Because You're Mine (The Gallaghers)

by Layla Hagen

On the other hand... it seemed to distract her from the incident.

  I took a step back, pointing for her to lead the way.

  I kept my hands to myself for the rest of the walk. Ellie chirped on about her neighborhood. She ended up being the tour guide. I didn’t know anything about Columbus Circle, and I liked watching her so animated about everything. I’d never met anyone so expressive. She gesticulated with her hands, even twirling a couple of times when she pointed to several buildings she’d read about.

  She got lost in her surroundings—no wonder she hadn’t heard the bike coming up on us before. I kept a close eye out again, just in case we happened upon any other out of control objects.

  When we entered her apartment, Harper greeted us from the living room. "Hey, guys. I'm going to just stay here in the living room to work on a craft project. I hope that's okay. I feel like I don't get enough air in my bedroom."

  "Sure," Ellie said. "Ian's fixing the rod and the wall in my bedroom, so we might bother you just a little drilling two holes."

  "That's fine. I have noise-canceling headphones on," Harper said, pointing to her ears.

  “Great," Ellie commented with a wave as we walked the short hallway to her room.

  When Ellie opened the door, the space felt even smaller than before—maybe because it looked as if she'd crammed the entire inventory of a department store inside it.

  I glanced up at the wall and barely held back a laugh.

  "What's that?" she teased, pointing at my mouth. "You look like you want to laugh.”

  "I made a bet with myself that you'd demolished half the wall."

  "Hey, I didn't demolish it. A piece of it just fell, but that's fine. I figured we could just drill the new holes higher up, and then the curtain will cover it, and I won't even see it. And I’ll fix it another time."

  "I have everything I need to fill that up."

  "Wow. Really?"

  "Yes." God, she was too cute.

  "You're thorough."

  I looked straight at her. "Always."

  She blushed, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear and licking her lip. I wanted to capture her mouth and explore it until her legs shook.

  "Um, okay, so do you need my help?" she asked. "Otherwise, I can just go buy us some dinner."

  "I don't need any help. I'll probably need about twenty minutes though."

  "Great. I'll buy something from downstairs." It was cute, the way she tried so hard to keep her eyes on my face when I could tell she was dying to check me out.

  I went to the window, setting the toolbox on the windowsill. I smiled, feeling her watch me, and glanced over my shoulder. "Ellie?"

  "Hmm?"

  “Do you need anything, or are you just looking your fill?"

  She blushed. "I'm not going to answer that."

  I grinned. "That's an answer all in itself." She laughed nervously, turning on her heels.

  It took me fifteen minutes to finish everything. By the time she came back, I’d even packed my toolbox.

  "I'm back. Oh, wow. Are you already done? It always takes me forever."

  "I'm handy like that," I said, winking. "Honestly, it's all about the tools. This drill piece is special for brick walls.” Feeling a bit hungry after smelling the aroma from whatever she was holding, I asked, “What did you buy?"

  "Some empanadas at the shop in the next building. The lady running it, Maria, is from Buenos Aires, and I am trying to convince her that she has to charge more for them, because they are delicious. I hope she takes my advice. Until then, I’m just going to tip her generously."

  I was fascinated by how quickly she befriended someone she’d just met. I grew up in a small town in Montana, and I’d always missed the deep bonds of a small community. Connections were different in DC and New York—somehow, they only tapped the surface. I knew none of the neighbors in my building. New Yorkers in general were a cautious bunch, as they should be, but it made it difficult to make their acquaintance.

  "I'll bring a plate with empanadas, and we can eat in here. I don't want to disturb Harper in the living room."

  “That's fine by me."

  I sat on the windowsill, looking outside. There was no view to speak of; it looked directly into another building. Everyone had curtains so that you couldn't see inside the other apartments, because they were just that close. I assumed it was the same reason Ellie wanted some, to ensure her privacy as well. She came back, sitting on the other ed of the windowsill, the plate between us.

  “Thanks for helping me out,” she said.

