by Jami Alden
Only because he'd had a tough time winding down. Not because he was afraid of what memories might invade when he finally closed his eyes.
But damned if he didn't feel that punched in the gut feeling when he walked into the kitchen and her nervous blue gaze met his. "Your house is really nice," she said, strain in her voice unmistakable. "Aside from the demolition," she continued with a small smile.
"I want to put in an indoor outdoor fireplace and open the room up." he said curtly.
"You've done a really nice job with the rest of it."
He forced himself not to fixate on the sight of her slim fingers wrapped around her glass. On the way her wrists were so narrow they bordered on fragile, like the rest of her.
"I assume you didn't come over here to admire my taste in decor," he said curtly as he crossed to the coffee pot. Still, he couldn't escape the burst of pride at her praise. See, an immature voice wanted to shout. See what I was capable of? See the kind of life I could have given you?
Whatever, man. Two thousand square feet in small town Montana was peanuts—no, make that peanut crumbs—compared to a penthouse in Manhattan. And that was before you threw in the house in the Hamptons, the private jets, the designer clothes and shoes.
You could multiply your income by ten and it wouldn't even come close to the kind of life Ellie had chosen over the life she'd claimed to want with you.
"I've got a lot on my plate today and I'm already running late. So..."
She shifted on the barstool where she'd perched and ran a hand nervously over her brown hair. It was pin straight, not a strand out of place he noted with distaste. New York hair. Nothing like the thick, rippling waves he'd once tangled his fingers in.
Now the rest of her outfit he could get behind, he thought as his gaze ran down over her white shirt that left her slim arms bare. Not too tight, but enough to show off the modest swell of her breasts—more modest now with her weight loss.
Ah, but he'd never cared about anything in the way of volume with Ellie. Not when she'd been so sensitive that he could get her off just by sucking them into his mouth while she rocked against his lap.
He jerked his gaze away before his thoughts wandered too far out of control. Only to find himself staring at her legs, which, though she wasn't particularly tall, looked long and lean as ever in proportion to her body.
Maybe a little too lean, he thought, his mouth tightening, an unwelcome twist of sympathy in his chest as he thought of everything she'd gone through in the last year.
She'd made those choices, he reminded himself. Chosen that life, chosen that fucking guy, for Christ's sake. Her suffering was no longer his business, her problems no longer his to fix.
"Right," she said with a tight smile.
"I came here because…" She paused and swept her tongue nervously across her lips.
He braced himself against the onslaught of images that small gesture evoked. Memories of that soft mouth parting under his, running down his throat, his chest, his stomach.
His cock strained against his zipper at the memory of her lips closing over the thick head...
"I came here because I owe you an apology."
Ah, fuck, he so did not want to go here. "For what?" he replied, opting for the play dumb strategy.
She gave him a look, cocked eyebrow, chin tilted down, that was so familiar it made his chest tight. A look she'd given him a thousand times in the past, a look that said she could read him like a book and wasn't swallowing any line he was handing out.
"That night, the night you asked me—"
"You don't need to apologize for that," he said, as though if he kept her from saying the words out loud he could keep from remembering that humiliating, heartbreaking night when he'd stupidly asked her to marry him.
"Of course I do," she said, sliding off the stool and taking a couple steps toward him. "I said horrible things to you, things I didn't mean."
Like what, a stupid, pitiful voice inside him cried out. He ruthlessly choked it into silence. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Not what happened then, not her apology now.
Yet there was a strange feeling erupting inside of him. Like an earthquake happening inside his body, shaking him to the core, threatening to break him apart.
Lucky for him he'd spent the past thirteen years cultivating the kind of reinforcements that left him immune to any kind of emotional disaster.
"It was a long time ago."
"I know, but you were the most important person in my life, and I was completely unfair to you. Selfish, just like you said. I loved you, and even if I had a right to be angry, I shouldn't have treated you that way."
There was a hairline crack spidering its way down his soul, threatening to let everything come bubbling back up. He gave her a curt nod. "Apology accepted." He had to stop this conversation, stat.
She looked up at him expectantly. "Don't you have something to say to me?"
"Like what?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Like, maybe you're sorry for making a huge, life changing decision and expecting me to just be fine with it?"
I expected you to love me enough to forgive me and move past it. He stifled the pitiful little voice and swallowed hard. "You're right, I could have handled it better. Both the way I went about it, and the way I left." He'd lit out without so much as a word to her, an act of spite and self preservation that he'd known was wrong the second his dad dropped him off at the bus station in Billings. "So I'm sorry for that."
"We both could have handled it better," she said with a quivery little smile that made him want to pull her into his arms and kiss her until they forgot what they had to be sorry about.
He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her. He couldn't do this. He couldn't start down this road. "Yeah, just goes to show we were a couple of dumb kids who had no business planning on a future together. Looking back, we saved each other from making a huge mistake." The lie tasted bitter on his tongue.
She swallowed hard and he hardened himself against the hurt that flashed in her eyes.
"And you got yourself your fancy life in New York."
