Love At First Ink: A Woodbine Valley Romance (Tate Family Book 1) Page 16

  She shivered when he found a particularly sensitive spot. “Well, I suppose that’s alright with me …”

  “You suppose?”

  Her smile couldn’t be contained. “Perhaps you could convince me.”

  Much, much later, Elle had to hand it to Justin: he was very good at being convincing. Especially in bed.

  Chapter 17

  Sunlight streamed through Justin’s picture window, hitting the bed and warming him through the blankets. He couldn't keep the grin from his face. He sat up on one elbow, watching Elle sleep. He’d even put on his glasses to see her better. Justin should have felt like an idiot for staring at her, and for not being able to stop. Instead, he wanted to wake her up just to see her smile.

  Elle murmured and moved closer. One hand reached out and brushed his stomach, making his muscles jump. He hadn’t jumped at a woman’s touch … well, since his teenage years, when every touch made him want to explode.

  She was wearing one of his tee shirts and it was big on her. Except for a few notable locations. It stretched over her chest and hips, making it look far better on her than it did on him. The effect made him want to never let her out of bed.

  Her eyelashes fluttered and she opened her eyes.

  "Good morning," he said.

  Elle blinked. "Justin," she said, her voice still full of sleep. She moved back a little and sat up in bed. Her cheeks were flushed. She seemed embarrassed. Or something. “Oh my goodness,” she said, wincing at the sunlight. “What time is it?”

  He reached for her, but she slipped out of the bed.

  "I need to go," she was saying. She grabbed her pocketbook and pulled out her phone. When she saw the screen, she swore. "I'm late. So, so late."

  Justin got out of bed. He was wearing boxers, but she blinked at him as if he were wearing one of those swimsuits Michael Phelps had made famous. He couldn't tell if it was a good look or a bad one.

  "I'll take you to Asheville," he said.

  Her mouth pinched. "It's fine. I have to stop at the Murphy’s inn first to get my bags,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “It would be better if I went alone. I'll call a taxi."

  "I thought you were late," he said. "If you’re running late, calling a cab will only make it worse.”

  She huffed as she threw on clothes. She tugged her hair into a spiky ponytail. The result made him think of an angry hedgehog.

  Justin reached for her. He pulled her to him slowly, trying not to add to whatever was happening.

  He wasn't sure how the morning had spiraled into this moment. It had started out so good. He'd wanted to make love to her again and again. He wanted to take his time.

  She tilted back her head to look at him.

  "Do you regret spending the night?" he asked, voice soft. He had to know.

  Elle paused. In that breath, he realized how much the answer mattered.

  "I don't regret it," she said. "Truly. Last night was ..." a slow blush lit her cheeks again. "It was lovely. I should have said that first.” She looked him in the eyes. “Thank you for last night."

  He pulled her closer and kissed her. Once, twice before she pulled away.

  "You don't need to thank me," he said.

  She smiled. This time, her smile held a hint of mischief. "Oh, but I do."

  "Stay,” he said. “We can be lazy. I’ll bring you croissants in bed.”

  She shook her head. "I need to go. The fitting is this morning, then brunch. And I need to shower.”

  “Shower here.”

  “You have a shower in your toolshed?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

  He laughed. “Yes, I have a shower.” He lowered his voice. “Wanna see it?”

  The corners of her mouth quirked. “I guess I have time for a shower … but just a quick one.”

  He tugged her toward the bathroom before she could change her mind.

  They ran through all of the hot water, and more soap than Justin used in a week. On the flip side, he had a shit-eating grin that wouldn’t go away. And for good reason.

  While Elle finished up in the bathroom, Justin towel-dried his hair.

  She came out in a cloud of steam.

  "I'll be ready in five,” he said.

  “Oh, that’s okay. I called a cab.”

  Something wasn’t right. She was looking shifty again.

  He crossed his arms.

  “What’s going on?”

  She ran her fingers through her hair, then pulled it into a loose braid. ”I called a cab. I just … I don’t want to have to explain this to Theo while you wait in the car. It’ll just complicate things. It’s no big deal.”

