“I’m sorry, miss. I don’t know.”
“I got a call there was an accident.” My voice is cracking and I’m about ready to lose it on this chick. The security guard at the door is eyeing me pretty closely, but I don’t give a fuck. I need to find Elijah. Now.
“Harper?” a familiar voice calls from down the hall.
I whip around and spot him. Relief washes over me as I stare into those deep emerald eyes. I’ve never been so happy to see someone in my entire life. Instinct takes over as I charge full speed at him. The confusion in his eyes doesn’t slow me down one bit. He grunts as I throw myself into his arms with reckless abandon. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck like I’m his personal human body armor. I squeeze him tight, making sure I’m not dreaming.
Nope. He’s real. And he’s okay. Tears of joy are sliding down my cheeks as I pull away to see his beautiful face again.
“I love you,” I confess, losing myself in his magnetic gaze and the overwhelming relief. Before he can respond I kiss him. Not the way a stepsister should kiss her stepbrother. I kiss him the way a woman kisses the love of her life after she almost lost him.
There isn’t a second of hesitation before Elijah is kissing me back. His tongue slides into my eager mouth as his fingers slide into my hair. I’m consumed by him, oblivious to the spectacularly inappropriate scene we’re making in the middle of the ER.
The burly security guard who was eyeing me earlier clears his throat next to us and Elijah pulls away. I climb off of him in as ladylike a fashion as I can, but stay tucked into his side, practically fused to his body.
“I’m going to have to ask you to move this little reunion somewhere private.”
Elijah raises one hand in surrender with a guilty smile on his just-been-kissed lips. “Sorry, man. She just can’t keep her hands off me. You know how it is.”
I gasp and sock him in the stomach.
“See what I mean,” he grunts with a chuckle.
The security guard is unamused. He gives us a harrumph and folds his arms across his chest. I giggle like an idiot when Elijah grabs my hand and tugs me along down the hallway. His eyes are searching, scanning, looking for something. I have no idea what or where we’re headed. I’d be happy to follow him off a cliff right now. I can tell he’s found what he’s looking for when his eyes light up on the handicapped bathroom. He looks back at me. His eyebrows dance in a move that is both adorably dorky and deceptively sexy.
We slide into the bathroom, not caring who catches us. He locks the door and pins me against it. He feels larger than life in this tiny space. I drop my head back against the door to look up at him. My hands slide up to his chest, not pushing him away, but keeping him from coming closer. From kissing me. I swallow the giant lump in my throat as my brain tries to regain control of my body.
“Hi,” he says, like I didn’t just make an ass out of myself in front of a waiting room full of strangers.
“Hi.” My voice is weak. I don’t have his confidence. Hell, not even Narcissus has his confidence.
“You were saying?” he simpers, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and kissing my neck.
“Saying?” I play dumb.
He nuzzles into me, tickling my cheek. “Seems like you rushed down here to tell me something important. What was it again?” He pauses as his lips trail along my jaw. “Something about being in love with me...”
“Ha.” A nervous laugh bursts from my chest remembering my spontaneous confession in the hallway. I don’t know how I’m going to backpedal from professing my love and mauling him in public. Temporary insanity? Stress induced word vomit? That’s a thing, right?
I give him a playful jab to the shoulder. “That was more like a ‘Love ya, stepbro’ kind of love you.”
He pulls back and peers down at me. His eyes are fiery and his tone is sharp. “No. It wasn’t. Stepsisters don’t kiss like that.”
“They don’t? Huh.” I pinch my eyebrows together and tap my lips with my index finger. “I must have read the wrong handbook. My bad. I’ll make a note of that. No more kissing. Got it.”
“Do you always have to be such a smartass? For once in your life, just be honest with me.” His forehead drops to mine and he sighs. “Please.”
The intimate plea tugs on my tattered heart and my voice cracks as I tell him, “I got a call.”
“A call?” He pulls back and looks down at me, confused.
