“I’m going to take a bath,” she announced at last. The taps squeaked when she opened them. Water rushed through the pipes. “I’ll be out in a little while.”
He squinted at the door, weighing his options as if they were lined with lead. At last, he granted the door a stay of execution with a short nod.
“I’ll be right out here,” he called. Shrugging his suit coat from his shoulders, he tossed it in the general direction of the bed before leaving the room. He came to a halt in the entry and exhaled in a rush when he spotted the explosion of unused sporting goods. He squatted to collect a tube of badminton birdies, shaking his head as he muttered under his breath, “Fixing it.”
****
Bubbles tickled her neck and slithered down her shin. Curling her toes around the handle, she switched off the water without stirring up a wave. A hot, fat tear dropped from her chin and sizzled its way through the mango-scented froth.
Wretched.
Ellie never knew the true meaning of the word until that moment, but it fit like a damn glove. She felt wretched. Odds were she looked wretched too. She’d avoided looking into the mirror as she stripped down to nothing and climbed into the tub. Who wanted to look at the woman who treated a sweet, loving man wretchedly? And Jack was both those things, even if he was a bit oblivious at times. Grandma Bernadette would tell her a healthy endowment of oblivion came with a man’s standard equipment. Discovering that her man was no exception to the rule only added to her wretched state.
The tears flowed fast and furious. Outrage combined with the steam rising from the tub to pepper her hairline with beads of sweat. She refused to wipe any excess moisture away. The sweat and tears were both prize and penance for the fight she’d picked before running away. Ellie was determined to endure.
A series of muffled thunks alerted her to movement beyond the tiled walls. She closed her eyes in a childish attempt to block out the echo of his footsteps on hardwood. The tears slowed to a trickle, but the white-hot lump of self-pity remained lodged in her throat. Her heart thudded thick and heavy against her breastbone, each beat resounding with resentment. She didn’t blame the poor, beleaguered organ. She didn’t want to be trapped inside her head any more than it wanted to be in her chest. But both her head and her heart knew the truth.
She was wretched, and if she was miserable now, it was her own damn fault.
Unable to take the heat, she swiped at her brow with a wet hand. A sharp prong scratched her skin and Ellie yanked her hand back with a gasp. The rock of a diamond he’d placed on her finger glinted in the soft light. She quickly averted her eyes. The last thing she wanted was to be dazzled by that platinum-mounted sparkle of hope. Again. She needed to think clearly. It was past time to come up with a plan.
Unfortunately, her gaze fell on the bottle of sugar cookie-scented bath gel he’d planted on the lip of the tub, and the last of her anger dissolved. He’d bought it for her because he knew she liked a good soak. She used it often because she loved the way the lingering scent encouraged him to nibble on her. They were not the problem; she was.
Exhaling the last of her wretchedness, she forced herself to focus on the reality of their situation.
He’d made as much room for her as he thought she needed. How was he supposed to know she needed velour throws draped over every surface to feel cozy? The man was an accountant, for cripes sake. When it was determined that she was moving in, he freed up exactly seventeen of the thirty-four hangers in his closet. More to the point, he was a man. And as a man, he had no concept of what it took to be a woman. Thank goodness.
Ellie knew this going in. While Jack wasn’t the least bit afraid to show his emotions, he was still a man through and through. He saw life in terms of long-range goals, pleasurable milestones, and problems to be solved. He also had a nerve-racking way of trusting that his immediate needs would be met with little effort on his part. Hell, he’d once showed up for a weekend rendezvous with nothing more than some underpants, a bottle of aftershave crammed into his briefcase, and a grin. The kind of smile that displayed his dimple to its best advantage.
She sighed and traced a cursive J in the sea of foam swirling around her. She’d agreed when he suggested putting her stuff in storage until they could find a bigger place. And when he teased her about the number of boxes stacked in her Louisville apartment, there may have been some cocky talk about not needing anything more than her clothes and a couple of books to read. In all fairness, she’d been too listless and sleepy in those first few days to care that his idea of décor was the mountain bike mounted on his living room wall.
