by Carter Blake
She has yet to mention Josh again, or anything about that night at all, and I won’t press her about it.
Because there’s a new lightness to Elise’s footsteps, a renewed sense of self.
And just when I didn’t think she could be any sexier.
There’ve been no more instances in the past few days since her run-in with her ex, or since the jerk here at the bar had grabbed her. To be honest, the past few days between Elise and I have been the best yet.
Her guard’s down, and I truly think that she trusts me.
Finally.
Things are definitely good.
I’m doing my best to keep my mind on the order numbers and account balances in front of me, but I swear, even from where I sit behind my desk in my office, with the door closed, my body can feel the presence of Elise as she works downstairs. Vivid memories of being balls deep within her the night before attack my mind, and the numbers I’m trying to focus on may as well be ancient hieroglyphics.
The woman consumes me. In a matter of weeks, she’s turned me from a mild-mannered poster boy for the men out there who only choose to see what they want to see in their partner, and only do what they believe their partner wants them to, into a man with more primal tendencies than I know what to do with.
Elise could walk into my office right now, and my first instinct would be to taste her mouth and do her four ways from Sunday right there on my desk. Then, and only then, would I even ask her why she’d come there in the first place.
That’s what Elise Jacobs does to me.
So, when a quiet knock sounds at my door, I holler to come in without hesitation, hoping Elise has been downstairs feeling the same desperate ache and has come in search of having it eased.
The sight of Christina in the doorway, however, makes the blood rush loudly in my ears.
“No fucking way. Get out,” I say evenly. I’ve got nothing more to say to her.
“Cammy…” Christina pulls the door shut behind her, but the electronic music blasting from the dancefloor is louder than usual, so I know it’s not closed. Probably better that way, anyway.
She crosses the room, all dolled up in a skin-tight tube dress and straightened hair. Her smoky eyelids flutter suggestively.
She’s on the warpath.
“Christina,” I lean back in my desk chair, not even bothering to get up. “I don’t know how many times we have to go through this. It’s over.”
“Oh, you’re so dramatic. I’ve always loved that about you.” She saunters behind my desk, pushing herself up to sit on it, her bare legs crossed directly in front of me. “But you love me, too.”
“Loved, darling.” I spit the words out. “Past tense.”
Christ, how did she even get past the bouncers? I’m going to have to talk to those boys.
She looks annoyed again, leaning forward as she prods one of her stiletto heels against the inside of my knee. “Oh God, Cam, it was just sex with Robert, okay? We’ve gone over this, too.”
Her explanation makes me spring from my seat, fast enough that she leans away from me, startled. Her hands are clutching the edge of the desk, and my hands press beside each of them. Her face is only inches from mine as I lean into her, trapping her in place.
“Now, you listen to me, and listen closely,” I advise in a low, menacing tone. “It’s never just sex. Even if you believe that’s all it was for you, it sure as fuck wasn’t for me.”
Images of Elise’s pained expression and raw emotion flood through me, and I can almost hear her sweet voice as she confesses her struggles to feel good enough in her own skin.
Even just sex has the ability to destroy people.
If I’m not proof of it, then Elise sure as hell is.
Christina’s eyes are wide as she takes in the seriousness that exudes from my every pore. “What’s wrong with you?” she whispers uncertainly. “You’re…different.”
A hollow chuckle escapes my throat. “Funny you should ask. But maybe you should ask yourself what’s wrong with you instead, and why the hell you think you’re so goddamn justified in what you did. Oh, and when you’re done, I really don’t give a shit what the answer is, so just get out.”
I don’t know how I hear it over the music beat and my own pounding heart, but the sound of a small gasp near the doorway makes me pull my gaze from Christina and look past her.
“Elise.”
She stands in the doorway, shock and disbelief etching her features.
Shit, from her vantage point, I must look like I’m…
“You son of a bitch,” she bites out.
“Elise, it’s not what—”
But she doesn’t wait for an explanation. She’s gone before I even have time to take a step away from the desk.
“Shit!” I run my hands through my hair, and when I turn my gaze back to Christina, she’s smiling. A wicked, that-solves-that smile.
“What the fuck did you do?” I growl.
“Oh, were you and her a thing?” she smirks. “Hmm, I never really took you as the type to screw the hired help.”
She fucking set this up. Told Elise to come up here…
I stare at her, my gaze as cold and hard as steel. “If you must know, I screwed her, then I hired her.”
I hate myself for making the comment at all, but it has the desired effect I’m going for; Christina looks taken aback, as I knew she would. The Cameron Nichols she knew never would have done such a brazen thing, and never would have admitted it so bluntly, either.
“And somewhere between those two things, I fell for her. So, you want to know what’s wrong with me? I fell in love with her, and finally got over you.”
My confession causes her lips to curl back. “You can’t possibly—”
“For the last time, Christina, stop fucking up my life the way you’ve fucked up your own.” Each word is like venom on my tongue. “You might have finally realized I’m the best thing you ever had, but it’s too late. Because I realized something, too. You don’t deserve me.”
