Fingers tapped her on the back as she accepted the warm mini donuts from Mrs. Mitchell. “Did I see you and Striker walking together? When did that happen?” Kelsey asked before Ella turned around.
After speaking to Striker outside on Saturday, she’d returned to the table only to find Kelsey still dancing. Since Kelsey hadn’t seen her and Striker leave together, she hadn’t mentioned their conversation or the promise she’d given him. At the block party surrounded by people wasn’t where she’d pick to tell her friend, but she couldn’t blow off Kelsey either.
“We came together,” Ella said, paying for her donuts and two bottles of water.
Kelsey didn’t comment as she bought an oversized cupcake and soda. The silence wouldn’t last. Kelsey and Cat were her two closest friends. None of them were in the habit of keeping secrets from each other, and they’d always been comfortable asking each other anything. The only time she could remember any of them keeping a secret from each other had been when Cat first started seeing Tony. Even then, Cat had done it more because she didn’t want her brother to find out than because she didn’t want her own friends knowing.
“When did you guys get back together?” Kelsey asked, confirming Ella’s belief she’d ask for more details.
Ella walked away from the bakery table and Kelsey followed. She didn’t need Mrs. Mitchell and her friends from the gardening club hearing their conversation. “We’re not back together.” She didn’t know what they were exactly. She bit into the powdered donut while she waited for Kelsey’s next question.
“Then you came as friends?” Kelsey’s voice went up an octave or two. “Again, when did that happen? A few months ago, you were calling him every negative adjective ever invented to describe a guy. I think ‘asshat’ was your favorite, by the way. Now you’re hanging out with him?”
She remembered fine without Kelsey’s help. “Yesterday we talked, and he asked for a second chance.”
Kelsey grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop. “You just said you’re not back together. Stop talking in circles; you’re giving me a headache.”
“He asked and at first I said no. But he sounded, I don’t know… sincere maybe. When he asked me to give him thirty days to prove he loves me, I said okay.”
“He finally told you he loves you? Took him long enough.” Kelsey had insisted more than once that Striker loved her. Of course, that had been before he broke up with her. Afterward, she had wisely kept her opinion to herself. “I’m happy for you.” They started walking again. “I wonder what he has planned.”
She’d refused to think about the possibilities. “Beats….” The words died and her mouth dropped open. “Who is that?” Several feet away she watched an attractive blonde sit down next to Striker.
“She works—”
“One fine piece of ass,” Brandon Michaels said, stopping right behind them.
Already she smelled beer on his breath and it was still early. The guy had a real problem. She hoped one of these days he got some help.
“Course, the same can be said about you two fine babes. How ’bout we ditch this and go back to my place? We’re all single. Let’s have some fun together.” He slung one arm over her shoulder and the other over Kelsey’s. Immediately, her muscles tensed. She considered a sober Brandon barely tolerable, but when he started drinking, she lost her patience with the guy. A lot of people in town felt the same way. Unfortunately, Brandon didn’t appear to have any plans to move.
Ella moved forward and his arm fell away. “No thanks. C’mon, Kelsey.” She didn’t wait for a response. Instead she grabbed Kelsey’s wrist and started walking, leaving Brandon alone.
Kelsey waited until they got out of hearing before she spoke up. “He’s more disgusting now than ever. Someday he’s going to hit on the wrong woman, and he’s going to get it.”
Ella agreed 100 percent. It had almost happened the summer before when he hit on Mia Troy. Thankfully, Sean O’Brien had been with her rather than some hothead who didn’t think twice before throwing a punch.
“Anyway, the woman sitting with Striker is Cora. She’s a bartender in the pub at Masterson’s. She only started there in May, I think. I’ve seen her there a few times, but don’t know too much about her.”
“She seems to know Striker.”
“They could be talking about anything,” Kelsey said, her voice unusually optimistic.
“I know that,” Ella snapped before she could stop herself. “Sorry. You’re right. And he can be friends with anyone he wants. Heck, I can be BFFs with Brandon if I want.”
“Maybe in an alternate universe.”
“Okay, bad choice. But you know what I mean,” Ella replied.
Almost to the table, Kelsey leaned closer before she spoke again, her voice much lower. “He said he loves you. I believe him. I think you should, too. Give him a chance.”
Ella nodded and pasted something resembling a smile on her face. When she and Kelsey sat down across from him, Striker looked away from the pretty blonde. “Here’s your drink.” She slid a bottle toward him and waited.
“Thanks.” Striker looked from her to Kelsey and then Cora, his discomfort obvious. “Cora, this is my….” He paused, and Ella guessed he was trying to decide how to label her. Girlfriend didn’t work, but neither did friend. “This is Ella, and I think you know Kelsey from the restaurant.”
Cora gave her and Kelsey a friendly smile. She didn’t appear fazed that Ella and Kelsey had joined them. “Striker seems to know everyone around here.” She touched his arm, the small gesture making Ella want to walk away from the table and all the way home.
“Happens when you spend your whole life in the same town.” Her voice came out perhaps not friendly, but at least courteous. She wasn’t in the habit of being rude to people.
