“Why?” Eddie asked, sensing his brother was self-editing.
“Nothing.”
“Come on, man. Don’t make me use the twin powers.”
“It’s tougher than you think, being with someone who isn’t fully committed. All the things you can’t say or do… It gets to you eventually. At least, it did to me.”
Eddie knew Raf was talking about Lena, and he knew his brother was probably right. But it wasn’t as though Eddie had a Plan B here. He’d tried being direct with Blue, but she was way too guarded, too used to protecting herself at all costs.
The way Eddie saw it, he had no choice but to simply hang in there and hope that he could wear her down. Otherwise… He was in so deep now, and so close to what he really wanted, he didn’t even want to contemplate the alternatives.
Maybe that made him a delusional optimist, but so be it.
Chapter Twenty-One
Just over three weeks later, Blue woke to the sound of a toilet flushing. She lay blinking at Eddie’s ceiling for a full twenty seconds before it hit her that there was sunlight filtering around the edges of the curtains.
Damn it, she’d accidentally stayed the night.
She threw back the covers as Eddie sauntered back into the bedroom, arms stretched wide as he yawned. The posture did amazing things for his six pack, and she forgot to do anything but stare for a beat.
“You want coffee? It’ll take a few minutes for the machine to warm up but it shouldn’t be too long,” Eddie offered.
She glanced at the tangle of clothes on the floor, a mixture of his and hers. She should go. She shouldn’t even be here in the first place. She’d already stretched the once-a-week rule several times, now she’d stayed the night.
Eddie must think she was a hypocrite of the highest order.
Or a pushover.
She wasn’t sure which option she preferred.
“You got somewhere you need to be?” Eddie asked, walking around the bed and stopping in front of her.
She had to tilt her head to look him in the eye when he was this close.
“No.”
“Then stay. Let me make you breakfast.”
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his bare chest, and the easy warmth and affection behind the gesture almost did her in. She rested her hands on the smooth planes of his back and let herself enjoy the small moment.
“Okay,” she said. “Breakfast sounds nice.”
“You want pancakes or eggs?”
His voice rumbled through his chest, and she turned her head a little so she could breathe in the smell of his skin.
“Surprise me,” she said.
His hands slid from her back to her ass, and the next thing she knew he was lifting her to his level while he kissed her. She laughed into his mouth, and he laughed, too, before things got serious between them.
After a minute or so he broke the kiss and let her slide back down his body.
“All right. Pancakes or eggs. Gentleman’s choice,” he said.
Her gaze dropped to his erection. It seemed a terrible shame to waste something so fine, but Eddie simply turned away and grabbed yesterday’s jeans before stepping into them.
“Can I help with anything?” she asked.
“Sure. Come and keep me company.”
She found her panties and yesterday’s tank top from the mess on the floor, then lingered to quickly make the bed and fold their clothes before following him into the kitchen. She couldn’t help thinking of Maggie as she pulled out a stool and sat at the counter. Her friend would be punching the air if she was could see this scene, Blue suspected. They’d had exactly one conversation on the subject of Eddie since the “arrangement” began, but Maggie had made her feelings abundantly clear — she thought Blue “giving Eddie a chance to prove himself” was the smartest thing Blue had ever done.
For her part, Blue thought her friend’s romantic idealism knew no bounds. This arrangement with Eddie wasn’t the start of something, as Maggie so clearly believed, it was the end of everything. But Maggie would realize that soon enough, Blue figured, when things went south with Eddie.
Any day now.
“You want normal or cinnamon pancakes?” Eddie asked, looking up from cracking eggs into the batter he was making.
“Normal is perfect, thank you.” She watched as he whisked the ingredients together with elegant economy. “You know you can buy a mix, right? In a little jug that you just shake?”
Eddie shot her a look, laughter in his eyes, even though his mouth wasn’t smiling.
“Too obvious, Sullivan,” he said, letting her know he wasn’t going to respond to her bait.
She planted her elbows on the counter. “So, what are we having with these pancakes?”
“I’ve got maple syrup, berries, lemon curd, or ice cream. Name your poison.”
“Um…all of the above?”
They continued to amuse each other as Eddie poured the first round of pancakes into the frypan.
“You want to keep an eye on these while I fire up the coffee machine?” Eddie asked.
She slid off the stool and rounded the bench, taking the spatula from him and moving into position in front of the frypan.
“You should probably still supervise. I’m great at burning stuff,” Blue said.
“I know. I’m keeping an eye on you, don’t worry.”
There was something in his tone, and when she glanced over her shoulder he was unashamedly staring at her ass.
“What? You want a piece of this?” she asked playfully, sticking her backside out and wiggling it.
Eddie set down the bag of coffee beans he’d been about to pour into the grinder and headed her way.
“Yeah, I want a piece of that.”
She howled with laughter when he sank to his knees and gripped her hips, holding her still as he sank his teeth into her ass cheek.
“Ow, that hurts,” she protested.
“Faker,” he said, and he bit her on the other cheek, too.
