by Piper Rayne
“Or haven’t had the luck to accomplish, or are you one of those people that don’t believe in luck?”
I finish mixing in the flour and pour the batter into a pan. “No, I don’t believe in true luck. There’s some, of course, but I think what most people see as luck is actually more being prepared to take opportunities when they come.”
“That’s not what happens in darts,” she mutters.
“Nah, the darts were pure luck.”
Ellie laughs, and I think that I could get used to the sound. It’s been pretty rare around me, with her preference being to glare at me.
The chocolate cake is easy to put together, along with a couple of things that I’ve learned to add over the years that make it truly fantastic. I slip it into the oven and get started on the marinade.
We’re going to be here for a little while, I might as well take the plunge. “You’ve asked me plenty about why I’m here,” I say. “And I know a few things about you.”
“What do you know?” The words sound like a challenge.
“I know that you were a bartender in New York. I know that you’re Dorothy’s granddaughter. I know that you don’t want me anywhere near Granny’s.”
Ellie snorts a laugh. “Accurate.”
“I also know that you’re absolutely fascinating to me because you want nothing to do with me or my business. That never happens.”
I glance towards her just in time to catch her rolling her eyes. “Awfully full of yourself.”
“Not trying to be,” I say. “It’s just the truth. I’ve never had anyone turn down this kind of deal before.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Ellie pulls Jack off her shoulder and cuddles him in the crook of her arm. “That seems impossible.”
“It’s not. Because despite whatever you think of me, I’m not actually trying to steal people’s livelihoods. I don’t have to. Believe me. I have more money than I could ever need.”
“Just rub it in,” she says.
I scrub my hands over my face. “Jesus, Ellie. Is there anything that I can possibly say that’s going to make you think I’m not here to destroy you?”
For the first time she looks a little embarrassed. “Sorry,” she says. “I should try for her sake at least.”
I set the chicken on low, and lean against the countertop to look at her. “Even if she’d told me to fuck off and never come back, I still would have wanted to cook dinner for you.”
She looks up at me, eyes wary. “Why?”
I chuckle. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I like you. I can’t get you out of my head. For me it stopped just being about Granny’s a while ago.”
Turning away, I focus on the cooking, quickly preparing the chicken and some vegetables as a side. And Ellie changes the subject entirely. We talk about our favorite methods of cooking things and favorite flavors. She doesn’t say anything about my little admission, and neither do I. But Ellie seems more relaxed.
She’s smiling and laughing, and dare I say it—flirting.
I serve her the first portion of our meal while I finish mixing up the glaze for the cake, which will be ready soon.
I watch out of the corner of my eye as she takes a bite.
“Damn it,” she whispers.
“What?”
Jack tugs on her pant leg, asking for attention again, and she rolls her eyes. “I was really hoping that it would suck. That all those videos of everyone salivating over your food would just be PR lies.”
“You watched my videos?”
She blushes. “Everyone in the food world knows who you are, Brandon.”
I sit down and take a bite. It is pretty good. “Honestly, this is one of my favorite meals to cook for myself.”
“I can see why.”
The smell of the cake is starting to permeate the air. “The woman at the grocery store totally had me pegged, by the way.”
“Who, Helen?”
“Is that her name?” I laugh. “She called that I was cooking for someone because men don’t buy baking ingredients if it’s just them.”
Ellie’s face lights up with a laugh. “Oh my god I love her. It’s true too. Maybe not in every case, but in most.”
“Absolutely in most. Smart men know that a way to a woman’s heart is sugar.”
“It’s true.” Her tone is sarcastic. “We’re really very simple creatures.”
I finish the last bite on my plate and hold my hands up in surrender. “Hey, it’s not an insult. Sugar is a worthy opponent. No one should be ashamed for surrendering.”
Jack has weaseled his way onto the table, and Ellie grabs him before he can steal a bite of chicken off her plate. “Well I’m not giving up just yet. We’ll see if you’re as good a baker as you are a cook.”
I lean forward in my chair. “Care to bet on it?”
“No way in hell,” she says. “I remember what happened the last time I made a bet with you.” But just like when we were at the diner, she leans forward too, like we’re magnetized.
“I remember that too,” I say. “One of the best kisses I’ve ever had. Until you ran away.”
Her cheeks go pink and she’s saved from saying anything by the timer for the cake beeping. “Dessert?”
“Yeah.” Am I imagining that her voice is lower?
I pull the cake out of the oven and check it. It’s perfect, and it smells amazing. The glaze sinks into the warm sponge as I pour it over, infusing it with even more flavor.
Once it’s cooled a little, I slice it and serve us each a piece, topping it with just a bit of whipped cream.
“Chocolate cake,” I say, presenting it to her. “Featuring a couple Brandon Wolfe secret ingredients.”
“Okay,” she says. “Here goes nothing.”
I watch as she cuts a bite and tastes it. Her eyes close and she lets out a little moan that sends all my blood racing south towards my cock. “Fuck.” She takes a breath. “Fine, it’s amazing, okay? I admit surrender to the sugar.”
“Did I win the bet?” I ask, sitting back across from her, not bothering to hide that my chair is much closer than before.
