“Pop quiz,” he said after his brother answered. “There’s a hot chick in your tub and you want to feed her, but all you have are a few eggs, a questionable block of cheddar cheese, and some currently frozen chicken breasts. What do you do?”
“Order out.”
“What’s the point of having a chef for a younger brother if the best advice he has for you is order out?”
“I’d say, considering the list you just gave me, I’d be thanking that younger brother for the great advice he’s offering.” The hisses and bangs of the kitchen sounded through the phone behind Harry’s voice. Apparently, he was at his restaurant, Harrison’s, that night. Harrison and Ellie had a lot in common on that end. She worked all day, every day, in her restaurant and he worked all night, every night, in his.
“Yeah, but you’re not me.” James opened the fridge and stared inside. “I’m one of a kind.”
“Yes, you’re most definitely one of a kind,” Harry said with a hint of laughter.
“Why do you make that sound like it’s a bad thing?” James dug around in the fridge for something else to feed Ellie. After a day like she had, that girl needed big time pampering.
“Because maybe, the way you do it, it is.”
“Nope.” James shut the fridge. “Not buying it. I am a magnificent specimen of a man.”
“Says the guy trying to impress a woman with moldy cheese and frozen chicken.”
“You at the restaurant tonight? Any chance you could run something out here?”
“I am at the restaurant, and you should know by now that we don’t do deliveries.” There was a huge bang and clatter and Harry called out to see if everyone was okay.
James waited for the all clear. “So, what you’re saying is, I’m on my own.”
“No, what I'm saying is, I’d order Chinese and have it ready on the table when she comes down. Use plates and silverware. Real glasses. She’ll be thrilled, I promise.”
“And if she’s not?”
“Just show her the options in the fridge.”
James thanked his brother and placed an order for delivery at Timmy’s Wok, the only place to get Chinese within twenty miles of Bliss. The guy who took his order was rude as hell, but James knew the food would be decent.
When he had heard the desperation in Ellie’s voice on the phone, it turned his stomach. The woman worked her ass off. It wasn’t right that she had to struggle so much for so little when he had everything he could need and then some…and hadn’t worked a day in his life. It was a strange revelation and brought some uncomfortable self-evaluation with it. There he was, falling apart because Erin finally had the grace to stop pretending what they had was working. He blamed her for ruining everything when really, she was the one doing the smart thing. Going about it the wrong way, of course, with the cheating and sneaking around, but when James got really quiet and stopped throwing his temper tantrum, he was grateful that they didn’t go through with the wedding.
So why the temper tantrum, then? Why the drinking and the fighting and the crash course on local women? The honest answer wasn’t pretty nor was the way it made him look. The honest answer was that after a lifetime of always getting what he wanted with very little effort, he didn’t end up with the happily-ever-after he thought was guaranteed. And his behavior the last couple months? One giant—embarrassing—pouting session.
And meanwhile, sweet Ellie went to work every day, working impossible hours with no end in sight just to make ends not quite meet.
She didn’t give up.
She didn’t dissolve in self-pity.
She just kept putting one foot in front of the other and still had the strength to pick him up when he’d fallen to pieces in front of her that night at Hurricane’s. James shook his head as he set the table, choosing his best dinnerware and utensils. He poured a glass of wine and considered pouring one for himself, as well, but decided against it.
He couldn’t have timed it better if he tried. Dinner arrived and he’d just finished emptying the food from the takeaway containers onto serving plates when Ellie wandered downstairs, dragging her hand on the banister, a warm smile plastered across her face. God, she was beautiful. Strikingly so.
“Holy shit, did you make Chinese?” Ellie sauntered into the dining room and paused in the doorway; surprise painted across her lovely face.
James grinned. “Yep.” He pulled back a chair for her and helped scoot her in. “Used a cherished family recipe. From the old country.”
“The old country?” Ellie looked skeptical. “Your family is Chinese?”
“Clearly.”
She nodded, still looking skeptical. “Sure.” She drew the word out and surveyed the table. “Timmy’s Wok?”
“You know it.” James shrugged. “It was that or eggs and moldy cheese.” He brought a hand to his chest. “And I thought you deserved better.”
Ellie laughed and scooped a heaping spoonful of General Tso’s chicken onto her plate. “You’ll get no complaints from me. This is my favorite and I never get to have it.”
They talked and they laughed through dinner and James found himself watching her time and again. Studying the way she moved. The way she held her fork. The way she tilted her head when she smiled. He watched her sample the wine and sigh in appreciation. While he hated the circumstances that brought her there, hated them with a fervor, he was glad to have her company. She brightened the dark corners of the house, the corners where the ghost of the life he’d envisioned with Erin still lingered. Ellie’s energy pushed all the sadness out of the place.
“Okay,” he said, sitting back and pushing his plate