“From the ER. They said you were in an accident, that they needed to talk to your next of kin, but they wouldn’t tell me what happened.” My voice gets shaky as I remember the terror of not knowing if he was alive or dead. A temporary glimpse of life without Elijah and I know deep down I wouldn’t survive it. I’m his and maybe it’s time to fight to make him mine. “I thought something happened to you. I thought you were...”
He pulls me into a warm hug, his large body engulfing mine. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay.” He kisses the top of my head and I feel the anxiety melting away.
I snake my arms around him and rest my head against his chest. He holds me in the quiet of our private bathroom. We don’t talk. We just are. I don’t want it to end, but I know it has to.
He breaks the silent truce, asking, “Did you mean it?”
I know what he’s asking. I keep my eyes shut tight. I focus on the feel of his chest rising and falling with every breath.
“I was scared. And then relieved…” I think back to the moment I saw him, the relief that washed over me when I realized he was alive.
“Harper?” he pleads.
“Yes. I meant it. I know you’re in love with someone. But maybe someday—”
His laugh echoes through the bathroom and my heart shatters into a million pieces. Tears sting my eyes. I shove him away and reach for the door. Elijah grabs my wrist to stop me. His hands cup my face, his thumbs wiping away the trail of tears. He tilts my head up gently, but I refuse to look at him. I can’t stand looking into those deep green eyes and seeing the smug victory in them.
“It’s you, you idiot.” He places a soft kiss on my lips.
“I’m sorry, what was that?”
“I’m in love with you, Harper Delaney, you giant pain in the ass.” He laughs at the complete and utter dumbfounded shock on my face.
Still not sure I’m hearing him right, I ask, “One more time?”
He sighs, but obliges. “I. Love. You.”
My mouth drops open in amazement, which he seizes as an opportunity to slip in his tongue. The kiss is slow, lazy, and luxurious. This isn’t rushed angry hate sex. This is wooing. This is love.
He pulls back just enough to quip, “You know, it’s generally accepted as good manners to say it back.”
“I love you, Elijah Monroe, you smug jerk.”
Now…
We’re naked in his bed again, but this time I’m in no rush to get away. Ever.
“So, that was the bet,” I exclaim in disbelief.
“Yep. After everyone saw us at the dinner party, Liam was sure you’d be confessing your love for me before the end of summer and Marcus said you’d be too stubborn to ever admit it in public. So, they made a bet. Noah sided with Liam and Jake with Marcus.” Elijah chuckles.
“I’m going to kill them. All of them. Slowly and painfully.”
Elijah rolls on top of me, sliding effortlessly between my open legs. I wrap my arms around his neck, already completely comfortable with him. I love each and every thing about this man, even the things that drive me completely insane.
He kisses the middle of my chest, in between my naked breasts. “Can you at least wait to kill Noah until after he finishes covering my shift? I’m not in any hurry to get out of this bed.” He kisses a trail down my stomach, his soft, warm lips driving me crazy.
“He owed us that much after that stunt with the ER.”
“Go easy on the guy. Think we owe him, don’t you?”
I scoff. “Owe him? The bastard convinced some girl to lure me down to
the ER thinking you were maimed or dead when you were just giving flu shots. He dies first.”
Elijah’s lips still and I whine. He props his head on an elbow and looks up at me. “It worked, didn’t it? Would you’ve ever told me how you feel otherwise?”
“Maybe.” His eyes narrow on me in accusation. “Someday. Eventually.”
“From the safety of your apartment in San Francisco?”
San Francisco. With everything, I’d completely forgotten to look at the contract from Winsor Academy.
“I got my dream job,” I tell him, not wanting any more secrets between us.
He nods and gives me a sweet smile. “Congrats.”
“Thanks. I’m not sure…” I blow out a deep breath, not knowing how to go on. I’m not sure it’s what I want anymore. I’m not sure if it ever was. I’ve been running away from Elijah more than chasing a dream.
