As the movie continued, Elliot decided it was in his best interest to really study it. After all, Fe had gotten him this far, and he was beginning to think she might actually know what she was talking about.
Everything John Wayne did he paid attention to, everything he said, filed away for further reference. The way he walked, talked, moved—all noted. But to Elliot, John Wayne was just a normal guy. Not overly good looking, kind of old, but watching Fe, you’d think he was God’s gift to woman. She was funny like that. Every time he walked onto a screen, her nose wrinkled up with a smile. The way it always did when she reached the good parts in her novels, or when she watched one of her romance movies. It tickled him to death.
Underneath her tomboy facade, Fe was as much of a romantic at heart. She liked flowers, dressing up—even though she swore she didn’t, and things that smelled good. He contemplated telling her just that, but given the fact the last time he interrupted he almost got his head torn off, he thought he’d save that information for later.
It wasn’t until a good thirty minutes in the movie, when John Wayne kissed Scarlet O’Hara, that Elliot’s interest was pulled back to the television screen. He was pretty damn sure this wasn’t what Fe meant by swagger. John Wayne had found Scarlet O’Hara in his home, obviously not invited, when she bolted out the old cabin door, ran out into the rain, and waiting storm. Wind was blowing everywhere, windows rattling all around them, but before she could make her exit, John Wayne yanked her back into the house, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her. Not soft, or gentlemanly, but rough, urgent, and downright shocking. And it took her breath away.
Not only Scarlet’s, but Fe’s too.
When their lips parted, Scarlet’s hand flew to John’s cheek with a slap, hard across the face. After an exchange of a few words, he stalked Scarlet across the room until she was pressed against the wall, caging her between his two arms…and then he spoke a kind of poetry…telling Scarlet that she was a good woman. That she was nice to him…even Elliot was captivated.
When Elliot glanced back at Fe to ask a question, he found her mouth open, eyes glued to the television, and he forgot what he was going to say. He wanted that reaction from a woman. He wanted to completely captivate her and render her speechless.
He turned back to the TV, silently watched the rest of the film, but it was easier after that. It was a battle of wills of sorts. A push and pull between two people who soon became man and wife. But when John Wayne began dragging Scarlet O’Hara across a field, Elliot couldn’t hold it in any longer. “You cannot tell me that’s what you want in a man.”
Fe sat forward, shaking her head. “He’s had enough. He can’t take her acting like a spoiled brat any longer.”
Elliot’s mouth fell open, as he watched John Wayne pull Scarlet O’Hara by one arm through the mud. “You’d be okay with that?”
“No…”
He grabbed the remote and paused the movie. “Explain.”
She regarded him with a blink. “What do you want me to explain?”
“What about this movie is so important? Why are we watching this? What about John Wayne do you want me to be?”
She stood up, her stance a little defensive. “Haven’t you been paying attention? It’s everything! How he tells her what he wants and goes after it. His confidences, the way he doesn’t just let her shit all over him, he gives it right back.”
“You mean by dragging her through the mud?”
“Yes!” she yelled. “No!” She squeezed her fists and pulled in a breath. “It’s not that. Yes, he probably shouldn’t have dragged her through the mud, but he couldn’t let her leave. Because he loves her, and she loves him, and he was man enough to say it.”
Elliot’s eyes narrowed, as he tried to make sense of what she was saying. “So, it’s his confidence?”
“Yes.”
“His assertiveness.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“And you think I’m not confident?”
Her eyes shifted to the ground. “Elliot…”
“Be honest.”
She met his eyes again and rolled her shoulders backward. “Yes.”
He groaned. “Shhhheee-it.” He knew he wasn’t the most assertive of men, but to think he lacked confidence? “And what makes you say that?” He stared at her again.
“Elliot…”
“No. If we’re going to do this, I need to know.”
“Fine.” She smoothed her hands over her shirt. “You let girls walk all over you. You do nothing to stop it.”
“When?”
“All the time.”
“Give me an example.”
Her stance widened and she cleared her throat. “Shelly. She demanded too much of you.”
He cocked on brow, confused by the mention of his last girlfriend. “Like what?”
“She left stuff here all the time, then called you in the middle of the night and made you take it to her. Even when she knew you had an early class the next day.”
He looked up to the ceiling, hardly able to hide his annoyance. “It was the nice thing to do. What should I have done? Throw it out the window?”
“No. She should have been considerate enough to wait until morning.”
He pushed one finger against his lip, pondering. “Okay, so let’s say that’s true. She should have waited. How is that my fault?”
“Because you should have told her no.”
“She was my girlfriend, Fe.”
“Becca,” she interrupted, ignoring his last statement. “She always brings your order wrong, and you never complain.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not picky. I don’t really care what I eat? Ever think of that?”
She laughed. “We’ve been going there for three years. We leave her good tips, there’s no reason for her to treat you that way.”
“What do you want me to do about it?”
“Stop being so nice!”
“So, I’m too nice, is that it?”
“No.” She shook her head. “There are other things.”
He froze. “What other things? Let’s have it. Tell me all that’s bothering you.”
“The way you walk,” she said with a nod.
