Faking Bliss (The Moore Family Book 2)

by Abby Brooks

  James scowled. “Of course you do. Now, get out of the truck and prepare yourself.”

  “For what?”

  “For the glory that is the Moore family in action.”

  He slid out of the truck and closed the door, waiting at the front for her to join him so he could take her by the hand. He kept waiting for her to turn and smile and tell him she would be just fine, but she kept not doing it. In all the weeks they’d been together, he’d never seen Ellie stumble under the weight of emotion.

  Period.

  When things got hard, she took a beat, swallowed hard, then pulled herself up by the bootstraps while that mask came down and hid what she was really thinking. Then she just dealt with it. Whatever it was.

  Nothing like that was happening. Ellie looked shell shocked. She also looked like she planned to stay that way.

  He pushed through the front door into the foyer and was inundated with the scents of fried chicken, coffee, and some kind of baked something-or-other that smelled decidedly chocolate. His brothers rushed them the moment the door closed, asking questions about the damage at the store. Asking whether Ellie was okay. Ian’s fiancée Julz and their sister, Lilah, hung back, worry crinkling their foreheads, while Frank handed Ellie a tumbler filled with scotch.

  She shrank into James, tucking herself under his arm, and peered at the family surrounding her with wide eyes.

  “Back, you beasts.” James shooed at his brothers. “Give the woman a chance to breathe.”

  Ellie giggled nervously and James led her into the living room to have a seat. She sipped at the scotch and smiled, looking even more unnerved than she had at the crime scene. James inwardly fumed at the mess of glass and paint and crumbled baked goods. Someone had actually punched the muffins in the display. If it wasn’t so awful, it would be funny, thinking about someone upset enough to punch a pastry. But that café was Ellie’s entire life. Nothing about it was funny.

  Who would do that to her?

  Why would they do it to her?

  Those names scrawling across the walls in hot red slashes of paint, they were fury, plain and simple. But Ellie was the kindest, sweetest person James had ever met. A woman who went out of her way to help people. A woman who put her head down and did what was needed. A woman who persevered…

  …a woman who had inched her way through his defenses and made him remember what it meant to care about someone. Made him want to care about someone. And not just any someone. Her specifically. He couldn’t imagine that anyone who knew her wouldn’t end up having feelings for her. Hell, even that cook of hers had gotten wrapped up in her. So much so that he had walked out on his job when he discovered Ellie was dating James.

  His mouth fell open and all the blood in his body slowed to a stop and then raced through his veins to make up for lost time. “Ellie,” he said, interrupting the conversation she was having with one of his brothers. “That cook. The crazy one who left you in a lurch.”

  Her lips parted. Nostrils flared. “Ben.” The name whispered past her lips as fear danced in her eyes.

  “You don’t think...?”

  “I don’t know...”

  “But could he...?”

  “I guess so....” Ellie rested the tumbler of scotch on her knee. “What do I do?”

  Ian watched the conversation as if it were a tennis match, his head ping-ponging back and forth between the two of them. “Would one of you finish a sentence?”

  Ellie and James explained who Ben was and how he’d quit so suddenly. Ian nodded as he listened and shrugged when they finished. “Sounds totally plausible.”

  There was another flurry of discussion and Ellie called the police and filled them in while the Moores stood watch over her. Warmth flooded James’ heart as he watched her face soften when she noticed their worry.

  There was no medicine like family, that was for damn sure. And there was something extra sweet about watching that medicine go to work on Ellie. By the time his mom called them in to eat, she almost seemed like herself again.

  James watched her compliment his mother on the meal. Laugh at Ian’s jokes. Ask his dad about the scotch in her glass that magically refilled every time she set it down. She spoke to Juliet like they were old friends and asked Harrison about his restaurant. She even managed to make Lilah smile, and no one managed to make Lilah smile.

  It was like Ellie belonged there.

  Like she was a missing part of the family.

