In the quick minute it took me to catch up to them, all hell has broken loose. Or it’s on the verge of it, at least, because there’s a snot of a boy standing way too close, almost in Lizzie’s personal space. And she’s a girl who doesn’t have much of one, happily hugging friends. Her school bag is on the ground at her feet and her head is hanging low, giving her a forlorn look.
I can’t hear him, not yet, but the leering look on his face speaks clearly. As do the smarmy looks on his mates.
I run over, damning the traffic as I cross the street and get close. But suddenly, an arm grabs at me, pulling me into a doorway.
“What the hell, Colton? You’re going to ruin it for her! Shh!”
Elle is scolding me, but Lizzie’s being damn-near mauled visually by this creep. She told me there were neighborhood boys giving her a hard time, and I wanted to follow up on it but didn’t have an opportunity yesterday while arguing with our father. I hate that it’s like this, that she’s going through something, but I won’t shy away from the opportunity to fix this for my sister.
“Let me go. I have to help Lizzie. Don’t you see what’s about to happen?”
For a small thing, Elle’s got a death grip on my arm, her nails digging deeply into the flesh there. “Yes, I see. But I don’t think you do. Just watch.”
The boy steps forward even more, one hand coming up to twist a lock of Lizzie’s hair around his finger. I see her eyes glance sideways, toward the guy’s friends, and then to the other side, to Elle and me. With her free hand, the one that’s not holding me back by brute strength, Elle flashes a thumbs-up at Lizzie.
Wait, something’s up, I realize.
Lizzie’s head was down, but there’s a brightness in her eyes. She’s . . . faking?
“Come on, Liz. Just one little smooch. You won’t want no other boy after you’ve had me.” Braggy bastard sounds like believes his own press as his mates agree with a chorus of ‘yeah, Lizzie’ and ‘c’mon, bird.’
“Will, I’ve told you no at least a dozen times and you never seem to listen. You don’t hear me or don’t want to.”
Will? It hits me . . . that douche canoe is Will Blackwire, the gardener’s grandson. Lizzie’s tormentor lives on our own fucking property. I’ll have him thrown out on his arse by nightfall.
“Don’t play hard to get, Lizzie. We’re happening and everyone knows it. That’s why no other boys ask you out. They know that fat gash is mine, and one day, you’ll know it too.”
I hiss in fury and Elle literally growls beside me. “She’s fourteen fucking years old, you creepy pervert. How old is that guy, anyway?”
Somehow, we’re both holding each other back at this point. “He’s got to be sixteen, maybe seventeen by now. What’s happening? Tell me something’s happening or I’m going to go kill him right fuckin’ now.”
“Will, if my fat gash is supposedly yours, does that make your dick and bollocks mine?”
Will’s lewd grin makes him look like he’s glad Lizzie’s finally catching on to his plan. “Of course, anytime you want.” He throws his arm around her shoulders and grabs his crotch lewdly, like he’s ready to go, and he’s standing close enough to Lizzie that his hand has to brush against her belly.
“Then listen up, because I want you to hear this. You demanded a kiss. You ordered me to go on a date. The answer is, the answer always will be . . . NO!”
And with that, Lizzie pulls a knee up quick and fast, slamming into Will’s groin. I hate the fucker, and even I cringe a bit in sympathy as he folds in half and cries out.
Lizzie’s not done. She leans over and grabs his ear like Nan used to do to us. “I’m done being nice. Come near me again and I’ll knee you even harder. I’ll make it so that your wanker won’t even stand at attention first thing in the morning.” Holding Will’s head up, Lizzie waves her pinkie finger around and makes a sad face.
While Will writhes, his legs crossed and his cries turning to whimpers, Lizzie bends down and calmly picks up her school bag. “Anyone else want to ask me out?”
They all shake their heads no pretty quickly, and I’m so fucking proud of my baby sister.
Lizzie turns and struts toward the doorway where Elle and I are waiting. She high-fives Elle, and I can see that whatever just happened solidified something between them. Something really good and full of powerful strength. My badass girl teaching my sister to be just as kickass, literally. “Did you see me, Colton? Did you see me take down Will?” She whispers it, but it’s still loud enough that I can hear the overlay of pride.
