Love Me Like You Do: Books That Keep You In Bed

by Fields, MJ

  “It’s okay. Totally my fault,” I assured him, brushing off the remaining fries from my shirt.

  Between the two of us, we cleaned the mess quickly, and I carried my small pile of ruined fries toward the trash can on the veranda. Everyone gawked and gave me a wide berth, as if they were afraid I’d plow into them next.

  Good Lord, there are some catty people in this industry.

  Further proof of that fact came when I made it to the trash can and heard the murmurs and snickers of a group of women nearby. I fought the urge to call them out. If Jas had been with me, she wouldn’t have hesitated to put them in their place. But my big mouth had already gotten me on Sophia’s shit list in the last twenty-four hours, so I swallowed that urge and combed my fingers through my hair to shake out any rogue bits of cabbage.

  Bright side? I was pretty sure, between waking up with the hangover from hell and bathing in kimchi, things couldn’t get worse for me today.

  But then the mean girl wannabes stopped trying to be subtle.

  “That was painful to watch.”

  “I don’t know why she’s even bothering with her hair. It’s a lost cause.”

  “I bet she takes out the cocktail table next.”

  So much for thinking things couldn’t get worse. I groaned under my breath and turned around to call them out. But someone else beat me to it from the other side of the veranda.

  “That was painful to watch, but not nearly as painful as hearing you three make snide, bitchy comments.”

  I knew that voice.

  Three

  Elliot

  That smoother-than-honey voice was both achingly familiar and completely foreign. It belonged to a man who meant business, not the college kid he’d been last time we spoke.

  Oh, god. Last time we spoke I made a complete idiot of myself.

  I bolted off the veranda and hurried around the corner of the house without letting myself look in his direction.

  When I heard his voice again somewhere nearby, accepting praise for his work, I took off again, this time headed for a tree with a swing hanging from its branches.

  The irony of the situation was not lost on me. Bryce and I used to play hide-and-seek as kids, and now, here I was playing the adult version.

  In my head, running and hiding was justified because I looked like a walking disaster, and I didn’t want him to see me as the kid he used to know who constantly had dirt on her face and twigs in her hair from playing outside all day long.

  “By now you should know I’ll always catch you,” he called from behind me.

  Before I could turn to him, a pair of designer shoes stepped into my line of sight. I forced my eyes to travel up the length of his body, allowing myself a little longer than necessary to admire the way his gray slacks sat on his narrow hips. Taking in the V shape of his torso in reverse made it even more prominent, and I had to remind myself to breathe by the time my eyes landed on his face.

  His voice might’ve taken on an unfamiliar authoritarian tone, but those eyes were the same blue-green hue I’d recognize anywhere, though now there were faint lines at the corners—the kind that came with the stress of a busy life. His dark dirty blonde locks were gelled and styled into place; a total contradiction to the wild mop that used to fall across his forehead when we were kids. His jawline was razor-sharp, only softening slightly when his lips parted into a broad smile as he gave my appearance the same perusal I had given his.

  Bryce looked like he’d just walked out of a cover shoot for Forbes or Business Insider.

  The look suited him. Really suited him.

  I blinked him back into focus before my staring turned creepy.

  “Hey," he said, "those women back there were—”

  “Catty bitches who also happened to be right about my hair being a lost cause?” I finished for him, pulling at a clump of my hair that had morphed from blonde to sriracha-red.

  We both laughed, and I breathed a sigh of relief that we'd managed to seamlessly break the ice.

  “So, this was all you?” I asked, gesturing at the house and yard.

  He nodded and shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Yep. Aunt Rose asked, and I couldn’t say no.”

  That déjà vu feeling made total sense now; I’d come over here with Bryce a couple of times when we were young.

  “Of course. Well, it’s incredible. You’re really talented.”

  “Thanks. I’m really proud of how it turned out. Can you believe Rose wanted me to get rid of the swing? I told her it’d be a good feature to keep kids occupied during receptions.”

