Gone Too Deep (25 page)

His shrug was a definite yes.

Kissing the tip of his nose because she couldn't resist the urge, she slid off his lap and stood, holding out a hand. “Let's go get some food, then.”

George eyed her hand for a moment before grabbing it with his own. As he levered up, extending to his full, substantial height, he pulled her so she stumbled forward, ending up pressed front to front with him.

She blinked up at his smug face before laughing and shaking her head. “Quick learner,” she muttered, pushing away so she could poke him in the stomach. “I'm going to have to watch out for you.”

Leaning down, he brushed a gentle kiss on her cheek. She stared at him, knowing her expression was full-on besotted, but she didn't care that she was giving away all her feelings. Still wearing his half smile, he nudged her toward the door, his big hands wrapped over her shoulders.

Automatically, her feet carried her through the doorway. She fought the urge to lean back into him. “Would you rather go out or eat here?” Even before he answered, she knew what his response would be.

“Here.”

“Okay, but we'll need to order in. My fridge is pretty much bare of anything except condiments.”

His thumb swept across her collarbone, and she shivered. “You haven't been eating.” It was a statement rather than a question.

She shrugged a little uncomfortably. “I've grabbed food on my way to and from work, mostly. I just haven't been very hungry.” It was hard to eat when her stomach hurt all the time. Since George had arrived, though, the twisting pain had eased. She sent him a teasing look over her shoulder. “I'm starving now, though. Does pizza sound good?”

His concerned frown stayed in place, despite the mention of pizza. “Have you been sleeping?”

As she had a feeling that the honest answer to that question would earn her a serious scolding, Ellie decided to pretend she hadn't heard it. “What do you like on your pizza?” As soon as she spoke, she realized that her nonanswer was as revealing as an actual response would've been. George's frown deepened. She braced herself for the upcoming lecture, but he surprised her. Wrapping his arms around her upper chest, he pulled her against him in a backward hug.

“El,” he said quietly, his lips moving against her hair. “I'm sorry.”

“For what?” She tried to look up at him, but he held her too tightly, so she subsided, content to lean against him.

She felt his chest move against her back before his breath warmed the top of her head as he sighed. “Pizza's fine.”

At his evasion, she deflated. She'd been ready to deny any issue with eating or sleeping, and her built-up defenses had nowhere to go when he dropped the subject.

“Um…okay. What do you like on it?”

“Any kind of meat.”

Why did that not surprise her? “Venison?” she teased.

“Do they have that?” He actually sounded excited about the option.

“Um…probably not.” She could almost feel his disappointment. “I could ask, though.”

“It's okay.” George gave her a final squeeze and let go. “Rabbit is fine.”

She took a step toward the counter where she'd left her purse before his comment penetrated. When she shot a suspicious glance at him, his face was completely expressionless for several moments before he grinned.

Ellie laughed, turning back toward her purse and digging out her cell phone. “How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not eating bunnies?” Making a face, she found the contact for the pizza place and tapped the number. “MREs were bad enough without adding fluffy, adorable animals with long ears to the mix.”

Although he just shrugged, a smile lingered on his face, and she had to drag her eyes off of him when someone from the pizza shop answered her call. There was no way she could concentrate on ordering when she was drooling over happy-George.

“Hi,” she chirped. “Do you offer venison as a topping?”

George laughed.

After venisonless pizza, which was good despite the lack of wild-game toppings, they decided to go to an early movie. It was actually Ellie who decided and then cajoled George into going. Staying at the apartment was tempting, but she thought they needed a little more time before diving into another make-out session. This thing—whatever they were, or could be to each other—was too new to rush. But she wasn't sure if she could keep her hands off him without the buffer of other people.

“Is there any movie you've been wanting to see?” she asked, scrolling through the possibilities on her phone while George drove the Prius. They were heading to a theater in one of the close-in suburbs, since Ellie figured that would give George a little more breathing room than the small, crowded places close to her condo. His large frame should have looked ridiculous folded up in the driver's seat, but he managed to pull it off with his usual steady confidence. Instead of wanting to snigger and make clown-car jokes when she looked at him, Ellie just felt the urge to let out a dreamy sigh.

He shook his head, so she started reading possibilities to him. When he looked blank at the movie titles, she began giving a brief synopsis of each one. She judged his reaction to each possibility by the face he made, from total disgust to mild interest.

“Oh! This one's supposed to be good. Mostly action but with some funny parts.” Since he didn't look opposed, she looked at the movie times and saw that they'd get to the theater in time for the earlier evening showing. Tucking her phone into her purse, she settled back into her seat and allowed herself to eye George again. She couldn't believe he was sitting in her car with her, and that they were about to go on a date. Just over a week earlier, she'd only wanted to survive, bring her dad home, feel warm again, and eat pizza. They'd accomplished all four.

“Want to talk to Baxter tomorrow morning?” she asked. “I was going to call him before my shift.”

When he nodded, she smiled.

“It's the next exit.”

After they left the interstate, Ellie gave him directions to the theater, and George parked on the far end of the large, open lot.