“I did, Lizzie. I saw you take him down like a badass. Seems you learned some self-defense skills even without my teaching you how to box.” Lizzie looks at Elle, who’s literally whistling like she had nothing to do with this. I suspect she had everything to do with it. “I guess I have you to thank for this?”
Elle smiles, stopping her tuneless song. “Maybe? Depends on how mad you are.”
“That was bloody brilliant, other than the time warp that made that one quick conversation seem like an eternity to a pissy big brother.”
“In that case, yeah. I told Lizzie to stop being proper and to be right. Even if that meant fucking up his shit. Oops.” She covers her mouth like she’s going to teach Lizzie new curses, but that ship has long since sailed.
“Well then, great job.” I kiss the tip of Elle’s nose and then Lizzie’s forehead. “And great job to you too, Sis.”
Elle leans into me a little as I throw my arm around her shoulder. Similarly to what Will did, but oh, so very, very different because Elle obviously welcomes my touch.
“I hope you feel the same way after I tell you about what happened at tea. I was definitely right, but I was wholly improper. I might have told them we have a healthy sex life and that you like my blow jobs. Though not in quite those words, but close enough.”
“You what?” I say, shocked to the core.
Lizzie laughs. "Serves ’em right.”
I wait a quick moment and Elle explains about tea. My mother . . . I’d expected some sort of awfulness, but not what she put Elle through. Maybe it’s the American rubbing off on me, because while I know I should be horrified at Elle’s crass language at tea, I mostly find it . . . amusing and daring.
Chapter 27
Elle
Two days pass, and Colton and I spend every hour working hard, sprinkling in dares to keep us energized. Though as of yesterday, the dares have morphed into things like ‘I dare you . . . to take a five-minute break’ because we’ve been working nonstop. We did at least kiss like teenagers on a make-out date for the five minutes, but going further had to wait as the timer dinged and we got back to the grind. And not the good kind. Well, work’s good, but not the sexy kind of grinding.
The phone calls to Gary and Debra back home are progressions of Colton’s plans but nothing new. Just bullet points on a list checked off. Necessary but not a huge victory.
We haven’t heard from Edwin or Mary, and Eddie apparently has gone on a bender with Ava, according to Nan and Lizzie, who stopped by for quick spot of tea yesterday. It was a much more pleasant experience than tea with Mary and her cronies. And Lizzie also joyfully reported that Will hasn’t so much as looked her way since she nailed him.
At this point, I’ve been in London for several days and have barely seen beyond the hotel windows. It looks like a beautiful city, and I would love to see more of Colton’s haunts, but with the clock ticking, there’s just no time.
There’s one person in my life who has no concept of time, though, or at least not as it applies to her. She’s all-access, all the time.
Tiffany.
“Oh, my gosh, girl! It is so good to hear your voice!” I scream it, even though she can see me through our laptop screens. The time difference means I’m eating lunch and she’s settling down in my bed. “Show me Sophie so I can talk to her.”
Tiffany raises her brow but does as I say, shoving her screen in front of a sleeping Sophie. “Hey, baby girl. Is Aun
tie Tiffany taking good care of you? I’ll be home soon for snuggles and treats.”
And yes, it’s all in baby talk. There’s no shame between Sophie and me.
Sophie raises her head from her paws and walks over to plop in Tiffany’s lap before lying right back down. “She just turned her back on me! Laid in your lap and gave me her back. Grr, I think you stole my cat, Tiff. Hope she gets along with Kevin because when I get home, she’ll probably want to go with you.”
I’m salty about it. I’ve raised Sophie since she was just a tiny kitten, but the fickle beast is picking her current food-giver over me.
“Sorry!” Tiffany’s apology doesn’t sound sincere at all, and she’s scratching behind Sophie’s ear. Sophie’s tongue lolls out, proving her switcheroo loyalty. In baby talk of her own, she whispers to Sophie, “I’m not sorry at all, Miss Sophie-Tophie-Pants.”
