you're going to love it.”
The waitress nods her head in agreement and adds, “It's delicious. It’ll go wonderfully with whatever you choose from the menu.”
Elizabeth gives me a tight smile and says thank you. She reaches for the menu and tilts it slightly. Her lips fall open after a moment and I watch as her eyes go down the rows of items.
I take a sip of water, not bothering to look at my menu. I know exactly what I want. I get the same thing every time I come here.
She purses her lips in disappointment, and I have to ask, “What’s wrong?”
Her eyes fly to mine and she shakes her head as she says, “Nothing.” She’s so tense and obviously not feeling alright.
“I thought you liked Italian,” I say simply. I’m not buying that ‘nothing’ response she gave me. If only she'd tell me what's wrong. I hate that she's so standoffish. I need to remember she doesn't know shit about me.
She sets her menu down and looks away before looking back at me. “I’m just stupid. I was going to get lasagna. I don’t know what some of these other things are.” Her voice trails off, and she looks away again, markedly embarrassed.
I reach out and turn her menu over. I tap on exactly what she wants. “It's right here. You’ll love it.” Finally, her lips kick up and she seems to relax a bit.
“Thank you,” she whispers. She reaches for her water and takes a sip. Her eyes still don't reach me.
She’s not pissed at me anymore, which is nice. But there’s nothing there in its place. She’s shy and seems uncomfortable.
I think she needs a fucking glass of wine. As do I.
I take in a deep breath and decide I need to get this weight off my shoulders and just tell her something about me and her father. Something to ease her worries about me. But I’m not sure what to say. I don’t want to break my vow to Richard, and I also don’t want her to know what I do for a living.
But before I can say anything she turns to me and asks, “So what do you do, Liam?”
Fucking hell. I look her in the eyes as I tell a white lie. Not even really a white lie, just a lie of partial omission. “I have a few investments.” I take a drink from my glass as she eyes me skeptically. I can practically see her desperately trying to keep the disdain off her face.
I need to give her a little more than that. “This place is one of them.”
Her eyes widen with surprise as the waitress comes back and pours a small amount of the cabernet sauvignon into my wine glass. I take a sip and nod. I already knew I’d like it. I’m just going through the motions.
When the waitress leaves, Elizabeth leans in and asks, “You own this place?” The surprise in her voice is evident.
“Only part of it. I don’t do any of the work. I just put in the money and get a return from it each month. Nice and easy.” She considers my words and takes a sip from her glass.
“Mmm,” she says as she starts to set it down, but then puts the glass right back up to her lips. “That’s really good.” My chest fills with pride.
“I told you.” I give her a cocky grin.
She looks down at the table and then pushes her hair behind her ears. “How did you meet my dad then?” she asks.
I wish she hadn’t. I don’t want to lie to her, but I don’t want to break the only promise I made to a dying man.
“He found me,” I say as I start talking without thinking.
She gives me a sad smile and says, “Daddy was good at doing that. He liked to talk a lot.”
“Yeah he did,” I add. “He was a good man.”
She looks up at me like she wants to ask more, and my heart beats faster with anxiety, but she doesn’t.
I need to get off this subject and get it on her. Women love talking about themselves.
“So what are you going to college for?” I ask her, even though I already know the answer.
She turns her shoulders toward me and answers, “Well, I’m getting my master's in psychology.” She stops talking and looks down at the table. She pinches the tips of her fingers and looks away for a second, but I don’t understand why.
“You doing alright?” I ask her. Richard said she was. She could've been lying to him, though I don't think she would have. He said she was doing great and that she'd be done soon. I don't understand her reaction.
She looks back at me uncomfortably. I thought I was making progress with this broad, but every turn I hit a damn brick wall.
She starts to answer but then reaches for the glass and takes a large gulp. What the fuck?
She finally faces me and answers, “I can’t really afford to go back… now.”
My heart sinks in my chest. I need to put that shit to bed.
“Elizabeth,” I start to say, but she flinches like I hit her. I’m thrown off guard.
“No one calls me Elizabeth,” she says with a hushed voice.
“Your father did.”
“I know.” Her voice croaks slightly, and her eyes glass over with tears.
“Hey,” I reach out and take her hand in mine and rub soothing circles on her wrist with my thumb.
She shakes her head and pulls her hand away slightly. “It’s fine. Ignore me. I just need a little time.” She breathes in deeply.
“It's gonna be okay. I'm sorry, Elle.”
She tilts her head and shakes it slightly as she says, “Lizzie.” She tries to correct me, but I don't think of her as a Lizzie.
“Lizzie's a kid's name.” I like Elle. It suits her. Elle.
She considers me for a moment, thinking about something, but not giving me a clue as to what it is. “What were you saying?” she asks, forcing the tears back and putting on a front of calmness.
