By the time they figured out each other’s weaknesses and exploited them, empty beer bottles littered the living room and the candles had turned into little puddles of wax on the table. Elise had passed out on the couch in a drunken stupor, and Rome thought that looked pretty good to him. He blew out the candles, lay down on the sofa, and fell asleep.
He woke up a short time later to the sound of keys in the front door, and sat up, rubbing his face. A woman walked in, shrugging off her jacket, and she smiled at the sight of him. “That must be your motorcycle up front,” she whispered, giving the sleeping Elise and the scatter of beer bottles an amused look.
“That’s me,” he said. “Still raining?”
“Still raining,” she agreed. “I have extra beds, though. You’re welcome to one.”
“Thanks.” He got to his feet and looked down at Elise. That long, silky hair was trailing over her face, and her arm was flung off the edge of the couch. “Where’s her bed? I’ll take her up there. This doesn’t look all that comfortable.”
“Oh, you don’t have to,” the woman said. “Maybe we can wake her up.”
Just then, Elise snored, and Rome chuckled. “Not with all the beer she drank.”
“I see that.” The woman’s mouth twitched with amusement. “Good for her. I hate that she stays home every night. She needs to get out and have fun while she’s young.”
Rome bent over Elise and scooped her up into his arms. “She doesn’t get out much, huh?”
“Not at all,” the woman said, clicking on a flashlight and pointing it at the stairs. “Her room’s this way. And thank you. I’m Emily, by the way.”
“Rome,” he told her, and hugged Elise a little closer in his arms. She fit rather perfectly there.
FOUR
The next morning, Elise woke up with her head pounding and feeling muzzy, and her body tucked into her bed. Surprised, she sat up and rubbed her forehead, trying to figure out how she’d gotten into her room. Her memories of last night’s candlelit beer party were vague at best, but she remembered Rome’s gorgeous smile and his teasing laugh.
God, last night had been wonderful. It had been the best night of her life, really.
She’d been astonished to see the object of her crush show up on the doorstep of the bed-and-breakfast, but she couldn’t turn him away, not with the nasty storm. And she’d been even more shocked to hear that he thought she hated him. That was startling to hear, considering it was the opposite.
She lusted after him. Apparently she was doing a good job of hiding that. Too good, maybe.
When he tried to apologize for somehow offending her, Elise had taken a chance. Just a teeny one. And she’d chatted with Rome. He’d broken the ice with conversation, and she’d brought the beer. And talking to him? Playing that silly drinking game? That had been so much fun. She hated that she’d gotten so drunk that she’d fallen asleep, though. Had he been disappointed in that? Or was he relieved? Elise suddenly felt awkward and tense. What if she’d been too drunk to realize that he wasn’t having as good a time as she was?
She was suddenly filled with doubt. She’d thought they’d had a lot of fun last night, but maybe it was purely one-sided? She got out of bed and realized she was still in her jeans and sweatshirt from last night. Huh. She never slept with her clothes on, and she didn’t recall coming upstairs.
Elise headed downstairs for a drink of water, and met Emily in the kitchen.
The other woman gave her a knowing smirk, and stirred a bowl of batter. “Well hello, there, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?”
“Okay,” Elise murmured. She rubbed her eyes and glanced back at the living room. It was sparkling clean, no hint of last night’s bacchanal remaining. “Did I—”
“Drink all my beer and then some? Yes, yes, you did.”
“Oh.” She could feel the flush heating her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. You two looked like you had fun.” Emily gave her a knowing look. “How’d you manage to score such a hot date on such short notice?”
Oh jeez. “It wasn’t a date. He got stuck in the rain and came in to stay dry.”
“And so you two had a beer party?”
“Something like that.” She was never going to stop blushing, was she? “Did he drive home last night?”
“Nope. He carried you up to bed and then stayed in one of the other rooms. Left this morning.”
“Carried . . . me . . . up?”
