by Jami Alden
Looking back, she couldn't help but see how unfair she'd been to Damon. Selfish, just like he'd said. Always wanting everything her way. Taking it for granted that he'd always be there at the ready to get her out of any scrape.
Because that's how it always had been, from that first summer, when she was eleven and he was twelve, and he helped her fix a flat tire on her bike when she'd taken an unauthorized shortcut through the woods.
Then there was the time he helped her pull her mom's car out of a ditch when she'd taken it without permission so she could go to a party two towns over.
In the days before cell phones, Damon seemed to have a sixth sense about when she about to get herself into a scrape. Always he'd appear, like magic.
Her own personal superman.
Eventually he decided it would be better if he just spent nearly every waking hour at her side. Since that was about the time Ellie realized she wanted to slap any girl who so much as looked at Damon, that suited her just fine.
Yet she'd never bothered to ask or think about what he might have wanted. And when he'd finally told her straight out, she'd shut him down. Expected him to come to heel like a little lap dog.
She still couldn't forgive him for just leaving without a word, but for the first time she acknowledged that as much as she wanted to hear him say he was sorry, she needed to do some apologizing of her own.
Yet every time she sat down to try to write him, it was like she was paralyzed. Her fingers frozen over the keyboard, her brain washed completely blank.
So coward that she was, she'd left it like that. Tried to shove it back down into the black hole where she'd managed to keep the rest of the memories.
Once again she let life take over. She graduated from college, got an internship at a fashion magazine, kept her job bar tending at a trendy place down town where the Wall Street suits drank hard and tipped generously.
Eventually one of those suits swept her off her feet and into a life that was as far away from the life she'd once dreamed of as she could possibly get.
At the time, it felt like the best possible decision.
Chapter 4
Now here Ellie was, her life having come full circle. Living in her mother's house, sleeping in her childhood bed.
Mooning over Damon.
No, she wasn't mooning, she corrected herself. Mooning implied something pleasant, warm feelings of anticipation.
Nothing like this acidic, nauseous burning in her gut at the memory of that night.
At the fact that she'd never had the decency to apologize for the things she'd said.
One thing her mother had taught her, and one thing she was trying to instill in Anthony at even his young age, was to have the courage to own up when you've wronged someone or messed up.
Even if it didn't do any good. Hell, she'd spent the last year apologizing to the people Troy had screwed over, privately and to whatever news outlet would broadcast it, and all she'd gotten out of it was her own clean conscience.
Yet she'd treated one of the people she'd loved most in the world horribly and never had the guts to tell him she was sorry.
Damon might not accept it, but Ellie knew she couldn't do anything until she cleared the air, the weight of it like an anvil on her chest.
She was up as soon as the sun came up, surprising Adele in the kitchen where she was brewing a pot of coffee.
"What are you doing up so early?" her mother asked as she poured coffee into a mug and slid it across the counter to her.
"I woke up a while ago and couldn't get back to sleep. I had some things on my mind." Ellie shrugged.
"So that's why you look so haggard."
"I guess," Ellie said with shake of her head. Sometimes she wished her mom would be a little less honest. Harsh words aside, Ellie leaned in eagerly when her mother pulled her close and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
"Whatever it is, I'm sure it will work itself out," she said and gave her a tight squeeze.
Ellie leaned in, breathing in the familiar smells of her mother's face cream and laundry detergent.
"Here," Adele released her and reached for the ceramic cookie jar tucked into the corner. "They're your favorite. Chocolate chip crisp. That'll get your morning on the right track." Ellie smiled faintly. Sometimes she wished she could just be a little girl again, with problems that could be fixed with a snuggle on Mommy's lap and a couple of cookies.
Although, as she bit into the palm size cookie, tasted the slightly salty crunch of the puffed rice bits and the melting sweetness of dark chocolate on her tongue, she did feel just the slightest bit better.
After Adele left for the restaurant Ellie polished off two more cookies with her coffee. Her lips quirked into a mirthless smile as she imagined what all of her no carb no sugar no dairy no deliciousness friends would think of her breakfast. Three full fat cookies and coffee with—gasp—half and half?
Heresy.
She looked at the clock on the microwave, eager to get out and complete her mission before she chickened out. To her dismay, it was only just after seven. No way Anthony would be up for at least another hour.
Brain relatively cobweb free thanks to three cups of coffee—not to mention a massive sugar rush—she decided to take advantage of the quiet by taking a shower.
Afterward, she stared in the mirror and glumly conceded her mother was right. She did look like hell. Not just from last night. The last year had been hell. Her skin was stretched a little too tight across her high cheekbones and her blue eyes looked sunken and framed by dark circles.
She pulled out her makeup bag and went to work, taking extra time with the concealer and highlighter to take the edge off the haggard lines.
Afterward she took extra time to blowout her hair, until it hung in a straight fall down her back. All the while telling herself she wasn't doing it to impress Damon, but so she could feel more confident going into a sticky social situation.
And the reason she paired her sleeveless white top with a bright green mini skirt and wedge sandals that made her legs look a hundred feet long had nothing to do with impressing him either.
