She led him up to her apartment and unlocked the front door, swinging it open and gesturing for him to enter. “Welcome to my humble abode. If you sit really quiet, you can even pretend you hear the ocean.”
He looked around; judgment written all over his face. The place was small. Clean, but small. Threadbare carpet. Peeling linoleum in the kitchen. Old furniture in the living room—which also doubled as the dining room—all of which would easily fit in James’ bedroom.
“There’s not as much money in running a small business as you’d think,” she explained and pointed at the couch. “The American dream isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
Of course, that was only half the problem. Parasite Steve was the other half. She’d be living way more comfortably if she wasn’t paying off all the debt he’d racked up in her name.
She plopped down on the couch beside James and kicked off her shoes before propping her heels on the coffee table and wiggling her toes. “I’d offer you a drink,” she said, “but that’s kind of what I want to talk to you about.”
James’ brows pursed together, and he stared at her through narrowed eyes. “Come again?”
Ellie sighed. “Here’s the thing. I’m adding a little clause to our agreement. I’ll pretend to be your girlfriend, but I want you to promise to cut back on the drinking.”
James scowled. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“I’m sorry, but if we’re going to be spending a lot of time together, it really is my business.”
At least fifteen different emotions paraded across James’ face before he finally went with insulted. “You don’t get to tell me how to live.” He propped his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands, looking through them to the floor. “And the drinking?” He shook his head. “Cutting back is not an option. Not now.”
“Well, then, we have a problem.” Ellie sighed as she took her feet off the coffee table then scooted forward, mimicking his posture. “Because I can’t keep driving your drunk ass home and pouring you into bed at night. I work, James. Every morning.”
He looked at her through the sides of his eyes without really turning his head. “Why don’t you hire someone to help on the weekends or something?”
Ellie flared her hands and made an exasperated face as she looked around the small apartment. “Because as tiny as this place is, I’d still like to have enough money to keep it.”
James sat back. His nostrils flared as his eyes trained on Ellie. He reminded her of a bull, seeing red and ready to charge. “Fine.” His voice was steel. “I’ll cut back on the drinking. But only on nights we’re together.”
Ellie considered pushing him to cut back altogether. Like, all the way back until he just didn’t drink, because she was afraid he was in a downward spiral that would lead him to bad places. But she didn’t. Not yet. He had a point; she didn’t have a right to ask that of him.
“I think I can make peace with that, as long as you promise to at least think about cutting back more. I’m worried about you.” And there went her mouth, acting on its own volition again.
James bounced his head in some kind of subconscious agreement and ran a thumb over one of his bruised knuckles. “Can’t promise anything,” he muttered. “But I’ll take it under advisement.”
Ellie took his hand and ran a finger over his rough, discolored joints. “What’s this about?”
“You ever been cheated on?” His voice was raw and scraped against her heart.
His question surprised her. “No.”
“It’s the worst kind of betrayal. It hurts and you’re mad, and it’s like you’ve been turned inside out for the whole world to see how inadequate you are.” James turned to meet Ellie’s eye and she grew intensely aware of the warmth of his hand in hers. The proximity of his mouth to hers. “I started fighting so I could get all the fucking hate and rage out of my body without hurting anyone…but myself.”
“Are you still angry?”
“Not as much as I was.”
“But some?”
James nodded. “Some.”
He met her eyes with a look that set her on fire, all hooded lids and sultry eyelashes. Her lips parted and her breath caught as James leaned in. She tilted her head, eyes closing, and breathed him in.
And then she let her breath out in a rush and sat back, dropping his hand like it burned her.
“Sorry,” she said and licked her lips. “I got carried away.”
James straightened and blew a fast breath out between parted lips. “Nope. Not your fault.”
Ellie cleared her throat and slapped her hands against her thighs. “So. When do you want to start this thing? When’s our first public appearance?”
“What are you doing Saturday afternoon?”
“Working.”
“Damn. How long?”
“Good Beginnings closes at three, but I usually hang around until four, doing paperwork and cleaning the place up, getting things ready for the next day.”
James hit her with a smile that made her think she wasn’t going to like what he said next. “How about…” He held up his hands. “Now hear me out here.” That statement guaranteed she wasn’t going to like what he said, but he charged forward. “What if you let one of your cooks close the place up? I could pick you up at two. Shrimp Fest starts down at the beach this weekend. I want to tote you around and show you off all day, let everyone see that I’m so taken with you that I spend hours with you at a time.”
Ellie’s heart fluttered at his words even though she knew that wasn’t how he really felt, just how he wanted people to think he felt. “I don’t know. I
