by Fox, Cathryn
“Your sisters sound awesome,” I say, bringing the conversation back to neutral ground.
“You and Ivy aren’t close, are you?”
“Not really. When we were kids, we were close ,but as we got older we grew apart. Other than our looks, we’re very different.” I crinkle my nose, and shrug. “I’m guessing I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, though.”
“Your looks are different, too. I can tell you both apart easily.”
My hand stills and heart leaps. Is he saying he knew it was me last night? Do I dare bring it up and ruin this level of comfort we just achieved?
Ask him!
“Is that how you learned to cook?” I query, as I gesture toward the white sauce simmering on the stove.
Chicken shit.
I shut down that inner voice. “Or did your Mom teach you?”
“Mom and my sisters, actually. I like being in the kitchen, though. It actually de-stresses me.”
He tears his gaze away, but not before I catch the storm brewing beneath the surface. I remember my mother once said to me not to judge others, because everyone was going through their own battles. Right now, I can’t help but think this man has demons.
“It must be hard to be the golden boy all the time, huh?”
His head lifts, and tormented eyes lock on mine, and hold. “Why would you say that?”
I’ve obviously hit a nerve with that observation. “You play hard, wanting to win at all costs.” My gaze moves over his battlefield scars. “It’s like you have something very important riding on that.”
“Beautiful and smart,” he mumbles as his shoulders relax. “I can’t let my team down,” he says and then in a much lower voice adds, “Can’t let my dad down.”
I reach out and put my hand on his. This time he doesn’t flinch. No, this time he entwines his fingers with mine, holding them like I could very well be his lifeline. Something passes between us. Warmth and understanding, and I realize that I might have judged him too harshly, and there really might be more to this guy.
“Your folks must be pretty proud of you, Landon, and I promise to help you get your grade up so you don’t let anyone down, okay?”
He nods, and the genuine gratitude in his eyes tugs at my heart. “Thanks, Ella. I really appreciate it. I feel like I should do something for you in return.”
Oh, he did something for me all right.
“You are. You’re paying me to tutor you, remember? And I have my eye on a new camera.”
He laughs. “Still…there must be something else I could do to pay you back that doesn’t involve money.”
Another night in your bed would work.
Cut it out, Ella.
“Nope. I have everything I need,” I say, and he frowns and glances at his bare feet like I’d injured him. I grab a plate from his cupboard and lay out the slices of bread. “Butter?”
“Fridge.”
He drains the pasta as I open the fridge and search for the butter. “Nicely stocked,” I say. “Thought I’d find beer and near empty pickle jars.”
“Then you’ve clearly never hung out with footballers before. We need food. Real food.”
I put the bread and butter on the table, and he hands me two glasses filled with water. “I’d offer you alcohol, but studying…”
“Water is perfect.” I like that he’s taking this seriously. I may have misjudged him after all.
He pulls a chair out from the table. “Have a seat, this will be ready in two seconds.”
I drop into the chair and he turns his back to me. I use that time to admire his body as he mixes the pasta into the sauce and plates it. I never stopped to think about the kind of training and work that went into his fitness.
“If football doesn’t work, you could always be a chef.”
“Football has to work,” he says and puts our plates on the table.
“Landon, this looks amazing.” He drops down across from me, and I study his face. “How did you get into football, anyway?”
“Sundays were the best days growing up.” He smiles as he reminisces. “Like I said, I grew up with four sisters, who were loud and overbearing and dominated the entire house with their makeup, clothes and curling irons, but football, that was my time with Dad. The girls hated it, so on Sundays it was just us guys. Sometimes he’d have his buddies over, and I liked that too. We’d eat crap food, and they’d have beer and sneak me cola. Mom never liked us drinking soda. It made me feel like the big man, a part of something really special, you know?” He grins and I smile, loving that happy memory he has.
“I love that, Landon. He sounds like a great man.”
He nods. “Dig in,” he says as he reaches for his fork. I do the same and as I slide the pasta into my mouth, Landon’s gaze drops to my lips as I take my first bite.
“Mmm, this is so good,” I rave, and his chest puffs up, clearly liking the compliment. “Tell me more about you and your dad. Did you guys actually play football together?”
“All the time. His dream was to play in the NFL.”
“It never happened?”
“Injury took him out his first year of college.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
I fork more pasta into my mouth, understanding this guy just a little bit better. He can’t fail. His dad has pinned all his hopes on his son, and is living vicariously through him—which really is unfair, and it puts undue pressure. He doesn’t want to let him down. That’s a hell of a lot of pressure.
“Tell me about your mom.”
“She’s an Anglican minister.”
I nearly choke on a noodle. “Your mom is a minister?” I laugh and shake my head. “Here they always say the daughters of preachers are the ones to look out for.”
He lifts his chin, all indignant like and says, “I don’t think I like what you’re insinuating, Ella.”
I laugh. “I’m not insinuating anything. I’m just hoping she’s praying for you.” I take another bite. “Seriously though, I’m guessing you have a lot of expectations to live up to.”
“Don’t we all. How about you? What was it like growing up with a twin, and how did one love being in front of the camera while the other likes to be behind it?”
