In His Kiss (Love On The North Shore Book 4)

by Christina Tetreault

  Unease snaked through her body, causing goose bumps to form on her arms. Trying not to be obvious, she glanced around the room. Her eyes stopped when they fell on the table where Cat sat with her husband, parents, and of course Striker. Although he leaned close and spoke to his sister, his gaze remained on her.

  Not many guests had come alone, and she’d expected him to arrive today with some eye candy on his arm. But he’d come alone.

  Doesn’t mean anything, she reminded herself. Perhaps his most current girlfriend had plans, forcing him to come without a date. Or maybe he was between girlfriends. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter to her. What he did and who he did it with was no longer her concern.

  She pulled her gaze away. She wouldn’t waste any more time on him tonight. Nope, she’d have fun celebrating Mack and Jessie’s wedding with everyone else.

  “What kinds of cars did you see a lot of in Paris?” Kelsey asked, drawing Ella into the conversation.

  “When were you in France?” Dakota asked before she answered. “I worked with the Parisian police last year on a big case. Great city.”

  “I spent the summer there,” Ella said, glad to have a distraction. “What did you like best about Paris?”

  Dakota smiled, causing him to resemble the well-known actor even more. “The food.”

  “It is pretty awesome.”

  “I loved the architecture, too. For a long time, I considered becoming an architect.”

  They discussed their favorite places in and around Paris until a slow ballad came on.

  “Would you like to dance?”

  Before she realized her intention, she glanced across the room. Cat and Tony were standing, most likely to dance. Mr. and Mrs. Striker were having a conversation with each other. Striker still looked in her direction. She turned back and nodded. “I’d love to.”

  Somehow Striker managed to give the best man speech he’d written and get through dinner without crossing the dance floor and pulling Ella out of the room. She always looked good, but tonight she was a total knockout. He’d spotted most of the single men and even a few married ones checking her out. As the ex, he’d had no other choice but to sit and watch. Actually, right now he was forced to sit and watch as she danced with Mack’s coworker, Dakota Smith, surrounded by other couples.

  Soon he’d get his plan into action. He hoped it worked. Ella could flat-out refuse, turn around, and walk away, leaving him standing there on the dance floor like the complete fool he was. A much-deserved outcome, but not one he’d settle for today.

  “You could at least look like you’re having fun. This is your best friend’s wedding,” Cat said, sitting down next to him again once the song she and Tony danced to ended.

  The words “go to hell” came to mind, but he kept them in. If he pissed off Cat she might tell him he was on his own, and he needed both her and Tony’s help.

  “Go dance with Grace. She loves you, and you’ll give her grandfather a break. That was his second time out there with her.”

  So far Mack’s daughter had dragged both her uncle and her grandfather onto the dance floor with her. She’d even managed to get Mr. Quinn, Jessie’s father, out there for a dance, as well as Jake Sherbrooke. At a different time, he would’ve taken his sister’s suggestion. He adored Grace much like he would a niece. Tonight, though, he wasn’t up for her constant chatter.

  “Maybe later.”

  A popular hit blared from the speakers, and many of the older guests retreated to their seats as dancers moved on the floor. Under the table, he tapped his foot to the beat and watched Ella move and sway in time to the music. Countless times they’d gone to dance clubs in Boston or Salem, and he loved watching her dance. She heard the music in her soul, and it showed in the way she moved.

  “Mia pulled Sean onto the dance floor for the last song,” Cat said.

  He’d missed it, but he wouldn’t tell his sister that. “Yeah, I noticed. Sean hates dancing. Bet he’s thinking of ways to avoid it at his wedding.”

  Tony pulled out the chair next to his wife and sat. “Talking about Sean? Yeah, he’s dreading the dancing at the reception. Neither Mia nor his mom are going let him out of it.” Pausing, he reached for his wine glass and took a sip. “Brock’s gonna play the song I requested next. You ready?”

  He’d waited long enough. “Good to go.” He ignored the clamp tightening around his stomach.