He could see it in her eyes. He’d asked for it, and she was going to give it to him. All of it.
He raked his hands through his hair. “My walk? You have a problem with my walk?”
She anchored her hands to her hips. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Okay, what’s wrong with it?”
“Do you want me to show you?”
He tilted his head to the side, then waved his arms across the floor in a silent invitation. “Go right ahead. Be my guest.”
“Fine.” She looked down to the floor, then walked quickly across the room without looking up.
“I do not walk like that.”
“Yes. Yes, you do. Although before last week, you also had a mop of hair covering his face”
“A mop of hair?” His eyes bulged, because he could hardly believe she was saying all this. Fe. His best friend. “Maybe I’m in a hurry, ever think of that?”
“All the time?” Her voice grew louder.
“Okay.” He pulled in a breath. “Okay. Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say that’s how I walk; how would you change it?”
“I’d have you walk like John Wayne! Haven’t you been paying attention?”
All of a sudden, the hilarity of the argument caught up with him, and he collapsed at the waist, laughing so hard, he had to close his eyes to catch his breath. “And how does John Wayne walk?” he asked when he recovered enough. “Show me.”
She planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Are you making fun of me?”
He cleaned is throat, and forced himself to stand straighter. “No. How does John Wayne walk?”
She narrowed her eyes, like all she wanted was to end this silly argument, but then she stalked across the room. “You’re always so stiff.” She grabbed his shoulders. “You need to lo
osen up.”
He raised his brows at her, tried not to smile, and did as she said. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” She clenched her teeth. “Push your shoulders back like this.” She gave him a demonstration and pushed out her chest.
“Okay.”
“Good.” She calmed a little. “Now bend your knees.” Each of her hands settled on his hips, and she pressed down slightly.
His heart rate picked up a little.
She stilled, keeping her hands on his body as she moved around him. She glanced up, into his eyes. “Women like when you’re indifferent. It drives us crazy.”
“Is that so?” He didn’t look away, instead, his eyes shifted downward, taking in her pink lips, and hair that was still damp from her shower. He clenched his jaw. “Is that really what you want? Some asshole who doesn’t notice you?”
Her eyes met his and she blinked. “We’re not talking about me.”
“I am.” His throat went dry, and suddenly, the whole room became thick with the tension that seemed to follow them around like the sun. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he pushed it away. “Is that what you want?” he glanced toward the TV. “Some guy who drags you through mud and acts like he doesn’t give a shit?”
She lowered her hands, and stepped away from him. “Why do you have to always make things complicated?”
“Why do you always avoid the question?”
A loud knock sounded at the front door in that moment, and Fe jumped a good foot in the air. She placed one hand to her chest, and spun around. “Are you expecting anyone?” she asked breathlessly.
His heart was hammering too, but for a completely different reason. “No.” He walked toward the peep hole as the pounding came again. BOOM BOOM BOOM.
“What the—” Elliot yanked the door open, almost grateful for the interruption, but quickly changed his mind. Standing on the other side of the door with his back lazily braced against the stairwell was his brother. “Colton? What are you doing here?”
Colton pushed himself from the wall and braced his legs apart. “Well howdy to you too.” He glanced between Elliot and Fe, then pushed himself from the wall. “Aren’t you gonna invite me in, little brother?”
Elliot opened the door wider, taking in the motorcycle helmet in his brother’s hand, the leather jacket that had seen better days, and the smile that every female seemed to fall in love with.
“I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything?” Colton asked, glancing over at Fe again.
She came toward them, her hands smoothing over her cotton night-shirt as she stood by Elliot’s side.
“What are you doing here?” Elliot finally asked.
His brother shrugged, then moved into the apartment without being invited. “Tell you what, get me a beer, introduce me to your girlfriend, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
“I’m—we’re—Elliot’s my roommate,” Fe stammered out.
Colton shouldered past them, seeming amused by the clarification, and looking around the apartment. His eyes settled on the TV screen, where The Quiet Man was still paused on the last scene.
He laughed. “Is that The Quiet man? I love a this movie.”
Chapter 10
Colton Prescott looked like he’d stepped right out of a cigarette commercial. His hair was windblown sexy, his large arms and shoulders covered with a black leather that appeared molded there though years of sweat and tears. He was the epitome of bad boy, and Fe wouldn’t have been surprised if the cops were right on his tail feathers.
He walked toward her, eyeing her up and down through his thick, smoldering lashes. “I’m afraid my bother has lost his manners, darlin’.” He held out his hand “I’m Colton. Colton Prescott.”
She shook his hand, sure her cheeks were redder than ketchup. “Fe Porto,” she said, watching as he gracefully lifted her arm and kissed the backs of her fingers.
His lips felt like soft pillows, but his eyes were dark, big and brown, and assessing her every movement. Her stomach knotted, and she raked over her lips with her teeth. She was sure he was looking for something, but whatever it was, she wasn’t prepared to give him. Not now, and possibly not ever.
“What are you doing here, Colton,” Elliot asked breaking the spell he’d put her under.
Colton grinned, not missing the fact, then let go of her fingers, allowing her arm to lower to her side.