  “No problem. Next time you need something done, just call me.”

  She grinned. “I definitely will before I do more damage. I want to personalize the room a bit without investing too much time and money, since I’ll be moving to New Orleans in six months.”

  “Why do you have to go again?” She’d briefly alluded to this, but I never really understood it all.

  “The job takes me to three restaurants. Same brand, different cities with cuisine tailored depending on the location.”

  “And at the end of it, they’ll give you a permanent job?”

  “It’s a possibility, but nothing is for sure. It will look great on my résumé anyway, to have worked at these diverse locations, so I’m sure I’ll be able to find a good job after that, or even another rotation. And then hopefully, in a few years, I’ll have enough knowledge and capital to open my own restaurant.”

  “I like that you know exactly what you want.” I really did. Lately, I’d felt like I’d been missing something.

  “I read once that it’s good to keep your end goal in mind, especially when things get tough.”

  “True. Dylan and I wanted to create software for an insurance model for people with businesses in weather-dependent industries. Our parents operated a ski resort, and we had a few years without enough snow. So little, we couldn’t even make enough of it with our snow machines. It nearly ruined them financially, because insurance doesn’t cover that. Anyway, the plan was to submit the software in a competition. The winner would have access to a wide network of partnerships to roll it out nationally. We messed up the submission, so we were disqualified. We were discouraged initially, but then I realized we could do it on our own—the goal wasn’t to win the competition but to create a product that would make people's livelihoods like my parents less of a roller coaster. We have the product, so that’s a win. Now we’re working on finding partners. It’s moving more slowly than if we’d won the competition, but we’re making progress.”

  “Are your parents still operating the resort? Did you go skiing a lot as kids?” she asked. I got the impression that she wanted to hear everyone’s life story from the moment she met them, and I liked that about her. So many women I’d dated were only into themselves.

  “We did. As kids, we were on the slopes a lot after school. And my parents are retired now.”

  “How are they taking retirement? My mom’s is coming up, and she’s a bit grumpy.”

  “Honestly, they’re enjoying it. They’re happy that they have a granddaughter to spoil and over the moon that Isabelle’s pregnant too. That will be their second grandchild, and they’re ecstatic. Which makes me happy, as I’m now off their radar."

  I took a second empanada. The first one had been with shrimp. This was with chicken.

  “You were right about the empanadas. They’re great,” I said. I wolfed the second one down, and when I reached for the third one, my hand brushed Ellie’s. She drew in a sharp breath. I looked up quickly, just in time to see her glance away. The air between us instantly filled with tension, and we were just talking. This was insane.

  “I know, right?” she murmured. “I think I’m going to ask her for the recipe.”

  “How did you get into cooking if your parents didn’t like it?”

  “Oh, well, after the divorce, my mom got a full-time job, and she worked odd shifts. She wasn’t home a lot in the evenings, so I started downloading recipes. I liked followi
ng them to a T initially—it just gave me a sense of pride that I achieved something. Cooking made sense, and let me tell you, not many things did make sense to me back then. I couldn’t understand at all why my parents got divorced.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Eleven.”

  “You cooked your own dinners at eleven?” I didn’t mean to sound harsh, but what the hell. All my protective instincts were on high alert. This girl was doing strange things to me.

  “Yes,” she said a bit defensively. “Henry always had soccer practice in the evening, so I was on my own after I came from school. Had to fill those long hours with something.”

  There was more to her statement, but I didn’t want to push her, even though I had a million questions. Didn’t she have any friends? Why did she spend all that time alone? Clearly, it wasn’t because she wasn’t a sociable person.

  I knew right then and there that heeding Henry’s warning was going to be even more difficult than I thought, physical attraction aside. Something about Ellie drew me in. Maybe it was her warmth or her resilience, I had no idea, but I’d never had this impulse before to get closer to someone. It was more than an impulse. It was a primal need.

  “I was just surprised, Ellie, that’s all. Do you want the last empanada?”