It wasn’t Jack’s fault she was reduced to sending résumés and applications out to get stuck in the World Wide Web. He wasn’t the one refusing to reply to her emails and voice messages. The man who walked through that door had not taken all she had to give over the past decade then hung her out to dry when she dared to ask for something for herself. Her former employer was the one who betrayed her. She had to stop taking it out on the man who would never let her down.
Disgusted with herself, Ellie pinched her nose and slipped down. Her knees poked up through the blanket of bubbles as she held her breath and dunked her big, fat head. Water sluiced over super-heated skin, washing away her bitter tears.
Her cropped curls plastered to her head, she rose from the tub, shivering as clumps of suds slithered down her arms and legs. The brown bath towel that hung on the hook by the tub might once have been likened to coffee, but now it was sepia at best. Sandpapery loops of terry cloth abraded pinkened skin. She ran the coarse cloth over her head and half-smiled when the curls she’d long detested sprang to life.
She smoothed the cap of wavy curls into place with nothing more than a few swipes of her fingers. This time last year, she had her long hair cut into a sleek cap. It was a childish act of rebellion she regretted. Until she met Jack.
Ellie hung her towel and plucked her fluffy bathrobe from the back of the door. Tightening the sash, she met her own gaze in the mirror above the sink. Her hair wasn’t the only thing that changed in the past year. Last November, she hadn’t even been bothered by the fact that she couldn’t make it home to Illinois for Thanksgiving. This year, she wanted to be here so badly she quit her job to ensure that it happened. Ellie with the long hair cared more about her career than anything else in the world, but the Ellie staring back at her loved something more. Someone more. Someone who didn’t deserve to be pummeled with insecurity each time he dared to walk through his front door.
****
Jack heard the bathroom door open as he was closing the apartment door. The twenty-something guys in unit 2D were beyond stoked to take the box of sporting goods off his hands. They even took the shuttlecocks after they’d given him a good ribbing about owning them. He’d kept the basketball, his ski equipment, and the fielder’s glove. After all, the basketball saw weekly use, the skis were a custom set, and a guy couldn’t just go out and buy a perfectly broken-in glove if he needed one.
“Hey.”
His hand tightened on the knob to the now-cavernous closet. He glanced up to find Ellie framed in the bedroom doorway, the hem of her fluffy pink robe skimming her bare toes, her hair water-darkened and curling madly. His fingers flexed, itching to touch. He closed them into loose fists as he forced himself to meet her eyes.
“You might want to put on some shoes.” When she responded to his suggestion with raised eyebrows, he shrugged. “There may be broken glass from the box, and I haven’t had a chance to sweep yet.”
Ellie dropped her gaze to his feet, and Jack couldn’t help but look down too. The overhead light bounced off the dull gleam of his polished shoes. The knees of his suit pants were dusty from scrambling around on the closet floor.
“Since you have shoes on, maybe you should come over here.”
The rasp in her voice snagged his heart. Soft, pleading eyes reeled him in. He closed the distance between them in one long stride. “The glass only broke in one. I’m sure I have ano
ther picture that size around here, so we can just swap it….” He trailed off on a croak when she cupped his cheek with her palm. “El, I swear I didn’t mean to—”
This time she cut him off with a finger pressed to his lips. “I’m a jerk,” she whispered.
Jack automatically wagged his head, thankful that his instinctive response was geared to self-preservation over truth. Yes, she could be a jerk, but this wasn’t the time to drive that fact home.
“I’ve been moody and irrational,” she continued, her smile growing exponentially when he continued to shake his head. “I’m a jerk, but I love you, and I’m sorry I took my crappy mood out on you.”
“I understand.”
And he did. Rationally. But that didn’t make it any easier to be her target when things got touchy. Lucky for him, she’d handed him the best defense ever.
“Put your arms around my neck.”
