by Jami Alden
For a split second she contemplated walking with Anthony over to Cindy's house, then quickly dismissed it. She'd learned from experience that a three mile walk that took her less than an hour could double in time at Anthony's less than brisk pace.
One last short drive, she promised herself. Then she'd call Damon's dad to see when she could bring the car to his shop. Maybe Frank would be willing to let her do some kind of payment plan.
"Your booster's on the other side," she said to Anthony, who was keeping up his usual stream of steady chatter about what Cindy had planned for them that day. Ellie half listened, offering appropriate noises as she held the door open for him, waiting to make sure he was settled and buckled in before she got in herself.
She had just started to back out of the driveway when there was sharp cry from the back seat. "My backpack! I forgot my backpack!"
Ellie bit back a sigh of frustration and pulled back into the driveway, threw the car into park and ran into the house to retrieve Anthony's bag. As she jogged back to the car, she noticed something was off. She paused, studying her car, trying to figure out what it was. Then it hit her: the smaller, skinnier spare tire that had been on the rear passenger side had been swapped for a full size tire.
On closer inspection, she saw that the other three tires were gone as well. Replaced with brand new tires with thick, deep treads.
Damon.
She shook her head, her bruised pride warring with her relief at having the job taken care of. She dropped Anthony off at Cindy's and headed back to the restaurant for work, with one detour on the way.
She found Damon at the Gas N Go, where he and Janelle were installing a new display to showcase local merchandise and souvenirs.
Ellie called his name and the smile he gave her when he saw her was almost enough to make her forgive his high handedness. But then she thought of yesterday, how she'd been unable to keep the tears at bay when he'd chastised her. How frustrated and helpless she'd felt—how she'd been feeling for months now as she felt like their entire life collapsed out from underneath them.
And as much as she needed those tires, she hated that Damon had been motivated by guilt and pity to give them to her.
"Can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked.
His smile wavered a little at her tight tone. "Sure. Let's go to the office."
She followed him to the back of the store, trying not to pay too much attention to the shift of his muscles under the thin cotton of his T-shirt. Or the way his mile wide shoulders tapered into narrow, lean hips and a tight, firm ass.
Even as she told herself she was here to remind him she wasn't a charity case, she couldn't stop her body from humming to life as she followed him into his office, every cell brimming with need as he reached past her to push the door closed behind her.
He kept his hand pressed to the door, leaning over her, standing way too close. "What's up?" he asked softly, head bent close enough that all she would have to do was tip her chin up and her lips would meet his.
Focus! She forced herself away from the door, ducked underneath his arm, and moved as far away as the small space would allow. "I wanted to talk to you about the tires."
"What about them?" he said, with an exaggeratedly blank look that wouldn't have fooled a three year old.
"I didn't ask you to fix them."
He shrugged. "I know. And I knew you'd say no if I offered. So I just decided to take care of it."
Something twisted in her stomach. Take care of it. Take care of her. How many times had he done that in the past? Whether it was making sure her car had gas or bringing extra money to the pool so she could get a snack, there was a time when Damon had been there to make sure she had everything she needed.
Back then, she'd never thought to question his motives. Because she knew exactly why he did everything he did for her.
He loved her.
Now... he'd bought her tires because he'd felt sorry for her. And if there was one thing she couldn't bear was to be seen by anyone—but especially Damon—as an object of pity.
"How much do I owe you?"
His lips flattened in irritation. "Nothing."
"How much?" Ellie pressed. "I'm not a charity case."
"I don't think of you as a charity case," he bit out. "Consider it a gift."
"Pardon me if I don't think our relationship is at the place where I think it's appropriate for me to be accepting gifts from you that cost that much."
His blue eyes narrowed. "What the hell is wrong with me wanting to help you out?"
Because I know it will be too easy for me to fall back into that place where I depend on you for it. And I can't do that again because I know it's not real. I know it's not forever. "I appreciate it, and I'm sorry if I seem ungrateful." She backed off her assault, realizing too late what an ungrateful bitch she was being. "It's just—" She shook her head. There'd been a time when she'd been able to bare herself to him without reservation, emotionally as well as physically.
While she'd slipped easily back into the physical stuff, letting him in on all of the emotions twisting inside her felt like more risk than she wanted to take on.
Still, he deserved an explanation, and she needed to be clear about the kind of expectations she had, not only for him, but herself.
"I have to be able to take care of us," she said finally. "With everything that happened, I learned the hard way there's not much of a safety net. I have to make my own. I have to know that I can take care of myself and Anthony without depending on anyone else to come in and save the day." And I can't have you feeling sorry for me, she thought silently. "Besides, I'm essentially your employee now, and it's probably not appropriate for you to be doing stuff like this for me.”
"But it's appropriate for us to be fucking each other?"
Ellie's eyes narrowed, cheeks flaming. "Of course not. But the fact that we are makes me feel even more awkward about you spending money on me. Tell me what I owe you."
"Fine," he said and ran his hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh.
She gave him a suspicious look when he quoted her what seemed a ridiculously low price.
