"Tristan's coping?"
"Yeah, he's been amazing. Oh!" I lifted my hand, excited to finally show off the engagement ring.
Mom gasped.
"I love it."
"Well, it's about damn time he made an honest woman out of ya."
My mouth popped open.
Mom smirked, and I laughed.
"He asked me for his grandmother's ring last Christmas Eve," Mrs. Daniels said, coming up behind us like a ninja. Mom and I turned. "Tristan has always loved you, Elle. Seeing how happy he is…" She paused, taking a stuttered breath. "Thank you."
As soon as tears pooled in my eyes, Alyssa shut down the potential cry-fest. "Whoa. We're here to cheer Elle up. No sappy shit is allowed."
"Alyssa," Mom scolded, though her tone was playful.
"She's right. Let's eat and have some fun." I wrapped an arm around Mom's waist, and we headed to the kitchen where we stayed most of the night playing games, and drinking until the morning sun filtered through the blinds.
∞ ∞ ∞
Days stretched out into weeks, slowly healing the loss of what-if from our minds. Sometimes I was glad not to have had more time to bond with the idea of a baby, because had I done so, recovery would've been so much worse than it was now.
We settled into a new morning routine. Tristan went for his jog, while I started the coffee and showered. By the time I'd dress, Tristan rushed in. After he finished getting ready for the day, we shared a cup of coffee before heading out.
God, I missed him. I missed how being together was effortless.
It'd been two months since the miscarriage. Sixty days and Tristan hadn't touched me, not intimately anyway. No lingering kisses or sly caresses. Nothing but a simple kiss to start the day or before one of us went to sleep. Sometimes I wondered if he now saw me differently.
This morning, I attempted to bridge the gap.
Tristan plucked a shirt from a hanger, his back turned from me. The mountain-fresh scent of his aftershave filled the small space. Tristan combed his hair with his fingers, probably sweeping it from his eyes, and I sighed, loudly.
He turned, head tilted. "Spud?"
I waved him over with my index finger. "I miss you."
"Right here," he said kissing the tip of my nose. He darted around me as quick as he'd kissed me.
"You okay?" I chewed the dry skin peeling from my bottom lip.
"Yup."
"Well, all right. I guess I'll finish a few assignments."
"Great. I'm gonna head out. Supposed to help Dad." Tristan's dad called last night, asking him to meet a potential buyer for a property he owned downtown. Big football fan, Mr. Daniels had told him.
"Oh, yeah I forgot." I smiled, trying to cover the sting. "When you're done, you want to go out? Dinner or something?"
"Maybe." Tristan grabbed his wallet from the dresser. "I'll call later. Love you," he finished, almost dismissively.
I stayed rooted in place. When the front door latched shut, I jumped. The room, the dirty laundry, the leftover coffee, all of it typical, but I couldn't stand it. If we could just get out of tow– "Yes!"
In the totally empty house, I laughed, half-crazy, the other part hopeful the impulsive plan would shift Tristan and I back to how we used to be. The couple who laughed at inside jokes, who loved like tomorrow might not come. I missed my best friend.
I sprang into action, packing bags for the weekend and fully prepared to convince Tristan that leaving was a great idea. For some reason, if he didn't agree, I'd get creative.
A few hours later, while waiting for Tristan to pull up, I dialed Alyssa. I needed advice on a particular bedroom action, and she'd always been my go-to sex therapist.
"You sure?" Alyssa asked, concerned.
My answer shot out before I had a chance to calm down. "Yes, I'm going insane!"
Alyssa chuckled, strike that, she laughed her ass off, then gave me specific directions including a few insider tips. "And he will love you, for certain, until you're an old lady." She laughed more. "Forget that, the man will love you long after you've kicked the dust."
"It's kicked the bucket, nerd, and okay. Thanks for helping me out."
"Any time, and I want details." She made a gagging noise. "Wait, not too many because I feel like vomiting, but just, uh…"
My cheeks hurt from laughing and damn if it didn't feel fantastic. "I'll see what I can do. But, after years of you invading my ears with sexcapades, you may get more details than necessary."