“I can hear you. And what did you call my cat?”
“That’s between me and your pussy. Wait . . . I didn’t mean it like that.” Her brows raise, waiting for me to break, which I do.
I laugh hard, and Tiffany does too. And it feels like there’s no time difference, no mileage difference between us. We’re the same as we always have been.
Except I’m not, and she knows it.
“All right, bitch, tell me all about that BBC. How many times, how many ways, and have you gotten Big Ben tattooed on your ass yet?” Her smirk feels like home.
“No tattoos. Been too busy to get out and find a decent artist.” I’m not getting a tattoo, no way, no how, but if I told her that, it’d be a dare faster than Tiffany could say ‘dare you’. “Colton and I have been working so hard on this deal. There’s a lot of research and paperwork to fill out, and he’s gone to meet with a council member this afternoon to get a feel for the process of rezoning the property.”
Tiffany rolls her hand at the wrist, telling me to get on with it. “That’s not what I’m asking and you damn well know it. Work, work, work, yada, yada, yada. Tell me about you . . . and him . . . personally. Slowly, with lots and lots of details.”
I bite my lip, thinking of the promise I made. I won’t say anything about his secrets, but I can tell the parts of it that aren’t something Colton wants held quiet.
“I met his family. He introduced me as his girlfriend.”
Boom. Mic drop.
“What?” Tiffany screeches so loudly that even Sophie looks pissed, getting up and hopping out of frame.
I nod. “I know. I haven’t said much, but there’s something between us. I mean, other than just sex.”
The admission feels significant. He brought me into his world, and I’m bringing him into mine. Not just for friendly threats and casual sex, but telling Tiffany this is serious is step one in Colton being mine on my side of the globe. And in me being his.
“Are you okay with that? I mean, where’s your head? Where’s your heart? This isn’t just because of the BBC, is it?” Tiffany’s face is close to the camera, searching mine pixel by pixel as if she can read my mind through the screen.
“More than okay. There’s a lot you don’t know about him, a lot I’m still learning too. But this is . . . something. He’s more than just the big, bad Wolfe.”
“And you’re sure this isn’t about the HQ2 thing, about getting one over on Daddy?”
I make a sour face. “Ugh, puh-lease stop with the Daddy shit right now. And no . . . I mean, yeah, I’m sure it’s not about that. We don’t even talk about that, just us and the London proposal.”
Tiffany nibbles her lip. “And after the site is chosen? What if it’s London? What if it’s Tennessee? Then what?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten that far yet. Still flying by the seat of my pants here like usual, you know?”
But she brings up a good point. If we succeed, Colton will be moving to London, and Dad and Tiffany—my family—will be in the States. If Dad succeeds, he’ll be in Tennessee, and Tiffany and Colton will be in California. Or maybe they’ll all scatter—London, Tennessee, and California.
And where will I land?
“I feel like this might be my fault a bit. I told you to be reckless, be bold, and I know that’s like waving a red cape in front of a bull. Toro, Toro.” She flips the blanket around a bit, miming a cape, though she’s no matador. And my blanket’s not even red. It’s yellow. “You’re already halfway to reckless anyway, but this might be a bit much, even for you.”
She might be right. But I can’t think about that right now. One thing at a time, that single touch to the surface of the puddle that is my life, and then I can see where the ripples lead me.
“It’s gonna be fine, Tiff. This isn’t your fault, but that means you also don’t get credit either when it all goes right.”
“The hell I don’t,” she balks. “If this goes to shit, that’s on you. But if you end up becoming Mrs. Elle Wolfe, I want a fucking dedication credit in the wedding program for bringing you two together.”
“You are crazy, girl. I love you.”
“Love you too. Miss you like crazy, though. Too bad Sophie doesn’t.”
I stick my tongue out at her and hang up, laughing but feeling something deep and questioning start to take root. I really do tend to just put one foot in front of the other, trusting that I’ll end up somewhere amazing that’s right where I was meant to be. But this situation calls for a bit more finesse than that and a hell of a lot more planning and direction.