"My dad gets the tires at cost, and I'm obviously not going to charge you for labor."
"Ok," Ellie conceded, breathing an inner sigh of relief. Instead of decimating her savings, a few good days of tips and she would have the cost covered.
"And anything else you need done, just bring the car to the shop."
"I couldn't—" she started.
Held up a hand. "Friends and family discount. Neither your mom or your sister have ever refused it."
"Fine," she conceded, though she hoped her transmission could hold up until she found a new job, and through whatever road that might then entail.
"So are we good?" he asked, taking a step closer.
"I think so," she replied, her breath hitching in her chest as his lips curled into a little smile and heat rose in his gaze. He stepped even closer, and her nipples peaked against the fabric of her shirt as she felt the heat of him radiating off his body.
Then they were moving toward each other, closing the distance as they reached out. His hands cupped her face as hers tangled in his hair. She tipped her head back, eager to receive his kiss. Eager to put the awkward uncertainty aside and focus on this. No complications, no ambiguity. Where all that mattered was how good they made each other feel.
Her lips parted at the first touch of his, sucking his tongue into her mouth to tangle with hers. His deep groan rumbled against her lips, reverberating through her entire body until it buzzed between her thighs.
"I don't suppose you have time to—"
His words were cut off by a sharp rap on the door.
"What?" Damon's voice cracked through the air.
"The fuel delivery guys are here," Janelle called through the door.
He rested his forehead against hers and let out a heavy sigh. "Can't get a fucking break, can we?"
She let out a little laugh at his
choice of words. "Doesn't seem like it."
Ellie reluctantly untangled her fingers from his thick, dark, hair and let him pull away. She reached for the door but before she turned the knob he grabbed her hand. "You're not off the hook, you know. You and your crappy tires still owe me a rain check for yesterday." He pressed a hot, open mouth kiss to her palm, that made her knees go weak and sent a rush of heat between her legs.
"Now get out of here before I back you up against that door and fuck you with Janelle on the other side of it."
The next two days passed in a blur of activity as they scrambled to get every last detail nailed for the party. Despite everyone from Damon to her mother admonishing her that Jane realized that this wasn't some fancy Hollywood spot and had chosen Deck's home town favorite for that reason, Ellie was determined that everything would be perfect.
She didn't want to leave a single opening for criticism.
Though Damon had spent most of the last two days working at her side, there was little time alone, and no time at all for them to sneak away for their rain check.
But there wasn't enough work in the world to completely distract her from the intense need that rushed through her the second he walked into the room. To keep her skin from flushing with heat every time she looked and caught him staring at her like he was imagining her spread out naked on the nearest flat surface.
Judging by the pensive looks from Dylan, who had jumped into help them through crunch time, she wasn't the only one who noticed the hot looks Damon was throwing her direction.
She knew Dylan was concerned for his brother, worried about him getting hurt again. She should tell him he didn't have anything to worry about. Despite the slight softening in Damon's attitude lately, he showed no interest in pushing it beyond their friends with benefits—not that there had been any benefits this last week—or whatever it was they were doing.
And besides, she'd be gone soon enough. Just yesterday she'd gotten a call from a museum in Denver following up on the resume she'd sent them for an event planning position.
The Friday before the party was an exhausting whirlwind. Adele closed the restaurant after lunch so they could get everything set up. With so much to do before tomorrow night, Ellie was happy several people volunteered to help out.
Even Josh deigned to show up, though based on what Ellie had seen he might be doing more harm than good.
"Don't you think it would be better to set up the tent on the other end, by the brick oven?" he asked, rubbing his chin like he was in deep thought as he watched Damon and Brady heave the end poles up, their faces beaded with sweat as the hot July sun beat down on their heads. "That way if it does rain, people can keep warm by the fire." Josh had also had opinions about the menu (too fancy), the decor (is this Montana or Malibu?), and the custom cocktail Ellie and Brady had come up with (if Deck's gotten too good for beer and whiskey, he should go back to California with all the other sissies).
If he'd spent half as much energy helping set up as he did flapping his gums, they'd be a lot farther along. Judging from the glares Damon and Brady were shooting his way she wasn't the only one who thought so.
"And they can also get choked out by the smoke when the tent covers the chimney," Brady growled.
Josh shrugged. "Well you should definitely move that bar," he said, gesturing over to the far side of the patio, where Ellie and Molly were busy outfitting the outdoor bar Damon had just completed the day before. The long, slate topped bar lined the outside of the restaurant on the long side of the patio.
"Honey, this was the only place we could build it—it has to connect with the water and electricity." Despite Molly’s cheerful tone, Ellie sensed an edge to her sister's voice.
"That's a bummer because it would have been way cooler on the other side, right next to the sidewalk."
Brady grunted as he and Damon finished securing the first set of poles in place. "Damn, Josh, with all of these opinions you must be all over that wedding you and Molly are planning." He paused, picked up the bottle resting on the ground near him, and took several gulps. "When is that happening again?"
Josh shrugged and waved him off with a rueful smile. "Who knows? I've been so slammed lately I can't even think about it right now."