  “Until the next little Bryce McKnight comes along and tries to be the king of the swing again. Better make clients sign a waiver saying The Rose House isn’t liable for injury resulting from this thing.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Hey, you’re the one who asked me to push you higher.”

  “Is that how you remember it? I seem to recall you saying you wanted to push me high enough to touch the branches, right before I fell out and almost broke my arm.”

  “You should probably go see a doctor if you’re having memory issues, Elliot. That seems like a real red flag,” he said, the corner of his mouth tilting into a smirk.

  Whoa. When did his smirk get sexy?

  I rolled my eyes in an attempt to play it cool. “Always the comedian. Maybe don’t quit your day job.”

  He laughed and pulled his hand out of his pocket to run his fingers over his jaw. “Always busting my chops. So how’s life? How are your grandparents? Sophia?”

  “Nana and Pops are great. They had what Nana likes to call a ‘do-over’ wedding last night, and are currently on their way to the honeymoon they never had the first time around. I’m really happy for them. Sophia’s graduating in December, then going to Europe for a while with the family she works for. I kind of hate her for that.”

  “And you?”

  “Oh, I’m good. Work keeps me really busy, but I love it. People think every female getting married is a bridezilla, but that hasn’t been my experience. Plus, if I do my job well they shouldn’t have a reason to turn into a bridezilla.”

  “You’re a wedding planner now?”

  I nodded. “That surprises you? Why?”

  “I don’t know. I guess you just never seemed interested in that kind of thing.”

  “Things change a lot in five years, Bryce.” Realizing I’d made things awkward, I quickly moved on before he had a chance to address my comment. “So, you’re back in Austin now? Permanently?”

  “I am. Moved back about a year ago.”

  A year?

  I tried to hide it, but Bryce caught the flicker of hurt that flitted across my face. So many questions came to mind, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask a single one. “That’s…good. Let me guess, you missed the insanely hot summers?”

  A low chuckle rumbled from his chest as he stepped forward and closed the gap between us, grabbing the swing and boxing me in. I kept my eyes glued to the ground. “Elliot,” he drawled, pulling my attention back to him. “Look, I owe you an ap—”

  “You don’t owe me anything, Bryce,” I insisted, shaking my head.

  An indecipherable look flashed across his face—confusion, if I had to guess—but vanished in an instant.

  “We both know that’s not true. I should’ve called. We said we’d be better at keeping in touch, and after I—”

  I shrugged, cutting him off before he could finish. “Life happens. Plus, it seems like staying in Seattle worked out well for you. According to the rumor mill, you were a hotshot architect there. And after seeing this place I’m thinking that’s true.”

  He gave a half-nod-half-shrug, but he was modest enough not to call himself a hotshot. “I did pretty well at my firm, yeah. Did the whole ‘all work and no play’ thing. But I want you to know I am sorry, El. If it wasn’t for our conversation that night, I don’t know that I would’ve let myself stay in Seattle. I should’ve made more of an effort to keep in touch.”

 
“Bryce, it’s okay. Phones work both ways; I should’ve called or texted you. I knew the kind of pressure you were under. We both had a lot of stuff going on back then. Friendships slip through the cracks all the time; it’s a part of life.”

  “Still, I’m sorry,” he repeated, reaching for my hand. I let him have it and tilted my head to meet his eyes. They were more blue than green at the moment and swimming with regret. His gaze fell to my mouth for a beat. “For, you know…”

  Oh god. My eyes widened. He’s about to bring up that horrible, awkward-as-hell almost-kiss.

  “Let’s just…not go there. Water under the bridge, okay?”

  He nodded, relief washing over his face.

  “So…what really brought you back to Texas?”

  Bryce exhaled and stepped back, studying my face like he was seeking his own answer in the depths of my eyes.

  But before he could answer, something caught his attention from behind me. I whipped my head around to follow his gaze. Jade and Jasmine were several feet away, whisper-yelling at each other, seemingly debating if they should come over or not.