  But he noticed she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  “Is that it, then?” he asked. “You sleep with me then hop in a cab and take off?”

  “I don’t know,” she snapped. “I’ve never done this before. You tell me.”

  “Jesus, Elle. I don’t do this every day, you know.”

  How had things gotten so bad so fast? Justin struggled to pull the moment back to what they had just minutes ago. Last night he’d thought one night would be enough. But it wouldn’t be. He wanted more of Elle. He wasn’t sure what it would look like, but he was willing to try something—anything—to make sure this wasn’t it.

  He had a sudden idea. A crazy, stupid idea. One obviously affected by the fact that all of his blood must have left his brain and headed south. Still, knowing it was stupid didn’t stop him from saying it out loud.

  "Take me to the wedding.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You need a date. Take me.”

  "Oh," she said. Her nose crinkled, the way it did when she was thinking hard about something. “It’s okay. Really. I’m going alone.”

  He sighed. “Sure. Okay.” He picked up her pocketbook for her because he had to do something with his hands. What was wrong with him? He didn’t want to go to some stuffy wedding. It was good that she was leaving. Better.

  As he handed the bag to Elle, a small black box fell to the ground. The lid popped open. Justin bent to pick it up, and only as he handed it to Elle did he realize what it was.

  “Tell me what I’m seeing here,” he said. “Tell me that’s not your ring.”

  Elle looked as surprised as he felt. She took the box from him. “That must—Carter must have slipped it into my bag.”

  “Carter?” he asked. He was hot and cold all at once. He didn’t like the feeling.

  "I saw Carter last night,” she said. “After I left Oak Bramble. Remember? He came to the inn … and well. We went to dinner.”

  “Great,” he said, biting off the end of the word like it was a bitter pill. “You must have done more than dinner if you left with a ring. When were you going to tell me?”

  “It wasn’t like that,” she said.

  “That’s why you don’t want me to go to the wedding with you,” he said, half to himself. “You can take him. I guess your plan worked out.” He dropped his towel and started to pull on clothes at random.

  She straightened. “Wait just one minute. That’s not what happened. God, I can’t believe that’s what you think of me.”

  Justin shook his head. Not wanting to listen. He thought they could ignore their differences, thought she’d changed. But she hadn’t. He was a fool.

  Justin ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t all the lies bother you? What is wrong with you?"

  Elle’s face was flushed.

  Good, he thought. Get mad. He wanted her to hurt, just as much as he was hurting. No, more.

  “There is nothing wrong with me. I’m trying to be honest with you. This ring has nothing to do with us. I can’t take you to the wedding. My mother wouldn’t let you near the church, much less be my date.”

  “I don’t care about your mother,” he said. “You’re the problem here, Elle. Other people can think whatever the hell they want to think about me. I don’t give a damn. You, though …” he shook his head. “I thought you were better than that.”

  “Yo
u know what,” she said. “Think what you want to think about me. If you ever want to stop telling me things and listen, let me know.”

  He watched her gather her things until he couldn’t. Instead, he stared out the large picture window, studying the waves of blue mountains like they held the answer. He heard the door open. Still, he didn’t turn. Even when she closed the door and walked away.

  Chapter 18

  Elle watched the scenery flash by from the back seat of her taxi. She’d picked up her bags from Murphy House without seeing Theo. (Okay, yes, she avoided her friend on purpose.) Elle had made sure to text Theo the night before to let her know she was okay and texted her again once she had her bags. But she didn’t want to see her friend.

  She couldn’t stop replaying her last moments with Justin. Over and over until she was sick of it. By the time her taxi pulled up to the house her parents’ had rented, she was miserable. Which was exactly how her mother found her when she opened the door.

  “Where’s Carter?” Caroline demanded.

  Elle scrambled for an excuse. “He’s late,” she said. “Besides, he doesn’t need to be here for the fitting. It’s just the girls, right?”

