Play Fling (A Stupid Cupid Book) (18 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Elliott doubted a more emasculating reaction
to an injured woman existed. Running, flailing his arms, screaming
like a little girl wouldn’t be as embarrassing. He’d actually
fainted. And a table full of witnesses took turns making certain he
knew. Brooke’s opinion of him must be really skyrocketing.

First, he chickens out of calling her, then
before he can undo the damage, bam. To the floor. At least he still
had some appetite left because Nancy had insisted he stay and
eat.

Stay? Absolutely. So long as Brooke was still
there, every man present, and he counted eleven, couldn’t drag him
away. Well, unless one of them started bleeding.

Brooke had nearly gotten away before dinner,
too. Thankfully, Nancy nixed that idea fast. Her friend, Millie,
was fuming over it, too. At least Brooke’s nose had stopped
bleeding and she’d assured them all she was fine. Not even a bruise
to showed from her door to face collision.

“Now, Elliott, tell me,” Nancy said between
forkfuls. “Where is your family this holiday?”

Elliott considered the question a moment.
Should he lie? Give her the polite but vague answer? No one here
knew him except Gordon. Sure, Gordon was hoping for a future among
them but by the looks of things, that red box wasn’t getting opened
today. “My brothers both had to work today,” Elliott said. “My
father is currently incarcerated and my mom passed away six years
ago.”

Nancy covered her gasp with her napkin,
probably preventing her food from launching out, too. “Oh, you
poor, poor dear,” she said then visibly swallowed. “Well, let me
say I am so sorry for your loss and that you are welcome in my home
any holiday. Your brothers, too. Must be difficult, being separated
like you are during the holidays.”

A couple of throats cleared. Stilled forks
began resuming on plates. Elliott didn’t mind. He couldn’t blame
people for not knowing how to react.

“It can be,” he said. “It’s hard on my dad.
But the three of us will get to see him tomorrow. We’ll have some
turkey, some pumpkin pie.”

Of all the opinions rapidly forming in the
room, he only cared about Brooke’s. He chanced a glance her way.
Her head was down. But she was listening. He could see it in the
slower way she moved. Softer than before. “We do the best we can,”
he said, wishing she’d look at him.

“What’s your dad in for?” Millie asked.

Elliott moved his gaze to her. Animosity
glared back at him. If he’d wondered if Brooke told her, now he
knew. “Armed robbery,” he answered, not intimidated. “Two more
years and he’s eligible for parole.”

An “oh my”, a snort, a cough, more nods
invaded the silence. Brooke rotated her fork, again and again. She
had to want to look his way. Who wouldn’t? In turns, he felt every
pair of eyes in the room take his measure. Was he lying? Was he a
criminal like his father?

“He’ll be welcome here, too, when he gets
out, Elliott,” Nancy said. “I’d love to meet a man who obviously
did a fine job in life if he got a son like you out of it.”

She’d had known him all of three hours, but
Elliott believed her. She didn’t welcome people because it was her
Christian duty. She wasn’t naively looking the other way. Simple
faith in people. Rare, but true in her case.

“Now Gordon, you’re Elliott’s cousin
paternally or maternally?” Nancy asked.

His cousin shifted in his seat. “Maternally.
Our mother’s were—are—sisters.”

Jason’s coming out announcement, which Gordon
had called Elliott incessantly about for a week, looked to be
canceled. Instead of less, Gordon seemed more agitated, though.
Elliott imagined he should be.

Elliott needed Gordon to relax. Getting up
and storming out would only put Jason on the spot. And leaving now
just wasn’t a consideration. Not with this much damage control
ahead of Elliott. He didn’t miss Brooke’s friend’s constant watch
checking. She and her newly arrived boyfriend kept exchanging
subtle looks and head shakes.

First opportunity, Millie’d be dragging
Brooke away from him. Out of his life. Brooke leaving might not be
as final as forever, but it felt possible. He should have called
her. He knew that. A short note was no way to leave her for five
days. He knew better. Tell that to the knots tied up inside him. He
had hoped in taking a few days, he’d unravel them. They’d only
tightened and tangled.

Not enough to stop him from approaching her
today, though. She drew him right back in, alluring and mysterious.
Despite how foreign his reaction felt.