She gave him an amused look. “Are you keeping my car safe from door dings?”

“I like having space,” he responded before getting out of the car and circling around to open her door. Surprised at the courtesy, Ellie beamed as she offered her hand to him so George could help her out of the car. Once she was standing, he closed the door and locked the car without releasing his grip.

As they started walking toward the theater entrance, she squeezed his hand and barely stopped herself before giving a little skip of happiness. Her shoes were made more for beauty than for skipping, hopping, or jumping.

They were also not made for hiking across an enormous parking lot, and she wasn't even a quarter of the way to the front doors when her toes started to pinch. Although she tried to hide her discomfort, not wanting George to feel bad for making her walk so far because of his parking-lot claustrophobia, her ankle twisted with a bad step, making her give a small gasp.

He looked at her as she limped a couple of steps, walking off the twinge of pain, and then he stopped. His hold on her hand meant that she halted, as well.

Ellie looked at him curiously. “What's—?” Her question ended in a yelp as he swung her into his arms, bride style, and began carrying her to the entrance of the theater. “I'm okay.” Her arms wrapped around his neck as he strode across the lot, not even out of breath from her weight. “George. You're always having to carry me. My ankle's fine. Really.”

Traffic noise from the main road was distant enough that the parking lot was fairly quiet—for the city, at least. After her time in the mountains, Ellie had a new appreciation for true silence. George tipped his head forward, as if they were in a noisy club. When his breath brushed the delicate skin of her ear, she couldn't hold back a shiver. She was so distracted by his lips that it took her a few seconds to process his words.

“I don't mind,” he said quietly. “I like holding you.”

Her arms tightened around his neck as she shuddered again. “Okay.” Her voice was faint, and she was pretty sure the movement of his chest was a chuckle.

When they reached the sidewalk by the entrance, George carefully lowered her to her feet, keeping his hands on her upper arms until she was steady. They stared at each other, and he started to lean closer. Mesmerized, she didn't move. Her focus narrowed until all she could see was George, and all she could think about was feeling his lips on hers again.

“Excuse me.” A shrill voice made her jump, and Ellie realized that they were blocking the middle pair of doors. There were five other sets of doors that the irritated woman and her two friends could have chosen, but Ellie just tugged George to the side, giving the woman a smile. She looked up at George, hoping they could resume where they'd been before the interruption, but the moment was gone. Rather than kissing her, George held open the door and ushered her inside.

Although she sighed in brief disappointment, Ellie's smile returned quickly as she laced her fingers with George's. It was an amazing thing to be able to touch him like that. She wondered how she'd survive once he returned to Simpson and she was alone again. Her grip tightened on his hand. She couldn't let herself think about being separated from George, about not being able to touch him or kiss him or read from his expression all the words he couldn't say out loud. Ellie had tried being without him, and she had been miserable. An occasional phone call—if he ever took his cell out of the packaging—was no substitute for having him close. She couldn't picture George being happy living in Chicago, but she selfishly wanted to keep him with her for as long as possible. Instead of dwelling on their eventual separation, she focused on enjoying the newness of each discovery—the roughness of his fingers and the surprising softness of his lips. Her face flushed at the thought of his earlier kisses, and he gave her a questioning look.

With a flustered shake of her head, she declined to comment and directed him to a ticket kiosk instead. He insisted on paying, just as he had with the pizza, and she frowned at him.

“If you waste all your money on me,” she warned, “you're going to end up having to drag a bunch of whiny tourists all over the mountain just to earn enough for next winter.”

The corner of his mouth slid up in a half smile. “It's not wasted.”

Grinning at him, she towed him toward the snack counter. “At least let me pay you back in sugar. What's your favorite movie food?” she asked. “Mine is cinnamon candy and popcorn eaten together.” The look he slanted at her was appalled. “It's good, seriously. It tastes like a popcorn ball.” She frowned. “Wait. Why am I defending my
excellent
movie-food choices to the guy who thinks pouch food is good?”

He just smirked at her, making her laugh. As they waited in line, Ellie glanced around the lobby and caught sight of the woman who'd been annoyed that they'd been blocking the doors. The blond stranger was eyeing George with a touch too much hunger in her expression for Ellie's liking. Resisting the urge to snarl, Ellie took a half step toward George. Since she was already very close to him, the move brought their sides together with their clasped hands caught between them.

When he glanced at her, eyebrows raised, she just made a face, not wanting to explain her unwarranted surge of jealousy. He released her hand, and she fought the need to cling, reluctantly relaxing her grip and letting him withdraw. Instead of pulling away, though, he circled his arm behind her back, cupping her shoulder with his hand and tugging her more tightly against his side. She relaxed into him, perfectly content to wait forever for her popcorn and cinnamon candy.

This close to George, she felt his tension. His gaze was moving constantly, scanning the groups of movie patrons, his head turning sharply at every loud noise. Ellie hated his discomfort and wished she could erase it, that she could make him as comfortable in her urban life as he was in the mountains. There was nothing she could do, though, except lean a little more fully against him so he focused on her again with a smile.