  “I’ll go ask Papa to dance. He can never say no to me.”

  Didn’t Striker know it. Growing up, his sister had had their grandfather wrapped around not only her little finger but her entire hand. There wasn’t anything she couldn’t get the man to do simply by asking.

  Cat stood up. Before she walked away, she leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Good luck.”

  He needed more than luck. He needed a miracle. “Thanks.”

  “If you cause a scene out there, Jessie’ll kill you. Mack, too,” Tony said.

  He’d said the same thing when Striker and Cat approached him with their plan, which included Tony asking Ella to dance. If she wondered why he wasn’t dancing with his wife, he’d point out that Cat was busy dancing with her grandfather. While Tony and Ella danced, Striker would ask to cut in and his brother-in-law wouldn’t object.

  “Ella’s not the scene-causing type.” The worst she would do was walk away. No one would consider that ruining the wedding.

  “Wasn’t referring to her.”

  What did Tony think he’d do, throw Ella over his shoulder and march out with her? He’d love to, but wouldn’t. “Don’t worry. Jessie won’t have any reason to kill me.”

  The song’s final chorus blared from the speakers, and Tony took that as his cue.

  Striker watched his brother-in-law cross the dance floor. Once Tony stopped at Ella’s table he looked away, his eyes falling on Grace and Mack instead. While he watched, she led her dad onto the dance floor and Jessie stayed behind, talking with Mack’s younger sister.

  He swung his eyes away from his best friend in time to see Tony and Ella take to the dance floor together. Not far away, Cat and their grandfather moved to the music as well. So far, so good. Although Cat had insisted Ella would accept Tony’s offer to dance, he’d been less confident. It looked like his sister had been right, something he wouldn’t mention to her. If he did, he’d never hear the end of it.

  His mouth bone-dry, Striker took one last gulp of water and headed for the dance floor, too.

  “Glad to be home?” Striker heard Tony ask Ella when he stopped behind the couple.

  “I love it in France, but yeah. It’s nice to be back,” Ella answered, still unaware he stood behind her. “I missed everyone.”

  Clearing his throat, he got ready to speak. “Mind if I cut in, Tony?”

  Ella stopped moving, and Tony looked at him. Striker held his breath while he waited for Tony’s agreed upon answer.

  Out with it.

  “No. Go ahead. I’ll go see if Mia wants to get away from O’Brien and dance.”

  Tony stepped away, and Striker took his place before Ella could object or walk away. Cat had insisted Ella would dance with him rather than risk attracting the attention of other guests. In case she was wrong, he moved fast and put his arms around her. Every instinct told him to pull her close. That after so many months apart she was back where she belonged. Instead, he focused on her face and kept an acceptable amount of space between them.

  “Maybe I was enjoying my dance with Tony. Did you even stop to consider that?” she said, her voice cold and unfriendly.

  Striker wondered if she’d walk away even if it meant other people would notice. Her eyes said she was angry enough. Instead, she put her hands on his shoulders and moved with the music again.

  “Striker, you should’ve asked someone else. There are plenty of women here.”

  Not how he hoped their conversation would start, but it beat her telling him to go to hell. Unable to help himself, he stepped closer.

  “You’re the only one he
re I want to dance with.” He moved again, his body wanting nothing more than to touch her. His hand drifted off her waist and settled on her bare shoulder. The feel of her skin against his sent memories crashing down on him, once again reminding him what an ass he’d been in the spring. “You’re mad. I get it. But I only want to talk, Ella.”

  Up until then she’d kept her gaze averted, looking at everything but him. Finally, she met his eyes. Her annoyance reflected back at him. “Striker, we don’t have anything to talk about. Let’s finish this dance and get on with our lives. Okay?”

  Not possible. He couldn’t get on with his life without trying to fix what he’d screwed up. “Ten minutes. Give me that.”