Just looking at her sitting three chairs away
made the room fade. The line of her jaw lured his attention. The
light against her skin. Glowing warmth beneath cool aloofness.
Jesus. What had he sunken into? How could she make it so hard to
breathe?

“Speaking of sisters,” Nancy said, pulling
Elliott’s attention back. “Jason, have you spoken with your Aunt
Sheila recently?”

Like a spell broken, everyone sagged a bit
and fell into conversation. Small talk and chit chat, the focus off
of him. Elliott hadn’t realized the mention of his mother had
caused such a silence until it dissipated. He peered at Brooke. She
chewed. Her nostrils flared. Her fork trembled in her hand.

Because of him? Did she feel what he did? The
invisible tug?

Look at me. One glance. One tiny peek my
way.

How could he get her alone? What could he say
to erase the last five days once he did?

“I forgot to tell you, Elliott,” Gordon said,
ire lacing his tone. “You owe me much bigger than you let on.”

He looked at Gordon. “What do you mean?”

“Michelle? The favor?”

“Oh that.” He’d given Gordon’s number to
Michelle, for the car help. “How’d it go?” He might have thrown his
cousin under the bus on that one. He deserved it after what he’d
pulled at the mall and all his damned phone calls this week.
Elliott couldn’t help grinning. “Did you two hit it off?”

Gordon huffed. “She thinks we did. She must
be some kind of hung up on you to be trying to use me to make you
jealous.”

Elliott laughed out loud. “What did she
do?”

“More like, what didn’t she do? Everything
except rape.”

If the body language was any indicator, their
table neighbors were catching the conversation. No biggie. In fact,
Brooke overhearing might aid the cause. “Michelle’s a little
obsessed.”

“Yeah, to say the least.” Gordon’s voice rose
with his emphasis. He began including everyone in on the story.
“First, this girl uses me to get her car looked at for practically
nothing, then she grills me about Elliott. Your childhood, your
family, the works.” He paused to drink his wine.

“Sorry. I should have warned you.”

“Yes, you should have. She even started
throwing herself at me. Can you believe that? She was like a
groupie trying to get a back stage pass.”

Elliott chuckled again. Nice. If he’d had
doubts over his instincts about Michelle, he didn’t any longer.
“How’d you manage to peel her off of you?”

By now, Jason had perked up. “Peel who off
you?” Jealousy hinted in his tone.

Good. The guy deserved it. Putting Gordon
through hell all week than backing out on announcing their
relationship an hour before lift off was not cool. The more Elliott
knew about Jason, the less he liked him. Gordon wasn’t as
indifferent as most mistook him for. He tended to fall hard and hid
his true heart.

“One of Elliott’s girls,” Gordon said,
emphasis on Elliott.

From the end of the table, Brooke’s fork
clattered. Great. He needed Gordon turning this around like he
needed a hole in the head. Could he interrupt and back-pedal? How
about a complete do-over instead? He’d wanted her brought up, not
thrown in his face. “Hey, hold up. I don’t have any girls. Michelle
and I aren’t an item. We never have been.”

“That’s not what she hopes,” Gordon said.

Clearly, his cousin was using this to
purchase some reassurance for his new beau. One problem. Gordon
couldn’t possibly know how expensive his gift was for Elliott.
Brooke had enough reason to stay away.

Elliott sent a hard look Gordon’s way. “Oh,
she probably has her hopes up for a lot. Sadly, she’ll be
disappointed.” Unfortunately, Gordon’s eyes were on Jason.

“What’s wrong with her?” Jason said, his tone
suspicious.

“Well, for starters, she’s too young,” he
said evenly.

“How young is too young?” Jason said.

“That’s relative, I suppose.” Elliott fought
to keep his gaze on Jason. Not on Brooke, where it wanted to go.
“For me it’s twenty, twenty-one. There’s more to it than that,
though. She’s isn’t what I’d call mature for her age.”

Gordon patted him on the back. “Ah, that’s
too bad. Poor girl is head over heels for you, my friend.”

This was not helping. Elliott shut his mouth.
If Gordon kept up, Elliot’d be buried. “I think I might be head
over heels for this food, Mrs. Munkle. If I eat another bite, I’m
going to explode.”

“Aw, you,” she said. “Didn’t I tell you to
call me Nancy. And thank you. Save room for dessert, everyone.”