For the first time in the history of knowing her, Christina is speechless.
Thank God for small miracles. Maybe my words are finally sinking in.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go chase after the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
My throat is thick with panic as I search the nightclub for any sign that Elise is still there. She’s not picking up her phone, but I don’t really expect her to.
I’m about to abandon the notion that she stayed to finish out her shift, ready to haul ass to my truck and track her down by following the bus route to her apartment, when something occurs to me.
I motion to the other bartender, Amelia, who’s working alongside José tonight, and ask her to check the women’s bathroom to see if Elise is in there.
In a matter of seconds, Amelia reappears, advising that, yes, she’s in there, locked in the stall farthest from the door, and, no, there’s no one else in there, so I really need to get my tail in gear and go console that crying woman.
I didn’t ask for the latter information or advice, but her point is well made.
I stare after her as she heads back behind the bar, then take a deep breath and push the heavy metal door of the bathroom open.
“Elise?”
There’s no reply except the faint sound of a sob, which is cut off when she hears my voice.
“Elise, I’m coming in.”
I turn the lock on the door to prevent being interrupted, then cross the room and bend at the waist to look under the door.
I’d recognize those red and black heels anywhere; she’d worn them for me accompanied by a sexy little lingerie set only the night before.
“Elise, open the door, please, babe.”
“Don’t fucking call me that! Why do men always fucking call me that right after they’ve been caught red-handed being complete assholes?” She shrieks out the words, and the sobbing starts again.
Through the stall door, I can hear her mu
mbling something to herself, but it’s incoherent.
“Elise, I’m sorry. I swear to God, it’s not what you think—”
“You promised…” she wails. “You fucking promised I could trust you…”
“You can!” I press my hands against the stall door. “Open up, please. I’ll explain everything. I promise you, there wasn’t, isn’t, and won’t ever be anything between Christina and I again, Elise. She knows now that there’s nothing she can do or say to win me back. I told her everything I needed to tell her. Everything.”
A fist banging the stall door makes me jump. “I met her at the grocery store, remember? She’s persistent. What could you possibly say to a woman that determined—that gorgeous—to make her stop wanting you?” she cries.
A sigh passes my lips, and I lean my head against the door. “I told her I fell in love with you.”
Her sob is cut off, and I wait in the silence for some kind of response. When there isn’t one, I continue. “I have, I swear it. Since the first night I met you, it’s been one hell of a rollercoaster ride, and I’ve been falling for you the entire way.”
The deafening silence looms between us, then the soft click of the stall door being unlocked meets my ears. I push lightly, swinging the door back to reveal Elise perched on the closed toilet seat, Kleenex in her hands, damp and darkened with eye makeup from dabbing at her red, puffy eyes.
“You love me.” She says it as though testing the idea out on her tongue. Not a question, and not a confession.
I crouch down in front of her, snaking my hands around her hips to hold her there. “I spent my entire life doing and being what I thought was expected of me. Believing that reining in my emotions and feelings was how the good guys did it. Elise, you’ve brought out more passion and fear and spontaneity in me during the past few weeks than I’ve felt in…well, ever. I don’t have to be level-headed and mild-mannered all the time. It’s okay for me to get angry, to feel overwhelming emotions, just as much as it’s okay for me to feel contentment and happiness. There’s a balance between you and I. You’re what makes me passionate, what makes me want to be reckless, and irrational…and that’s a good thing.”
I grin up at her, continuing before I lose my nerve. “With you, I feel. And feeling wasn’t something I did a lot of before I met you. I’ve had toxic relationships, Elise, and so have you. But if I have to choose between the irrational, unconventional, crazy kind of love I have for you, or the safe, expected, monotone kind of relationship I’ve settled for before…I’m going to choose our kind of crazy every time, baby. There’s no competition.”
Tears are streaming down Elise’s cheeks again, and I reach my hand up gently to wipe them away.
“I…love you, too,” she chokes out. Then, her eyes widen. “Oh God, I love you, too!”
A chuckle leaves my throat as I cup her face in my hands. “Then why do you sound so distraught over it?”
“Because it’s crazy!” She laughs through her tears.
“That’s why it’s perfect.” I push myself up, kissing her lips tenderly.
A loud pounding on the bathroom door makes me jerk my head toward it. “Damn it,” I mutter. “One sec.”
Amelia’s on the other side, looking like she’s just witnessed the unthinkable. “You’ve got a problem, boss.”
She tilts her head toward the exit doors. “Can’t it wait?”
“Wish it could, but no, boss.”
I send a questioning glance back at Elise, but she nods, indicating she’s okay, and I reluctantly follow the bartender out.
Outside, a frantic shrill alarm is going off in the parking lot.
I round the corner and immediately see the lights of my F150 blinking in rhythm with the alarm. “Shit!”
I pull the keys from my pocket and press the button to turn off the alarm. A small crowd has formed, and as I walk closer to it, I can see why.
