“Grab your hat,” he instructs me, making me grin.
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t sass me.”
“No, sir.”
He swats my butt. “Smart ass.”
“Yes, sir.” I tug my hat onto my head, grab my purse, and Eli leads me down the steps to the sidewalk.
“Which way?”
“I get to choose?”
“Of course.” I stop on the sidewalk and take him in, standing so tall, his dark hair moving in the summer breeze, his sunglasses hiding his whiskey eyes. He has a little dark scruff on his face, and his lips are tipped in a half-smile, as if he finds me amusing. His body is perfectly comfortable in a white button-down and jeans, and despite having had him mere hours ago, I want to climb him.
“Cher?”
“Oh, what?” I shake my head and look up into his face.
“Where would you like to go?”
“Oh. Let’s start in here.” I lead the way into the amazing botanical shop beneath my flat. “I love the way it smells in here.”
“After you.” He holds the door for me, then follows me in, hanging back as I wander through the racks and tables of lotions, soaps, oils, and extracts. I saunter through, smelling the potions.
“Hi there,” a woman with long, thick dark hair and bright, happy blue eyes says from the checkout counter. “Can I help you find anything?”
“No,” I reply with a grin. “I’ve been staying upstairs, and I’ve wanted to stop in to look around. The smells that drift upstairs are delicious. I stopped in briefly one day to buy shampoo, which I love, but I didn’t have time to browse.”
“Well, I’m Mallory, the owner, and just let me know if I can answer any questions.”
I nod and smile, and before I’m done, I’ve gathered more shampoo and conditioner, cucumber lotion for my eyes, lip balm, and an eye-pillow full of lavender.
Mallory rings me up and Eli pays before I can pull my wallet out of my purse, earning a glare from me.
“You’re not paying for anything when you’re with me, Kate.”
“Thank you. That was fun,” I say with a smile, as we step out onto the sidewalk. “I should have gone in there before. I love girlie stuff.”
“Well, you are a girl, so I guess that fits,” Eli says with a laugh, and takes the bag of goodies out of my hand.
“You’re quite chivalrous, you know.”
“Mama raised me right,” he replies. Damn that accent gets me every time. Especially when he was in my hospital room, whispering in my ear.
You made a man who’s incapable of love fall in love with you.
He thought I was asleep, but I heard him.
Not that it changes anything. I’m still leaving tomorrow, and I refuse to be the one to tell him that I love him when I’m not full of medication.
Because, what if I was wrong? What if I was hallucinating?
How embarrassing would that be?
He takes my hand, kisses the back of it, and leads me down the sidewalk, toward Jackson Square, toward the sound of music and people and the smell of beignets.
I’m going to miss this.
I’m going to miss him.
I glance up, and for just a moment, the words are on the tip of my tongue.
“What is it, cher?”
“I just—” I take a deep breath and chicken out. “I’m going to miss this place.”
He smiles softly and kisses my cheek, but doesn’t say anything in return, and I swallow my disappointment and decide to simply enjoy our last day together.
***
“Another lemon drop?” Joe the waiter asks, as he delivers our Brussels sprouts.
“No,” Eli answers for me, giving me a stern look. “I’d like to actually have a coherent conversation with you this evening.”
“Come on,” I reply with a laugh. “I’m fun when I’m drunk.”
“You are fun,” he agrees and spears a sprout with his fork, then holds it up to my lips. “But since this is my last night with you, let’s keep it semi-sober.”
“Deal.” I chew the delicious vegetable and sit back in my seat, enjoying the courtyard of Café Amalie. “This place is so beautiful. I love the pretty lights in the trees. Isn’t it pretty?”
“Yes,” he replies, but when I look over at him, he’s not looking at the trees. He’s looking at me.
“Charmer,” I whisper, and take the last sip of my drink.
“You look beautiful in this dress.” He takes my hand in his and kisses my knuckles, sending electricity up my arm.