“Yup.” Emily’s smug smile was full of pleasure. “Made me all weak in the knees to see a guy do that. Lifted you like you were nothing.”
Elise definitely wasn’t “nothing.” She would be politely referred to as “sturdy.” “I hope he didn’t hurt himself.”
“Not at all. Now . . . tell me the deets.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
Emily snorted. “Bullcrap. A man doesn’t hang around and carry a girl up to bed if there aren’t deets.”
“He was just being nice.”
Emily waved her spoon at Elise. “I’ve seen nice, and I’ve seen interested, and he’s the latter.”
That surprised Elise to hear, and she felt her cheeks flush even redder. Could that be true? Could someone as sexy as Rome be even remotely interested in someone as unattractive as herself? She touched her cheek, thinking. “I really like him, Emily,” she said wistfully. “He’s so gorgeous and nice.”
“It’s a dangerous combination,” Emily agreed, putting down her bowl and getting out an ice cream scooper. She dug it into the batter and plopped a scoop of cookie dough onto a baking sheet. “You should tell him. Ask him out. Make the first move. I bet he’d like that.”
Would he? Elise tugged on her hair, dragging it across the bad side of her face. She didn’t know how to tell if a guy was flirting, but it seemed like he’d been flirting with her last night. Heck, they’d shot sexual question after sexual question at each other—too bad she didn’t remember any of the answers. But it had been poorly lit last night. What if she approached him in daylight and he got a really good look at her discolored cheek? He’d seen her a few times before, but things always looked harsh under bright sunlight. What about the scars on her back, or her hips and shoulder that didn’t exactly align, thanks to the scoliosis and subsequent back surgery?
She was filled with doubt. The thought of asking a guy out—especially one as smoking hot as Rome—seemed like a pipe dream.
“Well?” Emily prompted.
“I . . . don’t even know where to begin,” Elise confessed in a small voice.
“I do,” Emily said. “You take a shower, fix your hair and makeup real nice, wear a sexy shirt and some tight jeans, and show up with some cookies for him. Tell him you had fun talking and would he want to go get a beer sometime? Voilà.” She plopped another scoop of dough onto the sheet. “In fact, you can take him these cookies.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Oh, it’s not easy. But a guy like him? You’ll be kicking yourself if you don’t at least try to get into his pants.”
Emily had a point. “I’ll go shower,” Elise said.
“Do it fast before you can talk yourself out of it,” Emily suggested.
That was not a bad idea.
• • •
An hour later, Elise was driving out to the Daughtry Ranch with a container of fresh-baked oatmeal raisin cookies on the car seat next to her. Her heart was knocking a mile a minute in her chest, and she kept checking her reflection in the rearview mirror. She was wearing a good deal of makeup, a larger amount than she probably should have on her bad cheek, but there was nothing to be done for that. Better to look like she was heavy on the powder than to have him question why one of her cheeks was slightly discolored. The rest of her makeup looked great, though, and she was wearing a tight black sweater that was supposed to be worn with an undershirt that she’d strategically neglected to put on. The low cut of it played up her cleavage, and Emily had tried to press high heels on her, but she�
��d declined. After all, if she had to find Rome out on the grounds, that was going to be really hard to do if her heels were constantly sinking into the earth.
She parked at the far end of the parking lot, hoping that no one would come out and say hello to her. Grant or Brenna would notice her makeup and her tight sweater, and the last thing she wanted to do was field questions from them. Elise grabbed the plate of cookies, pocketed her keys, and hesitated.
God, was she crazy for doing this? What if he was just being polite? What if he was totally being nice to her just because she was Grant’s “fragile” sister? She’d die of embarrassment if that was the case.
Elise wavered, suddenly full of doubt.
There’s not enough life experience and it shows in the photos . . .
Damn it. She’d never get anywhere being afraid. What was the worst that could happen? Her hands trembled as she brushed a lock of hair out of her face, and she tried to calm down. Maybe he would laugh in her face. Maybe he would call her terrible names and stomp on her feelings. She could lick her wounds and return home to Tahoe and never see him again. It would hurt, but at least she could say she tried.