Murmurs and groans weren’t getting anyone out
of dessert and, as the table cleared, Elliott let himself search
her out. He didn’t have a lot of time. Her friend had one foot out
the door.

How could he get Brooke alone?

In those seconds before the door had opened,
as she’d turned away, he’d been about to say something. To tell
her, what exactly, he didn’t know. Something. He’d have hooked her
back in. Somehow.

Brooke rose. Millie touched her elbow and
leaned in to whisper. Probably insisting they leave. As if Millie
sensed him watching, she pinned Elliott with a glare. The don’t you
dare kind found in female breeds worldwide. Protection in
numbers.

He had to try, warning, rejection or not.

He couldn’t risk never seeing her again.
Sure, he could call. Except, she wouldn’t answer. Or call back. She
might even drop out of class, worse, out of school, just to never
see him again.

He had hurt her. He was beginning to fathom
just how much.

He’d have to untie his Brooke knots later.
Elliott went to her. Millie’s boyfriend stood his ground but didn’t
look hostile. Chances were the guy didn’t know who Elliott was or
the situation yet. Millie knew, though. Probably every last
face-between-the-legs detail from that night. Heat flashed over his
skin.

Millie’d probably picked up the pieces he’d
left, the ones he’d let himself believe a simple note would
prevent. Foolish. Dwelling on past mistakes wouldn’t get him what
he needed.

He touched Brooke’s elbow. She didn’t jerk
away. Millie stared, warning him.

“Brooke? Can I talk to you for a moment?” he
asked.

She faced him, but she didn’t meet his
eyes.

“Alone,” he directed at Millie, who
sniffed.

Brooke finally looked up. Her usual mask for
the world was gone. Vulnerable honesty, the spark that had
attracted him across a room full of strangers in the first place,
shone bright. His lungs tightened.

“We’re leaving,” she said, but her eyes
burned with fire and promise.

He opened his mouth in protest, but stopped.
Was she trying to tell him something? To wait? Until she was alone?
Elliott closed his mouth. Brooke made her goodbyes. At the door,
past Nancy’s hug, she met his gaze again. She winked.

A swell of hope rushed through him. The door
closed, but opportunity stood wide open. It took all of ten minutes
for Elliott to scarf a slice of pumpkin pie a la mode, drench Nancy
with compliments, and leave before Gordon could threaten him with
his life to stay.

No way was he staying.

Not after that look. She’d call and he’d be
ready. He’d be in his car and at her door the moment she asked.

Forty minutes later, he stepped out of a hot
shower feeling charged. Like a drunk man. He wouldn’t let fear
stall him again. He would be a man of action.

He wiped the steamy mirror, and cinched the
towel around his waist. Expectation and strategy jumbled in his
brain. Hot memory flashed there, too. Of her back arched, her head
thrown back, her mouth open. He forced himself to slow down. He
shaved. He dried his hair. Deodorant. The clock ticked. He wouldn’t
let it invade his rhythm and throw him in a spin, anxious that the
phone wouldn’t ring.

Ring, damnit
.

Think about something else. Work? No.
Anything but Shope right now. Talk about a mood kill. Family.
Seeing his dad tomorrow. He hadn’t lied to Nancy. He was glad for
it, too. His dad had royally messed his life up when his mom died,
all of their lives really, but Elliott gave up grudges long ago.
His mom would want it that way.

He missed his mom. How could six years go by
so fast? Every passing day, another sunny memory of her faded. Her
scent. The softness of her skin. Her cutting humor and her big
laughter. Better place or not, he envied whoever had her now.

She’d have been the one he’d call right now.
Probably would have the night he left Brooke’s, too. She would have
known what to say, without judging him. He didn’t have anyone like
that anymore. Gordon and he weren’t close enough these days. Not
that he thought any person could ever replace his mom. It would be
nice to have someone though, to anchor him, to talk to. Not just
about women.

About life.

What was he going to do if he didn’t get this
teaching fellowship, for example? Was he wasting his time on books
and research like everyone else seemed to think? Not that Dad or
Johnnie or Cy said such a thing to his face. They didn’t have
to.

He knew what they thought by the way they
asked. He made them uncomfortable. They worried about baby brother.
How did you show a mechanic turned felon, or two air conditioning
and heating techs, what only his mom ever saw in him? Couldn’t be
done.