She folded her arms around her waist. "That was never the kind of life I aspired too," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Could have fooled me, the way you lit out of town the second your diploma hit your hand. He didn't bother saying it out loud. "I guess that's a good thing," he said, "considering it didn't last."
Surprise, then hurt flashed across her face. "Harsh," she whispered softly.
"That was a low blow," he said, scrubbing his hand through his hair. "Look, it was a long time ago..." So why does remembering that night still make you feel like someone's stabbing a hot poker into your chest?
She nodded. "I just thought, we're going to be seeing each other a lot. It was important to clear the air."
"Consider it cleared."
She came closer and held out her hand. "So we're good."
"We're good." He reached his hand toward hers, hesitating a split second as a thousand warning bells screamed in his brain. Fuck that. He was no longer a horny teenager locked in the first throes of love—more likely lust. He was a grown man who had learned to control his body and his emotions. Nothing got past his guard.
He could certainly handle a simple handshake with a girl he'd fucked a hundred years ago.
He closed the distance between them, pressed his palm tightly against hers and wrapped her fingers in a firm grip. It was like wrapping his hand around a live wire. But instead of a painful jolt of electricity, he felt a burst of white hot heat, shimmering from his hand, up his arm, sizzling out until his head was filled with a bright white light and every cell was lit up from the inside.
Like he'd been running at half speed for so long he'd forgotten what if felt like to be really awake.
Really alive.
He pulled his hand from hers, tried to shake it off, praying she was clueless to the fact that a simple touch of her hand had shaken him to hi
s very core.
"Okay then, I'll see you soon," she said, sounding a little breathless. Was she a little wobbly on those ridiculous thick-soled shoes as she walked to the door? She winced a little on that last step and he caught sight of the edge of a band aid poking out from the thick leather strap. She must have blister from walking here. It was on the tip of his tongue to offer her a ride back to the restaurant.
He clamped his lips shut against it. Sure, back in the day, he would have carried her on his own back if it meant saving her from the slightest discomfort. That wasn't who he was any more. Now he looked after himself and the people who deserved his concern.
This was good. Letting her suffer a little just illustrated how far he'd come from that night when her rejection had left him feeling like a nuclear bomb had gone off inside of his chest.
But as he watched her step falter as she got to the end of the walkway, he didn't feel vindicated. He just felt petty and mean. Cursing under his breath, he scooped up the keys to his truck and trotted after her.
"Let me give you a ride," he said. She turned at the sound of his voice, the look of relief on her face so great it was like he was saving her from a walk across the country, not just into town.
"Thank you," she said as she climbed eagerly into the cab. "I've worn these shoes before with no trouble. Somehow it never occurred to me that walking more than a few blocks in them would turn my feet to hamburger."
He didn't say anything in reply, focused on getting her back to the restaurant as quickly as possible. Fortunately she took the hint and kept quiet for the short ride.
It was the longest five minutes of his life, spent alternately trying not to stare at her smooth, tan legs, and convince himself that this small act of kindness didn't mean he was falling under her spell again. It was what he, as a decent person, would do for anyone. Nothing more, nothing less.
But when he pulled up to the restaurant, Ellie paused before she got out. She turned to him with a smile that didn't quite chase away the shadows in her eyes, and damned if he didn't feel a tugging sensation in his chest.
"Thanks for the ride."
"It's nothing," he said a little too harshly.
"Right," she said, the smile wilting as she reached for the door handle. "I guess I'll be seeing you around."
As he pulled away and headed to Gas N Go, he told himself he would be able to handle that just fine. Just because her apology had brought a whole torrent of old memories bubbling to the surface didn't mean they had the power to hurt him anymore. They didn't matter.
She didn't matter, no more than anyone else he worked with. Ellie had no more importance than Janelle at the store or Rudy the mechanic who helped out his Dad a few days a week.
Sure chief. Because Rudy always has you rushing off to take a cold shower. And every time you touch Janelle's hand you feel like you're about to spontaneously combust.
He shoved the thoughts aside. Muscle memory, he reminded himself. The more he was around Ellie, the sooner it would fade.
Even as he seized that conviction and held on tight, he couldn't quite stifle the little voice in the back of his head that whispered that where Ellie Tanner—no, wait, she was Ellie Franklin now—was concerned he was well and truly fucked.
Chapter 5
"What do you think? Will we be able to get all of this?" Ellie was in the kitchen of Sweetgrass with Brady, their heads close as they bent to look over the proposed menu she had printed out.
She had to admit, though she didn't want to jinx it, so far the party planning had gone smoothly. Well, as smoothly as it could, considering she was dealing with such a high profile client and interacting regularly with Damon.
Despite her apology—his reaction to which still stung when she was weak enough to let herself dwell on it, which was only about half a dozen times a day—the tension between them was still so thick she felt it like a physical force every time he walked in the room. Still, they managed to be civil, and she got the impression he was relieved that she'd taken over most of the communications with Jane and her team back in L.A.
So far, Jane had proven herself to be as friendly and down to earth as her reputation promised. From , from the first conversation when Ellie had laid out exactly who she was, who her husband had been, and who she was trusting to work on this very important event, Jane had gone out of her way to put Ellie at ease.