When she complied, he clamped his around her waist and lifted her off the floor. Jack had to smile as he carted her over to the breakfast bar. He set her on one of the stools, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. His lips came away cool and damp from her hair, but his heart was racing like a jackrabbit. Her forest-green eyes never strayed from his face as he disentangled himself. He was pleased to see the wariness and suspicion that used to lurk in their depths was long gone. His Ellie trusted him implicitly. He just needed to remind her of why.
Giving the stool a half-turn, he nodded to the framed photos laid out on the countertop. Each one was similar but completely different. The pose was the same each time, their cheeks pressed together, their mouths stretched wide, and his arm extended to its full length to better wield the unseen camera. Each hammed-up self-portrait commemorated a moment, which wasn’t shocking. Up until Halloween weekend, their entire relationship was comprised of moments.
He tapped the photo he’d snapped Valentine’s weekend, drawing her attention to the two deliriously happy people trapped in the frame. What the picture didn’t show was that they were as naked as newborns in that particular moment.
“This was the time you tried to kill me with shrimp,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to her temple.
“Only after you attacked me with roses.”
Her soft rejoinder made him smile. He followed along as her gaze tracked from one photo to another, pausing long enough to lend equal importance to each blip in the timeline of their relationship. “I am sorry, El. I would give anything to fix it.”
“I know you would.” She leaned into him, resting her cheek to his chest but keeping her eyes locked on the photos arrayed in front of them. At last, they came to rest on the most recent: a snapshot of two giddy, newly engaged people perched on the back of a moving van. “I guess I should be glad. I mean, my mom and grandma will be ecstatic. Now I can devote myself to planning the wedding of the century.”
He snorted. Unable to hold back any longer, he threaded his fingers through her wet curls and tipped her face up to his. “Are you really going to marry me? Even if I don’t have a wok?”
She held his gaze as she nodded. “I do.”
“We’ll get your stuff this weekend.”
He made the promise on a whisper and lowered his head to seal it with a kiss, but Ellie stopped him just short of victory. “I don’t need it.”
Jack laughed but didn’t retreat. “Oh no. The white flag is waving in the wind.” Shaking his head, he smiled as the tip of his nose brushed against hers. “This was our first big fight as an engaged couple and I consider myself lucky to survive. I hereby grant a total and unconditional surrender.”
Propelled by a startled laugh, she pulled back to look him in the eye. “Do I get to plunder you?”
“God, I hope you do.”
As always, his heart skipped a beat when she wound her arms around his neck. “Take me to bed, Jack. I think we need to revel in our victory.”
Thanks be to Grandma
“Are you ready for this?”
Jack’s lips might have twitched, but otherwise he did a masterful job of keeping a lid on his amusement as he stared down into Ellie’s somber face. “I’m ready. You can count on me.”
“Cummerbund or vest?”
She fired the shot off so fast he almost lost the draw. But he was still an FBI Agent, even if he did spend most of his time slogging through spreadsheets. “Neither. I plan to wear a suit.”
“A suit for a church wedding?”
She didn’t miss a beat. Still, the follow-up bounced right off him. He smiled and unfurled the soft southern drawl he used mainly when it suited him. “I figure if it’s good enough for a Sunday morning, it should work for a Saturday evening.”
A slow smile of admiration curved her lips. “Damn, you’re good,” she purred, smoothing her fingertips down the front of his sweater.
He caught her hand and drew it to his lips. “That’s what I was trying to show you this morning, but you were too worried about getting your sweet potatoes baked.”
“Candied yams,” she corrected.
Jack smirked at the marshmallow-covered concoction in the dish she held cradled to her chest. The smirk melted into a smile as he kissed her fingertips then let them go. “A tuber by any other name….”
“I love it when you get all poetic on me. Now, flash your G-Man badge and make me go all swoony.”
“Stop stalling.” He reached past her to grip the handle on the screen door, but he didn’t open it. In truth, he was no more anxious to face the inquisition within the Nichols house than she was.