  Her mother made an unimpressed noise but ushered Elle into the house.

  "You look like you've gotten too much sun,” she said. “And what happened to your hair? I hope Carter didn’t see you like that.” Her mother’s dark hair was in a tidy, shining bob. She wore a tailored sheath dress, pearls, and kitten heels. Her makeup was impeccable, as always.

  Elle stepped inside and pulled her bag after her.

  "I've been out in the sun, Mother. And I was running too late to do my hair this morning.“ Usually, Elle would have lied or changed the subject. Today, she couldn't bring herself to care. "Where's Daddy?”

  "Your father is in the back. He’s adopted a room he’s calling, ‘the study,’ strange man. But you don't have time to chit-chat. We have fittings and the brunch today. Don't tell me you've forgotten."

  She rushed Elle toward the staircase then led her to a room. “Get your face on,” Caroline said, eyeing Elle’s un-made skin. “Then come find me.” She checked her watch. “And don’t dawdle.”

  Elle closed the door once her mother left, dropped her bags and fell onto her bed. After a few deep breaths, she got up and swiped on some mascara and lip gloss. It would have to do.

  She slipped downstairs to find her father. He sat in a leather armchair before a wall of windows that overlooked a tidy backyard, reading the paper with a steaming mug of coffee at his side. Although it wasn’t the home she’d grown up in, it could have been, and the familiar tableau made her smile.

  "Daddy,” she said.

  He glanced up from his paper, his smile broad. Her father was a solid man. Clean-shaven and sporty-looking in his khakis and polo shirt. He’d relaxed from his suit-wearing days, but still looked polished thanks to Caroline’s hawk-like attention.

  ”I hoped you would come see me,” he said. He put down his paper and stood, opening his arms for a hug.

  Elle returned his embrace, feeling warm and welcome and … home. Her father was the complete opposite of her mother. He was kind, generous with his time and affection, and always withheld judgment of others. One of the things he told her time and again while she was growing up was, "what's on the inside matters most." To a girl with a gorgeous sister and a mother who liked to point out her flaws, those words were lifelines.

  How had she forgotten?

  "I love you," she said.

  He chuckled. "Where did that come from?"

  They settled into armchairs and Elle shared her recent misadventures with him. She hadn't intended to tell him everything, but whereas it had been easy to lie to her mother about Carter, lying to her father seemed wrong. He listened without interrupting, only pausing to pour more coffee—both for himself and for Elle. From time to time he made an "hmm" noise or chuckled.

  She kept a few things to herself. Last night, for one. And that morning in the shower … Even thinking about it made her blush. He didn’t need to hear about those parts, but she knew she’d be thinking about those moments for a long time to come.

  When she finished, she sat back, waiting for her father's opinion. He took a thoughtful sip of his coffee.

  “Well you’ve had an eventful week,” he said after another sip. “I’m glad you got rid of the Carter fellow. Sounds like you dodged a bullet there. But tell me more about this Justin fellow—” Before he could say more, Caroline burst into the room.

  "There you are," she said. "Honestly, Elle. I told you everything we needed to do today. What is wrong with you? Heaven help me, my daughters will drive me to an early grave.”

  Elle stood. She set aside her coffee, sharing a look with her father. "Got to go," she said to him.

  "We'll talk more later," he said.

  Then her mother dragged Elle from the study, talking about fittings and mimosas, and how Lucy needed everything to be perfect for her big day.

  Elle survived her fitting and was grateful when the dress—if a bit tight—at least went over her carb-loving body. She had to laugh when she remembered Justin's thoughts about carbs. Then she remembered their argument and felt horrible all over again.

  She took off the dress and put back on her own clothes before leaving the dressing room. The last thing Elle wanted was to parade around before Lucy and her friends in the dress. She wasn’t up for hearing what they had to say.

  "Elle,” a familiar voice called. “You made it.”

  Elle’s sister walked toward her, looking perfectly put together in a simple sundress. “Lucy,” she said in the same formal tone.