And really, if she was going to pursue a guy, it might as well be one as delicious looking as Rome Lozada. Aim for the top, she figured.
Steeling herself for the worst, Elise took a deep breath and stepped away from the car.
She avoided the main lodge. Yesterday he’d been painting the wooden castle, and she hoped he was out there again. If not, well, she’d cross that bridge when she got there. It was early afternoon, since she’d slept through the morning, but the ground was still wet from the prior night’s storms and a little soft and muddy. She was rather glad she’d skipped the heels. She headed down the path into the woods, clutching the plate of cookies in front of her like it was a shield.
A few moments later, she found the edges of the paintball course and stepped inside the gate. There was no sign of anyone, but she wasn’t quite at the castle yet. She continued farther in, swallowing hard and hoping she didn’t hyperventilate before she found Rome.
This is a mistake, her mind chanted. Turn around. Turn around.
She ignored that little voice for now, heading down into the small valley that housed the newly built fort. The painting had been completed sometime since yesterday, and there was no sign of Rome. Frowning to herself, Elise circled to the back of the fortress and peered around the edge. No one.
Drat.
This is a mistake. Take this as a sign and just get out of here before your feelings get hurt.
That probably wasn’t a bad idea. With a small sigh, Elise turned and headed back into the trees, heading for the main lodge.
A figure jumped out of the trees and headed right for her. She barely caught sight of tattoos and blue eyes before Rome’s large body pushed hers up against a nearby tree.
“Duck,” he commanded.
His voice was so urgent that she did, and she felt his big hand move over the top of her head. She was pressed against his chest, and the plate of cookies she’d brought with her were crushed against her breasts. His big body pinned hers against the tree, and Elise was so startled that the breath escaped right out of her lungs.
Immediately she heard a loud thwack and Rome groaned. “God damn it, Pop, you got me right in the kidney.”
“Ha!” called a voice nearby. “You’d better hustle before Dane and his group show up and nail you again.”
“You’re not supposed to shoot me, Pop,” Rome said in a dry voice, and his hand slipped from her hair. “I’m on your damn team.”
Elise looked up and was shocked to see Rome’s gorgeous face was mere inches from her own. She was close enough that she could see the stubble edging his jaw and the gleam of his lip ring. And what a beautiful jaw it was.
Then he looked down at her, and those impossibly blue eyes focused on her.
“Hey,” he murmured, and she watched, fascinated, as the lip ring moved.
Her throat worked and she fought hard to speak. “Hi.” It came out as a breathless whisper, but it was a start.
“What are you doing here on the course? We’re running a few guys through and you’re going to get pegged if you’re not careful. Pop almost shot you.”
She blinked. “Oh. I . . . um. Never mind.” It would sound totally stupid to tell him she’d brought cookies now, wouldn’t it?
He tugged at the plastic-wrap-covered plate currently smushed to her front. “What’s this?”
“I . . . uh . . . cookies.”
“For me?” He grinned, and the look was so roguish it made her legs feel like jelly.
“Um . . .” God, why couldn’t she think of anything to say? But being so close to him, with his big body pressed up against hers? All the words went right out of her head. She just stared at him like a dopey, lovesick fool.
“Thanks,” he said, and glanced around as the bushes rustled nearby. “You’d better leave before someone ruins that pretty sweater of yours.” He glanced down, and she could have sworn he was looking at her cleavage.
“’Kay,” she breathed.
“I’ll distract them. You run out of here unless you want to be splattered in yellow. And thanks for the cookies. You can drop them at my cabin.” He grinned at her again, and to her surprise, he leaned in and brushed a kiss on her parted lips, the lip ring skimming over her mouth. Then he hefted his paintball rifle and darted away, crashing into the underbrush.
Elise stared after him in shock, then darted back the way she came, running toward the cabins.
Holy crap. Rome had kissed her.
Her.