  Ella’s facial expression remained the same. Her eyes, though, told him she planned on saying no. Yesterday, he’d asked Tony to request a long song so he’d have as much time as possible to convince Ella to sit and talk to him. Maybe he should’ve asked Tony to request more than one instead.

  “Please.” He wouldn’t go caveman and toss her over his shoulder, but he’d beg if necessary. “What’s ten minutes? No one will miss us. Then you can come back. If you want, after we talk I’ll leave and you can enjoy the night without me around.” Mack would never notice if he left early.

  “Fine. C’mon.” A person headed for jury duty sounded more enthusiastic than Ella, but he’d gotten what he wanted. “The benches near the gazebo should be empty.”

  She stepped back, turned on her heel and walked away, leaving him standing there alone. A couple dancing nearby glanced toward him, and then said something to each other. Striker didn’t care what anyone thought. She’d given him ten minutes. He’d consider it a successful field goal attempt for the moment. Too bad he needed a touchdown.

  Couples picked Turin for their wedding receptions not only because of their food and beautiful reception room but also because of the grounds around the restaurant. A short walk from the front entrance, the owners had laid out a picturesque garden. A large white gazebo sat in the center. A small man-made pond with a bridge over it was nestled in among the various annuals and perennials. Several benches completed the area that many couples used for their wedding photos.

  Catching up with Ella, he walked alongside her and wisely kept his trap shut and hands in his pockets. Once outside, he let her pick a bench. Personally, he’d like one of the more private benches on the other side of the gazebo. Ella went for the closest one instead and sat down. First, she crossed her arms. Then she dropped them and clasped her hands in her lap instead.

  “Okay. We’re here. I’m listening. So talk.”

  Striker loosened the knot of his tie, the thing suddenly choking him. “I’m sorry, Ella.” He got the sentence out despite his tongue’s reluctance to cooperate. “I screwed up. I shouldn’t have left you. Realized it months ago.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment and swallowed. When she kept silent, he continued. “Can you —”

  “Funny. You kept busy dating. I heard you started right after I left. With so many women around, I’m surprised you noticed I was even gone.”

  Striker nodded. He wouldn’t lie. “Dated some after you left. Haven’t been with anyone in months. Last date I went on was in early June.”

  “Whatever,” she said with a shrug. “It doesn’t matter, Striker. I went out and slept with guys this summer, too.”

  His chest burned at her statement. He’d stupidly convinced himself she’d remained alone since leaving. If she’d had sex with ten different guys while in Europe, it was his own damn fault.

  “I’ve thought of you every day.” Even when he’d gone out with other women, she’d been there in his head. He’d compared each date to her, and each one had fallen short. “I fucked up in April. Can you give me another chance?”

  Ella shook her head, and cold fingers closed around his neck.

  “It won’t happen again, Ella.”

  “Nothing’s changed. I’m still me. Obviously, you found something you didn’t like about me back then,” she said, her voice monotone. “There’s no point in getting back together when it’ll end the same way. I listened… now, can we go back inside?”

  “You weren’t the problem.” He’d kept his hands on his lap since sitting down. But with his ten minutes rushing by, he took her hand. “Let me—”

  “Then what was the problem?” Sarcasm dripped from every word, but he caught the pain as well as the hint of curiosity, too. All three were better than the emotionless voice from a moment ago. “You couldn’t manage going a few months without sex while I was away?”

  He deserved her reaction even if he didn’t like it. “I’m a first-class dumbass. Ask Catrina. She’ll confirm for you.”

  Ella’s lips twitched, but before a smile broke out she pressed them together and slipped her hand free from his. “I already know you’re a dumbass. Tell me something new, Striker. Like the truth. Can you do that? If not, let’s go back inside.”

  The truth. Yeah, she deserved it. “I got scared. You know I never did serious before. Then you came along.” Unable to maintain eye contact, he glanced away and cleared his throat. “I started seeing white fences, minivans, and kids running around. Things I never considered. Responsibilities I didn’t want.” Admitting the truth made him feel more like a jerk than he already did. Something he’d figured impossible.