  She grinned. “Yes, I do. Will you fight me on it?”

  “We can just split it.” She really was adorable.

  “Nah, splitting the last bite is a form of torture. I can’t enjoy it properly. It doesn’t give me enough to taste the flavor.” She sat back a bit against the window frame, her eyes narrowed in concentration. “I like feeling the explosion of flavors on my lips and tongue for as long as possible.”

  I groaned, zeroing in on her lips. All that talk about her mouth was making me hungry for her. She dangled one leg along the windowsill, brushing mine. She jolted slightly, as if the contact was too much for her.

  Ellie licked her lower lip before sharply exhaling. I couldn’t look away. Blindly, I pushed the plate toward her. She could have the empanada.

  I wanted something different.

  I wanted her.

  I watched her closely as she ate the last empanada, washing it down with water. She carefully set the plate on the shelf next to the window and got up from the windowsill at the same time I did.

  She glanced up at me, then quickly looked away, biting her lower lip. I couldn't hold back anymore. Hooking an arm around her waist, I brought her up against me. I sealed my mouth over hers, exploring her deeply. She wrapped both hands around my neck, pushing herself up on her toes. I buckled because she was so tiny, but then I lifted her. Putting my palms under her ass, I propped her against the windowsill, kissing and kissing and not getting enough. I wanted to explore her all night long. She pressed her upper body against me, digging her heels in my thighs. Feeling her breasts on my chest turned me rock-hard. She tasted delicious, and her skin was so damn soft everywhere I touched her—neck, arms, hands. If exploring her mouth was this exquisite, how would it feel to explore her entire body? Her moans drew me out of my thoughts, and I pulled back.

  "Fuck. All I want is to taste you again," I said, skimming two fingers over her lips. She blinked slowly.

  "Then do it... oh, wait.” She blinked more rapidly, smiling, but her eyes were serious. “I lost my head. Ian... I don’t want to come between you and my brother.”

  "No, I don't want that either." I also didn't want to jeopardize the relationship with her. I could be a good friend to her, but anything else was a stretch of the imagination.

  "I might need a few minutes to cool down," she said with a teasing smile. "Or days. Or weeks."

  “Kiss that good?”

  She laughed. "You know it was."

  I tried not to zero in on her mouth. I instantly knew that it wouldn’t matter if days or weeks passed until I saw her next. I’d still want her with every fiber in my body.

  Chapter Five

  Ian

  "Earth to Ian. Ian, come on. Why do you keep checking your phone?" Dylan asked. I looked up from my cell phone to my brother. We were in my office, going over some lines of code, and I’d just blanked out reading a text.

  “Just checking what Ellie sent me.”

  Dylan cocked a brow. “You’re checking private messages during coding time? That’s not like you.”

  True. I wasn’t big on rules, but I had a golden one: never check messages, emails, or answer calls during coding time. It just pulled me out of the zone, and it took longer to get the job done.

  I usually had no problem keeping to the rule, but over the past few days, I’d broken it more than once. I just couldn’t stop myself.

  “I keep hearing Ellie this, Ellie that. I just want to point out that you haven't mentioned once how hot she is. I'm suspicious."

  I grinned. "She's fucking hot. Too hot, but off-limits."

  Dylan's eyes bulged. "What are you talking about? Nothing is off-limits for you."

  "Ellie is," I said. I didn’t believe myself any more than Dylan believed me. But if I kept repeating it often enough, maybe I’d start believing myself.

  "Because of Henry?"

  "Yes, partly. But also because I don't know how to be anything other than a friend."

  Dylan's eyes bulged again. What the hell? What did I say?

  "Are you sick or something?”

  “Fuck off,” I replied.

  “This is the first time you even hinted you would like to be something other than a friend."

  "That's not what I said."

  "Yeah, it kind of is."

  "No, I said I don't know how to be one." Dylan was a good brother, and I loved working with him, but sometimes I wasn’t in the mood to put up with his shit.