“Don’t blame you guys for staying. I love it here. Before the party started, my roommate and I were looking at an apartment in town over on Range Hill. It’s much nicer than my apartment now, and the bedrooms are twice as big. My room now barely fits my bed. Right, Striker?”
Ella’s breath burned in her throat as jealousy singed the corners of her control. Images of Striker making love to Cora in some tiny bedroom formed. Rather than say something she’d later regret, she bit the inside of her mouth.
“It’s quiet on that street,” Kelsey said when no one else spoke up.
“Holly and I have got one more place to look at over on Pleasant Street, but I think we’re leaning toward the one we saw tonight.” Cora eyed the cupcake in front of Kelsey. “That looks amazing. I think I’ll go get one.” Standing, she spoke first to Ella and Kelsey. “It was nice meeting you. Kelsey, see you at work.” Then she turned her attention to Striker. “Give me a call soon.” She squeezed Striker’s bicep, and Ella prepared to walk away as soon as Cora left. Kelsey would understand, and she didn’t care what Striker thought.
Striker remained silent, his untouched burger growing cold in front of him.
“I need to go, too. I’ll talk to you guys later.” Kelsey stood, but before she walked away she said, “Ella, call me tomorrow if you get a chance. I want to hear more about Paris.”
Ella heard the unspoken message. Kelsey would be around if Ella needed to talk.
She waited until Kelsey was gone before she spoke again. “Coming here tonight with you was a bad idea. If you want to stay, I can ask someone for a ride home. Or walk.” Irrational anger laced her words. Who he’d spent his time with while she was gone shouldn’t matter. Yet the thought of him with Cora or God knew who else cut into her soul.
“C’mon, Ella. A few minutes ago we were having fun.”
“Go have fun with Cora. She’s obviously interested.” Let him know how jealous you are. Perfect way to show him you don’t care.
Striker pushed his burger away. Ella was right about one thing: Coming to the block party had been a bad idea. And Cora’s timing tonight couldn’t have been any worse. He should’ve taken Ella somewhere more private and away from North Salem.
“Maybe she is, but I’m not.” He reached for her hands, but she pulled them further away. He’d made progress this morning. He knew he had. Yet now it looked like he was back to where he’d been before Mack and Jessie’s wedding.
“Since you know the size of her bedroom, you were interested.”
“Yeah, okay. I had sex with her. It didn’t mean anything. And it was months ago.” Again, he tried to take her hand, and this time managed to wrap his fingers around hers before she got away. “I love you, Ella. I want to be with you, not Cora or anyone else.”
“How many others were you with while I was gone?” She clenched her jaw so tight her lips barely moved when she spoke.
“Ella, it doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me, Striker. How many?”
His shoulders fell. Ella wouldn’t let this go until he answered. “Three.” It was mostly the truth. He’d had sex with three women, but he’d gone out with six.
“You really didn’t waste any time.” Ella pulled away and crossed her arms. “I should’ve known.”
“And what about you? You had sex in Paris and I’m not saying anything.” He’d envisioned her with some suave French dude more times than he’d ever admit, each time reminding himself it was his own damn fault. He’d ended their relationship, giving her the green light to date others.
“I lied. Happy? I haven’t slept with anyone since you.” She looked ready to say something else but shouting stopped her.
Striker saw Dan Law, a high school senior on the football team, standing with his arm around a girl he didn’t recognize while another guy about Dan’s age but much skinnier, wearing a Boston High School basketball T-shirt, shouted.
“I told ya, she belongs to me,” the unknown male shouted, getting up in Dan’s face.
He’d known Dan since the teen’s freshman year. He was a good kid who kept out of trouble. But he also knew how to defend himself thanks to years of martial arts lessons. So, if the kid in the Boston T-shirt wanted a fight, Dan would give him one.
“I’ll be back,” Striker said. If he could deescalate the situation before it got any worse, maybe he could keep Dan out of trouble.
Before Striker reached the trio, the kid slugged Dan. The football player didn’t hesitate to return the favor, landing one in the other guy’s face. Getting between the two, Striker planted a hand on each of their chests and pushed them apart. “Enough,” he said, his attention centered on Dan rather than the other kid. Of the two, Dan appeared more in control of his temper.
“Chris, no!” the girl with Dan shouted before Striker got another word out.
Pain radiated across his forearm. Jerking his head to the right, he watched bright red blood stream across his skin. Momentarily shocked by the sight, Striker dropped his hand and the teenager lunged toward Dan again. He wasn’t fast enough.
Even with the blood flowing down his arm, Striker managed to grab the teenager and pin his arms against his sides before he sank the knife into Dan or anyone else.
Mack’s friend, Dakota Smith, reached them before anyone else. Without hesitating, the FBI agent handcuffed the teenager and kept watch over him until the police arrived. The paramedics arrived seconds after the police, quickly followed by Dan’s parents. They’d been at the party but were unaware of the situation until they heard the police sirens.
Christ, what a night. First Cora and now this. Striker closed his eyes and leaned his head against the tree behind him as Vince took care of his arm. Around him the crowd grew as people wanted to know what was going on, but so far he’d seen no sign of Ella. Had she split on him? Considering how the night was going so far, it wouldn’t surprise him if she had.