  “And you’re not scared anymore?” She made quotation marks with her fingers when she said the word ‘scared.’

  “No.” He reached for both her hands this time. “I love you. Give me a second chance and I’ll prove it to you.”

  Months ago, the three words would’ve sent her to the moon. Even now, they caused her heart to skip a beat or two. Believing them, though? A different matter entirely. “Some people are better off as friends. We might be two of ’em.”

  Not that they’d really been friends before… more like acquaintances. But as long as they both remained in town they’d bump into each other, so a friendship of some sort would make her life easier.

  “Let’s go back inside.” She waited for him to release her hands. Instead, he slid closer to her on the bench. Her body picked up on the proximity and urged her to lean into him just one more time while she could.

  “Not us, Ella. We belong together. You know it, too.”

  “Don’t tell me what I know.” She glared at him. “Back in March, I would’ve agreed. Not anymore. Who says you won’t get freaked out again and then au revoir. You’re gone again.” She recognized it as childish and petty, but she wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt her. “And maybe I don’t care about you anymore. Did you ever consider that?”

  “You wouldn’t still be sitting here if you didn’t care.”

  “Maybe I’m being nice.” Merde, of course he knew she cared.

  The jerk shook his head but didn’t call her out. Instead, he touched her cheek. “Please, Ella. Give me a month to prove I love you. When the month’s up, you can walk away if you want.” He rubbed her cheek; the calluses on his palm were rough, and the rest of her body remembered how it felt when he’d touched her.

  “What’s a month?” He leaned close enough for her to see the brown flecks in his light hazel eyes.

  Long enough to break my heart.

  “You won’t regret it. Promise.”

  The sincerity and tenderness in Striker’s voice had her mouth answering before her brain made a decision. “Okay. One month. But that’s it.” Please don’t let me regret this.

  Chapter 5

  Striker added the covered container to the insulated cooler. He’d originally bought it to store cold beers and sodas when he went to cookouts, but his mom had assured him it’d keep food warm as well. He hoped she was right. Cold eggs Benedict wouldn’t impress anyone. As it was, Ella might not appreciate him showing up this morning with breakfast. But she loved breakfast in bed. When they’d dated, he’d served her breakfast in bed whenever she spent the weekend at his place. Since that wasn’t an option, this seemed like the second-b
est thing. At least it had last night. Before yesterday, he’d worried about getting her to talk to him. He hadn’t thought about how he’d win her over after. With only a month, he couldn’t waste any time. Surprising her with some of her favorite breakfast foods wasn’t much, but it was a start.

  In a separate bag, he packed the pineapple he’d hacked to death. It didn’t look pretty, but it was edible. She’d enjoy it, although how he didn’t understand. Even the smell made him gag, which made peeling the fruit and cutting it up so much more difficult.

  Food packed, he crossed his fingers that she hadn’t gone out. Or worse, changed her mind. She hadn’t been enthusiastic about giving him a second chance last night. “Be back soon, Elvis,” he said to his dog before leaving.

  Sticking the flowers he’d picked up under his arm, he rang the doorbell. He’d wanted some asters, Ella’s favorite. On Sundays, Flowers In Time didn’t open, so his only option had been the florist section of the grocery store. He didn’t know exactly what was in the arrangement he’d grabbed, but he knew there weren’t any asters. He hadn’t seen an aster anywhere in the store.

  A lifetime passed before Ella opened the door. He took in her loose gray shorts, oversized tank top with the slogan Dance Till You Drop on the front, and messy hair. Damn it. He’d woken her up. Just what he needed… another penalty against him. Like he didn’t already have enough.

  “What—” A yawn cut off the rest of her sentence. “Sorry. You woke me. What are you doing here?”

  At least she didn’t sound pissed at him. It was an improvement over last night. Striker handed her the flowers and held up the cooler. “I couldn’t do breakfast in bed for you. But I figured this was close.”