by Abby Brooks
Ellie knew she should pull away. Put an end to it. He was too drunk to know what he was doing and she’d be a fool to let herself enjoy what was happening as anything more than what it was—James Moore drinking and flirting away his broken heart. His behavior had nothing to do with her and everything to do with the woman he’d lost.
Still, she sighed and relaxed her restrictions on the urge to melt, excited by the way his hands felt as they explored her back. Exhilarated by the way the muscles in his shoulders flexed beneath her hand. Distracted by the way her lower body got all warm and melty and not ashamed to admit she was enjoying the moment. A lot.
When the song ended, James held her close and for a few magical seconds, neither of them moved. She turned her face up to his and found him staring down at her, his mouth so very close to hers.
“You’re very pretty, Ellie,” he said and her name sounded so fricking good in his gravelly baritone. “I’m surprised I never noticed it before.” As his gaze flickered to her lips, she watched his mouth form a smile and suddenly, none of what was happening felt as good as it had moments before.
“You’re drunk, James,” she said, pulling away. “Now, let me take you home so you can sleep it off.”
He staggered a little when she stepped out of his arms. Damn it, Ellie, she thought. Of course you get yourself wrapped up in this guy when he’s so wasted he won’t remember.
“Come on, big boy,” she half-whispered. “Let’s get you home.”
James wrapped an arm around her shoulders and waved to his friends. “Shee ya later!”
Ellie cringed at his slurred words. At his heavy, uneven steps. As soon as they were outside, James started leading her toward the motorcycle he left parked on the street in front of the bar.
“Oh, no,” she said, steering him away from the gleaming crotch rocket. “I can’t even believe you drove that here and let yourself get so drunk. You’re not getting anywhere near that thing.”
“I can’t just leave it here.” James gripped both her shoulders and regarded her with wide eyes. “It’s a Ducati. Imported from Italy. It came on a boat.” He made a little waving motion with his hands and giggled. “It costs more than…well…prolly costs more than half the cars parked in the lot.”
“I’m sure that’s true.” Ellie guided James toward her car—one she was certain was cheaper than the motorcycle. “But if you didn’t want to leave it here, you shouldn’t have brought it. I’m sure it’ll be waiting for you in the morning.”
She poured James into her front seat and his head lolled onto the headrest. He moaned as he picked his feet up and put them inside so she could close the door.
Great, she thought. With my luck, he’ll puke all over the inside of my car before I get him home.
It would cost more to get the interior cleaned than the car was worth.
“Ellie?” James asked as she lowered herself into the driver’s seat.
“Hmmm?” She turned the key in the ignition and maneuvered them onto the street.
“Thanks.” Except it didn’t sound like thanks at all, the word was so mangled by tequila.
“It’s okay, James.” She smiled and turned on the radio.
He swallowed hard and groaned as his eyes slid closed. Ellie rolled down the window and hoped the fresh ocean air would help keep him from throwing up in his lap.
Chapter Three
Ellie
It was a feat of patience, keeping James conscious enough to give her usable directions to his house. There’d been a second where she thought she’d just bring him to her apartment—she lived close enough to the bar that it wouldn’t be a big trek to take him back for his bike in the morning—but she didn’t want any rumors started.
And in a town like Bliss, the rumors would fly. They were probably already flying, what with her helping him out of the bar. But if she took him to her apartment?
All she needed was one person seeing him leave in the morning and BOOM! Suddenly, she’d be the reason his engagement failed, and the entire town would hate her. The Moores were local royalty and James’ wedding had been the talk of the town—until it was replaced with the scandal of his fiancée, Erin, being spotted out with another man. Ellie’s café didn’t need that kind of publicity.
“Frick me,” she muttered as she pulled into James’ driveway.
“You betcher ass I will.” James lifted his head off the headrest and his eyes tried valiantly to swim into focus.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” She pulled to a stop and put the car in park. “I’m just surprised by the size of your house. That’s all.”
“Erin picked it out,” he murmured as he fiddled with his seatbelt. When Ellie reached over to help him, he slapped her hand away. “I can do it myself, thank you very much.”
Great, so he’s moved past the horny phase of drunkenness to the I-can’t-do-anything-but-refuse-help phase.
“Of course you can.” Ellie climbed out of the car and waited for James to finish wrestling with his seatbelt.
The house was gorgeous. A sprawling, modern mansion with a manicured lawn and landscaping that looked equal parts expensive and impossible to maintain. It sat on a private beach and had more windows than walls. The view from inside had to be amazing.
James finally emerged from the car and stumbled as he slammed the door. “Ian sold me the place for almost nothing. Barely put a dent in the ole’ trust fund.”
“Must be nice, having a big brother with real estate and a daddy willing to let you live off his money.” Ellie offered James her arm and started leading him toward the front door.
“Not gonna lie.” He stumbled into her as he tried to make eye contact. “My life’s pretty easy. Til it’s not anymore. Then it just sucks. And it really sucks when shit sucks.”
Ellie rolled her eyes at his lack of eloquence, but conceded his point. “Ain’t that the truth.”
