by Jenika Snow
“I purchased the land about a decade ago and planned on making this a vacation spot because of the location and the lake that’s in town,” Franco said in his thick Portuguese accent. He walked into the large, open kitchen and turned to face Elijah with a big smile on his face.
They walked through the rest of the four-bedroom cabin, and Franco took great pride in pointing out all the luxuries in the house.
“We finished construction just last year, and everything is brand new, top of the line.”
“You never thought of staying here with your family?” Elijah asked and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the sprawling back deck and woods.
“I planned on it, but my wife and the children are not ones for rustic living.”
Elijah looked over at him and lifted a brow. “This is rustic living?” he joked and smiled.
Franco started chuckling. “Let’s just say even after it was all said and done, they prefer the villa in Portugal and the penthouse suite in New York over this.”
Elijah shook his head. “It’s not as simple as I’d initially wanted, but this is perfect for what I’m looking for.”
“You wish to bring a wife here, have a family?”
It wasn’t a secret that Elijah was single and had no family. That kind of information went through the grapevine and their social circle like gasoline through a fire. “I don’t think a family and another wife is in my future, Franco.” He paused a moment, and then looked over his shoulder again at Franco. “I’ve come to realize that no matter how much money you have, you can’t buy everything.”
And that was the sad and depressing truth of it all.
5
One week later
“Do you really have to leave?” Freya asked Maurice, feeling sad that her best friend had to go but knowing he couldn’t stay here forever. He had opportunities elsewhere—a job waiting for him, a career, family, and of course a girl.
Maurice smiled and leaned back on her couch. “I wish I didn’t, believe me. No matter how anxious I am to start my career and earn enough not to have to live with my folks, I am going to miss you like crazy.”
She went over to him and sat on the couch beside him. “You’re only a car drive away.”
“A long car drive.”
She nodded and sighed. “Yeah, but that’s never stopped us before. I mean we have the phone, FaceTime, and we can always plan on hanging out for the weekend.” Staring at the muted TV playing an old rerun, she rested her head on his shoulder and thought about how lonely she’d be. “I’d like to meet Sarah, too. I’m all alone in this house, and having you guys come around will liven the place up.”
He chuckled softly and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “We’ve hung out the past four years whenever we wanted to, and it was just a short walk across campus to see each other.”
“I know.” She leaned back and looked into his face. “We’re best friends, though, and that won’t ever change. You’re stuck with me for the long haul, buddy.” She leaned her shoulder into his and chuckled.
He smiled again and nodded. There was no sexual chemistry between them. They were only friends, the best of friends. They’d spoken about this, especially after that drunken night. It was what it was, and at the end of the day, she was glad she had Maurice in her corner.
“I better get on the road, though,” he said, a little disappointed. “My parents and Sarah are waiting.” There was this blush that stole over his cheeks at the mention of the girl waiting for him back home.
Freya didn’t give him a teasing jab at that. She just smiled and felt so glad he was happy. “Okay, but you promise to call as soon as you get there.”
“Of course.” He gave her a big hug and then stood. His bags were already packed and sitting by the front door.
Over the past week, he’d helped her with the house, gone shopping with her, and just been there for her. She had enough money in her savings from what she’d earned working odd jobs during college, but she also had a trust fund her father had left her for when she turned twenty-one. In all honesty, with what her father had left her, and the fact she had no mortgage, she didn’t have to work. But Freya wanted to work, wanted to be able to go out into the real world every day and make something of herself. She’d worked too hard in school not to use her degree.
She stood and walked over to his bags, grabbed one off the ground, and opened the front door. Freya walked with Maurice out to his car, and after his bags were in the back seat, and they were standing in front of the other, she reached out and pulled him in for a hug.
“Be safe driving, and call me when you get home.” She felt him nod. Maurice pulled back, and after a watery smile on her part, Maurice was in his car and driving away.
And so it began… the start of her lonely life.
She turned and looked at her father’s house. No, her house now. She’d made it her home. Although she’d kept some of her father’s and mother’s things, some furniture, pictures, and even some dishes, she’d gotten new things that complemented who she was now. There were no memories of Meghan, and as strange as that kind of was, it was also freeing. She knew she could move on without letting things get in the way.
Yes, this was the first day of the rest of her life, and she knew her mother and father would be proud. Hell, she was kind of proud herself and where she was right now.
Freya grabbed a bottle of blush wine, looked it over as though she actually knew what she staring at, and decided to get it based on the sole fact that she liked the color. She wasn’t a big drinker, but she did have a wine rack in her kitchen, one her father said her mother had made when she was in high school, and Freya, feeling pretty sentimental about it, wanted to stock it with wine.
After putting it in her basket, she looked at a bottle of ice wine. Besides the gorgeous iridescent blue bottle, she was drawn to the fact it was very sweet. That made the decision to purchase easy.