“You are in so much trouble, Oliveira,” she said, pointing the spatula at him. Then she realized she was holding the perfect torture implement in her hand.
“Come here so I can get all fifty shades on you,” she said, swinging the spatula through the air fast enough to make it whistle.
“Like I’m going to walk voluntarily into that trap,” he said.
She pounced on him, and they wrestled for control of the spatula, bodies pressed against one another. It wasn’t long before wrestling turned into something else. Eddie was kissing his way into her cleavage when the smell of burning pancakes made them both turn toward the stove.
“Damn,” Eddie said, and she could see from his frown that he was genuinely annoyed. He prided himself on his cooking skills.
She pressed a quick kiss to his chin. “My fault,” she said.
He looked at her, the frown quickly fading from his face. “Yeah, it is your fault. You’re too distracting.”
Warmth bloomed in her chest, sparked by the heat in his eyes and the rough emotion beneath his words. For a second — a heartbeat — she let herself believe that this was real. That he meant it when he said beautiful things to her. That the future he’d sketched for them might be possible — her and Eddie, together. No rules. No limits. No expiry dates.
For a tiny moment out of time, she allowed herself to believe that she was special, that she would be the one woman who Eddie didn’t leave.
Suddenly her chest was so tight she could barely breathe. She took a step backward.
This was the danger of spending too much time with Eddie — she started to believe in things she had no business believing. She started to yearn for the moments when he snaked his arm around her waist in bed and pulled her back against his chest, and to seek out opportunities to make him laugh.
This is Eddie. Never, ever forget that.
“Maybe I should do the coffee and you should handle the pancakes,” she said.
She gave him the
spatula and collected the bag of beans from where he’d left them on the counter. While he threw out the burnt pancakes, she made a mental list of all the women who had been through the revolving door to Eddie’s bedroom. By the time she’d extracted two cups of coffee, the list in her head was long enough to be not just sobering but downright grim.
Eddie had walked away from dozens of women — or pushed them away. Unlike Raf, he’d never had a Lena in his life. As she’d told Maggie, his longest relationship had lasted just six months.
No matter how good it was between them, no matter how he looked at her sometimes, or the way he held her, she needed to remember that it all meant nothing in the big scheme of things. This was simply how Eddie operated with women, and she would be nuts if she started reading anything into it.
This wasn’t special. She wasn’t special. This was simply what Eddie did.
Give Eddie a chance to be something other than what you think he is. Give him a chance to surprise you.
Blue stared at the dials on the espresso machine as Maggie’s words echoed in her mind. Only a woman who read Regency romance novels and believed in real life happy-ever-afters could be so damned naive and hopeful.
Blue was not that woman. She never would be.
Her resolve firming, she unlocked the group head from the machine, knocked out the spent beans and handed one of the espresso coffees she’d made to Eddie.
“Thanks, babe,” he said, his gaze warmly appreciative as he glanced at her.
She stomped on the warm glow his words generated, downing her own coffee in one swallow. If he hadn’t been plating up the pancakes, she would have bailed, but it would be impossible to do so now without it looking as though she was running away from something.
She was, but she didn’t want Eddie to know that.
So she sat the kitchen table and ate pancakes with Eddie and laughed at his jokes and praised his cooking. Afterward, she washed up. Then, and only then, did she head back to the bedroom to finish getting dressed.
“You’re going?” Eddie asked, surprise on his face as she watched her pull on her jeans.
“I’ve got things to do,” she said.
Eddie crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought we could go to the beach. Looks like it’s going to be a great day.”
“Sorry, can’t.”
Eddie looked as though he wanted to say more, but he simply gave a terse nod and stepped out of the way to let her escape into the hallway. Guilt bit at her as she opened the front door. He’d made love to her all night, then he’d cooked her a great breakfast. He’d been nothing but sweet and funny and sexy.
She had to protect herself, though. If she didn’t, it would destroy her when he ended things.
And he would end things. He always did.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” she said on the doorstep.
“You will.”
He was pissed with her, she realized. Her shoulders squared as she headed for her car.
He’d get over it. She was doing this for both of them — for their friendship. She needed to hang on to that.
Eddie watched Blue walk down the front path to the street.
Damn it, he’d been so sure she was going to spend the day with him, but something had happened while they were making breakfast and she’d retreated inside herself. He thumped his fist against the door frame as he heard her car start up, then stepped back into the house.
Frustrated as all hell, he walked back into his bedroom and stared at the neatly made bed. He hadn’t realized Blue had made it, had no idea when she’d found the time. The rest of his clothes from yesterday were folded on the end of the bed, too, he saw. He rested his hand on his crisply folded T-shirt, thinking about Blue’s passion for order and wondering if she knew how revealing it was.
Probably not, otherwise she’d do her damnedest to overcome the urge. God forbid she expose her soft underbelly to the world.
Or to him.
But at least she’d stayed the night. And over the last three weeks, she’d come back to his place or invited him back to hers half a dozen times outside of their allocated “one day a week” edict. One by one, her rules were falling by the wayside. In other words, they were making progress.