  "Whatever, Ian. I'm not good at dissecting this crap. Call Isabelle.”

  “I will. She always has good ideas.”

  "A word of warning: she's going to read stuff into it."

  "That’s Isabelle, man," I said. "She'll read into it anyway. I'm not afraid of our sisters the way you are."

  "Hey, I'm not afraid either. I just like to keep to myself,” he exclaimed before adding, “Ian, I need your head in the game.”

  “I know.” Besides the rollout of Project Z, which took considerably more time than I’d thought, we also had clients to tend to. We offered comprehensive software solutions for small and midsize companies, and some of those clients were a pain in the ass. Their continued trust and business made us rich, though, so I wasn’t complaining too much.

  “Good. Anyway, whatever you do, get this out of your system; otherwise, I give you one month before you get stir-crazy and decide to throw caution to the wind."

  I flipped him the bird. I heard his laughter all the way out in the corridor.

  I focused on the code after he left. It was more difficult than usual. I loved my work at Gallagher Solutions, and I was proud of everything my brother and I had achieved, but sometimes I felt a restlessness I couldn’t shake away or explain. When we’d first decided to open Gallagher Solutions, many people warned Dylan that doing business with family wasn’t smart. Especially when said family was me. Apparently liking to play hard and having a sense of humor made me a bad candidate. But Dylan trusted me, and I wasn’t going to make him regret that. My usual restlessness wasn’t why I had troubles with the code though.

  I leaned back in my chair, laughing at myself. Dylan was wrong. I wasn’t even going to last a month.

  ***

  Ellie

  A week later, I was still feeling his kiss on my lips. Ian was getting under my skin, and I wasn't sure how to stop it or even if I wanted to. But I had to. I was only here for a few months, and anyway, this couldn't work out. I shuddered at the mere thought of telling Ian that I was still a virgin. Guys didn’t understand stuff like that, and how would I tell him of all people anyway? I had no choice. I just had to keep us strictly in the friend zone, but he sure wasn't making it easy for me. He checked in on me every day, and I was looking f
orward to every single message.

  Typically he texted when my shift was over and I was already home in bed. But tonight, precisely eight days (yes, I was counting) after our kiss, he hadn’t texted anything yet. It was eleven o’clock in the evening, and I was lying in bed, staring at my screen before opening the Netflix app on my phone and playing my favorite fantasy show. I got lost in it, right until Ian texted me, and then not even the sexy hunks on screen could keep my attention. My heart was in my throat.

  Ian: Hey! How was your day?

  I sat bolt upright in bed.

  Ellie: I was watching a show. Now I’m dancing with joy in my bed.

  Ian: How does someone dance in bed?

  I sucked in a breath, wondering what to reply to that, then I saw that he was still typing, so I decided to wait.

  Ian: Never mind. I don’t want to know.

  I grinned, but instead of leaving it at that, I started to type back. The angel on my shoulder told me to behave, but the devil on my other shoulder was full of sass.

  Ellie: Why? Afraid you can’t handle it?

  Ian: Pot, kettle. You’re the one who said you need time to cool off.

  Ellie: True

  Ian: By the way, how is the cooling-off situation? It’s been eight days.

  Was he counting too? Grinning, I face planted in my pillow.

  Turning around on my back, I held the phone in front of my face.

  Ellie: Still not entirely cooled off.

  Ian: Ellie...

  I could hear his voice in my mind, that delicious low baritone. Goose bumps formed on my skin. Wow! I was in deep trouble if just imagining how he’d sound saying my name elicited this reaction.

  Ellie: I don’t know how to do this.

  Ian: What do you mean?

  I bit my lip, wondering if I should tell him everything, but I couldn’t exactly text my conundrum.

  Hey, I still have my V-card. On a scale from one to ten, how much does that scare you?

  I couldn’t do that, but I wanted to be as honest with him as possible.

  Ellie: I’m not good with relationships. I’d blame it on my moving around all the time, but I think I’m the problem.