Someone bumped against his thigh, and a soft hand touched his neck. “Are you okay?” Ella asked, her voice shaky, a much better alternative to her tone earlier.
Striker opened his eyes only to find Ella’s face mere inches from his. Tears filled her eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her close and make them disappear. With Vince still working on his arm, he could only take her hand. “Just a scratch.”
“More than a scratch. This needs stitches,” Vince said as he finished securing the dressing in place.
He’d not included a trip to the ER as part of his plans. But then, nothing else had gone the way he wanted tonight either.
“Can you walk or should we get you the stretcher?” Steve, the other paramedic, asked, his smile telling Striker the guy was joking around.
“I’d rather you just carried me, Steve.”
“In your dreams, dude,” Steve said. “Let’s go.”
“I’ll get myself there.” He’d prefer to skip a ride in the ambulance tonight.
Ella squeezed his hand and looked at Steve. “No, he won’t. I’ll take him to the emergency room.”
Striker signed the necessary paperwork and spoke with the police before they left. They only got stopped once as they crossed the common on the way to his truck in the church parking lot. When they first arrived the lot had been half full; now there weren’t many empty spots left. Although a few people got into their cars as Ella started up his truck, it didn’t look like the brief fight had sent many away.
When they’d dated, Ella had driven his truck several times, so as she headed out of town, he didn’t worry about whether she could handle it. Changing the position of the passenger seat, he tried to ignore the throbbing in his right arm. When it first happened, he’d barely noticed the pain thanks to adrenaline. Now he definitely felt it.
They passed the sign telling people they were leaving North Salem and about to enter Salem. Tired of watching the houses pass by, he looked at Ella. She’d remained silent since telling the paramedics she’d take him to the hospital.
“Next time I promise you a better night,” he said.
She kept her eyes focused on the road. “This wasn’t your fault. You were trying to help that kid.” She paused and cleared her throat. “And I’m sorry. I kind of overreacted, you know, with Cora. Who you’ve been with lately is none of my business. We weren’t together, so you had the right to see anyone you wanted.”
“I told you, I fucked up when I left you. And I swear I haven’t been out with anyone since June. That includes Cora.” Whether a good idea or not, he put his hand on her thigh. “And I don’t want anyone else.”
Chapter 6
Ella reread the syllabus she’d put together for her new Spanish course. Satisfied with the final version, she saved the document and hit Print so she could take it to the department office and make copies for her students. Most professors asked the department secretary to do those things, but she preferred to handle it herself rather than wait. Besides, she had time to kill before she met with Maryann, the current director at Prism.
Syllabus in hand, she took the final sip of her iced coffee, although now it was more watered-down coffee than iced coffee. She’d picked up the extra-large drink on her way in and it’d taken her this long to finish it.
“I was about to call you,” Abigail said when Ella walked into the Foreign Language department office. “Someone delivered this for you while I was at lunch.”
Around the same age, they’d both started working at the university within a month of each other. Despite their closeness in age, they’d never developed a friendship outside of work. They did at least have a good working relationship, which was more than Ella could say about some of the other professors in the department and Abigail.
“Thanks.” Suspecting she knew who the teddy bear holding the pretty flowers was from, she checked her office mailbox and then popped the syllabus into the copy machine. As the machine spit out copies, she plucked the card off the bear and read it.
Wanted you to know I’m thinking of you. Looking forward to the weekend. Love, Striker.
After leaving the emergency room Sunday night he’d dropped her off, giving her nothing more than a whisper of a kiss and a promise to call the next day. Since then they’d spoken each night, but she ha
dn’t seen him. During their conversation the previous night, he’d asked her to keep this weekend free because he had something special planned. He’d refused to give up any other details, but if he called tonight she planned on trying to get it out of him again. No matter what the plans, though, she hoped it turned out better than Sunday. Then again, could a date (she didn’t know what else to call it) get much worse?
While it’d started out okay, the night had deteriorated almost right away with Cora and then the fight. For a moment, her stomach got queasy as the memory of the blood on Striker’s arm came forward. God, she hated the sight of blood. Even as a kid, when either she or someone else scraped a knee or elbow it made her sick. Once she’d taken a bad spill off her bike and cut up both her hands and knees. It been such a bad scrape she still had a scar on her right knee. After seeing the blood drip down her legs, she’d thrown up before she even managed to get off the ground.
Sunday, she’d somehow managed to keep her food down while the paramedic treated Striker, but she didn’t know how. When they got to the hospital, she’d sat with him until someone came to stitch him up, and then she’d stepped outside the room. But even being outside, her stomach had rebelled as she kept picturing the scene on the other side of the curtain. She had no idea how people in the medical field, like Striker’s mom, who was a nurse, handled it every day.
“Whoever sent them must care a lot. My husband doesn’t send me flowers anymore. When we met he did, but he stopped after we got married,” Abigail said, frustration punctuating each word.
Ella assumed this was the woman’s way of asking who the present was from. “It’s complicated.”
In His Kiss (Love On The North Shore Book 4) Page 7