"You're an evil ass, which in turn means I'm so proud."
"You've taught me well. Okay, gotta go. See you later!"
I squealed. My finger shook, making it hard to hit end on the phone. Afterward, I dropped our bags next to the front door and waited for Tristan to get home.
The next step: our future.
Tristan
Before I left to meet Dad, the heated look Elle launched at me– Damn, I wanted to take her right there in the closet. Cold showers were supposed to be in the past–before Elle, not while her warm body snuggled next to me each night.
"You did good, son," Dad complimented, clinking his bottle with mine. He landed the sale, and all I had to do was drink and talk football.
"Thanks. Wasn't too bad." I grabbed the beer. Cold fizz flowed down easily. Setting the bottle down, I peeled at the label, thinking.
"You okay over there?"
I glanced up. "Yeah, sure. Everything's great."
Dad cocked his head. "Elle good?"
I shifted on the bar stool. "Yup." I took another sip, avoiding his gaze.
"Son." Dad rested his arm on the wobbly table and leaned over.
"Yeah?" I played out the last letter before meeting his stare. Then gave in. "Sorry. Just worried about next week, I suppose."
"Oh, well, um," he stuttered, then grabbed his bottle, stopping any other talk.
My nerves were about shot trying out for the pros, but that hadn't been what got me so quiet. "Sorry, Dad. I, uh, I'm good. A few nerves here and there, but mostly it's Elle who has me worked up."
"Oh, well, why the hell didn't you say so?" He shook his head, face red. Us talking about important stuff still hadn't come easy. Considering we'd acted like we couldn't stand each other for the better part of seven years or so.
I shrugged. "Guess we're, ah, in a rut." The label on the bottle I'd worked at finally came off. I tossed it on the table. "I don't wanna push her. After we lost the baby, she–"
Memories came back, ones where Elle's pale face and her green eyes, always full of life, had drained. She didn't walk away from us, and she hadn't shut me out. But I was fucking helpless; seeing her pain, and not able to make it go away, killed me. I glanced up and continued. "And now, I don't know how to love her without hurting her. Without reminding her of what we lost."
Dad folded his arms across his chest with the stern expression he'd worn most of my teenage years. "You stop loving her or something?"
Anger boiled to the surface quickly. "No. What the hell, Dad?"
He smirked. "Then it sounds like you should go home and show her."
That easy? "Um."
Dad rested one arm on the table and leaned toward me again. "You two have been through a lot, but you've come out stronger each time something turned sour. I've faith in you, son. The secret to a long-lasting relationship is never giving up."
Compliments from the old man were scarce growing up, and to have two in a day blew my mind. "Means a lot, Dad. Thanks."
"Yup." Dad waved our waitress over. "You heading back home now?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good, good." Dad smiled at the waitress, signed the receipt, then handed it back. "Well, I better head out, too. Your mom made plans with Elle's mom."
I cocked my head to the side. "You three hanging out a lot?"
"You know your mother." He grinned. "She's playing matchmaker."
Ah, hell. "Don't piss off Mrs. Richards."
Dad stood, laughing as he stretched. "Can't make any prom
ises."
"All right, old man." I shook his hand. "Drive safe and give Mom a hug from me."
"Will do."
On our way out, a few guys hollered my name. "Go on and say hi." Dad nodded to the men. "I'll walk myself out. Be sure to get home soon." He gave a curt nod.
"All right."
Dad went toward the front door, and I backtracked to the rowdy guys sitting in the corner, tossing back a few beers.
"You riding solo, bro?" Trey slapped a hand on my shoulder.
"Nah, got plans tonight." A slew of whipping sounds and other nonsense flew around the table, which landed them all the one-finger salute. "Don't be jealous, boys. Can't help I've got a badass woman waiting for me at home."
"Still, makes you a pussy," Bret shouted from behind.
Couldn't let the pussy comment slide. "You about ready?"
Bret frowned, confused.
"Alyssa called, said she found your balls in her purse." The crowd hollered, effectively shunting the heat from me.
Bret punched my arm. "Fucker."
"I'll catch you guys later," I said with a wave.
