“What?” I was appropriately sulky as I frowned.
“You’re right about us building a life together,” Eliot said, choosing his words carefully. “It’s not always easy, but you purposely make things harder than they need to be. I am not going to let arguments over money derail us. I refuse.”
“That’s because you have a lot of money.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that you have money and you’ve paid for almost every single thing since we started this,” I replied. “When you’re the one who has the money you can throw it around as if it’s nothing. When you’re struggling for money … it’s different.”
Instead of exploding, which I think was his initial impulse, Eliot licked his lips and somehow remained calm. “Tell me how.”
“Do you know what I thought when you said we were getting hot dogs, hamburgers, steaks and chicken?”
“What?”
“How many lunches am I going to have to go without for the next month to pay for that,” I replied. “All of this money stuff cannot fall on your shoulders, however broad. That’s not an equal partnership. I have to contribute … something.”
Helplessness momentarily flashed over Eliot’s face before he tugged on his limited patience and rested his hand on my shoulder. He leaned close, making sure only I could hear, before speaking. “Trouble, I didn’t fall in love with you because you have money. In fact, I happen to think you’re criminally underpaid for the amount of work you do. I don’t offer to pay for things to make you feel bad.”
“I know that.”
“But?”
“But I can’t help but wonder why you’d possibly put up with me when you do the bulk of the work in this relationship.” I opted for honesty. “How soon will it be before you’re tired of paying for everything? I’m never going to make a lot of money. You know that, right?”
Eliot’s expression softened. “I keep forgetting that you’re socially slow sometimes,” he muttered, slipping his arm around my shoulders and tugging me close as he kissed my forehead. “I don’t care about the money, Avery. The most important thing to me is that you don’t care about my money.”
I arched an eyebrow, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Did you start dating me because you wanted my money?”
I shook my head. “I started dating you for your body.”
Eliot snickered. “See, we have that in common.”
“I have wide hips.”
“I happen to like your wide hips,” Eliot offered. “I also happen to like the fact that you never once allowed the fact that I have money to be the reason we’re together. Believe it or not, other people aren’t like that. You’re you, and for better or worse, you’re genuine.”
“I’m guessing that tilts to the ‘worse’ side of things at times.”
Eliot shrugged. “Even when you’re at your worst you’re more entertaining – and even lovable – than anyone I’ve ever met.”
I blew out a sigh, my cheeks flushing with color as his warm words washed over me. “It’s impossible to stay angry with you.”
“That’s not what you said when I told you that we were not buying a Pottery Barn Kids Star Wars shelf shaped like an At-At for the guest bedroom.”
“That’s what I said when you gave in three days later and agreed to buy the shelf.”
“Yes, well, apparently I’m a total schmuck where you’re concerned.” Eliot tucked a strand of my flyaway blonde hair behind my ear. “You need to get over the money stuff. I want nice things in my house. I also want you in my house.”
“Our house,” I automatically corrected, causing him to smile.
“Our house,” he conceded. “I don’t need you to contribute a bunch of money to the household funds. I need you. You’ll have to get used to it.”
I briefly pressed my eyes shut and blew out a sigh, centering myself. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
“Good.” Eliot kissed the corner of my mouth, and when I opened my eyes I realized that at least two members of his fan club – a bimbo-looking blonde and a breathy-looking brunette – had been listening. They looked as if they were about to ovulate in the middle of the store and mount him.
“Have you ever noticed that you cause a stir in random people’s lady parts wherever you go?”
Eliot flicked his eyes to the women, grinning when he realized what I was referring to. “Have you ever noticed that you stir me up every second of every day?”
Oh, geez. He was getting sappy in the middle of Meijer. That couldn’t be tolerated. “Come on.” I used my hip to prod him closer to the cart. “We need to pick out more meat … and get you away from these freaking horny women.”
Eliot chuckled, amusement returning now that the conversational crisis had passed. “You’re the only horny woman I want. Did I mention that we get to pick out dessert items for the barbecue before we go? I thought I’d put you in charge of that.”
He knew my every weakness. “And that’s why I fell in love with you. Screw the money. You’re the only person I know who will let me eat as many dill pickle potato chips as I want.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
“DO WE REALLY need eight bags of chips?”
By the time we hit the dessert selections I was pretty sure Eliot would refuse to ever enter a grocery store with me again. We’re take-out people, which means we either pick up something on our way home from work or opt for delivery. We rarely shop together. For the sake of the relationship I was guessing we should shift that from “rarely” to “never” after this excursion.
“They’re different flavors,” I explained. “Some people like regular chips with dip – we need to get French onion dip, by the way – and others like things like Doritos, barbecue, and dill pickle flavors. That’s on top of the people who like ridges in their chips. I don’t get those people, for the record, but they do exist.”
“I understand that, but … eight flavors?”
I pasted a pouty smile on my face. “And I thought you loved me.”
Eliot extended a warning finger and wiggled it. “Don’t even think about going there, Trouble. We’ve already had one deep conversation today. I’m in no mood for another, especially with family dinner tonight. That’s about all the drama I can take.”