I angle my head. “Wow, pretty observant.”
He taps his head. “Not all brawn.”
I cringe. “I’m so sorry. I was an idiot for saying that.”
His perfect lips turn down. “Haven’t we moved past that?”
“Thanks, Landon.” I smile at him, liking that he’s not holding that against me, or any of the other dumb things I said.
“Friends?” He holds his fist out.
“Friends,” I agree as we do a fist bump…so very different from how other parts of our bodies bumped last night.
Stop thinking about that.
“Okay friend, answer my question.”
I chuckle at that. I’m so surprised at how easy he is to talk to. “I’m not really sure, Landon. I really love movies. I was the one watching Disney over and over again while Ivy was putting on princess dresses and dancing around.”
“I guess that’s why she’s in theater, huh?”
“Yes,” I say, and run my finger over the rim of my water glass.
“Did that bother you, Ella?”
“Did what bother me?”
He gives me a second, like he’s waiting for me to understand, then spells it out. “I’m guessing she got all the attention.”
“I didn’t want the attention, though. I loved reading, watching movies, and just sitting back. The limelight was never my thing. It was hers, and she entertained us all. I love that about her, it’s just not for me.”
“What is for you?”
Not you…unfortunately.
“I want to entertain people in other ways. I want to be a great director, and it’s time Hollywood had more women directors, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, I agree.” His gaze moves over my face, an
d I see appreciation in his eyes. “You’re really different.”
Heat once again climbs into my cheeks. “A nerd, I know.”
His lips turn up at the corners. “You know, you’re cute when you blush.”
I put my hand up to my face. “No, I’m not and stop looking at me.”
He takes my hand from my face and heat sizzles through me as he runs his thumb over my wrist. “I like who you are, Ella. I like that you know who you are, and that you’re going after what you want.”
That gives me pause. No one has ever said anything like that to me before but it’s not entirely true. I’m not going after everything I want.
I tug my hand back. “Thanks, and I like who you are too, Landon. I like that we’re friends.”
“Tell me about your parents.”
I eye him. “Didn’t Ivy tell you any of this stuff?”
“No,” he says, his voice a little rough as he goes back to his pasta.
I take a big drink of water and eye him for a moment, take in the stiffening of his shoulders. “My parents run an apple orchard in San Francisco Bay. Whenever you bite into a Valley Bloom apple…” I pause and point my thumb at myself. “It comes from our trees.”
His eyes go wide. “No way.”
“Way.”
He shakes his head, staring at me in awe, like I’d just told him how to solve world hunger or something.
“You’re a farm girl.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Born and bred.” I flex my biceps. “How do you think I got these?”
“Impressive, Holmes.” He sits back a bit in his chair, and his feet touch mine beneath the table. I ignore the shiver that runs up my leg and settles between my thighs as I take in his face, the way it goes from astonishment to some new kind of understanding.
“Now that you say it, I can see it. Not so much in Ivy, though.” His low laugh goes through me as he points a finger directly at me. “But you, Ella. You’re definitely the farmer’s daughter.”
“And you’re the preacher’s son,” I shoot back.
“I think there might be lyrics out there about us.” I laugh as he gives me a playful wink and adds, “That’s not all we have in common.”
“No.”
“No. After we finish eating, let’s go to my bedroom.”
I nearly swallow my tongue. “Why?”
“There’s something I want to show you.”
10
Landon
I slip her backpack over my shoulder and Ella looks almost terrified as I head up the stairs in front of her, which makes me wonder if it wasn’t her in my bed last night. But what about the blood on my sheets? Jesus, I have no idea what to think anymore and if she’s not bringing it up, I’m not going to either. At least we came to a mutual agreement that we’d be friends, and I like that. I like being friends with this super smart girl who has a mind of her own. She’s a breath of fresh air, and as much as I want to be with her, I feel like I can’t, not after sex with Ivy, and the whole theater room fiasco.
We reach the landing, and I head to my room. She follows along and stops at the door, peering at me like she can’t step over the threshold.
“You need an invitation?” I tease. “You like a vampire or something?”
“Or something,” she says with a light laugh that seems forced.
Wanting her relaxed, hell I’d never do anything she didn’t want to do, I wave her in. “Come on, have a seat. I don’t bite.” I point to the chair at my desk and she tentatively walks across my floor and sits in the chair. I drop her backpack beside mine at her feet.
“What…what is this?” she asks, and I practically dive to grab my backpack, but it’s too late. She’s already touched my good luck charm, and no one is allowed to touch it. Call me superstitious, call me ridiculous. Call me whatever you want, but my keychain ladybug and I go way back. “Landon?” she asks, delight in her eyes as I pocket the toy given to me by my sister when I was a kid, just before I made my first touchdown in Atom football at the age of six. I’ve had it with me ever since.
“It’s nothing,” I mutter with a shrug. “Just something I rub… Wait that’s not coming out right. I mean.”
“No wait, I get it. It’s a superstition thing, right?” She blinks up at me, her sweet innocence doing strange things to me.
“Yup, my good luck charm, and no one is allowed to touch it.”