It takes me a second to think about where I was going with all that, but then I remember. I decide to just go for it, like pulling off a damn bandage.
“Everything is yours. What your father left to me in the will, and the house he gave me. I don’t need it, and I don’t know why he left it to me. But it’s all yours. I called the lawyer yesterday and you’ll have it all in your name as soon as possible.”
Her entire body seems to sag with relief. She looks back at me with disbelief. I can tell she doesn’t know if she really believes what I’m telling her.
“It's yours,” I say simply.
It’s quiet for a moment before she says, “Thank you.” She takes the napkin off the table and folds it in her lap neatly, focusing on it.
“It’s yours, not mine. Your father loved you. You were all he talked about. I don’t know what he was thinking.”
She looks back at me with skepticism and then sadness as she asks, “He wasn’t angry?” It throws me off.
“Angry?” I ask her. I don’t know why she’d think he was angry with her.
“At me. For leaving, or for not calling enough…” Tears fill her eyes, and she’s quick to put the napkin over her face.
I respected Richard. I may have even loved him
. But right now I hate him. I never agreed with his decision not to tell her, and looking at her now I wish he’d made things more clear for her. She shouldn’t be thinking this shit.
“He loved you more than anything.” I don’t know how much to tell her. I scoot closer to her in the booth and gently pet her back. “He said you were his sunshine.”
A small sob rips from her throat, but she’s quick to settle herself.
“I’m sorry,” she finally says as she pulls herself together.
“Don’t be,” I tell her. “You can let it all out.”
She gives me a small, humorless laugh and drinks down her water to calm herself. I think about moving away, but I don’t want to.
“So, tell me something,” she says out of nowhere.
“Like what?” I ask her.
“Anything,” she answers. Her big blue eyes look back at me with sincerity. “I just wanna talk.”
I’m quick to remember one of the stories Richard told me about her sneaking a bottle of peach schnapps into her room. I tell the story the way he did. He thought it was funny as hell. The entire time she’s got a wide smile on her face and her eyes are glassy, but full of happiness. I smile back at her and in that moment it hits me. This is what I wanted. This is what I thought we’d have together.
This is so much better. Almost an entire hour has passed since we’ve gotten our wine, and my little Elle is really warming up to me. I fucking love it. This is exactly how I imagined it'd be between us. This is how I pictured her.
“Tell me more,” I say. She's been talking all night. It's like she's got all these memories, just pouring out of her. I'm happy she's sharing them with me.
“Well, the one time when we were at the dealership, daddy said he didn’t like the car.” Elle takes another sip of wine. It’s her third glass, and after this one I'm cutting her off. Mostly because she’s nearly drunk, but also because the bottle's empty. “And the salesman looked so sad. Daddy had been talking about seeing that car for weeks, but when he finally saw it in person, he changed his mind.” She moves her hands in the air, talking animatedly.
I grin at her, she’s so into this story. She's so cute. “So I felt really bad for the guy, you know? He’d just lost his sale.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
“So I started talking up the car to daddy. Saying how much I loved the color, and how the leather seats were nice and really comfortable.” She slaps her hands onto her lap, adding, “And they were heated.”
I chuckle at her.
“Well, I talked it up so much, daddy bought it.” She lets out a small giggle with her shoulders shaking. “He gave it to me a few years later when I got my license.” She takes another sip of wine and adds with a laugh, “I hated that damn car. It broke down like eight times.”
“How old were you?” I ask her.
Her forehead scrunches up. “Gosh, like fourteen?” She says it like she’s asking me. Like I’m supposed to know the answer.
I give her a small laugh and shake my head slightly. “You really are a sweetie, aren’t you?” I ask her.
She giggles a little. “Daddy used to say I was sweet as Dixie.” Her fingers trace the edge of the wine glass and although her smile dims, it’s still there.
“Yeah, you were real sweet to me,” I say sarcastically to lighten the mood before picking up my own glass and finishing it off.
She busts out a laugh a little louder than she should. It’s a beautiful sound though that fills my chest with warmth. She takes the glass of wine in her hands and runs her fingers along the stem before finishing the glass. That’s the entire bottle. I don’t even have a buzz, but she’s a little more than tipsy.
She needed that wine. That’s for damn sure. And a good meal. She ate her entire plate of lasagna, and more than half of the lava cake I ordered for us to split.
She takes a spoonful of the remaining chocolate syrup and half of a strawberry and spoons it into her mouth. Her plush lips close around the spoon and she moans softly. My dick instantly hardens. The date may be close to over, but the night's just getting started.
“Hey, why don’t we get out of here?” I ask her. I've got a million things I wanna do with her. A million and one I wanna do to her.
Her eyes light up with excitement and she sits up straight, leaning into me. “And go where?” she asks with a hint of excitement.
“Let’s go back to my place. We can play some cards.” Richard told me how she’d always bug him to play when she was younger. He swore she’d grow up to be a professional blackjack player.