“Thank you.”
“Your dinners,” Joe announces, as he places our entrées before us. Dinner is delicious and filling, and when Eli suggests that we take a longer walking route back to his place, I readily agree.
I need to work off some of this food.
“Oh, look at this gallery,” I breathe, and stop at a window with canvasses full of black trees and colorful leaves and backgrounds. They look almost…weepy. “I love this one with the yellows, golds, and oranges.” I point to the one that has caught my eye. “It reminds me of Denver in the fall.”
“Hmm,” Eli murmurs and kisses my cheek before leading me further up the block. We stop several more times to admire window displays, walking slowly, hand-in-hand, laughing and talking.
Enjoying.
Did I ever honestly think this man was intimidating? Cold? Distant? It’s amazing to me the difference in him from when I first walked into his office to that same man walking next to me tonight.
“What are you thinking so hard about?” he asks quietly, his accent thicker, perfect for this lazy, easy moment.
“Nothing.”
“Now, that’s a lie,” he replies with a soft smile. “I can hear your wheels turning.”
“I was thinking about you.” I squeeze his hand a little tighter, and then bring it up to nuzzle it with my cheek. “And that I’ll miss you when I leave.”
He grows quiet for a moment, not responding at all, and then he surprises me.
“I’ve enjoyed every moment with you, Mary Katherine O’Shaughnessy,” he says, making me smile at the way he says my last name with his accent. “You are a special woman.”
We’re standing in front of his townhouse now. Based on his last statements, I’m wondering if he’s not saying goodbye.
“Thank you for a lovely evening.”
“No, cher, I’m not cutting our night short.” He leads me inside, up to the bedroom. “I just wanted to make sure I told you how much I’ve enjoyed you, in case I don’t have enough blood supply to my brain later and I forget.”
“Definitely charming,” I laugh. Eli’s phone rings, making him frown. He checks the display, dismisses the call, and sets his phone aside.
“I do believe I’d like to pamper you a bit this evening,” he says, as he slowly saunters toward me.
“How so?” I ask, feeling a bit breathless at the look in his eyes, the way his body moves so effortlessly, his muscles bunching and moving beneath his smooth skin.
He’s simply delicious.
“Well, I’ll begin by slowly taking this dress off of you,” he whispers. He’s pressed against me now, his arms around me as he lowers the zipper on my back, pushes the black fabric off my shoulders, and watches it fall to my ankles. “You pulled the leopard print back out,” he says with a cocked brow.
“You seemed to like it.” I swallow at the hot look in his eyes as they lazily roam up and down my body.
“I didn’t realize there was a matching bra.”
“Of course there’s a matching bra,” I reply dryly. “There’s always a matching bra.”
“I do love your taste in underwear,” he says, just before he hooks his fingers in the straps on my shoulders and tugs them aside, then lays his lips on my skin, kissing me gently all the way to the ball of my shoulder. He pays the same attention to the other side, just as his phone rings again.
“You should answer it,” I whisper in his ear, then kiss him, just belo
w his earlobe, on that soft skin that feels so good on my lips.
“No.”
“It could be important.”
He shakes his head and unhooks my bra in the back; his fingertips drag over my skin as he pulls it down my arms, then lets it fall. I tug his shirt out of his pants, then slide my hands up his stomach, over his smooth, warm skin.
God, I love touching him.
“This is supposed to be about you,” he whispers against my collarbone.
“It is,” I reply softly. “Touching you makes me happy.”
He pauses, and then kisses me, right over my heart.
Tell him! My mind screams. Tell him you love him and you don’t want to leave!
“Eli.”
His phone rings again, and we both moan in frustration, but he ignores it.
“Eli, you really should answer it.”
“Fuck no,” he replies stubbornly. “Whoever it is can fuck off.”
I slide my hands down the back of his pants and grip onto his very firm, very fine butt.
“I like your butt,” I whisper, making him laugh.
