He watched as people noticed them together. Some smiled at the combination. Others leaned in to laugh and whisper to friends. A few just stared in shock. They only needed to be seen out together a few more times before the rumors made their way back to his family and the Moores would believe they were really a thing. Maybe he’d bring her to a Sunday brunch at his parents’ house in a couple weeks. Then he’d let Ian know she’d be his date for the wedding.
Things were moving along according to plan. Sure, there had been a few hiccups. The office sex was probably a bad idea. Fantastic fun, but not smart. Showing up drunk at her apartment hadn’t been too bright either. But Ellie hadn’t let that faze her. She’d just done that thing she did where she cut through the bullshit and called it the way she saw it.
He appreciated that about her. After a lifetime of people feeding him a steady diet of whatever they thought he wanted to hear, her honesty was refreshing.
After that night in her apartment, on the couch, James intended to pout in a corner and drink himself into a stupor because he had almost admitted he cared about her. But, she called him on it and there they were. Him sober. The plan working. And he sure didn’t mind the company.
“What?” she asked, a funny smile on her face.
“Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Trying to puzzle out what was on his mind, Ellie scrunched her nose in the most adorable thinking face James had ever seen. When he stayed silent, she shrugged and lifted her eyebrows in an ‘oh well’ expression. “Dance with me?”
“You bet your sweet ass I will.” James stood and offered her his hand, pulled her up and leaned over to whisper in her ear. “And believe me when I say, it is so, so sweet.”
Ellie grinned and led him to the dance floor where they lost themselves to rhythm and movement. You could tell a lot about the way a woman approached sex by the way she danced.
Ellie danced with abandon, losing herself to the music. She moved with passion, her hips swaying and her body eager for more. She fucked that way, too. James thought back to their night of office sex, the way she fought him for control, only to give in and hand it all to him in the end. In a way, it’d been like fighting.
She moved and he countered.
He moved and she countered.
Then finally, she admitted defeat and gave herself to him.
It would go down as one of the hottest experiences of his life.
If he was honest, he wanted more.
They finished the night, laughing and talking about superficial things, and as the hour hand edged past ten, James signaled for the check. “I think it’s about time I got you home.”
Her face clouded over and confusion darkened her pretty eyes. “Why? Did I do something wrong?”
“No, silly.” He shifted so he could pull his wallet out of his back pocket. “It’s late for a girl who gets up as early as you. This is me, trying to take care of you.”
More confusion flitted around her face and she blinked a couple times, trying to hide her emotions before she pulled that mask down again. “Oh. Well. That’s very sweet of you to worry about me.”
She beamed and he couldn’t help the smile that started from some place deep inside, some place he’d forgotten existed. He paid the check and walked her home. Kept his arm wrapped around her shoulder, not just because he wanted anyone who happened to see them to think he was falling in love with her, but also because he liked having it there. Liked the way she felt tucked up against him.
When they got to her door, he let her go as she dug through her purse for her keys. “Thank you for a lovely evening,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes. She paused and he saw a flood of words caught in her throat. “I’m sorry…” she began and then trailed off.
James hated the pain he saw in her honeyed gaze. “Don’t waste one more thought on it,” he said and tucked a curl behind her ear. He leaned in and kissed her, unsure if it was in case anyone was watching or regardless as to whether anyone was watching.
“Good night, James,” she murmured.
He slid his thumb across her cheekbone. “Good night, sweet Ellie.” He waited until she was safely inside and had locked the door. Waited until he saw the living room light come on through the cracks in the blinds. And then he drove himself home, lost in thoughts of Ellie growing up in foster homes, too scared to kick that damn parasite out, struggling to pay the bills and pushing herself to work harder than anyone he had ever known—and his brothers worked pretty damn hard.
When James pushed through his own front door, he waited for the wave of grief he felt every time he came home to hit him in the chest and freeze his heart. He went to the kitchen on autopilot and poured himself several fingers of whiskey. Swirled the amber liquid in the glass and brought it to his lips.
But he didn’t take a drink.
Because his heart wasn’t frozen.
And his thoughts weren’t painful and laced with poison.
He saw Ellie’s sweet face. The hurt in her eyes as she bared her soul for him at dinner.
He needed her, but the truth of it was, she needed him just as much.
Maybe more.
No longer on autopilot, James pulled the glass from his lips and poured the whiskey down the sink.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ellie
Thursday disappeared in a swirl of customers. People Ellie hadn’t seen in years stopped in and perused the menu, exclaiming over how things had changed, oohing and ahhing over the expanded selection.