  I cleared my throat so they’d look up.

  “Oh, uh, hey. Sorry, we didn’t mean to interrupt,” Jade said.

  Jas shook her head and walked the rest of the way toward us, holding her hand out toward Bryce. “She’s lying, we definitely did come over here to interrupt. I’m Jasmine.”

  “Bryce,” he said, returning her handshake.

  He stepped toward Jade and repeated the introduction, and Jas leaned toward me and mouthed ‘hot guy name was right’ with a wink.

  Ignoring her, I quickly connected the dots for them. “Jade and Jas started Forget Me Knot Weddings, so they’re technically my bosses. And, uh, guys, Bryce…was my neighbor when we were kids.”

  I stopped short of elaborating on our friendship because, what exactly would I say? ‘He was my best friend back then, until he moved away to go to boarding school, and this is only the second time we’ve spoken in the last decade?

  Yeah, no.

  Jade mercifully bypassed any further questioning about our history, asking him about the house instead. They talked about that for a few minutes while I just listened and tried to wrap my head around the fact that Bryce freaking McKnight—a stranger for all intents and purposes at this point in my life—was standing in front of me. Looking good enough to give me some very R-rated thoughts.

  Jas had just said something about me having clients interested in the history of the house when I realized what she was doing.

  “Well, my aunt really knows more of the history. Why don’t I set something up with her, and you guys can bring your interested clients over for a private tour sometime this week? Would that work?” Bryce asked.

  “Perfect!” Jas squealed, looking all too pleased with herself.

  After that painfully transparent attempt to ensure Bryce and I had to see each other again, she quickly diverted her attention back toward the house.

  “Oh, hey, I think that’s Martha Clark over there. Let’s go say hi, JP.” She waved, probably at a total stranger, and laced her arm through Jade’s. “We’ll catch up with you later, El. It was nice to meet you, Bryce,” she threw over her shoulder as they left, ignoring my glare.

  “Sorry about that. Jas is a wildcard; there’s really no telling what’s going to come out of her mouth sometimes.”

  “Don’t be sorry. But yeah, if you hadn’t told me she was your boss, I would’ve just assumed she was your wing woman.”

  I laughed, because he had a point. “Yeah, about that. You don’t have to set up a personal tour for us.”

  “Don’t you actually have clients that would want to book The Rose House?”

  “Well, yeah, but—“

  “Then it’s settled. I’ll get with Rose and make sure she’s free sometime later this week to give you the private tour. Do you still have my number?”

  “Um, I think so.” I pulled my phone out and nodded when I found him in the Bs.

  We both turned when we heard someone in the distance calling his name.

  He held up a hand, gesturing he’d be there in a minute before turning his attention back to me. “I should probably go. Text me tomorrow about the tour?”

  “Yeah, definitely. And thank you for doing that. I really appreciate it.”

  He hit me with another smile, and just like his voice, it was both comfortably familiar and totally different. The Bryce I knew was still in there, but it was clear we were completely different people now than we were the last time we’d spoken. Before I could stop it, curiosity about the Bryce in front of me tugged at my thoughts, making me wish we weren’t both in the middle of a work function.

  “Of course, El. I’m happy to help.”

  The woman called him again, and he instinctively took a step back toward the house. I looked behind him and fidgeted with the hem of my shirt, unsure if I should follow him or hang back.

  “El?” he called, retracing his steps to come back and pull my hand into his.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m so glad you came today. I’ll see you soon.”

  I smiled, but before I could reply, he dropped my hand and jogged off toward the house.

  I watched Bryce until he disappeared, trying to ignore the heat from his grip that was still tingling through my fingers.

  This has definitely been the weirdest twenty-four hours of my life.

  Four

  Elliot

  After a week of nothing but a cold shoulder from my sister, sitting down to a family dinner was the last thing I wanted to do. But Pops and Nana had returned from their honeymoon and wanted to catch up with us.

