Ellie dropped her baby blues to the table and fiddled with the edge of her glass. He recognized the straightening in the curve of her lips, the hooded expression in her eyes, and he knew she wasn’t going to let him in now, either.
“It was okay. Not bad like it was with my foster family in our old neighborhood, but not exactly good, either.”
She finished her drink and fisted her hands in the side of her hair, up high on the crown of her head. When she let go, her hair had a tousled look, parted in the center and falling in thick waves down her shoulders. Bedroom hair.
Coming out of the bedroom with tousled hair and that sweet, sexy look in her eye would require Ellie to let someone into her world. Damn, he wanted to be in that world. Dex looked away, trying to dissuade his mind from thinking of Ellie in that way.
Christ. Stop it. It’s Ellie.
Dex needed a runner in his life like he needed to miss his release date. She couldn’t be counted on. He knew that. She’d had no qualms about tearing his heart out. He’d been there, done that with her, and it had hurt like hell. But then again, it was Ellie, and for Ellie, he had no idea what he would or wouldn’t risk. Just being with her stifled his ability to think straight.
An hour later, Ellie’s eyelids were at half-mast. She’d had three drinks, in contrast to the one that used to send her stumbling as a teenager. She hung her purse across her shoulder and sighed. “I’d better get going.” She swayed on her feet and grabbed the table as she slid from the booth.
Dex reflexively put an arm out to steady her and rose to his feet. When had their height difference gotten so vast? Ellie was so strong and stubborn that he’d envisioned her taller, not nearly as petite and feminine as she was. He had the urge to wrap her in his arms and hold her until that guarded look fell away.
“Where are you staying?” he asked.
She looked up at him and put her hand on his chest. Dex tried to ignore the way his heartbeat sped up and his chest tightened from her touch. Jesus, she’d touched his chest too many times to count when they were younger, but he didn’t remember it inciting a rise in his pants. Or maybe it had but he’d been really great at ignoring it. Fuck. That weekend she’d come back had changed everything—and nothing at all. It didn’t matter. This was Ellie, and he wasn’t going there with her. He suppressed his desire to let Ellie in again.
“Thrive!” Mitch yelled from across the bar.
Ellie turned quickly in Mitch’s direction and clung to Dex’s chest to steady herself. “Hey, I think he’s calling you.”
“Yeah, that’s Mitch. Every time I come into the bar, he does that. It’s kind of his way of greeting me. He and Reg work for me. We were just about to have a meeting before I saw you.” He put his hand on hers and pulled it from his chest—missing it instantly and chiding himself for feeling that way. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”
“Hold on.” She leaned over the booth and tugged her suitcase from beneath the table.
How the hell did I miss that? He realized that she hadn’t answered him about where she was staying. “Wait. Is this your first night here?”
She looked at the suitcase, then back at Dex, as if she were trying to figure out the answer. “It is,” she finally said.
“Are you here for a week?”
“No. This is all my stuff. I’m moving here.”
Holy shit. Your entire world fits into one suitcase? He remembered when Ellie had left her foster family when they were kids. She’d told him that people had a lot of wasted stuff and that she preferred to keep only what she needed. He realized now that she’d probably said that to protect herself, so he wouldn’t think less of her. Damn it. I could never think less of you. Everything about Ellie was so much more valuable than material belongings could ever be. Nothing and no one in his life had ever replaced her, and he didn’t know if anyone or anything ever could. He reached for the suitcase, and she struggled to get it out of his hands.
“I can do it, Dex.”
Same old Ellie.
“I know you can. I was just trying to help.”
“Thanks, but I’ve got it.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder with one practiced snap of her chin and tugged the heavy bag behind her.