“I’m glad you do,” he says.
“I think you’re wearing too many clothes,” I say, just as my own phone rings. Our eyes meet and wait, and sure enough, as soon as mine stops, his starts. “Seriously. Answer. Something is wrong.”
He swears and stalks over to his phone. “What.” He frowns as he listens. “Are you sure?” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, then scrubs his hand over his mouth in agitation. “Fine. I said fine, Beau. I’ll be there in twenty.”
He clicks off and turns to me with regret and anger written all over his face.
“You have to go.”
“I’ll be back in an hour.”
I laugh and shake my head, then cross to him and simply wrap my arms around him and hug him tight. “It’s okay, Eli.”
“I swear, I’ll be back in an hour. Two tops.” He braces his hands on my shoulders and sets me away from him. “Take a hot bath, drink a glass of wine, relax. I’ll come back and we’ll pick this back up.”
“Okay.” I grin and kiss his chin, then his lips. “I’ll go back over to my place and finish up a few things, so I don’t have to do them in the morning. It’ll buy me ten more minutes of sleep.”
“I’ll come get you when I get back,” he promises, kisses me once more, hard and long, then tucks his shirt back in, grabs his keys and wallet, and rushes out. I take my time pulling my dress back on, not bothering with the bra, and walk over to my own flat.
Once I’ve finished gathering the last few things for tomorrow morning, sure that I’m ready for my flight, I take a hot shower, shave my legs, again, because really, you can never have legs that are too smooth, and decide to wear the pretty red nightie that Eli admired the other day.
He did ask nicely, after all.
I check the time on my phone, frowning when I realize he’s been gone for over an hour. Should I go to bed and let him wake me up when he gets back?
It’s getting late, and I have an early flight. I try his phone, to let him know that I’ll be asleep, but I just get his voice mail.
“Hey, just wanted to let you know that I’m going to sleep for a while. Come on in and wake me up when you get home. See you soon.”
I lie down, and the next thing I know, my phone is ringing.
“’Lo?”
“It’s Eli. I’m sorry, Kate.”
“What time is it?”
“It’s after two. I’m not going to make it back tonight. I got hung up here. I’ll have to send someone to take you to the airport in the morning.”
Um. Wait. What?
“Okay.”
“I’m so sorry, Kate. I have to go. Please take care of yourself. Thanks for everything. Take care and safe travels.”
And with that, he’s gone.
“Thanks?” I ask the empty room. “Take care and safe travels?”
I sit and blink into the blackness. Did that really just happen, or did I dream it? I check my phone, and sure enough. It was real.
He’s not coming back.
I stare at my phone as it goes black and feel my eyes well. He’s just my friend. This shouldn’t upset me at all. So I don’t get to have sex with him one more time. So I don’t get to feel the weight of him on top of me, or his lips on my skin. So I don’t get to hear that sexy accent of his as he whispers in my ear because he’s so darn turned on he can’t help himself.
So I don’t get to feel his hands on my back as he holds me, or see the special way he smiles at me when he thinks I’m being particularly adorable or ridiculous.
So what?
It’s a clean break. Like ripping off the Band-Aid quickly. It’s probably for the best.
And hurts worse than any slap in the face.
I thought I’d at least get to say goodbye in person.
I lie back and can’t stop the tears that flood my eyes, and that only pisses me off more. I refuse to waste one more tear on a man. Any man. Especially a man who doesn’t love me and says goodbye with safe travels.
No more tears.
Not one.
I roll onto my belly and bury my face in the pillow, crying angrily. Why did I let myself fall in love with him? Haven’t I learned anything?
***
“Hey, superstar,” Declan says, when I open the door for him and turn to gather my luggage.
“Good morning. Thanks for picking me up.”
“No problem. Eli said he—”
“I don’t care what Eli said,” I interrupt, and then scowl. “That sounded really bitchy.”
“Kind of.” He helps me gather my bags.