"Deck told me all about you," Jane said before Ellie barely got the words out. She gave a soft chuckle. "Believe me, of all people, I understand how the media can seize onto things and twist them however they want. I mean, nothing like having every major tabloid plaster your face with the word Nympho on the cover, right?"
Ellie laughed, feeling some of the tension ease from her shoulders. "But if the press should get wind that I'm involved..."
"We're keeping this on the super downlow," Jane replied. "The press has nothing on Deck when it comes to sniffing out secrets, and so far he's in the dark. Besides, I like that you've seen both sides of the coin. You're from Big Timber, but I imagine you've dealt with enough enormous pain in the ass egos you'll be able to handle this crowd. Because I have to say, we love our friends, but some of them are assholes."
Over the last few weeks, Ellie had talked to Jane or her assistant, Jenna, several times, discussing party themes, decorations, and the all important menu. "Deck would be fine with burgers and a keg of his favorite microbrew," Jane said during a recent conversation, "but I'd like it to be a little more ... elevated."
After several rounds of back and forth with Jane, Damon, and Brady over what was feasible, Ellie was cautiously optimistic that they'd settled on the theme—upscale backyard barbecue—and the food.
"None of this should be a problem," Brady said as he scanned the menu which included Bison steaks and wild salmon.
"Even the fish?" Ellie said. Though grocery options had definitely expanded since she'd lived in Big Timber, Montana was still a landlocked state.
"I got a friend in Seattle who can overnight ship it. Not as fresh as I'd prefer, but the best we can do."
Ellie waited while he perused the rest of the menu. "Some of the passed hors d'oeuvres might pose a challenge," he said pensively.
"Are they too difficult for you to make?"
This was met with a sidelong glare, and Ellie immediately apologized for doubting his skill.
"It's the service that will be a challenge," he said. "We'll just need some extra help is all."
"We already have me, Mom, and Molly. And I'm sure we can get Sadie to help out," she said, referring to Molly's best friend from high school who'd recently moved back from San Francisco. "And I bet Janelle has a friend or two she could recruit."
Brady made a strained sound at the suggestion. "I don't know about Janelle."
"What do you mean? I think she's doing an excellent job here. All the customers love her."
Janelle and Ellie had gotten over their rocky start, which was a good thing since in addition to working at the Gas N Go, Janelle had helped pick up the slack for Molly who was still trying to plan a wedding despite Josh's reluctance to commit to a date.
In the past few weeks Ellie had come to appreciate the younger woman's attention to detail and unparalleled work ethic.
She also appreciated that Janelle had a younger sister, Cindy who only charged seven dollars an hour to look after Anthony.
"She's great, but you really think she'll be able to handle herself? Did you see what happened last week when that guy from Lost walked in?"
Ellie grimaced at the memory. Big Timber was nothing like Jackson, Wyoming, or even Missoula, which had their fair share of celebrities who liked to escape the hustle and bustle at their multimillion dollar ranches. But a few notables had invested in local real estate, and every once in a while there was a Hollywood production nearby. A celebrity sighting, while rare, wasn't unheard of.
"She didn't exactly keep her cool, did she?"
"That's putting it mildly. When she came over to drop of
f his order, she was shaking like a leaf and babbling incoherently. Can you imagine what she'll be like in front of Jane Bowden and her friends? She'll probably go catatonic and shit her pants."
Surprised laughter burst from her lips at the crudity. Then once she started, she couldn't stop. Brady's laughter joined hers. "We shouldn't laugh at her, she works so hard," Ellie gasped, grasping his shoulder to steady herself. "But I can just picture her—"
"Sounds like you're having a blast back here."
Ellie turned at the sound of Molly's voice. "Sorry we were just, going over the menu," she said. She made the mistake of making eye contact with Brady and dissolved into another fit of giggles.
"Nice to see you taking it all so seriously," Damon said as he came into the kitchen to stand behind Molly. He fixed Brady with a hard stare.
To his credit, Brady didn't so much as flutter an eyelash, meeting his friend's stare with a stony look of his own.
Damon's gaze then locked onto her hand, still gripping Brady's shoulder. She pulled it away with an inexplicable pang of guilt.
"What do you think?" Ellie said, and handed them each a copy of the menu.
"Where are you going to get enough fresh wild salmon for this many people?" Molly asked.
"Brady has a connection in Seattle," Ellie interjected.
"Great," Molly said, with a smile that was just a hair too bright. "Maybe you can hook me up for my wedding."
"Only for the right price," Brady said in a way that made Molly's cheeks flush and her blue eyes narrow.
"In your dreams," she huffed. Then she turned back to Ellie. "I'll leave you to your menu planning. I just came by to grab some sandwiches for Sadie and me before we head down to Billings for my fitting."
She grabbed a loaf of white bread and started for the walk in refrigerator. Brady stood silent for several seconds, then, as though against his will, he held out a staying hand. "Let me."
Molly shot him a sidelong glare. "I know you don't put much stock in my cooking ability, but I can handle making a couple of sandwiches."