He could hear the unsaid words in his head. I don’t need your help. I can do it myself. That’s what she’d said when they’d first met. She’d been in fifth grade, he in sixth. Because Ellie was a year younger than him, he’d immediately put her into the ignore column of his brain. Ellie had been living with a family a few blocks from Dex’s house, and when she’d stepped off of the bus, she’d dropped her binder. He’d stopped to help her pick up the contents and she’d snapped at him. I don’t need your help. I can do it myself. Having grown up with a four-star-general father, Dex knew when to step back and shut up. But standing back and watching her run after the papers that had been carried in the wind went against everything his hippyish, peace-to-all-creatures mother had ever taught him. He’d picked up the papers that had fallen at his feet, and Ellie had glared at him with those beautiful—though at that moment dart-throwing—eyes and hadn’t said thank you when he tucked them into her binder. In fact, she hadn’t said anything at all, and neither had he. But like two peas in a pod, from that day forward, they’d walked home side by side in amicable silence. When they’d reach the corner of Marlboro and Carlisle Streets, where Dex turned right and Ellie turned left, Dex would lift his hand in a waist-high wave and Ellie would lift her chin and walk away.
During those afternoon walks home, Dex had been drawn to Ellie’s strength as much as her quiet vulnerability. Dex was a quick study, and he’d learned what made Ellie comfortable and what set her off. Like a baby hawk, he’d imprinted onto Ellie with silent adoration. When Ellie climbed into her silent place and shut him out, he was there for her. That was all she needed—and maybe even all she wanted.
Chapter Four
ELLIE STRUGGLED TO maneuver the bulky, heavy suitcase through the crowded bar, stopping to wait for people to move out of her way every few steps as she followed Dex toward the bar. There was no way in hell she’d be able to find Dina’s apartment with the way New York was suddenly spinning around her. She made a mental note that rum and Coke was now officially off her list of valid options for alcohol. She hadn’t eaten since early that morning, she was tired, and she was pretty sure that she was about to meet Dex’s girlfriend—and quite possibly the skinniest woman she’d ever seen.
Dex stopped short and turned around. Ellie smacked right into his chest, which felt really good and smelled even better. Note to self: Dex smells way too good after rum and Coke. No more rum and Coke.
“I’m sorry.” Dex laughed. “Are you okay?”
No. I’m horribly embarrassed and I suck at the moment, but you smell really good, so I’m just gonna leave my nose pressed between your pecs for another breath or two. She looked up into his smiling eyes. Jesus, what am I doing? It’s Dex. Ugh. Moron move number seventeen for the night.
“Sorry.” She pushed away from him and wobbled, sober enough to note that his jeans hung dangerously sexy across his hips.
He put his hand on her shoulder. “You sure you don’t want me to take that bag?”
She narrowed her eyes in the way she knew he’d understand.
He sighed. “You are one stubborn woman.”
“Thank you,” she said with as much snarkiness as she could muster.
Dex shook his head and waved a hand, leading a path to a barstool.
“Thank you,” she said as she climbed up on the stool. The stool began to spin, and with one hand holding her suitcase, she reached for the bar to stop the motion—and missed, sending her suitcase keeling to the side while the stool continued its obnoxious whirl.
Dex grabbed her knee and steadied her.
“I’ve got it.” Ellie felt herself falling right back into the girl she had been so many years ago: tough, resilient, in control…and cold. Shit. She was acting cold and she didn’t like it one bit, but the alternative was not good. Acting on her feelings for too-sexy Dexy was dangerous.
“Regina, Mitch, this is Ellie Parker.”
Ellie heard Dex introduce her, but his hand was searing a hole in her jeans right through to her bone. She forced her gaze from his hand to his friends’ curious eyes.
“Hi.” Ellie noticed that Regina was also staring at Dex’s hand. Oh great. Now I’ve pissed off his girlfriend. Why the hell didn’t he tell me he had a girlfriend instead of sitting at my booth for so long? Now the skinny girl would give me the evil eye forever. She pushed Dex’s hand off her leg with a quick brush of her elbow. Better. Sort of.
“Mitch.” The scruffy guy with a head of curly hair held out his hand.
Ellie shook his warm, doughy hand.
“Ellie. Ellie. Ellie.” Mitch looked at Dex. “Ellie?”
She could see him trying to place her. It was glaringly obvious that Dex had never mentioned her, which stung, though she knew it shouldn’t. She’d kicked him to the curb when she’d left. Why would he ever want to talk about her—or for that matter, why was he being so nice to her now? Because it’s who he is. I should get the hell out of here before I do something stupid and hurt him again.