I stilled, running the calendar through my busy brain. “Oh, crap,” I muttered, groaning. “I forgot about family dinner.”
“It’s Friday every week,” Eliot pointed out. “Skipping isn’t an option if you don’t want to me to be castrated, so how can you possibly have forgotten?”
He wasn’t wrong. Family dinner was one of those things even death can’t get you out of. My grandfather owns a restaurant in northern Oakland County, and everyone in the family – normal and irregular cousins alike – is expected to show up no matter what. Somehow I’d managed to push the notion of imminent doom out of my head while salivating over my extended weekend.
“But … we’re supposed to skinny-dip tonight.” I’d been looking forward to it for a long time and didn’t want to give up the dream unless I absolutely had no choice. “I think, because we’re hosting a barbecue on Sunday, that we should be exempt from family dinner.”
Eliot was blasé as he sorted through the chips. “I happen to agree with you, but will your mother feel the same way?”
My mother wouldn’t be happy until she turned full-on Dementor and completely sucked out my soul, leaving behind a husk of a body that would never eat another dill pickle chip. “I think she’ll be fine with it.”
Eliot shifted his eyes to me, suspicious. “I think you’re lying.”
“I think that’s a terrible thing to say about the woman you just moved in with,” I argued. He wasn’t wrong, mind you. I was totally lying. That didn’t mean I’d own up to it. “I also think skinny-dipping is good for the soul and that we should nurture our souls instead of our stomachs tonight.”
Eliot snorted. “I got blueberry margarita mix for our after-dinner shenanigans.
I figured we could nurture our souls with that once we get back and hit the pool. Dinner is usually over by eight at the latest. We can squeeze in both.”
“Yeah, but … wouldn’t you rather spend the rest of the day naked?” The question was out of my mouth before I noticed a hint of movement out of the corner of my eye. I did my best to ignore the incoming shoppers because I knew I’d lose Eliot if I didn’t lock him in now. “You talked about squeezing things. I will do that in the pool for you if we can skip dinner. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
Eliot let loose with a full-bodied laugh as he shook his head. “And that’s why I’m thrilled to live with you no matter your mood. Despite that, we’re going to dinner. The last thing I want to risk is family war when we’re supposed to be enjoying our weekend together.”
“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes and snagged a bag of ranch-flavored Lay’s potato chips. “A lot of people like ranch, too.”
The sound of someone clearing a throat assailed my ears, and when I lifted my head to survey the other shoppers – something tart on the tip of my tongue because there was plenty of room for them to navigate around us – I found a familiar face staring at me. It wasn’t a friendly face.
“Cara.” My spine stiffened at the sight of the unfriendly woman who used to date my ex-boyfriend Jake Farrell, who also happened to be the Macomb County sheriff as well as far too good for her. He had dumped her several weeks earlier, leaving her spinning, and I’d been lucky enough to avoid running into her since. It appeared my luck had run out. “What are you doing here?”
Cara wrinkled her pert nose and shoved a hank of her dark hair behind her shoulder. She didn’t look any happier to see me than I was to see her. “It’s Meijer. We’re shopping.”
I flicked a mildly interested look at her cart and swallowed a chuckle when I saw all of the fresh vegetables and soy burgers. “Not for anything good.”
“Avery.” Eliot’s voice was low and full of warning as he offered me a small headshake. He clearly recognized the warning signs. The last thing he wanted to do was bail me out of jail should I decide to pop Cara in the face or something. “It’s good to see you, Cara.”
Cara shifted her eyes to Eliot, her expression heavy. “It’s good to see you, too, Eliot. I’ve always liked you … although I still think you have tragic taste in women.”
Eliot’s lips curved but he remained even and calm. “Yes, well, I happen to like her all the same.”
“That’s your only fault.” Cara forced a smile when the man standing next to her made a sound in his throat. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Where are my manners?”
“I don’t know, but you should find them,” I suggested. “I think they ran that way.” I jerked my thumb in the opposite direction. “They’re probably in the feminine hygiene aisle.”
Eliot snagged the back of my shirt and tugged me closer to him, increasing the distance between Cara and me in case I became overcome with the urge to yank some hair or something. “You were saying?”
Cara pinned me with a cool look before continuing. “This is my friend, Edward Haugh.”
Haugh flashed a congenial smile and extended his hand in Eliot’s direction. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Eliot returned the greeting. “Likewise.”
Something about the man’s name stuck in my head. “Edward Haugh? Aren’t you a defense lawyer in Oakland County?”
Haugh appeared happy to learn his reputation preceded him. “I am. And you are?”
“Avery Shaw,” Cara answered for me. “She’s a … menace.”
Instead of being offended, I put forth an evil smile. She was right. I was a menace. That was also the exact word I wanted her to utilize when thinking about me. “And then some,” I added.
“You’re a reporter.” Recognition flashed on Haugh’s face. He was handsome, but in a smarmy way. Eliot is so good looking he makes women melt into puddles of goo. Haugh was handsome enough that he could make women flock to him, but only after they realized he had money to back up the smarm. “You’re kind of famous in this area, in fact.”
“Yeah, there are times I wish she wasn’t so famous,” Eliot noted, refusing to remove his fingers from the back of my neck. “How do you know her?”
