Accidentally in Love

by Laura Drewry

  So many channels and not a thing that caught her attention. She was on her second scroll through when room service arrived.

  After tipping the young girl, Ellie followed her to the door so she could latch it, but as the girl stepped out, someone else stepped forward. A shot of panic squealed up out of Ellie’s throat before she realized it wasn’t Kurt.

  It was Brett.

  Standing outside her door in his standard Levi’s and plain T-shirt, not smiling, not moving, not doing anything but looking at her.

  Oh no no no, she wasn’t…he couldn’t see her like this again. The first time had been bad enough, but at least the stairwell at Maya’s wasn’t very bright. There in the door of her hotel room, the light was glaring, probably right off her glasses, and showing all her flaws. Her weaknesses.

  To her credit, the room service girl hesitated as though she could do something if Brett actually turned out to be a serial killer, but Ellie just smiled and sent her on her way.

  “Uh, so when you said you were driving…?”

  “I was coming over the bridge; goddamn traffic.” He hadn’t taken a single step since Ellie had squealed. “Can I come in?”

  “I don’t…I’m not really…” Of all the pajamas to have brought with her, why did it have to be her Mrs. Daryl Dixon ones? Walkers on the bottoms, Daryl and his crossbow on the shirt; yup, very attractive.

  His eyes widened. “Do you have company?”

  “What? No!”

  That seemed to be all the information he needed, because he walked right in and gave the whole suite his once-over before coming back to her. How did he do it? How did he look that good without even trying? How did he make everything so much better just by standing there?

  And how the freakin’ hell was he able to incite a riot in her girly parts without so much as touching her?

  “I wasn’t actually expecting company,” she said, blinking away. “So give me a minute and I’ll—”

  “No.” He practically lunged for her when she stepped toward the bathroom. “Don’t. You look…Okay, apart from the bit about Daryl, you look great.”

  “I look like…” She stopped, shook her head. “I don’t like being seen like this.”

  “I know.” He nodded slowly. “I know, but it’s just me, Ell. You don’t have to put it all back on for me.”

  Oooh, yes she did. Especially when he looked at her like that, with his eyes so blue and that dimple teasing its way out.

  “Come on.” He pulled out one of the chairs at the small round table and nodded toward her covered plate. “Eat your dinner. Smells good.”

  Oh, crap. Dinner. There’s no way he didn’t know what was under that metal cover. Even if he weren’t a cop, and snoopy by nature, the aroma wafting out the vent hole was enough to give it away.

  He had her. She was busted, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  “Fine,” she sighed.

  Plunked down on the chair, with her foot on the seat beside her and her knee up by her chin, she lifted the cover and let the full aroma out. Meat lover’s pizza with double cheese. Without even looking up, she passed him a napkin and indicated the chair across from her.

  He didn’t hesitate, just slid one of the four pieces onto the napkin and sat down.

  “So what’s up?” He waved his free hand over the tray of pizza and the glass of beer. “Bad day?”

  She didn’t want to smile at him, but it happened anyway. There was just something about him sitting there with her that made her happy. It shouldn’t, but it did, even if she was sitting there in her pajamas without so much as a swipe of lipstick on.

  “Yeah,” she finally said, nudging her glasses up a bit. “You could say that. I got yelled at, I was half-convinced my sister was dead in a ditch somewhere, I missed the opening of the trade show because I was draining the battery on my phone trying to find her, some dipwad just pushed his way into my room and is now inhaling my dinner, and…” She tapped her bottom lip for a second. “Oh, yeah. To top it all off, I found out that the guy I sort of had a thing with there for a while is leaving town and he didn’t even have the decency to tell me himself, so it seemed like a double-cheese-and-beer kind of night.”

  If he hadn’t choked on his pizza, it might have been cute the way his eyes bulged out like that.

  With his fist pressed against his chest, and still wheezing, he fumbled with the plastic wrap on the top of her glass until she pushed his hand away and pulled it off for him.

  “Should I call Carter?” she smirked. “He’s on duty at St. Mark’s—I’m sure he could be here in a couple minutes.”

  But Brett just shook his head while he chugged her beer. When he finally stopped, and could breathe properly again, he couldn’t seem to look at her for very long before needing to shift his gaze somewhere else.

  “So that was my day,” she concluded. “How was yours?”

  He held up one finger, giving him another couple of seconds to chug more of her beer, before he wiped his mouth and exhaled slowly.

  “Let’s see. I got ignored, then snarked at by this crazy woman, I followed a couple leads to nowhere, went to two MVAs, a B&E, and a domestic, and then to top it off…” He twirled the glass between his fingers, then looked up at her again. “This girl I sort of had a thing with for a while there took off out of town without telling me who she’d be with or when she’d be back, which meant I had to use my superhero cop skills to track her down.”

  He didn’t smile, and neither did she; all she could do was look at him, his eyes so clear, so blue, so serious. So beautiful. He didn’t even have to say anything, so long as she could keep looking at him, because everything she needed was right there in that face.

