Chapter Four
Ginger
I’m not half bad at ax throwing.
Granted, I hardly hit the board, but the few times I did, the ax stuck. However, we don’t rack up the points we need to be competitive, and while I expect a big fuss from Ellis, like Wesley made whenever he lost at pool, or darts, or a bet he placed on a football game, Ellis simply laughs off our score, accepts a beer from our opponents, and we move on.
Surprisingly, we find Grant just outside the ax throwing event and the three of us finally wander toward the food vendors.
“I’m starving,” I admit, my mouth already watering for a brat. Or two. And maybe a hot pretzel with layers of salt.
Wesley would have criticized my food choices, but thankfully, he isn’t here.
Glancing down at the ring I still wear, I remind myself he isn’t present in my life anymore period.
Why am I still wearing this thing?
A full week has passed, and the memories hit hard and fast, and out of the blue when I try to keep them locked in a box. The images. The words. The hurt.
Wesley isn’t really so great. He’d done his damage with comments about my clothes and my hair. About what I ate and didn’t eat. About activities I participated in and didn’t do.
Did I love him? I thought I did, but a good look at his behavior since we’d gotten engaged, and his most recent actions, remind me that was not love.
He’s a selfish, spoiled, small man in both brains and dick. I’ve had better. Maybe.
Feeling like someone is watching me, I glance upward. Ellis is staring at the diamond on my hand. The hand I hold in front of me, fingers extended, as I examine the ring myself.
“Nice rock.” Sarcasm fills the compliment.
I should return the garish thing. Or I could hock it. I might need the money. I moved out immediately, feeling fortunate to have found another place, but one that won’t be available for another month. For now, I’m staying with Grant, ashamed to tell the rest of my family and friends that the engagement is off.
I hadn’t done anything wrong. But still, I am embarrassed.
I hum in response to Ellis’s remark and toy with removing the ring now. However, in only a slip of a thong beneath Ellis’s shirt and my still damp bra which grows increasingly more uncomfortable, I don’t have any pockets to place this thing in for safe keeping.
Grant does a cursory glance at the diamond as well, scoffs, and lifts his beer, taking a healthy guzzle. He’s well on his way to being shitfaced by three o’clock. Thankfully, he’s sworn to secrecy about my current engagement status. He never liked Wesley and he’s been more vocal about his opinion now that we’ve broken up.
I lower my hand, dismissing all thoughts of my ex, the white gold band weighing down my finger, and my future. For now, I’m living in the present. And that means a hot pretzel, two bratwursts, and my first beer of the day.
I’m such a rebel.
“Next.” The counter worker calls out and we place our order. I don’t expect Grant to critique my selection, but if Ellis has a comment, he doesn’t share it. In fact, he’s adding to the order with a side of German potato salad, telling me over his shoulder, I need to try it.
We find a tall table to place our treasured food on and dig in. I moan and hum around every bite. Grant ignores me, but Ellis watches my mouth. His eyes widen with every groan. He licks his lips and I follow suit as if I have something on my own. He’s rather attentive as I eat and I hold my breath a second, waiting for a comment, a criticism, a snarky remark.
“Here. Try this.” He extends a large forkful of German potato salad in my direction.
“It’s so big.”
Ellis growls.
The scoop is so large it looks like it might topple over before he brings the plastic utensil to my mouth. Opening as wide as I can, I take in the sample. Instantly, my mouth waters with the burst of carbs and mayo. Two things that deserve a medal and are underrated in their food group categories.
“Delicious.” I purr around the bite.
“You’re delicious.” As the words pop out of Ellis’s mouth, his eyes widen.
My lips gape open, potato salad on display.
Grant chokes. “Dude. What the fuck?”
Ellis blinks once, like he’s mentally trying to recall what he said. Figure out how to backpedal. Or maybe he’s wondering why he said what he said. Where did that even come from?
“I . . . uh . . .” A saving explanation escapes him, and a deep pink stain coasts up Ellis’s face. He’s already a little sweaty from the heat of the day and the press of bodies close to us, plus that ridiculous sweatshirt he’s wearing mid-day in August. I should have taken his sweatshirt and let him have his flannel to wear.
“I’m getting another beer,” Grant stammers, leaving our table, taking the beer he hasn’t finished with him to nurse while standing in the long line.
“I shouldn’t have said that.” Ellis quickly apologizes, eyes avoiding mine.
I want to brush off his apology, and even what he’d said, but something in the way he said the compliment has given me pause.
With my left hand on the table, I extend my fingers and glance down at the ring another second. Looking up, I watch Ellis’s eyes close, his brows pinched, his expression pained.
“I’m sorry,” he chokes, whispering.
Thickness coats my throat, and I swallow hard. Here goes nothing. “Wesley said I was fat.”
“What?” Ellis’s roar is thunderously loud, along with a hammered fist on the wobbly high-top and the lightning speed of his eyes opening, causing me to almost stumble backward. Anger etches deep lines on his face.
“He didn’t say it in so many words. The comments were small but consistent. Insistent. Should you really be eating that? Are you sure that’s good for you? You don’t want to be a bursting bride instead of a blushing one.”