She pulls her hands back, and frowns. “I’m sorry I did.”
“It’s fine.”
“For the record, I think it’s cute.”
“It’s not supposed to be cute, Holmes.”
“Right,” she says, desperately trying to hide a smile, but I’m happy that her mood is lighter and I like seeing this playful side of her. “What I meant to say is it’s tough. Ladybugs bite, you know. They pinch too, with their legs, and I heard they can be vicious when there’s no food or water nearby.”
“Heard all that did you? What are you, a ladybug whisperer?”
She laughs. “I had a fascination with bugs when I was young.”
“You’re a strange one, Holmes.” She arches a brow and I add, “That’s not a bad thing.”
“So uh, what exactly is it that you wanted to show me.” She catalogues the room, her gaze lingering for an extra second on my bed.
I point to my bookshelf, but instead of holding books, behind the closed doors it shelves all my favorite movies. “This is what we have in common.” I pull the doors open to display my collection. “I’m a huge movie buff.” Her body relaxes slightly. “Maybe one day, I’ll have one you directed to add to my collection.”
“Hopefully.” She stands, and comes over to me, and her scent lingers before my nose as she bends to read the titles. With a soft touch, she lightly runs her hands over the cases. “This is what you wanted to show me, huh?”
“Yeah, and I don’t show everyone, so keep this between us.”
“Are you sharing secrets with me, Brooks?”
“Which means you owe me one in return.”
She laughs at that. “I’m afraid that’s not how it works. Seriously though, why is this a secret?”
My mouth gapes open. “Really, Holmes?”
“I don’t get it.”
“I’m a wide receiver on the football team. I have a reputation to uphold. If the guys knew I liked old classics, even romantic comedies, I’d have to cash in my man card.”
“Fine then, your secret is safe with me.”
“Good, now it’s your turn to tell me one.”
She stands up a bit straighter, and takes her hair into her hand. She absently touches her hair, and her gaze leaves me, slides to my bed. After a quick intake of air, she glances at her feet. “Okay, then. If you insist…”
My blood stops flowing, and air seizes in my lungs. This is it, she’s finally going to bring up last night. We can finally clear the air, and move forward.
“I stole something once, and I’ve never forgiven myself.”
My heart sinks, partly because she didn’t bring up last night, and partly because she looks so sad and lost right now.
I lightly brush my knuckles against hers. “That’s a big secret.” She nods. “Sounds like it’s bothered you for a long time.”
“Yeah, and I really don’t know why I told you that.”
“No one knows?” She shakes her head. “Why’d you do it?”
“I was young, and stupid.” She gives a humorless laugh. “Now I’m just older and stupider.” I frown at her. Was that a dig about last night?
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” she says quickly, and walks past me to the window to glance out when a bunch of car horns blare. She spins around, and sits on the window ledge. “We used to work the farm when we were kids, and we got an allowance for it.” A small smile touches her mouth, a happy memory, and my heart squeezes as I watch her blue eyes light up. Such vibrant eyes. The ocean during a crisp fall day. Makes me want to snuggle under the blankets
, drink hot chocolate and watch movies. Uh, what was that I said about my man card?
“We were about eight, Christmas was coming, and Ivy still believed in Santa. It’s true, we were pretty sheltered on the farm. Anyway, I had my suspicions he wasn’t real and all she wanted was this silver glittery lipstick, which was quite dreadful.” She rolls her eyes and I laugh hard at that.
“Glittery lipstick. That definitely sounds like Ivy.”
“Problem was, Mom never allowed us to wear makeup or lipstick at that age, and Ivy was wishing and wishing, and writing Santa letters. I knew she wasn’t going to get it, one because Santa wasn’t real, and two Mom never would have bought it for her.”
“So you did.”
“I saved, but do you have any idea how much those brand name lipsticks from Sugar Lips cost?” Her lips part, like she’s totally appalled.
“I don’t even know what Sugar Lips is, but I’m guessing pretty pricey.” That might be a small lie, because Ella here has sugar lips and damned if I don’t want to taste them again.
Don’t go there, dude.
“Anyway, I didn’t have enough money and I didn’t want Ivy to wake up on Christmas morning sad. So…” She shrugs. “I stole it.”
“Aren’t you the poster girl for fucked up good intentions.”
She laughs, and I grin, liking the sound. “That’s one way to look at it.”
She crosses the room, leans against the footboard.
“What did you want, Ella? What did you want that Christmas?”
Warmth passes over her eyes, and a happy smile touches the corners of her mouth. “For Ivy to be happy.”
If I wasn’t crazy about this girl already, I would be now. I’m pretty sure I’ve never met anyone so selfless and the sad thing is, I know Ivy—I like Ivy—but I’m not sure she’d put her sister first like that.
“You’re a good sister, Ella.”
She nods and pushes off the footboard, moving past me to look over my collection again. “You know, today people stream or download…illegally, and to me that’s stealing, which…” She turns to me. “I’ll have you know I’ve never done again.” She crouches to look at the movies on the lower shelf. “I like that you have a collection, and don’t illegally stream, Landon.” She runs her fingers over the cases again. “All the old classics. How did you get into these anyway?”