Both headlights are smashed, the windshield boasts a cracked spiderweb pattern from one side to the other with the point of impact being closer to the driver’s side, and there are multiple dents and scratches.
The handiwork of a Louisville Slugger, by the looks of it.
“Son of a bitch,” I hiss.
“Oh my God.” Elise appears beside me, her gaze fixed on the glass shards that litter the concrete in front of the truck.
I stay silent for a moment, then glance over at her, leaning in close to her ear to whisper, “Does that look like the work of a woman who believes she’s going to get back together with me?”
Despite the influx of anger I feel at seeing my truck so badly destroyed out of pure spite, I feel the need to lighten the atmosphere, and to downplay it. Because I need Elise to know that she means more to me than any vehicle ever could.
“You know,” she whispers back. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been so happy to see a beat-up truck before.” Her lips turn upwards.
“Ouch.” I feign hurt, clutching my hand over my heart. Then, I smile. “Look what crazy gets us.”
She turns her head to look at me full-on. “And you’d still choose our kind of crazy, despite this?”
“Every damn time, Elise,” I grin at her, reaching out to pull her to me. “Every damn time.”
Epilogue
ELISE
Trucks can be fixed to look like new.
Arguments can be smoothed over with sincere apologies and soothing words.
And wounds can heal with proper care and attention.
The thing about wounds, however, is that scars remain. They can heal and fade, but there will always be a remnant of the pain that was once there.
That’s how I see my past now; a wound that has healed and faded into a barely noticeable scar. Sometimes, in the right light and situation, I can see it, and I remember what that wound was like when it was open and raw, but with the care and attention Cameron Nichols has put into healing me, those situations are few and far between.
Because Cam isn’t anything like Josh, and he’ll never hurt me the way he did.
I know that now.
No man would uproot the life he’s built for himself the way Cam has if his intentions weren’t noble as hell.
It took a bit of persuasion, both on my part and on Danny’s, but we convinced him to stay on as part-owner of Magenta. Anyone with a heartbeat could see that the partnership between him and his best friend is a good one, and that he’s a good businessman. So, even if he isn’t exactly the nightclub type, there are still positives to remaining a part of Magenta.
Like, for instance, the fact that Danny is actually taking a bit more initiative in learning how to run the business side of things after realizing he isn’t about to lose his partnership with Cam. He’s still Danny—meaning that he still picks up women and drinks more than his fair share on the weekends, and that may never change—but he shows a tad bit more responsibility, and it’s enough to alleviate the pressure from Cam’s shoulders a bit.
Enough that Cam and Danny took the plunge, purchasing another smaller nightclub on the other side of the city. I’m still not sure how they’re going to pull that off yet without stretching themselves too thin, but with Cam’s savvy business mind, and Danny’s innovative ideas and social status, I don’t doubt them at all.
Especially since I got promoted to manager of the new club.
It scares me, the faith that Cam and Danny have put in me, but I plan to do everything I can to make it successful for them. To make them proud.
To make myself proud.
And in the spirit of new beginnings, Cam has even registered to attend the annual Nightclub & Bar Show in Vegas, wanting to submerse himself in what’s new, what’s hot, and what’s available for the new club. It seems like something Danny would normally deal with, but it’s a baby step for Cam, so I’ve tried to let him know how supportive I am of the idea, even if it does mean I have to stay here and help Danny with the busy weekend rush Magenta is heading into.
“Looks like that’s the last of it.”
/> Cam’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I hand him the last bag in my hand. “You’re all packed?”
“You’d think I was going away for a month,” he laughs.
“You’re such a girl, the way you overpack,” I chuckle playfully.
Cam arches a brow, smirking as he closes the gap between us, snaking his arms around me. “Don’t make me lock that door and remind you of just how far from a girl I am, darling.”
A soft groan escapes my lips at the delicious thought of it, and I sigh. “Don’t say things like that. You’re already late as it is, and these next three days without you are going to be hard enough as it is.”
Cam dips his head down and kisses me deeply, purposely running his tongue across my bottom lip, making me clench and tingle in all the right places. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder?” His eyebrows raise in question.
“No,” I smirk. “Absence makes me want to come with you. You’re going to be awfully lonely in that hotel bed.” My finger grazes up his chest slowly, and I see him shiver.
“Who’s the one that’s going to make me later than I already am now?” He chuckles, catching my hand near his heart and enveloping it in his.
I grin. “Okay, okay. But when you get your butt back here from that show in Vegas…”
“I’ll be all yours, Elise,” Cam says in a low voice. “You think you can handle that?”
“After five months of being together, you still wonder if I can handle you?” My lips are curved upward, watching his jovial expression.
Can I handle him? Absolutely. But will I ever get enough of him? I don’t think that’s possible.
“I have to make sure, you know,” he smiles easily.
“I can handle anything you throw at me, baby.”
He kisses the side of my face gently, and I can feel his breath hot against my ear as he whispers, “How about being my wife? Could you handle that?”
I pull my head back, looking into his eyes.
Did he just say what I think he said?
“Cam…” My voice comes out barely audible.