That last one had been the final straw.
“What a fucking fucker.” Ellis’s voice is still too loud, and I glance over my shoulder to see if anyone close is listening or offended.
I sheepishly peer back at him. “It just became too much. He was too much. And I know my worth.”
Although Wesley’s words certainly had chipped away at me.
“Damn right,” Ellis barks.
“And he wasn’t worthy of me.” I hold up my hand, staring at the ring in wonder. “I broke off the engagement.”
A long, harsh breath escapes Ellis, brushing over my cheeks like a comforting summer breeze.
“Thank God,” he grunts.
My head shoots up again, staring at him.
“But why are you still wearing that thing?” He tips his head toward my fingers.
“I don’t really know.” The answer is the truth. I don’t know why I haven’t taken it off. I should have tossed it at Wesley’s shocked face. But when I told him I was done, I was surprisingly calm. He didn’t love me for who I am. And I didn’t need that kind of love for the rest of my life. Til death do us part.
With my right hand, I toy with the giant rock on my left. “I should really take it off. I want to take it off,” I say louder.
“Then take it off.” Again, his voice drops, the sound raw, encouraging, and a bit seductive when he repeats, “Take it off, baby.”
I have no idea where this playful side of him comes from. He’s been challenging me all day, spurring me on in both the log rolling contest and the ax throwing games. And yet, the challenge has been different. He isn’t criticizing me like Wesley. He’s pushing me. That’s Ellis. The two men are not the same.
There’s no comparison really.
“I will take it off,” I counter loudly. Extending my hand, I tug the ring, slipping it up to the knuckle, then back to the webbing. Moving it once more, I slide it over the knuckle, then drop it back, like I’m teasing Ellis with the removal. Like I’m preforming a striptease act . . . with a ring. Baring my finger to him.
Deciding that’s a silly thought, I tug the ring free and let out a gasp that reminds me of an orgasmic sound of relief. My breath hitches. I arch my back. I grip the table like I’m unsteady, overpowered, but liberated.
“Damn, that felt good.”
Ellis is staring at me once more. His dark eyes large. His mouth held partially open. His fingers whiten on the edge of the table, like he’s ready to toss it aside when I’m slightly tempted to ask him to bend me over it. Although the table is too tall, too unstable, and the last thing Ellis would ever do is fuck me.
A rush of butterflies flutter in my lower belly, and I almost double over. My core pulses. My palms flatten on the tabletop, like I’m holding myself back. Like the thought alone of this powerful man entering me could bring me a release like I’ve never had.
My brain screams. My legs tremble. With a shaking hand, I hold up the diamond ring pinched between my fingers. “I don’t know where to put this. I don’t have any pockets.”
“Throw it in the lake.” His response is rash and hurried, and almost adamant. He means it. Trash the ring.
Instead, I curl my palm around it. “I’ll give it to Grant to hold onto.”
Ellis snatches the ring from my hand. “I’ll keep things safe for you.”
While I consider he misspoke, his eyes latch onto mine as he tucks the ring into his short’s pocket. Intriguingly, I don’t think he only means the ring will be safe with him.
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The day wears on and the cups of beer pile up. I’ve tried to match every twelve ounces with an equal measure of water but after hitting the portable toilets a few too many times, I’m done with liquids. Plus, there’s a polka dance contest, and I’ve entered Grant and I in it.
Not surprisingly, he’s missing come time for the dance off.
“You,” I point at Ellis who is already shaking his head.
“Absolutely not.” He lifts his foot. “Do you see the size of these climbers?”
I see them alright. And if the myths about hands and feet mirroring the length and girth of a penis, well . . . I already have my own unscientific experience from earlier in the day, riding Ellis like a rolling log in the lake.
“Please.” I wrap my fingers around his big hand, batting my eyelashes and pouting my lips. I don’t expect it to work.
But Ellis tips back his head, groans as he stares at the ceiling of the tent, and then levels me with a warning stare. “You’re going to owe me for this.”
“Whatever you’d like,” I counter.
“Anything?” He quirks up one bushy brow.
Do I mean anything? How bad could it be? What could he possibly ask of me?
You’re delicious. The comment has been on repeat in my head throughout the day. He’s delicious.
A little nibble of him might be nice, but I’d never do that to Ellis. I’d never put myself out there again for him, and I wouldn’t want him to think he’s a rebound.
Harshly, I shake that thought; he isn’t propositioning me for sex. This is Ellis. He’ll make me do something stupid like lick tree bark or hold a snake. Nothing terribly unsafe.
I’ll keep things safe for you.
“Anything,” I finally offer. “Within reason.” I hold up a pointed finger.
“Of course there’s a condition.” He wraps his beefy hand around my singular digit and tugs.
“You’re putting a condition on this contest,” I remind him.
“Whatever. Let’s dance.”
With his hand still wrapped around my finger, I lead him to the dance floor.
I don’t know how to polka. I’m certain he doesn’t know how to polka. But the music starts and off we go, following the pack and making fools of ourselves. As we kick our legs and dip our clasped hands, we laugh like I laughed earlier. Loud and carefree. Liberating once again.
Dammit, being with Ellis feels too good.