Ellie stayed plastered against George's side until they reached the front of the line. Since he hadn't told her his snack preferences, she looked at him, waiting for him to order his own food once she was done.

“Water,” he grunted. That was it.

“What else?” she asked. When he just shook his head at her and reached for his wallet, she ordered another half dozen types of candy.

George blinked at her.

“You can't have just water at a movie,” she explained. Really, no sugary snacks? It was almost sacrilegious. “And I'm paying, remember? That's the rule. If one person pays for tickets, the other pays for the snacks. It's movie-going etiquette.” She packed the candy into her purse while she pulled out her wallet. “I got a variety, so there's sure to be
something
in there”—she poked her purse—“that you like.”

He didn't say anything but just inserted his body between Ellie and the counter and paid.

“Hey!” she scolded his broad back. “That's a serious breach of movie etiquette!”

George ignored her.

With a few muttered words about stubborn men who used their mountainous size to unfair advantage, Ellie dropped her billfold back in her purse and reached for the popcorn, only to be blocked again. George tucked the water bottle into the crook of his elbow and picked up the popcorn tub and beverage. Glancing down at her empty hands, Ellie smiled wryly. Apparently, George felt strongly about carrying the bulk of the load, whether they were on a snowy trail or in a city movie theater. She decided she should be glad he didn't toss her over his shoulder before picking up the popcorn. The mental image made her laugh, and George looked at her curiously.

“Nothing,” she said, pulling his water bottle free from where he'd trapped it between his arm and body. “Just a random thought. Come on.” She gave his elbow a tug. “If we don't hurry, we'll miss the previews, and they're my favorite part.”

* * *

The movie was good, but watching George was better. He looked as entranced as a little kid, his eyes never leaving the screen as he ate most of the popcorn. All of the other snacks she'd ordered had disappeared so quickly that she couldn't even determine which one he'd enjoyed the most. George seemed to be an equal-opportunity eater. She wasn't sure why she was surprised, since he'd downed MREs with all appearances of enjoyment.

An on-screen explosion lit his face with yellow light, and he jerked back in his chair. Soon he was leaning forward again, completely engrossed in the movie. He blindly reached for another handful of popcorn, and Ellie adjusted the tub so his fingers would hit its mark.

When the credits rolled across the screen, he finally turned to look at her. George glanced at the empty popcorn tub, then his buttery fingers, and he grimaced, shooting her an apologetic glance. It made her laugh.

“Don't worry about it. I usually have two bites, run out of cinnamon candy, and leave the rest of the popcorn. It's very wasteful. Besides, I'm used to you finishing my food.”

His mouth quirked up at the reminder, and his eyes grew warm. From his expression, Ellie could tell he'd felt the same odd intimacy that she had when they'd shared meals. The aching loneliness that had kept her up night after night began to ease, the hollow part of her filled with George's presence. Her expression must have given away her feelings, because he leaned toward her, getting closer and closer as she forgot to breathe.

“Excuse me.” The same grating voice from earlier interrupted them yet again.

“Seriously?” Ellie muttered, but twisted her legs so the woman and her friends could leave the row. Ellie hadn't even realized that the woman was watching the same movie, but she definitely noticed how the blond angled her body so her breasts were right in George's face as she passed. One bedazzled fingernail traced a line down his biceps, making him flinch and yank back his arm.

“Hi,” the woman greeted him throatily, her hungry gaze running down his chest.

That was not acceptable. “Hey!”

The woman stopped, still in front of George, who had leaned as far away from the encroaching cleavage as he could. She looked at Ellie, bitch-face fully activated. “You have a problem?”

“Not if you keep moving and get your boobs out of my boyfriend's face.”

“Go on, Harper,” one of her friends hissed. “Move! You're going to get your extensions ripped out again.”

“Shut up, Tate,” the blond snapped, but she did continue past Ellie, making a big show of not touching her legs. Ellie really, really wanted to trip her.

Once she and her entourage had exited the row and were making their way toward the door, Ellie turned, slightly shamefaced, back to George. “Sorry. I usually don't start girl fights in movie theaters. I never do, actually. I'm normally a calm, easygoing person. It's just that…” She wasn't sure how to say that she was frustrated after being kiss-blocked twice by the same blond harlot who'd been ogling Ellie's lumberjack.

When she glanced at George after her words trailed off, she saw he was grinning. “I protect you from mountain predators, and you protect me from”—his head tipped toward the retreating blond—“city predators.”

Ellie laughed, her gaze fixed on his face, completely entranced by his happy expression. As it always did, that gorgeous, rare smile dazzled her in the best way. Cupping her jaw with his big hand, George tipped his head to hers. As their lips touched, instant warmth spread through her, and the rapidly emptying theater disappeared. It was just her and George and a gentle, dizzying kiss.

“Excuse me.”

Ellie whirled around in her seat, ready to commit blondicide, but it was a different woman. This one had a carpet sweeper and was wearing a theater-employee uniform.