My next call isn’t nearly as easy, and Tiffany’s existential questions about what I’m doing were anything but straightforward.
“Hey, Dad! How’s Memphis?”
“Elle, baby girl! Hell, I’ve been missing you. How are you?” He doesn’t answer my question, but I don’t think he’s avoiding it, rather just doing his dad thing . . . focusing on me.
“I’m good. London is beautiful.” What little I’ve seen, that’s true. “Though Colton and I have been working hard so I haven’t seen much.”
“How is the proposal coming?” Dad’s voice is tight, like he’s fighting the words. But is he trying to hold them back or not wanting to seem too worried about our progress? I’m not sure.
“Dad, I don’t think we should talk about that. You do you, and I’m doing me. I want to make sure that whatever happens, we’re good after this.”
He sighs, looking off screen at something in his hotel room. “I know, baby girl. I’m stuck here because I truly want this for myself, but there’s that dad side of me that wants to see you succeed too. I hate that we can’t have both. I don’t want you speaking out of turn, but this is what we do . . . talk about our days, what’s happening, funny stories. And I know the proposal is what you’re doing.”
He throws his hands in the air like he doesn’t know what to do with them, or me, or this whole mess. “I don’t want to ignore the hard work you’re putting in, but I don’t know how to ask about you without it seeming like I’m hitting you up for insider trading secrets on Wolfe. I just . . . I’m trying, baby girl. And not doing too good of a job of it.”
“Dad . . .” I laugh, so relieved I can feel it down to my toes. And though I’m not usually a crier, there’s a bit of a sting behind my eyes because I can see the honesty in his eyes, even through the screen.
He’s not over it, but he’s making some peace with my working with Colton and being in London. I was right. Standing up to him hurt like hell, but I think it was the only way to get us to a new level.
“Help an old man out. What am I supposed to say here?”
“I think you just said it. We’re fine, Dad. And I am doing well, learning a lot, no matter what happens.”
Dad’s teasing banter is back with the awkwardness dissipating. “Oh, I know what’s happening there. Don’t be disappointed, baby girl, but I’m winning this race. Memphis all the way!”
“Team London, old man!”
It sounds like we’re cheering on our favorite sports team, not cheering for a corporate decision that’s going to determi
ne so much of our lives in the next few years. But I’m glad to have my dad back, for us to be back to some semblance of normalcy.
I realize just how special that is after spending time with Colton’s family. Dad didn’t apologize for going a bit caveman and trying to keep me from going on this trip, but he doesn’t need to. I know where that’s coming from, and it’s a place of love. I can feel his heart, can hear it in his hopes that I somehow succeed even if that’ll kill his own success.
“Hey, Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, baby girl. Did I tell you about the cute little apartment complex I found down the street from the new headquarters? It’ll be perfect for you when we move here.”
I roll my eyes and can’t help but laugh. My dad’s the best, even at his worst.
Chapter 28
Colton
Oliver turns the wheel of the Ghost onto a gravel drive. It’s not smooth and maintained like my parents’ home, and the overall effect is bumpy and rough, especially surrounded by the overgrown trees. Though the green lushness speaks to what it once was, what it could be again . . . if I have my way.
It’s been years since I’ve been here, but pulling up to the main house makes memories assail me.
“Papa, let’s go fishing! Before the rains come and we can’t catch anything.”
“Yes, yes. Come along, Coltie. Grab your fishing rod or you won’t be catching nowt.”
I grab my rod and my tackle box, scrambling around Papa like a gnat as he walks steadfastly toward the manicured trees, unperturbed by my rambunctiousness as he waves to the gardener.
I look to the right, knowing that through that copse of trees is a large pond where my grandfather taught me to fish. Dad hadn’t been quite correct that my grandfather had passed while I was still in nappies. In fact, he’d been off by a few years. Not that he would’ve ever changed a nappy himself, so he wouldn’t know.
But I’d been six when the best man I knew had left us. He taught me not just fishing but hard work. Not only with his mind, when I’d run toy cars along the run in his office, listening in while he made business calls, but with his hands, helping the stable workers care for the horses.
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