“There wasn’t a bet.”
I grin. “Come on. Yes there was. Am I as good a baker as I am a cook?”
Ellie wrinkles her nose in mock distaste. “Yes. Asshole.”
We laugh together. “If I won, then I think I should get a prize.”
“You already got this dinner. What more could you want?”
She’s so close, lips still shining with chocolate glaze, and I can’t stop myself. I lean forward and capture her lips with mine. She’s my weakness, and I groan like she had when tasting the cake. For one breathless moment, I think that she’s going to pull away.
But she doesn’t.
Ellie kisses me back, and the moment she does, everything changes. We’re no longer sitting in an attempt to get closer. Heat races through me, and I’m already hard. I consume her lips, tasting the sugar on them and brushing my tongue across hers. She wraps her arms around my neck and I weave my fingers into her hair so I can hold her still.
I want more of her. All of her. Everything in the universe has narrowed to the space of her lips. I could kiss her forever and I would be happy with that.
Ellie jerks in my arms, and then freezes. She jerks again and I pull her back, looking at her face. Her eyes are wild and panicked, hands going to her throat. “Can’t breathe.”
“Ellie,” I say. “Ellie?”
She tries to inhale, and the sound is ragged. What the hell? Again she tries to breathe—and it’s the worst sound I’ve ever heard. Her face starts to go blue, and Ellie stumbles. I catch her before she goes down. We need the hospital. Now. She doesn’t have time to wait for an ambulance.
I haul her into my arms and grab my keys. I saw the hospital on the way over here. It’s a five minute drive. Three if I speed. Which I am one hundred percent going to do. The only time I take is to place her gently in the passenger s
eat before sprinting to the driver’s seat and pulling out so quickly the tires burn.
Nothing is more important than getting her to the hospital, but I can’t help the question ringing in my mind.
What the hell just happened?
10
Ellie
I have a vague memory of being carried and the screech of wheels. But when my eyes open and I take what feels like my first real breath, I’m nowhere I thought I would be.
Bright fluorescent lights shine down on me, and it’s noisy. There’s a blue curtain that’s around my bed, and as I move, I see the IV in my arm. I’m in the hospital. How the hell did I get to the hospital?
“Ellie?”
I turn to find Brandon sitting in a chair beside me. But as soon as he sees me awake he’s up and beside me. “Hey. Hey. How are you feeling?”
My throat feels scratchy when I try to speak. Painful. “What happened?”
He shakes his head. “Looks like an allergic reaction. They gave you an epipen when we got here and there’s Benadryl in that.” He points to the IV. “What are you allergic to?”
I blink. Only a couple of things. “A couple weird things. Watermelon, cinnamon, and celery.”
Brandon places his hands on the bed. “Cinnamon. It was in the cake. I’m so sorry, Ellie.”
Something about the way he’s bent over the bed makes me smile. He’s distraught. And that shouldn’t make me happy. But I can’t imagine Chris looking like this if it had been him.
Chris would never have cooked for me anyway, but he would have found some way to blame it on me. My cheeks flame, embarrassment heavy from even thinking about it. How could I not see that about him years ago?
“It’s okay,” I say, reaching out a hand and putting it on top of his. “You didn’t know.”
“No,” he says. “But I should have asked first if you had any allergies. It was careless.”
“I’m okay though.”
He stares at me, eyes fierce. “But you almost weren’t. I’m sorry.”
I smile at him, and I feel myself warming. During dinner Brandon had managed to crack through my ice and my resistance. He’d been normal. Charming. And most of all sincere.
And he was here. He hadn’t left. He was making sure that I was okay. Slowly, I curled my fingers around his hand, and he gripped them back. Before I had started choking, that kiss…
It had been everything. And fuck if I didn’t want him to kiss me again right now. He looks like he wants to. And I barely care that we’re in the middle of the hospital.
The sliding of the curtain makes me jump, and an older man in a doctor’s coat comes striding in. “Ellie Thompson,” he says with a smile. “Been a while since we saw you in here.”
I squint, trying to place him. “Dr. Hammond?”
The doctor chuckles. “The same. Pretty sure the last time I saw you I was treating you for a broken arm.”
“Yeah.” That had been almost twenty years ago now. I couldn’t believe that was still here. But I shouldn’t have been surprised. People never left Devil’s Hood. It’s why I’d run away in the first place.
“I need to examine you real quick, okay?”
I nod.
He leans forward and gently touches my throat, pushing and testing. It doesn’t hurt that much, but I can still feel the rawness when I breathe. “Sit forward for me?”
Brandon helps me sit up and lean forward, and Dr. Hammond puts his stethoscope to my back. “Take big breaths.” He moves his hand around, listening to my lungs in different places.
“Your lungs sound clear,” he says, “and the swelling in your throat is going down well. You know what it was that triggered it?”
“Yes,” Brandon answers. “We figured it out.”
He sounds miserable, and I squeeze his hand.
“Do you have someone coming to pick you up?” Dr. Hammond asks me. “I don’t want you driving. Or are you—” He looks at Brandon.
“I’ll take care of it,” Brandon says. “Any special instructions?”