  “I couldn’t call you back this morning,” she said finally, low, because that was as much as she could manage. “Honestly, I was feeling a little stomped on, and I needed time to get myself together before I talked to you, because I knew if I didn’t, I’d either cry or just get snarky and defensive, and I hate it when I’m like that. Especially with you.”

  He neither nodded nor blinked. “I only found out about the transfer last night after the game, and it took me all night to figure out how I was going to tell you.”

  “Oh.” She offered him a bit of a guilty wince and then, just to keep it in balance, added, “FYI for next time: it’s never a good idea to have your boss or anyone else spill the beans.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “That wasn’t actually one of the ways I came up with.”

  “Oh, do tell.” She pulled her other leg up so that both knees were bent under her chin. “I can’t wait to hear what you had planned.”

  Watching his expression soften like that sent a wave of warmth rippling through her. Oh, how she was going to miss that face, those eyes, that voice.

  “Well,” he said. “There were a few different ways I could have done it. Plan A was me telling you I was just going to run down to the store for ice cream and then not come back.”

  “Hmm.” Smiling, she tipped her head a little to the side. “Not very original, Ponch. Running out for ice cream is so yesterday. I mean, if you’d said you were running to the store for, oh, I don’t know, Swedish Berries, that might’ve won you points for originality, at least.”

  Without missing a beat, his gaze still fixed on hers, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small bag of the damn things and tossed them onto the table.

  “Ooooh, well done. Those things are like my kryptonite.”

  “I know.” His cheeks pinked a little when he shrugged. “Every time you pulled out your registration papers, I saw your stash in the glove box.”

  “See—you really are like a superhero cop, aren’t you? Who else would’ve noticed that?”

  “Yeah, pretty much everyone who knows you.”

  Forgoing the pizza altogether, Ellie pulled the bag open and dumped a bunch of the candies into her cupped palm. “So good. And while it’s virtually impossible to top any idea that includes Swedish Berr
ies, I feel it’s only fair to at least hear what your Plan B was.”

  “Right. Plan B.” Pushing back in his chair, he scraped his fingers over the top of his head and…yup…that counted as a smile, small as it was. “I was going to throw you in my carry-on and take you with me.”

  He let that hang there for a second or two before adding, “But apparently there’s some law against that. No women, printer cartridges, or oversized liquids allowed in carry-on bags. Go figure.”

  Ellie nodded slowly, pretending to ponder that a little.

  “I see. So basically what you’re saying is—” She pulled the glass back to her side of the table and downed what was left of the beer. “Neither plan actually involved telling me anything.”

  “Which is why I decided to go with Plan C.” He didn’t move, didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. “I’ve been transferred back to Etobicoke, Ell, and I leave next Friday.”

  Friday. She held his gaze as long as she could, until the burning in the back of her eyes forced her to either look away or let him see what those words did to her, how deep they sliced and how hard they made it for her to breathe.

  “Well, that’s good, right? It’s what you want, it’ll mean you’ll be closer to…” Oh boy. Swallowing, she pushed away from the table and went to fill the beer glass with water. “You’ll be closer to your folks.”

  “Ell.”

  “What? No, it’s good. Jayne and Nick are really going to…” She was making it worse, but her tongue just wouldn’t stop. “They’re going to miss you, but it’s not like they’ll never see you again, right? I mean, aside from the obvious problems with carry-on bags, travel’s pretty simple these days, and there’s always email and texting and…well…there’s Skype, but after seeing what my mom does with that…Ugh, never mind.”

  This would be so much easier if she weren’t standing there in her pajamas. You’d think having a picture of Daryl and his crossbow on her shirt would help her feel strong, but it didn’t. Not even close, especially when Brett kept looking at her like that, like he knew she was struggling but there was nothing he could do because he was struggling, too.

  “Do you want another beer? I could call room service and have them bring some more up. Or there must be something in the—” She jerked open the minibar and pointed to the cans of Heineken. “Thank you, Jesus.”

  “Those are going to be, like, ten bucks each.”

  “Really? You think I care about that right now?” She had her can cracked before setting the other on the table in front of him. After a long swig, she wiped her mouth and nodded. She could do this; all she needed to do was focus. “Okay. So what’s the plan for after you leave? Does Sergeant Schilling step in as my new flavor of the week or what?”

  He didn’t even touch the can in front of him. Just as well, because she was probably going to need it, too.

  “But I guess if Kurt doesn’t show his face soon, there won’t be much anyone can do, right? It’s not like Tory can keep showing up at my store every time he buys himself a cup of coffee, and you said it yourself, you guys are stretched pretty thin as it is, so at some point—”

  She could stand there sputtering about Kurt all night long; it wasn’t anything about him that made her feel this way, that made her throat so dry or her breathing so hard to control. It wasn’t anything about him that made her insides feel like she’d been mainlining caffeine for four days straight or made her heart feel raw, like it was laid bare and bleeding.

  Breathe. The deeper she inhaled, the deeper her fingers tightened around the can, until the flimsy aluminum crunched inward.

  “Okay, I can’t do this. I need to get dressed.”

  “Stop.”

  “It’ll just take me a minute. I’ll be right back.” She’d only taken one step before he was in front of her, his hand reaching for hers, but Ellie shrank back, shaking her head. “Please move.”