Ellie glanced at her parents’ front door then turned back to him, her eyes wide and serious. “Whatever happens in there, just remember I love you and I want to marry you, and it doesn’t really matter if my third cousin Marsha wears a butt bow well or not. We’re doing this our way.”
“Okay.” He brushed his knuckles along the curve of her cheek. “Just so I’m clear…Which way was our way today?”
“Destination wedding.”
Jack nodded, flipping his mental slide show back a few screens to a suggestion that was pondered and rejected somewhere between an all-in-one trip to the courthouse and the possibility of hiring musicians to replicate the “All You Need is Love” recessional from Love Actually from the choir loft at St. Matthews. “Hawaii?” he asked, figuring he had a fifty-fifty chance.
“Caribbean is closer and cheaper.”
“How about a cruise?”
“We’d be trapped on the boat with my family,” she reminded him.
Chucking the notion of being married at sea, he bobbed a decisive nod. “No cruise.”
Their discussion was cut off by the creak of door hinges. Jack and Ellie jumped apart like teenagers caught necking. The smug look in Gayle Nichols’ sparkling eyes told him she believed they were doing just that.
“I thought I heard a car.” She unlatched the screen door and pushed it open, a puzzled frown puckering her brow. “You two get inside before you catch your death of cold.”
Jack swallowed a chuckle as he followed his fiancée into the lion’s den. It was fifty-two degrees outside. That made it a balmy Thanksgiving Day by Chicago standards. Ellie’s mother relieved her of the casserole dish, clutching it every bit as snugly to her more ample bosom as she offered her cheek. He gave her a quick kiss then straightened to his full height, the new and awkward familiarity making his ears burn.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Mrs. Nichols.”
“Mrs. Nichols,” she scoffed. “I’ve asked you to call me Gayle, Jack. Or Mom, if you want. After all, we’re going to be family soon.”
“Thank you, but I know another lady who answers to Mom who might get a little miffed at me.”
Ellie’s mother chortled then led the way toward the back of the house. “I can’t wait to meet your mother. We spoke on the phone for quite some time. I think we’re going to get along just fine.”
He caught the back of Ellie’s collar and slowed his steps. “Spoke on the phone?” The harsh whisper startled her into stillness, but
her mother plowed ahead, oblivious. Jack reveled in the shiver that raced through her slender body, but there was barely enough time to brush his lips over the delicate shell of her ear. “When did our mothers talk on the phone?”
“Last week, and don’t blame me. Your mother called mine,” she whispered, shooting an accusatory glare over her shoulder as she wriggled from his grasp. She double-timed it down the narrow corridor to catch Mrs. Nichols before she stepped into the overcrowded kitchen. “What did you and Mrs. Rudolph talk about, Mom?”
“Oh, we just tossed a few wedding ideas around.” She dismissed her daughter’s interest in planning her own nuptials with an airy wave. “We can talk about it later.”
“Hey, Jack.”
Torn between pressing forward with an interrogation and familial harmony, he turned to find Ellie’s sister grinning up at him. The curly-haired boy perched on her hip showed off tiny sharp-edged teeth and promptly offered a swig from his bottle. His smile was instant and reflexive. “Hey, Laurie. Hello, Brendan.” When the boy waved the bottle insistently, Jack took it and pantomimed a thirsty chug-a-lug from the gooey spout. Smacking his lips, he handed it back to the baby. “Thanks, man. I needed that.”
“You’re gonna need something stiffer than apple juice,” Ellie’s sister said in a singsong hush. She swung Brendan to the floor and held on until she was sure the boy had his wobbly legs under him. “Take Uncle Jack off to the hidey-hole with the other menfolk.”
Jack’s smile morphed into a grin when the baby took three swaggering steps then latched onto the leg of his jeans and clung like a barnacle. Brendan squealed when Jack swept him into his arms. Holding the giggling baby high above his head, Jack stared fearlessly into the gaping maw of the drool machine. With his dark curls and brilliant green eyes, he looked so much like his aunt that Jack’s heart did a stutter step.
Unforgettable Heroes Boxed Set Page 118