Anthony shuffled in as she was getting dressed, his wavy hair standing up on end, his eyes bleary with sleep. "Hey, Mama."
As it did every morning, her heart melted a little as she pulled him close and buried her face against his wild, dark hair and breathed his little boy smell. Felt her throat squeeze as his arms, still soft with baby chubbiness, wrapped tight around her neck.
She carried him down to the kitchen, knowing it wouldn't be long before she was no longer capable of the feat. As it was, by the time she settled him in a chair her arms were shaking.
She tapped her fingers impatiently as Anthony slowly plowed his way through his scrambled eggs.
"Okay, let's get dressed and go to the restaurant." She popped out of her chair as soon as he swallowed the last bite.
Naturally, Anthony protested, resenting the interference with his own agenda which included a morning of watching cartoons, with perhaps a break to play a few rounds of Angry Birds on her phone.
Only the promise of another one of Brady's cheeseburgers when they got there would get him into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.
As they walked to the restaurant, Ellie felt her stomach start to ball up at the prospect of facing Damon and saying what needed to be said.
But when they walked in, she was equal parts relieved and disappointed that Damon wasn't there. "He's usually at the store on Saturdays," Brady said when she asked about him.
"What do you need to talk to Damon about?" Ellie winced at her mother's voice behind her. So much for her plan to fly under the radar and talk to him without her mother asking a bunch of questions. "Nothing important," she said evasively.
To her surprise, her mother didn't probe, but as she looked Ellie up and down the shrewd look on her face meant she knew something was up.
"You go run him down at the store. Anthony can hang out with me," Adele said, smiling d
own at him.
Ellie left a few minutes later, Anthony happily perched on a stool in the kitchen while Brady went to work making the promised cheeseburger.
The walk to the Gas N Go, the convenience store/gas station combo Damon had taken over from Mr. Roberts and his wife was only ten minutes. Still, it was long enough for the wide leather strap across the front of her foot to rub a blister on the arch of her foot and for her to regret her choice in footwear.
A blast of chilly air hit her when she pushed open the door. Though it boasted new floors and new paint, the Gas N Go didn't look much different than the days the Roberts had run it. However, she noticed as she looked around for Damon, the cans on the shelves weren't coated with a layer of dust and she was pretty sure that was a high-end espresso machine behind the counter. Sure enough, when she looked up, there was a board over the checkout counter advertising a variety of fancy caffeinated beverages.
She waited while the plump blonde girl behind the counter helped the two men dressed in Carharts and work boots.
"How may I help you?" The girl said with a smile.
"I was hoping to talk to Damon Decker.”
The smile vanished as the girl rolled her eyes. "You and every other woman with a pulse in Sweetgrass County," she said, her exasperation obvious.
Ellie told herself the prickling sensation across her shoulders had nothing to do with the thought of Damon being pursued by women for miles around. It made perfect sense. The area wasn't exactly crawling with eligible bachelors. Not only was Big Timber tiny, the population of all of Sweetgrass County was less than five thousand.
Combine that with Damon's amazing looks and undeniable financial success? He was all but irresistible.
To everyone except herself, of course. "I work with Damon, over at Sweetgrass Cafe," Ellie said, forcing a friendly tone as she held out her hand. "I'm Ellie Tanner," she clarified.
The girl's wide blue eyes widened further and she took in a sharp breath before giving Ellie a thorough once over. "Oh, so you're the one everyone's been talking about!"
Ellie pulled back her hand and bit back the urge to ask exactly what everyone was saying about her. "Can you just tell him I'm here to see him, please? It's important."
"He's not in yet," the girl said, still staring in a way that made Ellie feel like she was a bug under a microscope. "Is it really true your husband left you flat broke and gave everything to his girlfriend?"
Ellie gave a sharp nod.
"That really sucks," the girl breathed.
"It really does. Now do you happen to know where I might find Damon at nine a.m. on a Wednesday morning?"
"He's usually in by now," the girl said with a shrug, turning her back to Ellie and busying herself straightening the coffee cups set up next to the espresso machine. "Suppose you could try his house."
Ellie left, the piece of paper where the girl had scribbled his address crumpled in her hand. The address was one she recognized, about a half mile away over off Big Timber Loop.
She was tempted to bail on her mission. Two strikes and she was out, and right now the idea of walking another ten feet in these damn shoes, much less a mile, made her want to cut her feet off at the ankle.
That's right, go ahead and chicken out again, a snide little voice whispered in her head as she started a painful shuffle back to the restaurant.
You've already gone thirteen years letting the last memory he has of you be that of you throwing his ring back in his face, screaming you were over. What's another day?
Right. It wouldn't make that much of a difference. But as she took another step in the opposite direction her stomach knotted with guilt. She didn't like this feeling, the heavy weight of knowing how badly she'd wronged him on her shoulders.
She straightened up, and wincing with every step, went back in the convenience store and bought the biggest box of band aids she could.
Once she'd bandaged herself up as best she could, she headed down Boulder Street, hoping her feet wouldn't be total hamburger by the time she got to Damon's.