  Even without their mother around, Elle struggled to relax around her sister. Lucy was just so … perfect. She seemed like Caroline’s daughter through-and-through, and although Elle would have loved to have a closer relationship with her sister, she had no idea how to make it happen.

  Lucy showed Elle around the dressing rooms while the other women finished with their fittings. The upscale shop was decorated in heavy silk drapes and chandeliers, complete with chaises and small tables graced with bright flower arrangements and trays crowded with glasses of champagne.

  Lucy's friends—including the wretched Becky Lee—flocked into the main dressing room like a group of brightly plumed birds. Elle slipped away for her second fitting—for the dress she’d wear to the rehearsal dinner. She stepped out of the private dressing room to show her sister.

  “It looks perfect,” Lucy said. “Especially with your curves.”

  Elle expected the bridesmaids to laugh cattily. Instead, one spoke up, “I would die for your figure! What’s your secret?”

  Elle didn’t recognize the woman—a petite brunette with corkscrew curls and dimples—but when the woman smiled, it was genuine.

  “I ate a lot of croissants last week. I think it helped.”

  A few of the women laughed. Becky Lee, Elle noticed, did not.

  “Elle, this is Veronica,” Lucy said, introducing the petite woman. She went through all the women, and Elle was surprised to see friendly, welcoming smiles. Except for Becky Lee, whose smile was as sharp as her manicure.

  “I’m going to steal my sister away for a moment,” Lucy said after the introductions. “Champagne is here, ladies! Dive in.”

  While the other women moved to satin-draped tables bearing glasses of champagne and bowls of chocolates, Lucy pulled Elle aside.

  “I am so glad you’re here,” Lucy said once they were alone. She paused, seeming, for once, uncertain about how to proceed.

  “Is everything okay?” Elle asked. Immediately she felt guilty for not being a better sister. She could only imagine the stress Lucy was under—the first Dupre girl’s wedding? Heaven help her.

  Lucy gave her a grateful look. “No, actually,” she said. “Mom’s been driving me insane. Can you believe all of the events she’s lined up? Please tell me you’re going to everything this week. I know you had to miss the shower, and
I totally get it—you’re so busy with work—but I would just … really love you to be there.” She bit her lip. Then she added, “I really hoped that you being my Maid of Honor would bring us closer together. Silly, right?”

  Elle struggled to catch up. She loved her sister. From far, far away. They didn’t text more than quick messages or talk on the phone, and Elle had thought Lucy wanted it that way. She figured Lucy had asked her to be the Maid of Honor because it was tradition, not because it was important to her.

  Now, Elle realized that might have been an oversight.

  “That’s not silly,” she said. “Not at all. Did you really want me to be at your shower?”

  “Of course!” Lucy said. “Are you kidding me? I had to sit through hours of sex advice from Aunt Sissy. Dear Lord, that woman has some terrifying things to say about bondage. And Mom kept pulling me aside to say things about how it should have been your wedding shower, and how inconsiderate it was of me to get married before my older sister. Honestly, she’s been acting like this is any old event. Like Smith and I thought it would be fun to spend thousands of dollars just because. And there I go being crass enough to do it before you get married.”

  Elle opened and closed her mouth. “Mom said that all that to you?” She put up a hand. “Wait a minute. Don’t answer that. Back up. Mom told me you didn’t want me at the shower.”

  “What? No!” Lucy looked truly surprised. And more than a little offended. “Of course I wanted you there. I asked you to be my Maid of Honor, didn’t I?”

  Elle felt like a complete idiot. Why had she believed her mother? Why hadn’t she checked to make sure?

  “I’m so sorry,” Elle said. “I will absolutely be around to save you from Aunt Sissy. God, are you doing okay? I should have made time to meet up with you last week. I just thought …” Shame made her trail off. She’d been avoiding her sister’s texts, and Lucy had only wanted to see her. Elle made a mental promise to make it up to her sister.

  “No, no. Don’t worry. You’ve been with Carter, right? Mom told me all about him. Sounds like a catch. How’s that going?”