“Take it. You deserve it.” Elijah looks up at me with gentle sincerity. “I can be a firefighter anywhere. I’ll start looking into transfers tomorrow.”
It’s as simple as that. He wants me to chase my dream and he’s happy to chase me while I’m doing it. It’s not a small sacrifice. His family is here. His friends. His house. His life. And he’d walk away from all of that for me. I didn’t even have to ask.
A question nags at the back of my mind. “Why did you buy the house on Maple Street?”
His lips tickle my stomach with his soft chuckle. “You know why.”
“Tell me anyway,” I hum.
He sighs. “Because I knew if I ever managed to get you to stay, it’s the only place in Weaverton you’d want to live.”
My heart swells and I pull him up to me, cooing, “I love you, Elijah Monroe. So much.”
I kiss him, sealing my fate. My heart has always belonged to Elijah. Now, he has my future too.
“It’s going to be fun kicking Liam and Marcus out of our house.”
Elijah’s emerald eyes sparkle with joy. I stare into them deeply, letting myself give in to their magnetic pull for the first time.
My dad’s voice calling out wakes me from my late afternoon nap, “Harper? Elijah? We’re home.”
I shoot straight up, shoving Elijah off of me and shouting, “Fuck.” I grab my clothes off the ground and get dressed as quickly as I can. I throw random articles of clothing at Elijah and hiss, “Get dressed.”
He pulls on his gym shorts lazily and looks at me like I’ve gone insane.
“My dad is home!”
“So?”
I shake my head at him. “So? So I don’t really feel like explaining how you’ve been defiling his daughter!”
“Defiling?” Elijah quirks an eyebrow, a smile twisting the edges of his mouth. “You’re such a romantic. For the record, that’s not how I suggest we phrase it.”
“I’m not going to argue about wording with you right now. They don’t need to know what we’ve been doing. Period.”
“Why not? We’ve got to tell them some time.”
I shoo him out of bed and start to smooth out the sheets. Not enough to make it look like he made the bed—Elijah’s never made a bed in his life—but, enough so it doesn’t look like the site of our recent debauchery. “Sure. We’ll tell them. Someday.”
“When?”
“Eventually.”
Elijah tugs on a shirt and says, “Yeah, that’s not going to work for me.”
He’s out the door before I can stop him. His long legs carry him down the stairs faster than I can safely follow. He’s in the kitchen, standing in front of my dad and Beverly before I can hogtie him, shove a sock in his mouth, and lock him in a closet like I’d like to.
“Mr. Delaney,” he starts very formally, catching Dad by surprise. I’m out of breath and still a few feet behind him when he begins. “I’m in love with your daughter. I have been since the first moment I saw her.”
I’m mesmerized by his confession and can’t help but ask, “Really?”
Elijah looks back at me, shoves his hands in his pockets, blushes—he actually blushes. I didn’t even know that was physically possible—and admits, “Yeah, Short Stack. Really.” He turns his full attention back to Beverly and my dad, who are staring at him in amazement. “Out of respect for both of you, I never acted on those feelings when we were kids. But we’re adults now. And, painful as it was to get her to admit it, we’re in love. She’s the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. I just thought you deserved to know.”
Elijah finishes his speech and the kitchen goes dead silent. Dad looks between Elijah and me. I shrug and try to give him my most innocent, pleading eyes. The ones that got me out of a few groundings in my younger years.
“It’ll never work. You’re a Dodgers fan,” my dad deadpans.
It takes half a heartbeat for all of us to register the joke. Beverly is the first one to erupt with laughter. After that, all four of us are cracking up. Beverly’s face is soaked in happy tears.
Dad comes around and shakes Elijah’s hand before pulling him into a hug. “Should go without saying, but just because I love you doesn’t mean I won’t break your legs if you hurt her.”
“Understood,” Elijah answers with an uncontrollable smile, either not realizing or not caring that his life was just threatened.
Dad comes up to me, shakes his head, and sighs. “A Dodgers fan? It had to be a Dodgers fan?”