She walked down the aisle, went over to the beer section, and picked up some apricot ale. But when she turned around, the six-pack in her hand, everything stopped inside her. The man standing at the end of the aisle, dressed in a dark three-piece suit, his short dark hair styled immaculately, and holding a bottle of red wine, was Elijah.
Her heart had momentarily stopped in her chest, but now, as she stared at him longer, harder, it started beating faster, harder. He looked the same, but older in the sense that he seemed more distinguished, more established. He’d aged well, so well. She could even see the outline of his muscles underneath his suit.
God, he looked good, and she remembered all the talks they’d had during the years he’d stayed with Meghan. But what she remembered most was that last conversation she’d had with him at the house, the one when she’d been drunk, and he confessed about the divorce, how unhappy he was, and that he knew she’d make it because Freya was strong. They might have talked to each other one time when she was in school, but it had been that conversation, even drunk, that left an impression on her.
Of course she wanted to talk to him, to catch up, but she was nervous. Freya hated that, hated that after living in the same house with him for several years, looking up to him because he was a genuinely nice and good man, she was afraid.
Swallowing past her nerves, she tightened her hold on the cardboard box that held her six-pack and contemplated just turning and checking out. Surely, they’d have nothing to talk about. Of course Freya had wondered how he was and what he was doing. She’d seen him in the papers and knew how successful he was now, but that didn’t excuse the past four years of no contact. They had very different lives now. Well, at least he did.
She was frozen to the spot, not wanting to turn and run like some kind of child. But then Elijah turned around, lifted his gaze from the bottle of wine he held, and their eyes locked. For a second, neither moved, neither spoke, and it was like the air around them grew thick.
“Freya?” Elijah said in a shocked voice and moved a step closer. Withou
t breaking eye contact, he placed the bottle in the basket he held, grinned, and she about lost all common sense as she took in the flash of straight white teeth. He was so handsome, so masculine and powerful looking. He was tall, much taller than she was, and when he was right in front of her, the scent of his cologne had her slightly dizzy.
What’s wrong with you?
“Elijah…” She swallowed again, her throat feeling dry and scratchy. “It’s been a long time.”
His smile faded, and he nodded. “Four years.” His voice was so deep, so manly. A shiver worked its way through her body. “You look the same.” He took a step back and slid his gaze up and down the length of her body. Although she knew it was probably innocent, she couldn’t help the heat that washed through her. “You look so grown up, not like the girl who left for college four years ago.”
She felt her cheeks heat, knew she was blushing, but she couldn’t help it. The way he looked at her, as innocent as it may be, made her feel on display. She wasn’t this teenager looking at Elijah in a friendly manner. Licking her lips, she tried to smile without it looking awkward. “Thank you?” she asked it as a question and started chuckling when he grinned.
She felt a little foolish, but the longer she stood here with him, the more she grew comfortable. There was this little feeling throughout her body—a tingling, a warmth … an electrifying sensation. She didn’t know any other word for it except arousal and awareness, and that made her feel bad and a little unnerved. She shouldn’t want Elijah, not like this, not with this heat moving through her.
“It’s a good thing,” he said, then cleared his throat. He lowered his gaze to the alcohol she had in her cart and the six-pack she held. “Are you hosting a party?”
She looked at the bottles of wine and shook her head, smiling. This was going to sound bad. “No, no party. It’s all for me.” She looked at him, and her smile widened.
He lifted a brow, clearly confused or amused as to why she’d have so much liquor.
“My mother’s wine rack.” It didn’t take him long to realize what she meant.
He nodded once, and for a second, the silence stretched between them, slightly thick, very tense, and she knew maybe he was thinking about the past. She sure as hell was.
She cleared her throat. “Well, I better go.”
He didn’t say anything at first.
“It was great seeing you, Elijah.” When she went to turn away, he took a step toward her, stopping her.
“Listen, it’s been a long time, a really long time. How about dinner? We can catch up?”
Her heart started beating faster, the thoughts she had of them eating dinner with candles between them, the past not at the surface, and just the two of them making her feel like a silly schoolgirl.
“It’s just dinner, Freya,” he said and smiled.
“I’d like that. I’d really like that, Elijah.”
He exhaled deeply, almost as if he’d been holding his breath. “Is your number still the same?”
She nodded.
“How about I call you tomorrow, and we can set something up?”
“Okay.” She felt so out of place right now, and she hated that. This was Elijah, and she shouldn’t feel weird or awkward around him. But the fact remained she wasn’t having the friendliest of feelings toward him right now.
The thoughts rushing through her head weren’t exactly innocent. It was strange feeling anything more than affection toward Elijah, and although she’d thought he was so handsome back in the day, she had never even considered or thought about crossing that line. But now, now she was thinking about crossing that line.
It was foolish, and she needed to leave to get her head on straight.