James fiddled with his keys, faltering back a step as he struggled to pick the right one from the ring. He muttered a string of curse words until he finally located the one he needed, only to drop them onto the porch. “Mother fucker,” he growled then blinked slowly and swallowed hard. “Scuse me. My French. My fuckin’ mouth gets away from me.”
Ellie tried not to chuckle. “It’s okay James, I’ve heard bad words before. Even say them myself sometimes.”
She bent and picked up his keys, flicked through them until she found the house key, and unlocked the front door.
“Come in,” James slurred, grabbing her arm and pulling her inside.
If the outside of the house looked like a page out of Architects Weekly, the inside looked like a frat house. There was stuff everywhere. Trash on the floor. Big, empty spaces where furniture had once been but wasn’t anymore. She could smell the dirty dishes in the sink from wherever the kitchen was inside the monstrosity of a house. And dear God, the empty beer and liquor bottles. They were everywhere.
“Place is a mess,” James said, waving around. “It’s a bachelor pad, now.”
“It’s pretty disgusting in here.”
His face crinkled in confusion.
Shit. She really needed to set up a filter between her head and her mouth.
James wandered deeper into the house and Ellie considered leaving. She’d done her duty, right? The guy was home safe. He could just pass out and wake up in the morning with a rip-roaring hangover and everything would be okay.
Except his bike was still at the bar and the chances of him remembering how he made it home in the first place were slim to none. Might as well take her good deed all the way to the finish line and get him up to bed. At least help him take his shoes off and leave him a note to remind him how he got home.
Ellie found James curled up at the bottom of the stairs. It should have been hilarious to see a man that big—all bulging muscles and hard edges—curled up and trying to sleep on one stair, but somehow, it wasn’t funny at all. Somehow, it was just sad.
“Come on, big boy,” she
said, leaning over to get him up. “Time to find your bed.”
James groaned but helped her help him up the stairs. He half-led her, half-leaned on her past several doorways until they arrived at a large room in the back of the house. Of course, two of the four walls were windows and Ellie caught glimpses of the ocean through the dark night. The house was fricking amazing, even if it did have months’ worth of trash and laundry and who knew what else piled everywhere.
James wandered over to the king-sized bed and fell face down onto it. With a sigh, Ellie put her hands on her hips and shook her head before sliding his shoes off his feet.
She dropped them onto the hardwood floors. “Let’s get you all the way into bed. Roll over for me.” She reached up and grabbed a shoulder, pulling gently.
James responded by rolling over and pulling her down on top of him. His mouth crushed hers, his tongue pushing past her lips as if he’d been invited. He ran a hand up her side and cupped her breast. He tasted of liquor and the stubble of his beard raked across her face. His touch was rough as he mauled her breast, and still she felt warmth pool between her legs.
When he pulled her closer, she didn't pull away.
Not at first. Because, no matter how completely wrong all of it was, how totally sure her brain was that doing anything with James that night would be a huge mistake, her body was completely and utterly fine with what was happening.
She kissed him back. Ran her hand up his strong arms, feeling the cords of muscles tighten and bunch under her fingers. She opened her mouth and invited him to deepen the kiss and for a few magnificent moments, the only sounds in the room were a mix of their breathing, the hiss of the sheets, the roar of the ocean, and the pounding of her heart. His hand slid under her shirt and his calloused skin grated across her ribs as his drink-numbed fingers fiddled with the clasp on her bra.
For whatever reason, that knocked the sense back into her. “No.” She pulled out of his arms. “James. Not like this.”
She would have liked him to protest. Would have liked him to give her a reason to succumb to her body’s desire to make that mistake with him. It wouldn’t have taken much. Just one little grunt would have done the trick.
But James didn’t protest. He didn’t say anything, really. At least nothing she could make sense of. He cleared his throat and curled up, eyes already rolling closed.
Heart still pounding and lips still raw from his kiss, Ellie pulled the covers over him and wandered downstairs. She dug a pen out of her purse and found a piece of paper. With just a few words, she left James a note explaining how he got home and that his bike was still at the bar. Then she cleared a big clean space on the counter and put the note in the middle next to his keys. There was no way he could miss that in the morning.
Finally, still unable to let go of the kiss…
…still half wishing she’d gone ahead with the mistake of sleeping with him…
…Ellie let herself out of James’ house and drove home.
Chapter Four
Ellie
Alarms sucked. Especially alarms set for four in the morning. But alarms that went off at four in the morning after you’d been out way past your bedtime? Those were just plain awful.
Ellie fumbled for her phone, desperate to stop that god-awful noise, then pushed herself into a sitting position. Her head hurt and her eyes were blurry, but she’d known the morning would be hard when she agreed to go out in the first place.
Good Beginnings opened at six. Every morning. Without fail.
When she’d agreed to meet the guy who never showed the night before, she planned to either use work as an excuse if things went badly, or be resigned to a hard morning if things went well. She wasn’t sure how to classify the way things went the night before other than, it had been interesting. Things had been very interesting, indeed.