A text scrolled across the screen from Elle when I shut the car door. Hurry home! Exciting news!!!
Be there soon. I tucked the phone in my pocket, curious.
I'd half expected a car or something new when I pulled up, so when the place didn't look different, I hurried out.
Inside, I tossed the keys on the coffee table. No music played, and the house was quiet, maybe too quiet. Unease set in. I started toward the bedroom but tripped. Thankfully, I'd caught my balance before gracing the floor with my ass.
Beside me, two–wait, no, three–black suitcases littered the doorway. What the hell was going on? Had I misread Elle's text? I took out my phone to check. The message didn't add up.
For two months I'd watched Elle's every move, picked up the subtle hints of distress. I had to find out what was going on.
When I opened the bedroom door, Elle rushed from the bathroom, eyes wide.
"What's with the suitcases?"
Her surprise quickly shifted to an impish grin. "I've booked us a weekend trip." She secured the earring then added both hands to her hips.
"Oh yeah?" My shoulders relaxed. I drifted to her, cupping her face in my hands.
She scraped her bottom lip between her teeth and damn if my will to hold back damn near dissolved.
"Hurry and pee or whatever." Elle stepped out of my hold.
I'd withheld my need to be with Elle over the last two months. Dr. Branner assured us Elle had gotten pregnant during the time she'd been taking antibiotics. Still, I didn't want to push our chances. Making love to her without anything between us–dammit, I couldn't be about selfish shit like that.
"You're enjoying this bossing me around thing a little too much."
"Always have, Daniels. Now hurry up." Elle's hips swayed more than usual when she ambled past. Had her jeans always fit so snug? An image of her legs wrapped around me while I shoved her against the wall invaded my mind.
My sweet, sweet vixen glanced over her shoulder, apparently catching the way I admired her move. A come-get-me grin graced the corner of her lips, upping the desire I had to be with her.
Her voice came out silky when she said, "Hurry up, we're leaving in five minutes." Elle left, shutting down another fantasy I had of her bent over the bed while I pounded into her tightness.
After a few calming breaths, and with my strength, sanity, and willpower under control, I met Elle in the living room where the torture continued. Elle bent over, feet apart and her firm ass in the air as she picked up a suitcase. I had to clear the strain in my throat since the pressure in my pants would have to wait.
Elle glanced over her shoulder. Her lips lifted in a seductive smile that nearly knocked me to the ground.
"Ready to…" I swear to all that is holy she glanced at my crotch, then finished with, "ride?" Sweet as sin, her gaze raised until her stare met mine.
Another swallow later, and I managed to squeak like a pubescent teenager. "Whenever you are."
Elle stood, but her body moved in slow motion. "Oh, I'm ready." My pulse sped at the sound of her husky tone. "More than ready." Now that I was completely erect, I shifted, nervous as hell. Where did this woman, this confident seductress, come from?
I reached for the bags. "Here, let me get these." Lame.
The second my knuckles brushed her hand a jolt ran up my arm. Fuck this shit. I couldn't hold back any longer. The leather strap slipped from my fingers, and I fisted her hair in my hands and brought her lips to mine.
The timid dance between us sped up. Elle grabbed the front of my button-down shirt, fitting her body to mine and kissed me with an intensity that ended too damn soon. She pulled away, eyes closed as she caught her breath. "Welcome back, Daniels."
"Spud," I started, caressing her lower lip with my thumb. The soft pucker of skin perfect. "I never left." Only I kind of had. No worries, I planned to make it up to her soon.
Outside, the trunk full, I paused at the driver side where Elle had sat down. "Everything's packed, jump over."
"Don't think so." She jerked her thumb, indicating I ride bitch. "This is my show." She held out her hand, waiting for me to drop the keys in her palm.
I hung one arm on the door and bent down to her level. "You may be directing the train, but I'm conducting, sweetheart."
The stare-off broke when Elle pushed her hair over her shoulder like a whip slapping my cheek.
"This cherry red, '69 Chevy Camaro z28 is more than easy to handle." She tilted her head, daring me to match her. Damn if seeing her sitting behind the wheel didn't turn me on more.