She wandered toward the cabins in a daze, clutching the cookies. He had said to leave them at his cabin. She knew which one was his, since Pop had given her a tour of the place a few days ago. Should she just walk right in and put them down? Leave a note? She wished she’d had the chance to talk to him.
Of course, if she was a ballsy sort of girl, she’d wait for him to come back and talk with him then. Elise bit her lip and thought of that kiss. It had been brief but utterly distracting. She touched her mouth and thought of the scrape of his lip ring against her mouth.
All right, then. If she was going to do this, she was going to go all in. Sucking in a deep breath and steeling her courage, Elise went to Rome’s cabin to wait for him.
• • •
Rome headed in from the paintball course, rather pleased with himself.
Today, he decided, was a good fuckin’ day. He’d woken up in a nice plush bed, had breakfast courtesy of the nice lady who ran the bed-and-breakfast—who hadn’t charged him a dime—and rode his bike back to the Daughtry Ranch for a day of work. He, Brenna, Pop, and a few other people they’d rounded up had run a crash course on the paintball grounds to see how things played out, and everyone had been impressed at the work he’d put in, even Grant.
They’d be opening the paintball course in a few weeks, and Grant had mentioned that it would be Rome’s baby to handle. He was fine with that. In fact, he was looking forward to it. He’d run the best damn paintball course and keep his job secure.
The icing on the cake had been pretty, soft Elise Markham showing up to see him. With cookies. He didn’t give a shit about the cookies, really, but he was pleased with what they represented. She’d shown up bearing gifts as an excuse to see him, and that made him grin. She’d looked so soft and sweet when he’d pressed her up against the tree that he couldn’t help but kiss her, and he had enjoyed the wide-eyed look on her face in return.
It was a shame he’d had to run her off, but maybe he’d head into town tonight to see if she was at the bed-and-breakfast. Maybe she’d want to get a drink.
Of course, maybe he was thinking with his dick. He should stay away from Elise if he wanted to avoid riling up her brother—and his boss—Grant Markham. The man had already shown that he was a bit sensitive when it came to his sister.
But damn, there was something about Elise Markham that fired Rome up on al
l cylinders. It wasn’t just that soft, innocent expression on her face—though he had to admit that it did incredible things to his libido. It was the fact that underneath all that shyness there was a fiery, smart, sassy girl just waiting to come out. And he wanted to be the one she showed up for. Maybe that was rather Neanderthal of him, but he didn’t care.
Her brother would care, though.
Rome sighed and scrubbed a hand through his short, sweaty hair. Best to just stay away from her until things were more secure with his job and Grant wasn’t looking for any excuse to can his ass.
Fine, then. He’d stay in tonight. Take a nice hot shower, relax, and maybe break out the Xbox in the main lodge. Shower first, though. He was sweaty as hell, and dirty, and he ached from repeated smacks from the paintball gun that seemed to have left a mark despite the protective jumpsuit he’d worn that day. Stripping his shirt over his head, he rubbed it on his chest and stepped inside his cabin.
And stopped.
Elise Markham was sitting there on his bed, her hands on her knees. She stood up at the sight of him, her eyes wide and anxious.
Oh shit. He glanced around but no one was nearby. No one had seen her in his cabin. He shut the door behind him. “Uh, hi?”
“Sorry if I startled you,” she murmured.
“Nah, it’s okay. I’m just not used to coming home and finding a girl on my bed.” He grinned to take the sting out of his words. “Not that it’s a bad thing to come home to, mind you.”
She ducked her head, letting that hair swing in front of her face, and he realized she was blushing. She wasn’t speaking, though, and he realized that shyness was getting away from her again. If he wanted her to talk, he was going to have to prompt her.
“So what brings you by?” And why are you sitting in my cabin, waiting for me?
Elise stroked a hand over her hair, dragging it against her cheek again in that nervous habit he’d noticed last night. “I’m not . . . interrupting, am I?”
The Virgin's Guide to Misbehaving Page 5