A beautiful smile stretches across her face. I’ve never seen her smile like that. It looks beautiful on her.
I love it. I love that I put it there even more.
“Yeah, okay,” she answers softly. She bats her thick lashes and bites down on the tip of her tongue. A blush rises to her cheeks. “That could be fun.”
Chapter 10
Liam
I can tell Elle’s buzz is starting to wear off as she shifts in her seat in my car, and I'm thinking she might change her mind about coming back to my place. I don’t want that.
I’m driving like crazy to get back to 22 Wyoming. I’d take her to my place, but it’s farther away and I don’t want to give her more time to change her mind.
I think she’ll be happier close to home, too. She’ll have an escape if she wants it. Although, my place in the city would impress her more. I wrestle with which place I wanna bring her to, but really, 22 Wyoming is closer, so that’s where we’re going.
Elle lays her cheek against the seat of the car and says, “I owe you such an apology.” Her crystal blue eyes look up at me with sadness, and I don’t like it. I don't wanna take a step backward. We don't need to go back there.
“You don’t owe me anything--”
“Yes I do,” she says as she nods her head and leans forward, cutting me off. “You’re just a nice guy, and I was so mean to you.”
She’s getting all worked up, and I don’t like it. I want the fun girl at the restaurant back. And I'm not really a nice guy.
She starts going on and I cut her off as we pull up to my place. “Stop it.” I put the car in park and grip her chin in my hand so she has to look at me. “You don’t owe me anything but a night out.”
“It’s been really fun,” she says haltingly, as if the date’s over. My heart pounds in my chest. I finally got her, no way I'm letting her get off that easy.
“Fun’s just getting started,” I say as I push my door open and walk around her side to open hers. But she’s already got her door propped open.
She places one foot on the ground, a bare foot, and gets out with her heels in her hand. I reach for her other hand and she waits a moment before putting her small hand in mine.
I try to lead her around the car to 22 Wyoming, but she plants her feet on the ground and looks over at her family home next door.
“I think I should go home,” she says in a small voice. I should’ve taken her to my place in the city. Damn it.
I keep my expression neutral. “If you wanna, that’s fine. I just thought it’d be fun to kick your ass in a little card game.”
Her expression changes instantly. “You think you can beat me?” she asks with a small smile. “Like it’s gonna be that easy?” she scoffs, then looks back at her house.
I shrug and say, “I mean, I’m good at what I do.” I lean against the car casually, not letting her see how bad I wanna get her inside my place. All through the night I kept picturing her under me. I’m so close. I can’t fucking stand it. “Just a drink and a game of cards.” I'm lying through my teeth. I want so much more than that.
Elle looks at the ground and purses her lips before looking back up at me and saying, “Okay, just one drink and I deal.”
I smirk at her. “If those are your conditions, I accept.” I already know I’m gonna guilt her into letting me deal. She may look like a hard ass, but she’s a pushover. I can practically guarantee this night is
going to end with her in my bed.
“I don’t know how you're kicking my ass this bad,” I say comically as I lean back in the old chair at the kitchen table. This set was here when I moved in. I do know how I'm losing; I’ve been purposely busting my hands to build her up. She’s got all the black chips in front of her, and most of the reds and whites. There’s no way she can deny me dealing out a few hands; I’m really working up the sympathy. 'Cause I wanna start betting more than chips.
“I thought you said you were good at this?” she asks me with a sly smile as she shuffles the cards.
“I used to play all the time with my brother.” I start to tell her about my own father and how he taught us to play, but then I stop. She doesn’t need to hear all that. I don’t want her sympathy for my loss just days after putting her own father to rest.
“He used to kick my ass, too.” That’s true, but Zac’s a special case. He’s good with numbers and he could kick anyone’s ass at cards. She doesn’t need to know that though.
“Can I deal this one?” I ask her with a cocked brow. She clucks her tongue, but easily passes the deck to me.
I reach behind me to the fridge. I don’t even have to get up, the kitchen’s so damn small in this place. I could practically cook a meal while still sitting at the head of the table. I swing the door open and grab a beer. “You want one?” I ask.
She scrunches her nose and shakes her head no. “Oh yeah?” I say in response. “My beer’s not good enough, it’s gotta be expensive wine?” I tease.
She sticks her tongue out. “I just don’t like beer.”
“Alright then, you wanna shot?” I ask her. Her buzz is completely gone. I certainly don’t mind it, but I wanna push her boundaries a little.
She looks down at the cards before looking up at the clock on the stove. I expect her to use the time as an excuse to get going, but instead she looks back at me and nods. “Yeah, just a small one.”
I give her a wide smile and get my ass up to grab a bottle of vodka. That’s all I’ve got. I take two shot glasses out of the cabinet and pour a small one for her and a full one for me.
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