by Abby Brooks
Ellie sighed. “Here’s the thing. I’m adding a little clause to our agreement. I’ll pretend to be your girlfriend, but I want you to promise to cut back on the drinking.”
James scowled. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“I’m sorry, but if we’re going to be spending a lot of time together, it really is my business.”
At least fifteen different emotions paraded across James’ face before he finally went with insulted. “You don’t get to tell me how to live.” He propped his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands, looking through them to the floor. “And the drinking?” He shook his head. “Cutting back is not an option. Not now.”
“Well, then, we have a problem.” Ellie sighed as she took her feet off the coffee table then scooted forward, mimicking his posture. “Because I can’t keep driving your drunk ass home and pouring you into bed at night. I work, James. Every morning.”
He looked at her through the sides of his eyes without really turning his head. “Why don’t you hire someone to help on the weekends or something?”
Ellie flared her hands and made an exasperated face as she looked around the small apartment. “Because as tiny as this place is, I’d still like to have enough money to keep it.”
James sat back. His nostrils flared as his eyes trained on Ellie. He reminded her of a bull, seeing red and ready to charge. “Fine.” His voice was steel. “I’ll cut back on the drinking. But only on nights we’re together.”
Ellie considered pushing him to cut back altogether. Like, all the way back until he just didn’t drink, because she was afraid he was in a downward spiral that would lead him to bad places. But she didn’t. Not yet. He had a point; she didn’t have a right to ask that of him.
“I think I can make peace with that, as long as you promise to at least think about cutting back more. I’m worried about you.” And there went her mouth, acting on its own volition again.
James bounced his head in some kind of subconscious agreement and ran a thumb over one of his bruised knuckles. “Can’t promise anything,” he muttered. “But I’ll take it under advisement.”
Ellie took his hand and ran a finger over his rough, discolored joints. “What’s this about?”
“You ever been cheated on?” His voice was raw and scraped against her heart.
His question surprised her. “No.”
“It’s the worst kind of betrayal. It hurts and you’re mad, and it’s like you’ve been turned inside out for the whole world to see how inadequate you are.” James turned to meet Ellie’s eye and she grew intensely aware of the warmth of his hand in hers. The proximity of his mouth to hers. “I started fighting so I could get all the fucking hate and rage out of my body without hurting anyone…but myself.”
“Are you still angry?”
“Not as much as I was.”
“But some?”
James nodded. “Some.”
He met her eyes with a look that set her on fire, all hooded lids and sultry eyelashes. Her lips parted and her breath caught as James leaned in. She tilted her head, eyes closing, and breathed him in.
And then she let her breath out in a rush and sat back, dropping his hand like it burned her.
“Sorry,” she said and licked her lips. “I got carried away.”
James straightened and blew a fast breath out between parted lips. “Nope. Not your fault.”
Ellie cleared her throat and slapped her hands against her thighs. “So. When do you want to start this thing? When’s our first public appearance?”
“What are you doing Saturday afternoon?”
“Working.”
“Damn. How long?”
“Good Beginnings closes at three, but I usually hang around until four, doing paperwork and cleaning the place up, getting things ready for the next day.”
James hit her with a smile that made her think she wasn’t going to like what he said next. “How about…” He held up his hands. “Now hear me out here.” That statement guaranteed she wasn’t going to like what he said, but he charged forward. “What if you let one of your cooks close the place up? I could pick you up at two. Shrimp Fest starts down at the beach this weekend. I want to tote you around and show you off all day, let everyone see that I’m so taken with you that I spend hours with you at a time.”
Ellie’s heart fluttered at his words even though she knew that wasn’t how he really felt, just how he wanted people to think he felt. “I don’t know. I don’t think I can ask my Saturday guy to take orders and cook them, too.” Plus, she really didn’t want to owe Ben any favors. “And then, even if I could figure out how to make it work, I’d have to come back later that night to finish up paperwork and prep for Sunday morning.”
James bit his tongue and thought for a minute. “Okay, then. You should close early.” He arched an eyebrow and continued. “You know everyone’s going to be at the beach eating seafood and drinking beer instead of coming to your place for coffee and muffins. Close an hour early, put up signs today so everyone knows ahead of time. And then, we’ll come back to the café after we’re done and I’ll help you set up for Sunday morning.”
Ellie wanted nothing more than to give in, but responsibility wore heavily on her heart. As did the upcoming electric bill. How could she justify closing early, losing an hour of potential income, just to go play with a guy who’d never known what it meant to need anything in his entire life? She opened her mouth to turn him down and said just the opposite of what she intended.
“Fine. It’s a deal. I’ll close early but you have to remember that you promised to come back and help me get ready for Sunday,” she said as she stood and wandered toward the door, giving the hint their meeting had come to an end.
When he reached her, James stopped and leaned against the frame, holding up his pinky finger and smiling wickedly. “Scout’s honor.”