"Huh," Brady replied, sauntering over to Josh. "I would have thought with the way Molly is running around, it would be happening sometime soon."
"It will happen," Molly said lightly. "We just need to wait till Josh has a break."
Ellie stole a sidelong glance at her sister. Though Molly continued unpacking glasses, appearing unfazed, Ellie saw the tightness of her jaw, the slight downturn of her full mouth.
"I don't know Josh, you don't want to make a woman like that wait too long. One day you might turn around and realize she's gone onto greener pastures," Brady said. His tone was light, but the piercing look he gave Molly was anything but.
"What, like Molly would ever leave me?" Josh said with a guffaw, oblivious of the way Brady was looking at Molly like he wanted to devour her. "You'd never do that, would you, Molly?" he said, and strode over to the bar and gave Molly a loud, smacking kiss on the mouth. Molly shook her head and smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Of course not." Josh grinned, then turned back to Brady. "Like how's she gonna do any better?"
Molly's smile froze on her face and in that moment Ellie wanted to smack the pompous grin off Josh's ignorant, undeservedly huge head more than she wanted to take her next breath.
Brady's eyes narrowed and Ellie saw something close to fury cross his face, his right hand clenching as the muscles in his arm showed in stark relief.
The fury disappeared so fast she thought maybe she'd imagined it, replaced by a sly grin. "You're right, she probably can't do better," he said. Oh so casually, he peeled off his T-shirt, revealing the kind of tightly muscled torso that Ellie had only ever seen in magazine ads for men's cologne.
Oh, and in bed with Damon.
"But she might have a damn good time trying something different," Brady said and wiped the shirt across his face and down his torso, offering up a display of tight muscle and tanned skin that would make any straight woman with a pulse wipe a little drool off her chin.
From the flush on Molly's cheeks and the way she was chewing on her plump bottom lip, she was anything but immune.
Josh's eyes narrowed, his gaze shifting from Molly to Brady. Ellie could practically hear the rusty gears in his head grind, and she wondered how long it would take him to figure out Brady had all but admitted he was more than willing to be something "different" if Molly was ever inclined.
"Uh, Josh, can you help me start bringing the boxes of booze out here?" Molly said. The look she shot Brady would have withered most men, but his cheeky grin didn't waver as he casually tossed his shirt aside.
They continued to work into the evening getting everything set up. Once the patio was ready they all moved to the kitchen to help Brady prep the food for the next day.
"Yeah, I don't really cook," Josh said, wrinkling his nose at the chef's knife Ellie held out to him.
"It's not cooking, it's chopping garlic for the marinade," Ellie snapped before Molly could jump in. "Trust me, you don't need to be a master chef."
Josh held up his hands and looked at Molly. "Come on, babe, you told me we'd be out of here after a couple of hours."
Molly's fingers tightened around the whisk she was using to stir about a gallon of Brady's secret marinade, a mixture of soy sauce, horse radish, mustard, and the garlic that Josh refused to chop. "I'm sorry it's taking longer than I expected," she replied in a tone that Ellie recognized from some of her own conversations with Anthony. "But if we all pitch in the work will go that much faster."
"We're supposed to have dinner with my parents at seven thirty—or did you forget?"
Molly glanced at the clock and swore under her breath. "I didn't forget—do you think we can reschedule?"
Josh shrugged. "Not for another month—they leave tomor
row for their cruise, and then they're going to Phoenix to visit my sister. You're the one who keeps saying you want to talk to them to nail down the details for the rehearsal dinner."
It was on the tip of Ellie's tongue to ask why they needed to figure out the rehearsal dinner when they hadn't actually set a date for the wedding yet, but the stress on Molly's face gave her pause.
"El." She shot Ellie a pleading look.
"Go ahead." It was Brady who answered. "We've got it under control."
"Are you sure? I don't want to be a flake." Molly continued to direct her attention to Ellie and Damon.
"No, really, your fiancé has to be your priority, right?" Brady once again broke in as he chopped the onion on his cutting board with more force than necessary.
"It's fine," Ellie said, looking to Damon, who nodded at her before shooting his friend a warning look. "There isn't a whole lot more we can do tonight anyway." That was a lie. But Molly was clearly so close to the end of her rope dealing with all this bullshit from Josh that Ellie didn't want to pile on even harder.
Her sister was not happy, she knew, and she felt a pang of guilt that she hadn't tried to talk to Molly more about it, get her to open up about what was wrong.
But stung by the way Molly had lashed out before, Ellie had retreated, buried herself in the party preparations. After the party was over, she promised herself, she'd round up her sister for a good heart to heart. For tonight she said goodbye with a quick hug and dove back into the party prep.
"Isn't it Anthony's bedtime?" Damon asked some time later.
Ellie crammed yet another flank steak into a plastic tub full of marinade and looked at the clock. "Thank you for reminding me," she said and hurried over to the sink.
"Can't have you breaking a pinky promise," Damon said with a smile that sent a warm glow across her skin. Earlier today Anthony had come by and extracted a pinky promise from her that even though she was extra busy with the party, she would come home to read him a story and tuck him into bed.