She took a quick shower and squeezed her hair dry. One of the great things about curly hair was that it didn’t take as long to get ready in the morning. Just a few quick squeezes with her towel and the humid South Carolina air would take care of the rest. And the time she saved on her hair, she spent on her makeup. She liked feeling pretty and nothing made her feel better than some extra time in the mirror, doing her best to look fresh and natural.
By the time her ‘time to leave’ alarm went off, Ellie felt much more awake, though she was fighting a small headache. Small price to pay for getting to make out with James fricking Moore!
Had that really happened?
Like, was that really a thing she could put on her list of Things I’ve Done?
Heck yeah, it happened!
She replayed the memory of being stretched out across him, in his bed, his lips on hers, his hands all over her body and it felt really, really good.
“Can’t believe I didn’t go through with it,” she whispered as she let herself into the café and flicked on a few lights. She got to work grinding the coffee for the morning and getting it brewing. She unpacked the baked goods and loaded them into the glass display, helping herself to a muffin.
There was a light knock on the front door and Ellie looked up from her work, still chewing on a bite of orange cranberry deliciousness. That would be Ben, the weekend cook she hired when she added breakfast items to the menu. Blowing air through her mouth and widening her eyes, she wandered back through the darkened dining room to let him in. She didn’t really like working with Ben because he liked working with her a little too much.
“Morning,” he said with a bright smile on his wide face.
“Morning, Ben.”
“Did you have a good week?”
“I sure did.” She learned fast not to give him any details of what constituted a good week. All he needed was one snippet of her personal life to glom on hard and not let go. “I’m gonna get the counter stocked for morning rush,” she said, keeping the conversation focused on work. “Will you set up in the kitchen?”
Ben sighed. “I sure will.”
As the sun blazed to life outside and the inside of the café started to smell delicious, Ellie found herself wondering how bad James’ hangover was. And how sick he was going to be when he woke up.
Oh, crap…
Did he throw up last night? Her heart pounded and she paused, trying to remember if she’d left him on his back or his side. What if he’d thrown up while he slept and choked to death?
Her stomach flip-flopped with worry while her head went to work admonishing her for stressing unnecessarily. James was a big boy. He could take care of himself.
She instantly flashed back to feeling his body pressed against hers. The very real, very impressive erection straining through his pants.
Hell yeah, he’s a big boy.
She was still grinning when her ‘time to open the joint’ alarm went off. Before long, she was lost in a swarm of weary customers and friendly conversation. Ellie made it her business to know her regulars and give new customers a reason to come back. She memorized orders and life details and asked questions about important stuff in people’s lives when they came in.
It wasn’t a business tactic.
It was just the way she was wired.
As the morning rush began to dwindle, the doors jangled open and Ellie’s jaw dropped. There, standing in the doorway, sunglasses on and hair mussed, was James. He waved and her mouth clamped shut as she finished the coffee order for her last customer.
James sidled up to the counter, looking sexy as hell with his sunglasses and scruffy, screw-it-I’m-not-gonna-shave-this-morning beard.
“It’s not Sunday,” Ellie said, widening her eyes and trying to ignore her jackhammering heart. “Did you lose track? I never see you in here unless it's Sunday.”
“Not confused,” he murmured and ran a hand through his hair. “I just wanted to thank you for your help last night.” He raked a hand across his cheek, then leaned on the counter and lowered his voice. “I found your note.”
“Good. I didn’t want you to worry about your motorcycle. It’s s
till there, safe and sound. I drove past Hurricane’s on my way here this morning and saw it.”
James nodded. “I saw it, too.” He sucked in his lips and rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey, listen.” He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair again. “The details around last night…I’m a little foggy. I remember…” He lowered his voice again and leaned in really close. “Did we…?”
How was it fair that he could look so good after a night like the one he had?
The answer was easy. It wasn’t fair. Not at all.
“Nope.” She stuck out her pinky finger. “Scout's honor. I didn’t take advantage. Your dignity is intact.”
James loosed a throaty chuckle. “I don’t think the Scouts stick out pinky fingers like that.”
She looked down at her finger then dropped her hand to the counter. “No, I guess they probably don’t.”
With a shake of his head, he pulled his glasses down so she could look into his eyes. His horribly bloodshot eyes. “Well, my friend, from what I can remember about last night, any man would count his lucky stars to lose his dignity with you.”
Ellie couldn’t stop the blush working its way across her face any more than she could stop the feeling of happiness working its way through her body.
Of course, he didn’t really mean it.
He was being nice.
Or he was being a flirt.
Either way, she liked it.
A line had formed behind James while they were talking. “Well, hey,” she said. “Let me get you a coffee. Might take the edge off the headache.”
“Bless you, friend.”
He’d used that word twice now. Friend. Was he trying to make some kind of point?
“Black, right?”
“You know it.” The smile that stretched across his lips looked all kinds of forced.
Of course. He wasn’t there to flirt. He was there to be nice. Because even with his heart broken and making a million bad life decisions—not to mention nursing what had to be a ferocious hangover—James Moore was nice. When Ellie handed him the coffee, she noticed his knuckles were bruised and broken open. Had they been like that the night before? She hadn’t noticed.