It took her a minute to figure out what the hell he was doing, but then she remembered she’d done the same thing the week before and he’d made fun of her for it. “Hey!” She smiled and slapped at his hand, intending to tease him for teasing her but James caught her by the wrist, the movement quick and reflexive. He used her arm to pull her close, his fingers a vice grip on her forearm, his free hand snaking into her hair and cupping the back of her head. Her lips parted and his mouth was there, his tongue tracing her bottom lip and darting in to meet hers.
Logic demanded she resist, but there was nothing logical about the way her body ached for him, nothing logical about the dampness pooling between her legs. There was nothing logical in the way she moaned when he curled his fingers into her hair and pulled back, exposing her neck, kissing and licking his way down her throat.
Logic didn’t live in her heaving chest or her closed eyes. Her head falling back to offer more skin for him to taste.
Logic didn’t exist in the thrill she got from the bulge in his pants pressing against her belly. There was nothing logical about any of it.
James pulled away but kept his head bowed and his hand in her hair. There was a long moment while he kept her pressed to him where Ellie couldn’t breathe or think. She was surrounded by everything James.
His scent.
His taste.
His arms and hands clutching her tight. Then he took a shuddering breath and loosened his grip without fully releasing her.
“I’ll see you Saturday at two,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers for the briefest of moments before slipping out the door without another word.
Chapter Twelve
James
James yanked his helmet over his head as he strode down the sidewalk toward his Ducati. A storm raged within. His heart pounded like thunder as strike after strike of angry, confused thoughts flashed in his mind. He slung his leg over his bike and turned the key in the ignition, rolled back on the throttle and tried to drown out the anxiety with the throaty rev of the engine.
What happened in that apartment wasn’t good.
What the fu
ck was he thinking, kissing Ellie like that?
Pretending to be in love was one thing. Holding her hand and smiling with her in public, throwing his charm into high gear for everyone to see, kissing her like he meant it when people were pretending not to watch, all of that was fine.
But pulling her into him?
Kissing her behind closed doors?
Allowing his need to rise up from somewhere deep in his soul and plant itself in his dick?
That was not fucking okay.
He had been fooled once into listening to those kinds of feelings. Fooled into daydreaming about a house filled with kids and a wife who would love him more every day for the rest of his life.
He’d believed in it. Wanted it. Trusted it was right around the corner. Then reality showed him just how impossible it all was. Love didn’t exist. Not the kind that lasted long enough for any of the things he wanted. Only flashes of lust and excitement that inevitably faded into routine and boredom.
A quick twist of his wrist on the throttle and the bike shot forward, the speedometer racing past one hundred. He tilted and leaned through the curves, darted over the double yellow lines to pass the cars plodding along in front of him, ignoring the blasts of horns as he scared the shit out of others on the road.
If he just went a little faster, maybe he could outrace his thoughts. Leave any feelings for Ellie behind and go back to numb James. The James who didn’t feel anything on the inside.
He flew past his house in favor of the gym—hoping to exhaust his aggression into submission. Pushing his body had become his new go to when things got bad. Physical exertion burned through his emotions better than anything. In a frenzy of energy, he put up more weight than he ever had, zeroing in on the contracting muscles. Sweat poured from his body until finally, when his arms and legs shook with fatigue, he calmed down enough to hit the showers.
As water flowed over his torso, he pressed his elbow to the wall, leaning his head against his forearm. His muscles quivered and ached, and his lungs felt raw from pushing so hard.
He couldn't let Ellie get to him like that.
He couldn’t let himself lose control.
So, he kissed her? So, he liked it? That didn’t mean he was falling in love. It didn’t have to mean anything close to that. He was a man and she was a woman and their chemistry clicked. The end.
No harm there.
Ellie was beautiful and—surprisingly enough—had a body he liked to get his hands on. She was funny and smart and not afraid to say exactly what was on her mind. And he liked to be around her. So what?
No harm there, either.
James soaped up and rinsed off, then got dressed and stepped outside into a glorious sunset. Palm trees lined the walk leading to the parking lot, the thick fronds swinging in a light breeze off the ocean. He was supposed to meet Ethan and Oliver at The Pit to spar and given how tired he was, it was going to suck. Though it sure as hell beat the alternative, which was spending another night alone in that big, empty house. He wasn’t drunk enough for that. He stopped for a snack on his way to The Pit and showed up a good ten minutes late, meeting Ethan and Oliver coming out of the locker room on his way in.
“Thought you were gonna stand us up,” Ethan said.
“Nah, just got hung up at the gym.”
Oliver widened his eyes. “You hit the gym first? You’re asking to get the shit knocked out of you.”
Ethan snickered and clasped James’ shoulder. “Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll take it easy on you tonight.”
“You're just saying that now, so you won’t look as bad when I take you to the mat.” James smirked and cracked his neck before disappearing into the locker room.
His body burned.
His knuckles ached.
His muscles complained when he moved and no matter how many times he shifted on the couch, he couldn’t get comfortable.