“Well it’s good to see you, too, baby brother.” He drawled out, turning again to Elliot. “What has it been? Three years? Maybe four.”
“Four.” Elliot responded.
“Oh that’s right. At grandad’s funeral, how could I forget?” He set his helmet on the coffee table, then walked over to the TV and picked up a picture frame. It was of her and Elliot, when they went bungee jumping along the coast.
Elliot adjusted his stance, eyeing the photo. “Make yourself comfortable,” he drawled.
Colton grinned, and set down the frame. “Well thank you, brother. Don’t mind if I do.”
He plopped down on the sofa, unzipped his jacket, then glanced around the apartment. Fe could tell Elliot was uncomfortable, but for some reason, that only peaked her interest. Clad in nothing but distressed leather and denim sat the key to Elliot’s past. His brother, who had to know more about him than anyone. Fe would have had to be comatose not to be a little curious.
Fe glanced between the two men, noting the similarities, but also the differences. “Can I get you something to drink, Colton?” she asked, walking toward the kitchen. “Water, tea?”
He dipped his head in her direction and smiled politely. “Now that’s some hospitality, right there.” He set his boots back on the floor and sat taller. “I’ll take anything you got, darlin’, as long as it comes in a cool glass.”
Fe nodded her head, ignoring Elliot’s bulging eyes on as she passed him.
Colton followed her.
“Are you hungry?” She cleared her throat. “Elliot made fried chick—”
But before she could finish the sentence, Elliot raced in front of her, ripped something off the fridge, and shoved it in his pocket. It all happened so fast, she didn’t have time to react, but Colton didn’t miss a beat. He stopped so fast, spun around, as though he’d seen a snake.
His eyes narrowed, and an easy grin turned the corner of his mouth. “Well well well,” he drawled out. “Looks like my lil’ ol’ brother has a something to hide. What you got there, Elliot?”
Elliot glanced at Fe, then proceed to walk back to the livening room. “Nothin—”
But before he could get past the dining room table, Colton pounced on his back, grabbed his hips, and they both went tumbled to the floor. One brother was on top of the other, then the other way around, and soon enough, Colton had the paper out of Elliot’s pocket and was crawling toward the hall.
BOOM! Elliot tackled Colton to the floor once more. Causing a scream to escape Fe’s lips, and for a re-run of the tumbling to commence once again. Growing up with brothers, Fe had seen her share of wrestling matches. But given the fact Colton had been there no more than five minutes left her in complete and utter shock. Yes, she’d seen many brotherly brawls, but non-quite like this one. Both men were tall and lean, bigger than their small apartment could handle, knocking into walls, into the dining room table, then rolled in the other direction looking like two gigantic squirrels fighting over a nut.
But it wasn’t a nut. It was a list. The list. The eight steps to alpha list. Her stomach knotted like a rope, and she twisted her hands together feeling helpless. Was Elliot that embarrassed about the plan? So much so that he was rolling around on the floor looking like an idiot?
Out of nowhere, Elliot took the advantage and slammed Colton down to the ground. He took the list out of his brother’s hand, rolled to the side, then pushed himself from the floor. Immediately, his legs were pulled out from under him, and he was on the floor again. “Ooohff!”
“Guys! That’s enough! Stop it!” Fe yelled. “Stop it!”
It must have gotten Colton’s attention, because he looked up, likely to make sure she was ok, which gave Elliot just the advantage he heeded. Rolling Colton to his back, he drove one knee into his stomach, yanked the list out of his hand, and rose to his feet.
Fe stared at them both speechless, because never in her whole life had she seen Elliot behave this way. He was normally so calm. So level headed. So…
He came toward her then, sweat glistening on his brow before he wiped it off with his forearm.
She stared into his eyes, looking for any sign of the Elliot she knew, because she’d be lying if she said this side of him didn’t scare her a little bit.
He must have noticed her reaction, because he pulled in a long breath, as though disappointed with himself, and glanced down to his feet. It was then, without any warning, that Colton launched from the floor, snatched the paper form Elliot’s hand, and moved quickly across the room.
Dread filled Fe’s chest as he opened the paper in slow motion. Straightening the edges before he read out loud. “Eight Steps to Alpha?”
He peered up to Elliot, and started to laugh. “Eight steps to Alpha?” he repeated.
Fe’s heart squeezed in her chest, and she looked into Elliot’s eyes, seeing his skin lose all color. For the first time since she wrote that list, she hated it. Hated each bullet point, each way she tried to change him. If she could take it back, she would. Right now, right this very minute, but she didn’t have that luxury.
Colton was still laughing, looking at his brother with that knowing smile, and she hated him too.
Smoothing her hair behind her ears, she walked up to Colton, snatched the paper from his cocky fingers, and muttered. “Excuse me, but that’s mine.”
He bit his lip, as though not sure what to do with her. “Yours?” he drawled. “Ya sure?”
She glanced over at Elliot again, who now stood looking out the window. “That’s right. Is that amusing to you?”
Colton closed one eye, glancing at her sideways, as he took her in. “Am I to take it you want to learn how to cuss?”
She squared her shoulders, pulling herself up to her full five feet two-inches, and lied. “Damn straight, mother fucker.”
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