  So, here I was, pulling into the parking lot of Pops’s favorite restaurant. I should’ve been trying to come up with a last-minute plan for how to smooth things over with Sophia before facing our grandparents. But since Sunday’s blast from the past with Bryce, focusing had become next to impossible. I stumbled my way through client meetings, zoned out during a wedding ceremony yesterday, and spent all of last night wondering how to handle seeing Bryce at the private tour he had arranged with Rose.

  Except he wasn’t at The Rose House today. When we scheduled the meeting, I assumed he’d be there too. I asked about Bryce with as much nonchalance as I could manage, and Rose told me he was so sorry to miss the tour, but something had come up last minute. She didn’t offer more information. So far, I had successfully resisted the urge to text him.

  That didn’t mean I hadn’t typed out various texts and deleted them, though.

  I was scrolling through our brief text conversation when Sophia knocked on my window. I jumped in my seat and fumbled my phone before it slipped through my fingers and fell to the floorboard. I groaned and stepped out of my car to fish it out. “Hey. Didn’t even see you there.”

  “No shit,” she replied dryly.

  “Look, Soph, I’m sorry for last weekend. You’re still pissed, I’m guessing, but I feel like we should just forget about the whole thing. How much longer until bygones can be bygones?”

  She stopped walking and turned to me on a sigh. “You don’t even know why I’m pissed. If you were in my shoes, you’d still be pissed too.”

  “So, tell me. What could I possibly have said that was so bad you had to storm off then ignore me for a week?”

  Her jaw clenched, and she narrowed her brown eyes at me. “Now’s not the time. Let’s just push pause, play nice for Nana and Pops, then resume this conversation later. Okay?”

  “Fine.”

  Before I could say anything else, Sophia flipped her dark locks over her shoulder and sped toward the restaurant’s entrance.

  Nana and Pops were already there and immediately waved us over to their table. All thoughts of the Sophia debacle vanished as soon as I saw my grandparents' smiles. “Y’all should bum around on the beach more often. You’re like different people!” I told them.

  “That French Polynesian sun really must have worked wonders. And we me
an that in the nicest way possible,” Sophia added quickly.

  She was right; they looked great. Happy. George and Millie Kincaid were pushing seventy, but you’d never know by looking. They both prided themselves on staying in shape, swam laps in their pool every morning, and went for after-dinner walks every evening.

  But I’d never seen them look so…relaxed.

  Nana let out a chuckle and swatted at the air. “Oh, you girls.”

  “So, tell us all about paradise,” I urged.

  Once our food was served, Pops launched into storytelling mode, painting vivid pictures of their adventures snorkeling, jet skiing, parasailing, and hiking. I knew they wouldn’t be able to sit around doing nothing for long. Even our family vacations each summer were packed full of sightseeing activities and adventures. I blamed them for my perpetual need to plan.

  “You two went parasailing?” I questioned, bewildered as Nana flipped through photos on her phone after our plates were cleared.

  “Forget parasailing. Nana, you…napped?” Sophia asked, nearly choking on the word as images of Nana asleep in a hammock or on a lounge chair by the water flickered across the screen of my mind.

  “Seriously, who are you two, and what have you done with our grandparents?” I asked.

  Nana and Pops exchanged a quizzical look. Pops sighed and reached for Nana’s hand. “I think it’s time we tell them, sweetheart.”

  “Tell us what?” I asked, mirroring Sophia’s furrowed-brow what-the-hell look.

  “Girls, we’ve thought a lot about how we’ve been living our life, and how we want to live our life, and your grandfather and I have decided to retire. We’re not spring chickens anymore,” Nana explained, pulling my hand into hers. “We want to travel more and do the other things we’ve always talked about doing but never had the time for. You girls are grown now and don’t need us like you once did. We’re going to sell Serenity. That meeting we had before the rehearsal was with potential buyers.”

  Serenity Hotel was the massively popular and successful chain of boutique hotels they’d spent the last thirty years building and running.