The doctor shakes his head. “Sleep off the medication, and Benadryl as needed until the swelling is completely gone. If you have any side effects, call us and let us know. I’ll send the nurse over to get you disconnected and then you’re free to go.”
“Thank you.” I look at Brandon as he leaves. “You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do.”
I felt like I should argue with him. Shouldn’t lean on him. I didn’t need him. But I’m so tired, the medication draining through me, and the thought of letting someone else take care of things…was nice.
Leaning back, I didn’t realize that I was dozing until the nurse was pulling out my IV and she and Brandon were helping me into the wheelchair.
“We know where to find her,” the nurse says gently. “She can come back and sign paperwork.”
“Thanks,” Brandon’s voice. He had a nice voice. It was strong and melodic and I like the way that it resonated through my chest.
He rolls me to the hospital doors, and the nurse stays with me while he goes to get the car. I don’t remember where we parked. How did I get inside the hospital?
“How are you, Ellie?” The nurse asks.
“I’m good,” I say. My head feels floaty and I think that I could probably fall asleep right here. I don’t think I’m high, but maybe loopy? What was it when you were so tired that you lost all sense of space and time?
The next thing I know, I’m in the car and we’re driving the short distance to my house. Wow. “What did they give me?”
“Just Benadryl I think.”
“Feels like more than that.”
He laughs. I like the sound. “Well, you did have it injected directly into your veins. That’s probably a different experience.”
“Yeah.” I lean back against the seat.
When we stop, he gets out of the car and comes around to my side. I don’t fight it when he lifts me out of the seat. Brandon smells nice. Like baked bread and a hint of cologne and something else. I can’t think of the name. And he’s warm. And strong. He’s carrying me like it’s nothing.
“I want to watch you knead some bread,” I say.
“Why’s that?”
I sigh, head lolling back over his arm. “Your arms. They look like they would be good for kneading dough.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. That’s what I thought when I saw you in your t-shirt at the bar. Hella arms.”
Brandon chuckles as he opens the door to my house and we’re greeted by a tiny meow. “Looks like someone missed us.”
“Jack!”
We make our way into the kitchen before Brandon looks around. “Where’s your bedroom?”
My breath catches. “Upstairs.”
It’s the only room on the top floor of my tiny house. That and the bathroom. It’s cozy. And it’s one of my favorite parts about having come back. I love my little space that I’ve made my own. But I’m nervous for Brandon to see it. What will he think about it?
Did I leave my underwear on the floor?
He climbs the stairs slowly, with me still in his arms. I like the feeling more than I probably should. It feels good just being held. I’ve missed that. Chris would hold me if I asked him, but it didn’t feel like this. It wasn’t a natural part of him.
Embarrassment flushes my cheeks. How come I hadn’t seen who he was? He’d showed me plenty of times. And yet I’d pushed aside all those warning signs because he was the perfect guy. And when he did choose to look at me, he made me feel special. But he wasn’t good.
Not the way Brandon is good—even if he does remind me of Chris with being from New York and wearing a suit and being a part of the corporate world. He’s shown me that he’s different. That he’s not like the person I assumed that he was.
I like him, and that’s terrifying. My heart is still too raw, and I don’t know if I can open up to another person again. I don’t know if I’m ready.
“I didn’t feed Jack,” I say.<
br />
“I’ll do it,” Brandon says softly. “I have to clean up from dinner anyway.”
I think I shake my head, but I still feel fuzzy. Like I’ve had one too many drinks. Or ten too many. “You don’t know where his food is.”
“I think I can figure it out,” he says, laughing.
He sits me on the bed and kneels down in front of me, taking off my shoes. And the fact that he’s even thinking about my shoes cracks something open in my chest. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
Brandon looks up at me. And he’s so handsome and so serious and I can’t believe that he’s this close to me and that he’s still here when I’m this messy. Guys don’t like messy. It’s too much.
“I’m not being nice to you, Ellie,” he says. “This is just basic human decency.”
“But I’ve been terrible to you. I’ve yelled at you and been mean.”
Brandon smirks. “You’re protecting something you care about. I wouldn’t say that’s being mean. It would take a lot more than that to scare me off.”
My shoes finally off, he helps me lay back on top of the covers. “Brandon.”
“Yeah?”
I know I’m falling asleep. I’ll be gone before I know it. But I need him to hear this. “I like you and I don’t know what to do about it.”
A soft chuckle. “I don’t think you’re quite sober enough right now to say that.”
“Doesn’t make it less true,” I say. My eyelids are heavy. They won’t stay open. But I reach for him anyway. Pulling him down, I kiss him. I see his shock only for a moment before he kisses me back.
It only lasts a moment. “Sleep, Ellie,” he says.
As I’m drifting off, I feel him leave a little ball of fur next to me that cuddles down to sleep alongside me.
11
Ellie
When I open my eyes, I feel strangely clear.
I was drunk. Or dizzy. Or completely fucked up on something.
Everything comes rushing back in a whoosh, and I have to put my hands to my head. Oh shit.
Brandon put me to bed. I told him that I liked him and kissed him. He’s probably back at his hotel right now laughing his ass off at the stupid bartender who spilled her guts on Benadryl.