Already uneasy, when she turned down the driveway that led to his place the feeling increased tenfold. It was weird, the idea of going into Damon's home where he lived as an adult when she'd only ever known him to live with his parents. Back then, she'd spent so much time over there she'd memorized every picture on the wall, the placement of every trophy on the bookshelf in the bedroom he'd shared with his older brother Dan—who everyone called Deck—and his younger brother Dylan.
Now she knew nothing of his life, the home he'd created on his own.
She walked up to the house, her throat inexplicably tight as she wondered what she might find inside.
You're assuming he'll even let you through the door.
She pushed the snide little voice aside and grasped the handle of the brass knocker that adorned the heavy wooden door. A few seconds later she heard his deep voice call out, accompanied by heavy footsteps approaching the door.
The door flew open, and any doubts and unease were swept away. Her mind went completely blank as she came face to face with Damon's bare, sweaty chest.
It was like her brain short circuited at the sight of all that tan skin rippling over mountains of muscle. He'd been built in high school, but nothing like this. Always lanky because of his height, he'd more than grown into his six foot four frame.
His shoulders were a mile wide, the muscles on the side bulging like two halves of a bowling ball. His pecs were impressive under the v-shaped dusting of dark hair, thicker than it had been the last time she'd seen him like this. The V tapered into a fine line that bisected his abs and disappeared beneath the waistband of his gym shorts. She couldn't tear her eyes away, her fingers itching with the memory of how that fine, soft line of hair had felt against her stroking fingers, how the smooth, salty skin and ridges of muscle had tasted and felt as she ran her lips and tongue down, down, down.
"Ellie, is there something you want?"
His harsh tone jolted her out of her reverie. Her gaze jerked to his face, her own cheeks flaming. No way he didn't notice the way she'd been stupefied at the sight of his bare chest.
But if he was embarrassed or uncomfortable, it didn't show in his guarded stare. "You caught me just back from a run," he said, moving aside so she could step through the door. "There's coffee in the kitchen if you want to wait there while I shower off."
She nodded mutely and went in the direction he indicated while his heavy footfalls retreated up the stairs that led up from the left of the entry way.
As she walked through the entryway and into the main sitting room, the details of the house penetrated her daze. Modestly sized, it was decorated simply and tastefully with heavy wood frame furniture that complimented the open layout and wooden beams lining the high ceilings.
But it surprised her that he'd bought a house in a more dense neighborhood, similar to the street his parents lived on. He'd always complained about feeling crowded, talked about how when he had a house of his own he wanted a place with acreage and a view.
A place like the old abandoned girls’ school, she thought wistfully.
Apparently when he returned to Big Timber, he'd decided he wanted something different.
For some reason that thought pinched at her chest. She shoved it away and made her way to the kitchen, noting that it looked to be recently upgraded with stainless steel appliances and granite counter tops.
She bypassed the coffee and opted for ice water instead. Lord knew she didn't need anything else heating her up.
Even the ice water couldn’t help much, not with the sound of water rushing through the pipes conjuring up images of Damon, naked in the shower. Hot water sluicing over all that smooth, tawny skin, the thought of his big, soapy hands running over his body making her own tingle with the need to touch, to stroke.
God, what was wrong with her? After feeling like she was dead below the waist for the past year, suddenly it was like her libido was going into overdrive.
It doesn't mean anything, she told herself. She knew when she moved back here that if and when she saw him, it was likely to bring up a whole host of emotions and memories.
And since some of those emotions and memories involved sex, it stood to reason that she might find herself thinking about how Damon's hands had felt on her skin, sliding up her shirt, hooking under the waistband of her panties to tug them down her thighs.
To think about how he'd react if she stripped naked and climbed in the shower with him. How he'd grab her and pin her up against the wall with that big, hard, body that was so much stronger even than she remembered—
No! She gave herself a mental slap and took several deep swallows of ice water. You are not to go there. Remembering what happened with Damon was a bad enough idea as it was.
But fantasizing about the man he was today? Out of the question. She was here today to try to put the past behind her, not let it muck up whatever working relationship they needed to have if she was going to be able to pull of this party.
Once she cleared the air, that was it. From that moment on they would move forward as if nothing had ever happened between them.
###
Damon killed the water and reached for a towel, cursing as he tried to will the image of Ellie's face out of his mind. But the look of her, the full soft lips slightly parted as if in awe, the unmistakable hunger in her blue eyes as she took in his half naked state.
A trickle of icy water ran down his back and he winced, but even the cold shower wasn't enough to fully extinguish the hard on that had sprung up in his shorts at Ellie's unmistakably lustful gaze. Thank God he'd had on a pair of tight undershorts he wore to keep his junk from flying around when he ran. Otherwise he would have had a freaking circus tent at the front of his baggy gym shorts.
He got dressed, his breath hissing through his teeth as he tucked himself carefully into his jeans, wondering if he could get his dick to go down before he confronted the woman waiting in his kitchen.
He so did not need this, this morning of all mornings. Not after he'd stayed up way too late watching mindless TV and nursing one—or three—too many glasses of bourbon after he'd finally finished the demo on the fireplace tile.