  Like she had always been around.

  Her demeanor was easy and natural. Sweet and caring. It made him question what would happen after Ian’s wedding—when the fake relationship was supposed to come to an end.

  Would he be willing to let her go? Could he really imagine his life without her?

  And more importantly, if he asked her to stay, would she?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Ellie

  There were very few people in life that Ellie couldn’t get along with and wasn’t interested in getting to know. Ben was one of those people. Something in her gut told her he was the one who ruined her café.

  She’d drawn hard lines with him from the beginning, and that wasn’t like her. At all.

  Had that been some kind of intuition of who he was?

  Her subconscious sensing danger and trying to keep her safe?

  Calling the police and giving them his name felt good, but sitting down to a family meal with the Moores felt even better. It brought her back, way back, to one of her favorite memories. One so old it was missing detail in some places, yet was sensory overload in others. Worn and exaggerated by time. Before her father died and her mother lost her mind, they made time to sit down to family dinner every night.

  Her favorite memory was the three of them laughing over some joke Ellie had long forgotten. She could still feel the rough skin of her father’s palm, the coarse bit of hair that grew on his knuckles, as he took her hand in his. The scent of pasta and garlic and tomato sauce overwhelmed her. The light had been long and slanted, coming in warm and bright through the open window to illuminate the smile on her mother’s face. Their laughter echoed through time, distorted, hanging in the sunlight, dancing like dust motes.

  Ellie couldn’t remember if that was the last dinner they’d had together or the best dinner they’d had together. Time had blurred those particular details. But the memory haunted her through years of eating alone. Or worse, eating under the barking orders of militant foster dads and their condescending wives.

  Flash forward to the Moores laughing and teasing each other, rallying around her on a genuinely awful day, and she felt like she had found that memory of her family again. Like finally, after all those years, she was experiencing it again, and it made her feel warm.

  Of course, maybe that was the scotch.

  Somehow, no matter how much she drank, the glass always seemed full.

  Diane gathered plates from the table and Ellie stood. “Here,” she said, clutching the arms of her chair as the world spun. “Let me help.”

  “Oh no.” Diane gave her a stern look. “You sit. Relax. Let me take care of you. Lord knows you’ve had your hands full with my son.”

  “Hey!” said James as his mother left the room. “I resemble that remark.”

  Diane returned, carrying a plate of brownies and a carafe of coffee. “If I hadn’t seen you turn down a drink with my very eyes I wouldn’t have believed it possible after the way you’ve been living lately.”

  James smiled at Ellie and took her hand. “I made this woman a promise and I’ll be damned if I let her down. She deserves better.”

  Frank nodded and reached out to give Ellie’s other hand a squeeze, his rough palm scraping her knuckles and sending a surge of bittersweet emotion that took away her ability to speak. “I’d say that James may have finally met his match.” Frank sipped his coffee. “She’s gotten him to quit drinking. To stop moping around his house like a wounded child. She even got him to spend a day working at her café.”

  Or
maybe I’m the one who’s met my match, Ellie thought.

  She’d opened up and shared her past with him.

  Let him see how she was struggling.

  Let him help her when she needed it.

  Accepted his money.

  His support.

  A room in his house.

  “Now,” said Lilah, interrupting Ellie’s train of thought. “If she could only get him to stop the fighting.” Lilah turned to James. “Seriously. With all the bruises and the cuts? Those jerks you’ve been hanging out with? Pounding people to a pulp or whatever it is you do? How do you think that makes me look? To have my brother strutting around with bruised knuckles and black eyes?”

  Harry shook his head and threw his sister a look rife with judgement. “Because it’s always about you, isn’t it, Lilah?”

  She pursed her lips and sat back, tossing her wheat-colored hair over her shoulders.

  “Seriously, Lilah.” James crossed his arms on the table. “I’m not gonna quit fighting. And now that I know how much it affects you, what a hardship it is on you to have a brother like me, I might get even more into it.”