“I watch the news,” Haugh replied, his nature congenial. “She’s been on it a few times. Once you hear the stories, it’s hard to get them out of your mind. She has a strong … presence.”
“Yes, like fleas,” Cara muttered, causing me to narrow my eyes. “What are you guys even doing out here? I thought you shopped closer to Roseville.”
“We live out here now.” Eliot’s voice was calm despite my growing anger. “We bought a house together.”
“Really?” Cara was clearly surprised. “I would’ve thought you’d think better about that before actually doing it. I’m sorry for you.”
Eliot is polite under most circumstances but he’s not the type to roll over and show his belly to avoid an argument. “We’re happy. I hope you’re happy, too.”
Eliot used his strong arms to corral me between the cart and him, not allowing me any room to make an escape should I decide to jump Cara and fill her mouth with ridged potato chips in the hope of choking her. “We should be going,” he said. “We’re having a housewarming party this weekend, and we need to get all of this food put away.”
“Yes, well, how great for you.” Cara sighed. “That’s a lot of potato chips. You know those are going right to your hips, Avery? Do you want to risk that?”
I moved to lunge at her, but Eliot was ready and kept me boxed in. “You stupid … .”
Eliot cut me off before I could finish. “It was nice seeing you, Cara. Have a nice holiday weekend.”
3 Three
“We should be naked.”
Running into Cara put me in a mood, one that didn’t dissipate after hours of putting away groceries and listening to Eliot check things off his to-do list – he’s such a woman sometimes – while I played the new Lego video game. I attempted to feign amnesia when Eliot insisted it was time to leave for family dinner, only acquiescing when he shut off the game console without asking. He would pay for that later. For now, I had bigger problems.
Eliot cocked an eyebrow. “You know, I used to dream that women would say things like that to me. Never once in those dreams did I turn the women down.”
“I feel so special.”
Eliot poked my side, amused. “You should feel special. There are very few women for whom I’d give up each and every Friday night so I can have dinner with a bunch of crazy people.”
I couldn’t help being a bit offended. “You have more than one woman you’re going to Friday night dinners with?”
Eliot snorted, his sense of humor kicking into high gear. “Of course you would latch on to that part of the conversation. That’s so … you.” He leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of my mouth before exiting his truck. It was only when he was outside of the vehicle that I realized he hadn’t answered the question.
“I’m serious.” I hit the parking lot with a loud smack, my flip-flops flapping against the uneven surface. I could still feel the heat emanating from it after a long day of unrelenting sunshine. I barely spared a glance for the front door of the family restaurant as I cut off Eliot’s avenue of approach. “You said that ‘there are very few women.’ Who are these other women?”
Instead of reacting out of anger or amusement, Eliot merely shook his head as he smoothed my hair. “Sometimes I forget you’re a real girl after all.”
“That’s not what you said when you saw me naked this morning.”
“Yes, I believe that involved a negotiation about shaving your legs so we could stop playing that game about the yeti falling in the pool.” Eliot lightly tapped his chin as I murdered him with a hard glare. He tried to maintain a straight face … and failed. “Oh, please. Do you really think I’m sneaking off to dinners with other women when you’re not looking?”
“No, but those women in the
grocery store wanted to sneak off with you,” I argued, falling into step next to him. “Every woman there – even Cara – wanted to douse you in sugar water and lick you from toe to head.”
Eliot pursed his lips. “That’s a very … colorful … suggestion.”
“All of those women were dead inside. You realize that, right? They’re closeted naggers who eat soy hot dogs and yearn to be Stepford wives.”
“That’s good to know.” Eliot rested his hand on my waist and prodded me toward the restaurant. He was accustomed to my diatribes, so he knew better than to let me linger long enough to get a full head of steam. “What do you think will be on special tonight? I’m hoping for prime rib and that really yummy strawberry shortcake they have in the summer. That stuff is … better than sex.”
I narrowed my eyes as Eliot held open the door and ushered me forward, waiting until he was beside me to speak again. “Are you honestly saying you would rather have strawberry shortcake than a naked night in the pool?”
“I’m honestly saying that I would like to eat strawberry shortcake and then go home and get in the pool,” Eliot clarified. “It doesn’t have to be an either-or situation. Also, if you could find a way to combine those things … like we get naked and eat strawberry shortcake while floating on rafts with that colored light you like so much turning the water pink and purple, that’s my idea of heaven.”
I held my hands palms out and bobbed my head. “That right there! I could’ve arranged that. We should totally be naked right now.”
I’m one of those people who speak before I think. I know. It’s hard to visualize because I’m so suave and cool under pressure, but it’s true. If I was thinking, I would’ve done a quick scan of the restaurant before opening my mouth. Because I’m me, I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind and didn’t notice my mother standing right next to the cash register until it was too late to adjust my attitude.
“What did you say?” I love my mother, but there are times I think she could masquerade as a scary nun – smacking people with a ruler whenever they opened their mouths being optional, of course – and no one would notice. “Did I hear you correctly?”
[Avery Shaw 11.0] Unwritten & Underwater Page 3