  “No.” He held his hands up a little, showing her that he wasn’t going to touch her but he wasn’t going to let her by, either. “Don’t hide from me—not in the bathroom, and not behind your clothes or your makeup or anything else. Talk to me as you, not as the Ellie the rest of the world gets to see.”

  Snap. She wasn’t prepared for that, or for the fact that he wasn’t finished making his point.

  “You always look great, Ell…and I’m talkin’, like, really great.” His eyes widened a little as he blew out a breath and nodded slightly. “But how many people get to see you like this? Anyone?”

  She couldn’t lie, but that didn’t mean she’d help him prove a point, so she shrugged slowly and sighed. “My mom.”

  He blinked over her pathetic excuse of a response. “When I see you like this—and holy shit, it’s a good look—I know I’m getting the real Ell, bare bones, no hiding, no act, no nothing. Just you at your most honest, and that’s what I need right now.”

  Oooh, the honesty card. That was low, only for some reason it calmed her, brought her back to where she could relax a little. Not completely, but a little, and the more she stood there looking at him, the less vulnerable she felt. How the hell did he do that?

  “Does everything always have to be about you and what you need?” She lifted one brow in a slow, mocking arch. “Every once in a while, can’t it just be about me? Is that asking too much?”

  Instead of firing back some smart-ass comment like she thought he would, he took a couple of big steps back as his face broke out into one of those oh-so-rare huge grins, dimple and all.

  “Okay, maybe I was wrong,” he laughed. “There’s no way I’m going to be able to think straight sitting here in a freakin’ hotel room with you looking at me like that. Go throw something on and let’s get the hell out of here.”

  She’d just stepped into the bedroom when he called after her: “Leave the glasses on.”

  —

  Brett was wrong. He’d thought that if he wasn’t looking at her in her pajamas, he’d be able to tamp down the fire burning in his gut.

  Wrong wrong wrong.

  It wasn’t just the way she looked that did it for him; it was the way she looked at him, the way she could be so strong and yet so soft at the same time. Maya was right: Ellie was pretty amazing once you got past all that lippy crap. The thing was, though, he loved the lippy crap; it was part of what made her so amazing.

  They cut back behind the hotel and followed the sidewalk along the harbor, through the park, and around by the marina, where he made it about ten steps before reaching for her hand. Ellie didn’t hesitate, just threaded her fingers through his and smiled up at him.

  “Wasn’t sure if that was allowed or not.”

  “What?” he asked, shooting her a quick wink. “It’s a safety issue, that’s all. You never know when one of those sailboats is going to lose control and come careening toward us.”

  “Right,” she laughed. “Because that’s what sailboats do; they careen.”

  “Hey, you don’t know. It could happen.”

  “I’m sure. Just because it’s never happened doesn’t mean it won’t, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  They walked awhile in silence, not because Brett didn’t have anything to say but because every time her thumb slid across his, so slow and soft, he had to remind himself how to breathe.

  Clearing his throat, he tried to crush down some of the storm brewing in his gut.

  “So we need to give some thought to what’ll happen with you after I leave. Hudak said she had some leads she was going to follow up on tonight, but if those don’t pan out, we need to have a plan.”

  “What does Sergeant Schilling say?”

  “Not much. He was really hoping this plan would work, that it’d either send Kurt packing or drive him so crazy that he’d make a big move and then we’d get him.”

  When Ellie looked up at him, he tried to backtrack a little.

  “I don’t mean Sarge wanted Kurt to do anything to you—just that he was hoping that with Hudak and me double-teaming you, we’
d flush Kurt out faster. Instead, the little shit’s weaseled in deeper.”

  “So what does that mean? He can’t spend the rest of his life like this.”

  “Screw him,” Brett barked. “You can’t spend the rest of your life like this. He’s getting cocky with all the emails, so it can’t be much longer before he does something stupid and slips up.”

  She nodded a little, though it couldn’t have been anything more than a knee-jerk reaction, because her eyes got wider and she tightened her grip on his hand.

  “We’re going to get him, Ell.”

  “I know.” She pushed her glasses up a little, then tipped her face up to his, her bare skin glowing under the light of the moon. “I just hope you get him before he gets to the doing something stupid part. The restraining order’s good to have, but it’s not going to be very useful if he shows up at my door. I could probably give him a couple good deep paper cuts with it, though, so I guess that’s something.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “Yeah,” she murmured. “I know. But don’t you worry, Ponch, I’m taking all the necessary precautions, and I’m not going to do anything stupid. I was actually thinking of getting a dog. How about that?”

  “No.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because you said ‘dog’ like you were picturing a Chihuahua or something.”

  “No, not a Chihuahua. A wiener dog—one of those short-haired ones—and I’d name him Chili and get him one of those jacket things that look like a bun.” When Brett didn’t respond, she nudged his elbow with hers and laughed. “Get it? He’d be a chili dog.”

  “I got it.” There wasn’t anything funny about this. “If you’re going to get a dog, get a real dog. A lab or shepherd. Shit, get a rottweiler—that’ll keep people away from your house. Don’t waste your money on a goddamn rat.”