  Lilah rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to return what was sure to be a vicious comment, but Diane interrupted before she had the chance.

  “That’s enough, you two.” She winked at Ellie. “You can play nice or go to your rooms.”

  Ian cleared his throat. “On that note. What are we going to do about Ellie and this Ben guy? She can’t go home.”

  James nodded. “That’s for sure. She’ll stay with me.”

  Ian made a face as if that made perfect sense and Ellie’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Excuse me,” she said, laughing. “I know Moore men are said to have a bossy gene, but I’m right here. What if I want to go home?”

  “That’s out of the question,” both Ian and James answered in unison, with Frank and Harrison nodding their approval. Ellie looked to Juliet and Diane, who only smiled and shrugged as if to say what are you going to do?

  “Ben doesn’t know where I live—” she began.

  James held up a hand. “And how can you know that for certain?”

  “He’s right.” Ian threaded his fingers into his hair. “You have to assume that if this guy is unhinged enough to do what he did to your café, that he knows where you live and has it out for you. You can’t be alone.”

  “But—” Ellie stuttered as she turned to Harry, who shrugged.

  “They’re right,” he said, an apology softening his gray eyes. “I know you don’t like it, but they’re right.”

  Ellie took a sip of scotch, followed by a long drink of coffee, and sighed. “I can take care of myself,” she muttered.

  “I know you can.” James stood and put his hands on her shoulders. “You always have and you’ve done a good job of it. Thing is, you don’t have to anymore. You’ve got an army of Moores at your disposal.”

  The day had been too emotional for Ellie to make any sense of what rose in her chest, the flip-flopping in her stomach. She just smiled and relaxed into his touch and promised she would make sense of it all after she had time to process. Reminding herself not to get caught up in the fairy tale. The feeling of safety and acceptance she felt with the Moores wasn’t her life.

  She was only borrowing it for a few months.

  The men lost themselves to discussing how to get Good Beginnings put back to rights. Ian would cover lumber and building materials. Harrison offered kitchen supplies and would sacrifice some glassware, plates, and silverware. Frank thought he might get a good line on some tables and chairs. Even Lilah thought she might be able to help with painting the walls. Maybe pick out a better color scheme.

  Juliet caught Ellie’s gaze from across the table. “They’re good people,” she said. “Take it from me, meeting a Moore was the best thing that ever happened to you.”

  “I couldn’t be happier,” Ellie said and meant it with her whole heart.

  “I had a thought,” James said as they climbed into the truck after a long day with his family. “I’m supposed to go to The Pit tonight with Ethan and Oliver. You should come.”

  “I have very little interest in watching you get beat up, thank you very much.”

  “Hey! I’ll be doing the beating but thank you for your vote of confidence.”

  “Either way. Not interested in worrying about how badly you’re going to get hurt, even if you do hurt the other guys more,” she added after she saw his face.

  “For the record, I didn’t invite you so you could watch. I thought it might do you some good to get physical. Maybe throw a few punches yourself.”

  “You want me to what? Take my anger out on someone else? Double no thank you.”

  “Not on someone else. Because then I would be the one worrying about you getting hurt. But on a heavy bag? Hell yeah I want you to do that. I think it’d do you a lot of good.”

  Ellie shook her head. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

  “You’re a damn good lover, but the way you fuck makes me think you’d be a damn good fighter, too.”

  Ellie blushed from her head to her toes. “Thanks. I think?”

  “That’s a mighty fine compliment, sweet Ellie.” James turned, navigating the truck away from his house toward Bliss, and nerves danced in her belly. “Think about it, you’ve spent your whole life fighting, but it’s all been internal. You versus all the shit life had to throw at you. How good would it feel to ball up those tiny little fists of yours, take that mental anguish, and make it physical?”

  “Sounds like a different kind of awful to me.”