He’d put up a good fight, landing strike after strike on Ethan, popping right back up if his friend took him down. No doubt, James had won the match. But he dug too deep into his reserves to pull it off and by the time he took on Ollie, he had nothing left. Oliver landed a string of powerful hits until James finally went down. And stayed down.
It was good, though. Even losing, he learned a lot about digging past exhaustion and making fast decisions while his brain was thick with fatigue. James chalked the day up as a win, regardless of the scorecard. Of course, that was only because it had been practice. He’d have an entirely different attitude about losing when he finally entered a real fight.
James wanted a drink. Hell, he needed a drink. But his promise to Ellie walked him back from the liquor cabinet every time he caved. In the end, he poured a big glass of water and occupied himself by rummaging through the trash piled around his living room, tossing stuff into bags and separating good from garbage. As he worked, the state of the place really hit home. Had Ellie really been in his house while it looked like that? Twice? The fact that she hadn’t run screaming said something.
Just what that something was, James wasn’t sure.
It didn’t take long, digging through the remnants of his life with Erin, for the ache in his heart to swell back to life.
It wasn’t so much that he missed her. Not any longer. What he missed was the idea of her. The fantasy of what their life together could have been. The trash and missing furniture in his living room only reminded him how futile the fantasy had been.
After spending an hour filling multiple trash bags, he finally caved and poured himself a drink.
And then another.
And then another.
And then he didn’t care about everything he lost anymore. The trash bags sat where he left them, propped up against each other near the door, and James dragged himself upstairs and fell into bed.
The weirdest thought swirled to the top of his consciousness as he teetered on the edge of sleep. He wanted to text Ellie goodnight and tell her how excited he was for Saturday. But realizing that was foolish, he batted it back down before he succumbed to darkness.
Chapter Thirteen
Ellie
The few days leading up to Ellie’s date with James were the longest in the entirety of her life. They dragged by, each one an eternity in and of itself. No matter what she did, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Half the time, she wanted to call the whole thing off. The kiss they shared before he left her apartment? That spelled trouble. With a capital T. The more distance she put between them, the safer they’d be.
The other half of the time, she couldn’t wait to see him again. Couldn’t wait for more chances to touch him. For him to touch her. And for more kisses which would leave her breathless for days.
Saturday morning arrived and Ellie still wasn’t any clearer on what she actually wanted. Though, clarity or not, the date was happening, so it was time to pick an outfit. Yawning, she flicked through the clothes in her closet with one hand while sipping from her coffee with the other. Each screech of a hangar against the rack brought her closer to the conclusion that she wouldn’t be happy with anything she had.
It was all too old…
…or too small…
…or too baggy…
…or it clung to her stomach…
…or it was the wrong color…
…or, or, or…
Or maybe she was too hard on herself and needed to ease back on the self-loathing. The truth of the matter was that every time she held up a shirt, she heard Parasite Steve’s voice in her head.
You look like a bloated sausage in that shirt.
That color makes your skin look awful.
Your boobs are too big for fabric that thin.
You know what, she thought. Fuck Steve.
Flipping her ex a mental middle finger, she pulled her favorite red shirt out of the closet, the one he always said made her look like a prostitute, but she thought looked good with her hair. After grabbing a cute pair of shorts, she folded them up and put them in a bag along wit
h some lipstick and an eyeliner. She knew better than to wear the outfit to work. She never survived an entire day without spilling something all over her. And the make up? Well, if James wanted arm candy, then she’d give him arm candy. She planned to look damn fine when he picked her up.
She turned on some music and danced through her morning, then headed to work for the longest day ever. James had been right. No one showed. A few people trickled in for their morning coffees, but after that? Nada.
She cleaned the tables.
She stocked the counters.
She did her best to avoid Ben, but he was at least as bored as she was, so it was no easy feat. Finally, she gave in and let him yammer away while she watched the hour hand drag its lazy ass around the clock.
At half past one, she’d had all she could take. “Hey, Ben?” she asked, interrupting whatever he had been droning on about for the last twenty minutes. “I need to get ready for a date. Would you man the counter for me?”
Ben clamped down on the first bit of personal information Ellie had given him in days. The look on his face said he didn’t like the taste of it. “A date, huh?” He sniffed and narrowed his eyes. “Where you going?”
He looked like he’d just caught her cheating and it would have been hilarious if it wasn’t so annoying. “Shrimp Fest,” she said, heading back to the office to grab her bag. “With James Moore.”
Ben whistled. “No wonder I never had a chance with you. You like ‘em tall, dark, and rich as hell.”
The disdain in his voice was almost more than Ellie could bear. If he wasn’t an employee, she would have stepped him through all the other reasons he didn’t have a chance—and the list was significant.
But he was an employee, so she disappeared into the restroom before her mouth had any say in the matter. Twenty minutes later, she emerged to find that Ben had left early. The place was devoid of customers, so at least he didn’t leave her in a lurch, but damn. There she was worrying about treating an employee with proper respect only for that employee to turn around and walk out on the job.