Yep. Ten years from now, she’ll be happy to talk about the future.
He ignored the sarcastic asshole in his head. It was in his nature to be impatient. He’d always been the twin most likely to get into trouble, thanks to his impulsive nature, but this was too important to rush. Way too important. This was the rest of his life, if he got it right.
As he'd half suspected, Blue waited a full seven days before falling into his arms again the following Saturday, just to prove to herself that she could, he suspected. The moment they were done, she climbed out of his bed and started dressing. The following Monday, she caved and let him coax her to orgasm on his desk when everyone else had gone home, but it took another two weeks before she stayed the night again.
This time, he didn’t push for anything more than breakfast, but she seemed disinclined to make a run for it once they’d finished, so he casually mentioned he’d planned to check out a South American street food festival that was being held in one of the bluestone lane ways in the city.
“Will there be acarajé, do you think?” she asked as she polished off the last of the omelette he’d made her.The deep-fried prawn fritters were another a favorite of hers.
“I’d be surprised if there weren’t,” he said.
She set her knife and fork down. “All right. Let’s check it out.”
He didn’t give her a chance to change her mind, and half an hour later they were showered and out the door. They found parking on the fringes of the city and walked to where the festival was being held within a number of lane ways that had been closed off to all but foot traffic for the day. For the next few hours they threaded their way amongst stalls selling food, hand crafts, clothes and music, stopping to inspect items here and there, tasting samples and buying treats that they ate standing in the sun.
Blue fell on a brigadeiro display like a starving woman, and he bought her a box and watched her stuff her face until she confessed to feeling ill.
“You know what the worst thing is? They weren’t half as good as yours,” she said, one hand on her belly.
“You should know this already. I’m the best,” he said with a little shrug he knew would drive her crazy.
She rolled her eyes and slapped his shoulder. Even though he knew it was dangerous, he caught her hand and didn’t let it go, instead weaving his fingers with hers as they strolled through the crowd. He waited for her to tug her hand free, but she didn’t, and he allowed himself to enjoy the small moment of connection.
The sound of loud music drew them around the corner to where a portable dance floor had been erected over the uneven bluestone cobbles, creating a mini-dance studio. Loudspeakers blasted hip-swinging salsa music, and colorfully dressed demonstration dancers swirled to the beat. A few confident souls from the crowd joined them, doing their best to emulate the moves the professionals were doing.
Eddie could feel Blue’s interest in the music — the way her hand tensed around his, the subtle sway to her body — and he glanced at her.
“Want to show them how it’s done?” he asked.
The music switched to a more energetic, modern beat, and he recognized Alexis y Fido’s “Cinco Letras" and knew the universe was on his side — no way would Blue be able to stand still for this song.
Sure enough, she smiled, her eyes bright. “Hell, yeah.”
They moved onto the dance floor and into each other’s arms, then slipped into a shared rhythm with ease. As always, Blue was strong and sinuous in his arms, her small body pivoting, twisting, rolling with his own. Soon they had their own clear spot on the dance floor as the other dancers got out of their way.
Blue grinned at him, enjoying the attention and the music, and he was pierced with happiness that was so sharp and sweet it was almost pai
nful.
She was so beautiful, so joyful and alive. This morning she’d been in his bed, and he’d just watched her eat herself sick, and now she was laughing and teasing him with her hips and ass and breasts in front of a growing crowd.
She was an amazing woman. Strong. Determined. Sexy. Playful. And he loved her — adored her — so much his chest ached with the force of his feelings. He wanted to dance like this with her until they were old and grey. He wanted a million Sundays as lazy and sun-filled as this one. He wanted to build a life with her, to laugh and cry and fight and grow together.
The need to give voice to his feelings, to lay his heart at her feet, gripped him, tightening his throat and tensing his shoulders, but he pushed it away.
She wasn’t ready. He knew it in his gut.
They’d been sleeping together for several months now, but this was only their second Sunday together. For all he knew, she would back off again next week, trying to once again corral what was happening between them. He had to stick to his game plan. He had to be patient.
The song ended and was replaced with a slower, gentler ballad, and he salved his need to declare himself by pulling Blue closer. She rested her head on his chest and he closed his eyes and made sure to mark the moment in his memory — the smell of her perfume, the sounds of the city around them, the creak of the dance floor beneath their feet, the perfection of having her in his arms, against his body.
It was enough, for now. More than enough. More than he’d ever had before.
They danced for a few more songs until the dance floor became too crowded, then he led Blue back toward the food and found a stall selling fresh juices. Giant cups in hand, they wandered back to where they’d parked his car, sipping on cold apple and ginger juice.
He caught sight of the time in a shop window as they passed and was surprised to see it was nearly five. Somehow, the day had slipped effortlessly away.
“You know, every time we park somewhere I expect to come back and find your car gone,” Blue said when they finally reached the street where they’d left his car.
“Seriously?” he asked, startled by the idea.
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