  “Nah. Here’s the thing. You take all that mental anguish and you make it physical and just sweat it out. You channel it and use it to fuel your body. What happens to the gas that runs this truck as I’m driving?”

  Ellie rolled her eyes. “Okay, Mr. Condescending. I get it.”

  “I’m not trying to be condescending. I’m just saying.”

  She couldn’t believe it, but she actually considered his idea. She was on the verge of agreeing to voluntarily go to some weird, testosterone laden place called The Pit and learn to throw a punch. Her busy life never left time for exercise, even though she knew she would feel better if she took care of her body. Maybe fighting wasn’t the way she’d envisioned getting in shape, but she never turned down opportunity when it came knocking.

  James turned the truck onto a familiar road and Ellie realized where they were going. “Why are you taking me to my apartment? I thought I wasn’t supposed to go to my apartment.” She hated the surge of fear eating away at the calmness spending the day with the Moores had brought.

  “Just to get you some clothes to work out in.”

  “But I haven’t even agreed to go yet.”

  James smiled. “You didn’t have to. I knew you would.”

  They weren’t in her apartment long, but being there gave Ellie the serious creeps. James kept a flashlight in his truck and walking around the darkened apartment with only a small beam of light to illuminate the corners made everything seem sinister and dangerous. She dug through her drawers as quickly as she could and found an old pair of sweats and a sports bra that might still fit. She grabbed a tank top that she used for sleeping and was a little shaky by the time they climbed back in the truck.

  “You good?” James asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

  She wasn’t, but she would be soon. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  “Okay.” He flipped on the turn signal and craned his head to check for oncoming traffic before he pulled onto the road. “Now, give me the real answer.”

  “It was a little strange being there. In the dark. Like I was afraid some psycho might be there, too. Or had been there, too.” She held out her hand and showed him how it quivered. “I’m shaking.”

  James threaded his fingers into hers. “You’re safe with me. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He flipped on the radio and flashed his favorite wicked smile. “The hero and the coward both feel the same
thing, but the hero uses his fear, projects it onto his opponent, while the coward runs. It’s the same fear, but it’s what you do with it that matters. Be the hero, Ellie.”

  “Wow,” she said. “That’s deep. I’m impressed.”

  “I’d take credit if I could, but some other guy way more famous than me said it.”

  She wasn’t sure how throwing a few punches at a bag hanging from the ceiling was going to make her a hero, but after the cold hand of fear crept up her spine and twisted its fingers around her heart in her apartment, she couldn’t think of a reason not to learn how to throw a decent punch.

  Chapter Thirty

  Ellie

  Turned out that a semi-secret gym called The Pit with a focus on MMA training looked every bit as intimidating as Ellie imagined it would.

  It smelled.

  A lot.

  It had bare concrete and harsh lighting and what looked like a boxing ring set up in the middle of the cavernous room.

  “That’s where the magic happens,” James said as they passed.

  “I’m not sure magical is the term I’d use to describe this place.”

  But, by the end of the evening, Ellie was already talking about her plan for the next time she came. She was so excited, she could barely sit still on the ride back to James’ house.

  “You were totally right,” she said, rubbing her hands and flexing them, fascinated by the way they ached as they moved. “I so needed that. I think I’ve needed that since the day my dad died. When can we go back?”

  James laughed, a gentle, heart-warming sound. “Let’s wait and see how you feel in the morning, once the soreness has time to set in.”

  “I don’t think a little pain is going to talk me out of wanting to do this again and again.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying. What I meant was, let’s wait and see how sore you are, so we can decide when your body will be ready to get back to the gym.”

  All her life, Ellie focused on being strong. On standing up for herself and getting things done no matter what circumstances collided with her. And she did a damn good job of it, if she did say so herself. But, she never, not once, actually believed that she was strong. She never faced her circumstances with a true confidence in her ability to overcome them. She just knew that if she put her head down and kept moving, she could outlast things.