“I look forward to talking to you again. Elijah,” she said with a slightly shaky voice. Before she could move toward or away from him, Elijah stepped closer, had his basket on the ground, and had her in his arms. He gave her a big hug—wrapped his big, strong, and muscular arms around her—and Freya closed her eyes. It felt so good to be in his arms she actually closed her eyes.
“It’s really good to see you, like a breath of fresh air,” he said and then chuckled. “I swear I didn’t mean for that to come out as creepy as it did.”
It was her turn to laugh now. They broke away. She nodded because she didn’t know what to say, then she lifted her hand in a wave and left. After she checked out and was back in her car, she rested her head on the seat and closed her eyes.
What in the hell was going on with her?
6
A week had passed, and as Freya looked at herself in the mirror one last time, she breathed out a heaving sigh. She hated the fact she was so damn nervous. It was just dinner, just one meal to catch up with an old friend at his penthouse apartment in the city.
At his freaking penthouse apartment.
But even though this was just Elijah and just dinner, Freya she felt like she was moving a hundred miles per hour and going twenty different directions at the same time.
“It’s just dinner,” she said and closed her eyes. After a second, she opened them again, happy with what she saw as she stared at her reflection and happy with the woman she’d become. She wasn’t some young, foolish girl who was lost and didn’t know where she should go with her life.
She’d just wanted to leave, to forget about everything. Even up until she’d come back here after she graduated, she’d not known if this was where she wanted to settle. But then she’d stepped inside her home, the house her father left her because he wanted her to be taken care of, and she felt like everything would be okay. She knew everything would be okay.
Turning from the mirror, she grabbed her purse and keys, smoothed her hands over her pants, and walked toward the front door. Once in her car and heading into the city, her mind was a jumbled mess. She needed to calm down and put all thoughts about Elijah that weren’t friendly in manner out of her head.
Freya couldn’t even understand why her attraction to Elijah had been so sudden, so consuming. She hadn’t felt this way four years ago. Of course she’d felt his strength, and the intelligence, attractiveness, and power he’d emitted. She’d always felt safe around him, and that had been so comforting.
But he’d been married to Meghan, even if he hadn’t been happy, not to mention Freya still in high school and the implications of all that. Those had been the biggest blocks on her emotions, and why she’d never seen him as anything more. At least that was what she assumed.
But things were different now. He wasn’t married, she was single, and years had passed.
“It’s just dinner,” she said again under her breath. She was sweating between her breasts, her hands would be shaking if she wasn’t gripping the steering wheel so tightly, and her heart was racing.
Twenty minutes later, she was entering the city’s limits. The buildings were tall, the sidewalks crowded, and the traffic murderous. Another ten minutes of just trying to get through the traffic had her hair standing on end. By the time she’d pulled up to the gate that would allow her access to the underground garage of Elijah’s apartment building, she felt dizzy. After entering the code he’d given her, the gates opened, and she descended into the garage.
Freya pulled into a spot and parked, cut the engine, then rested her head on the steering wheel as she breathed out. This nervousness didn’t have anything to do with the horrible traffic and had everything to do with her growing emotions for a man she shouldn’t want.
Maybe you should have just taken him up on his offer to pick you up?
No, because at least with her driving herself, she had some kind of control. Being confined in the same car with him surely wouldn’t have been the smartest move, not when she felt light-headed just thinking about him.
If she was going to do this, then she needed to be an adult and understand that her emotions didn’t dictate her actions. Freya needed to grow up. She wasn’t a teenager looking up to a man who was much older than she was and had his life on track while she
was living one that was out of control.
She could do this. She could have dinner with Elijah and rekindle the friendship they’d had all those years ago. They could have a platonic relationship. Hell, that was probably all Elijah wanted with her anyway, and that was good, smart. That was what they both needed.
That was what she told herself anyway, even if it didn’t feel right.
Elijah stared at the screen that showed him the garage and watched as Freya sat in her car, seeming to talk to herself. Even though he wasn’t next to her, he could tell she was nervous.
He rubbed his palms down his slacks, his body controlled but coiled. He knew how to hide how he felt from doing meetings, mergers, and living up to his stone-cold and ruthless reputation in business. He may seem like he was not affected right now—on the outside, at least—but inside, he was strung tight, anxious, and nervous with anticipation about seeing Freya.
She’d looked as if she wanted to run when he saw her at the liquor store. He could understand that because they hadn’t seen each other in so long. He watched as she finally got out of the car and walked over to the elevators that would bring her to his private penthouse, and he knew he had to keep his collected attitude in place.
He turned and glanced at the table he’d had set with the meal in the center between the plates and felt like a fucking teenager on his first date. This wasn’t even a date, wasn’t anything like that, and never could be. It wasn’t even that she was so much younger than he was. It was because of their history, and the fact he’d been married to Meghan, Freya’s former stepmother. Having anything that wasn’t platonic with Freya felt incredibly inappropriate.
He’d had a professional catering company come in and make the meal and create the place settings. The truth was, Elijah couldn’t cook an edible meal to save his life.