“The moving people will come get the rest later today or tomorrow.”
Declan nods and follows me down the steps. I glance to my left, and also coming down Eli’s steps is Gabby’s friend, Cindy.
She glances over at us, smiles and waves, and then walks to her car, climbs in, and leaves.
Are you fucking kidding me?
“She’s a little slut,” Declan mutters, as he loads my bags into the back of his car.
“So is your brother,” I reply. “That is what he got hung up with last night?”
“Hey,” Dec holds his hands up in surrender. “I honestly don’t know. I was simply asked to come take you to the airport.” He winces and offers me a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry.”
“Whatever,” I reply and get in the passenger side. “It was over anyway.”
“Was it?”
“It sure as heck is now.”
Chapter Twenty
Eli
I drop into the chair behind my desk, lean my elbows on the smooth wood and prop my head in my hands, gripping my hair in my fists. It’s after eight in the morning, and I just got here.
I never went home.
All I want to do is sleep, so I’ll take a cold shower, get dressed, and get back to work.
Back to my life.
But first, I dial Kate’s number, needing to hear her soothing, sweet voice after the fucked up night I just had, and frown when I’m immediately sent to the automated voice of her mailbox.
Her plane has taken off.
And it’s probably for the best.
“You okay?” Beau asks, as he walks into my office and flops into the chair across from me, looking every bit as exhausted as I feel.
“I feel the way you look,” I reply. “I told Sal to replace that hydraulic. I told him. I made it very clear what would happen if he didn’t.”
“We just never planned on a guy being killed in the night shift because he didn’t do it fast enough,” Beau replies, and rubs his eyes with the pads of his fingers.
“It was pride,” I spit out. “I bruised his fucking ego, so he drug his feet.”
“Well, he can drag his feet all the way to the unemployment office.”
I nod grimly. “That doesn’t help that young man’s widow and two small kids.”
“We’ll make sure they’re
very well taken care of.”
“Something tells me she’d rather have her husband,” I whisper sadly.
“Eli,” Beau begins and scratches his scruffy cheek. “I wanted to tell you, I was really fucking proud of you last night.”
I raise a brow and watch my older brother. He’s my best friend, and we respect each other, but we’re men.
We don’t get mushy.
I shift in my chair, uncomfortable, but he keeps going.
“You handled the situation perfectly.”
“I didn’t do it alone,” I remind him. “You were right there with me, taking on your fair share of the work.”
“Yes, and I’ll continue to, but you did great. Dad would have been impressed.”
I smirk. “Right.”
Beau cocks his head, narrows his eyes. “Dad loved you.”
“I know.”
And I do. But, he didn’t respect me, and wasn’t impressed by anything I did once in my life.
“You’re a good man, Eli. A fair one. A good leader. I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
“Is she gone?” he asks suddenly, changing the subject.
“Yes.”
He sighs. “And you let her go.”
“She doesn’t live here, Beau. She has a life and a job.”
He shakes his head at me. “I’m sorry you missed last night with her. She was good for you.”
So am I. So fucking sorry.
“Did you at least call and say goodbye?”
“I’m not a dick, Beau. Of course. I called and wished her safe travels.”
His jaw drops. “That’s it?”
“What else was there to say? Discuss the weather? Exchange recipes? Pledge my undying love?”
“You’re wrong,” Beau says quietly, as he stands and shoves his hands in his pockets, the same way I do, looking very much like our father. “You are a dick.”
“Never claimed otherwise,” I mutter as he walks away. I check my phone, for what I’m not sure. She may have landed by now. I tried to call Declan earlier to ask him how she was this morning, but he’s not answering my calls.
He’s probably either asleep or bouncing on one of his groupies.
I’d give just about anything to hear her voice right now, to smooth the rough edges left from holding that young widow through the night while she cried long, heartbroken sobs against my chest for a man who’s never coming home. From being awake for too fucking long.
Easy Love Page 21