"Fine." I dropped the keys in her hand and rounded the car to the passenger side.
The engine revved, and she grabbed the headrest, twisting her torso to back out of the drive. Her breast grazed my shoulder, and my dick responded at the feel of her erect nipple through the thin shirt.
She cut her eyes–full of life–to me. "You okay over there?"
God. I missed this, the banter between us. I inhaled her floral scent I'd craved so much. "No, but I plan to correct that as soon as we get to wherever we're going."
Once on the street, Elle shifted into first gear with a grin tugging at the right side of her mouth. Finally, she said, "If not you, then I will."
Elle
From the time the car pulled onto the interstate, Tristan irritated the crap out of me.
"We can listen to music any time." He hit the first button on the stereo. "I want to hear the game."
Baseball, he wanted to listen to baseball, which in all honesty I loved, but sports wasn't the theme to the weekend getaway. "Eric is pretty badass; I'm sure we're winning," I said, sweetly.
In an instant, the atmosphere shifted. Low blow, yup, but I hadn't planned to lose the battle. Although I was a wee bit chicken-shit and kept my eyes on the road, refusing to glance at the "I can't believe you said that" expression he no doubt wore.
"Badass," he mumbled, but he'd changed the channel back to music.
Battle won. "Thanks."
Two hours of driving, nonstop talking–and yes, I conceded to listening to the game, wanting the final score myself–and shortly after, we stopped for a bite to eat.
"Truck stop food, Spud?" Tristan stretched then scratched the stubble on his cheek.
"Hey, the food at these places is usually the best, right?"
"Okay." He supplied me with a sheepish grin. "But if I get food poisoning, you're gonna play naughty nurse."
I shoved his shoulder. "You'll be fine. Now, let's go."
Inside, smiles greeted us, along with the delicious smells of greasy fries, biscuits, and other artery-clogging goodness.
A waitress handed us a sticky menu. "You two know what you want to drink?"
"Unsweetened tea for her and Coke for me, please."
"Sure thing, sugar." She jotted down our drinks on the flip notebook.
"Do you suggest anyt
hing?" I eyed the menu, stomach growling. Every choice sounded better than the one before it.
The waitress pointed to the section at the top. "If you like breakfast, the specials are pretty good." She pointed to the side-menu. "Chicken fried steak and eggs are a number one seller."
The hungry growl agreed. Tristan laughed, and I kicked his shin.
The waitress continued. "And on the regular menu, the BLT with extra cheese is amazing."
"Thanks so much," I said, looking at the choices again.
"No problem, I'll be right back."
"Chicken fried steak?" Tristan hadn't bothered to look at the menu; the man ordered the same foods anyway.
"Does sound pretty good." I frowned, not sure what to order.
"Does, doesn't it?"
I peeked up, surprised. Tristan rested one arm on the backrest of the booth, body turned slightly to the right. My heart fluttered at the sweet smile he held. "You know what else sounds good?" He smirked.
"Here you go." Two large glasses, one tea, and the other soda, interrupted us, though Tristan's attention remained glued to me.
"Thanks," I said, shifting in the seat. "I think we're ready to order."
Tristan covered my hand on the table with his. "We'll have the chicken fried steak, eggs over-easy, with a side of wheat toast."
She jotted the order down. I was just about to speak up to order a side dish, but Tristan beat me to it. "Oh, and an order of pancakes and hash browns, too."
"Got it, it'll be out in a few." The waitress walked away, the end of her ponytail whipping around her neck when she turned.
"You think you got me figured out, Daniels?"
Tristan leaned forward, lacing our fingers together in the process. "I think I've got a pretty good idea."
I matched him, scooting up to the table. "Watch out, I may have a few surprises to throw your way."
"Looking forward to them, Spud." He cracked an easy-going grin, sitting back in the booth.
Thank the Lord Tristan helped me finish the last pancake. I may have over-stretched my stomach in an attempt to clean everything in front of us.
The fork clattered against the ceramic plate, and I shoved it to the middle of the table, ill. Our waitress joined us about then, letting out an appreciative whistle.
Interception (Distraction #3) Page 13