“I know. Believe me, I fought it as hard as I could.”
He wraps me in a big hug and I know he’s happy. Surprised, but happy.
I look over at Elijah, who’s wearing a sexy I-told-you-so grin. I mouth the words, “I love you” and that cocky smile just grows. He nods and mouths “I know.”
It would be so easy to hate him if I didn’t love him so damn much.
I cup my hands together and blow my warm breath into them, trying to regain feeling in my fingers. Elijah asked me to meet him out at the ballpark tonight. I didn’t bring a sweatshirt because I didn’t think it’d be this chilly in March. He said he needed help with his swing, but I smell something fishy. I can certainly help him with that messy chopping he calls form, but Elijah would crawl through a pit of broken glass before admitting to me he needs my help. I love the man, but some things never change.
He’s standing at home plate when I walk up, bat slung over one shoulder casually. He is a beautiful man.
“Hey there, stranger,” I call out to him.
“Hey yourself, sexy.”
He wraps me in his strong arms and plants a giant welcome smooch on me. I love his kisses. Every one. Quick, slow, hard, soft. A peck or a tongue wrestle, I love the feel of his lips on mine. That will never get old.
“I hear you need help with the hitch in your swing there.”
He rolls his eyes at me, trying to hide it by squatting down and rummaging through his equipment bag. “I asked you to meet me here because I need your help. But not with my swing.”
He pulls a small velvet box out of his bag and sinks down to one knee. My hands shoot up to my mouth and I gasp. Every muscle in my body goes rigid like I grabbed a live wire.
“I knew we were meant for each other the first time I saw you. I wanted you to be mine so bad, every time I saw you I had to put my hands in my pockets to keep from touching you. Waiting for you to stop fighting it has been torture. But, here on this field, we formed our first truce. Those happy moments throwing the ball around with you gave me hope that someday, we could be more. No woman has ever gotten under my skin the way you can. You’re my heart, Harper. My life. So, what’dya say? Care to make this truce last the rest of our lives?”
He cracks open the box and a beautiful diamond catches the evening light. Beverly showed it to me once, years ago. It was his grandmother’s. Happiness the likes of which I never imagined possible surges through me. I’m not ashamed to say that I squeal yes, fan myself with my hands, and jump up and down like in every cheesy romance movie.
I don’t care. I’m going to spend the rest of my life with Elijah
Monroe.
I love him.
Keep up with the latest news and release dates by subscribing to my newsletter! Free giveaways and inappropriate jokes abound.
NEWSLETTER
WEBSITE
FACEBOOK
TWITTER
GOODREADS
First off, thank you readers! Without you, writers are just weirdos who sit in the back of the coffee shop muttering to themselves and gesturing wildly between bouts of furious typing. (Or, is that just me?)
The fact that a complete stranger would give me their time and let me tell them a story is still so humbling. I hope you had a bit of fun remembering this crazy, wild, powerful thing that is falling in love. Thank you for being part of the adventure with me.
To all my beta readers and epicly patient family and friends, thank you so much for giving me your honest feedback and support. This book wouldn’t exist without you.
I love hearing from readers and welcome your comments! Please feel free to leave an honest review or hit me up on twitter.
Amelia Kingston is a California girl, writer, traveler, and dog mom. She survives on chocolate, coffee, wine, and sarcasm. Not necessarily in that order.
She’s been blessed with a patient husband who’s embraced her nomad ways and traveled with her to over thirty countries across five continents. She’s also been cursed with an impatient (although admittedly adorable) terrier who pouts when her dinner is five minutes late.
She writes about strong, stubborn, flawed women and the men who can’t help but love them. Her irreverent books aim to be silly and fun with the occasional storm cloud to remind us to appreciate the sunny days. As a hopeless romantic, her favorite stories are the ones that remind us all that while love is rarely perfect, it’s always worth chasing.
Her Lucky Charm
Truce?: Hating Elijah Monroe Page 13