Chapter Twelve
CHAPTER TWELVE
TELL ME TO STOP
ELOISE
It’s entirely too early for this.
Ben’s look of concern makes me want to throw myself out of a window. Preferably one located on a tenth floor.
I haven’t had my morning cup of tea, I woke up late, and my hair is knotted at the top of my head because I couldn’t find the will to wrestle a brush through it.
“I’m serious, Eloise,” he continues, in spite of my dead stare.
“As am I,” I tell him, turning away to assess the boxes of books that came in the day before. I’d been too cranky and tired to deal with them then, and I’m paying for it now.
“Where did you get the money to pay off your loan?” he asks for the second time.
Leave it to a man to get what they want and still not be satisfied.
My mother would chastise me for participating in the heteronormative gender roles. Love is love , she always said.
I guess I’m just better at hate. Or something a little milder, anyway.
“What does it matter? If I got naked on a pole, if I pawned my precious stones, if I sold some of my eggs, what does it matter ?” My back is turned to him, but my hands are outstretched as I try to keep from exploding. “You got the money you were after.”
“You get into bed with those men and nothing good will come of it,” he warns me, reeking of small-town close-mindedness that makes me feel claustrophobic.
He would choose that verbiage. My urge to chuckle is eclipsed only by my desire for him to be quiet and mind his business.
“Ben, I will find the largest book in this store and chuck it at your dense skull if you don’t leave me alone about this.” I bend to pick up the nearest box, a grunt punctuating the arduous task at hand.
I don’t realize he’s taking the box until it’s out of my hands.
He sets it on the edge of the counter. “You don’t intimidate me, Lucy,” he tells me, giving me enough personal space to not feel uncomfortable with the fact that only he and I occupy the store.
Still, the need to push him even farther from me has me glaring at him. “And you don’t affect me, Ben. Are we done sharing our feelings so I can get some work done?” I place one hand on my hip and the other on the box.
Ahead of me, the day isn’t filled with much promise. Stocking books, watching the door, waiting for someone, anyone, to walk inside and fall in love with this place.
I can breathe, knowing this man can’t come back in here and take this place from me. But the breathing stops short at the sound of the bell jingling above the door and the sight of the man crossing the threshold in his charcoal suit.
And my damn hippocampus betrays me again. The way his fingers pressed into my skin, the way his kiss emptied every cohesive thought from my mind, the way my body formed against his, it all rushes back to me.
“Good morning, Eloise.” He nods at Ben, offering his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Ezra James.”
Ben stares at his outstretched hand before glancing at me. I’m not sure if he’s looking for permission but I don’t care if they shake hands or wrestle, as long as they don’t do it in here. My shrug is quick, and I look away, ready to get to work.
I hear the bell jangle again, signaling Ben’s departure.
“Are you going to spend the day chasing people out of here, Mr. James?” I finally glance up at him again as I await his response.
“Apparently I’m spending it chasing you,” he answers, his tone lazy as he flicks at one of the tea lights hanging by the register.
It’s time I learned that I’d have to answer for ignoring people’s attempts to reach me. All of his calls went unanswered, his texts ignored. It was only a matter of time before he sought me out.
“No need. My routine is pretty predictable,” I tell him, ignoring the box sitting between us.
“So is your lack of response.” He lifts a brow and smirks, and I wonder if this is all it takes for women to throw their panties at him. I’m almost ashamed that it took me a lot less.
“And yet, you continue to contact me.”
“Yes, Eloise. There is someone in the world more stubborn than even you.”
I want to ask him why he’s here. But even I know when it’s time to push my luck and when it’s time to play nice. He’s the reason I’m able to tell Ben to leave me alone. The reason I’m able to stay here, in this place that’s been my entire life for nearly a decade.
“What’s your schedule looking like today?” he asks.
“Looking to collect payment?” I toss out, trying to stave the nerves that threaten to make my voice shake.
“In the form of a meal, if you’d be so kind,” he answers, gazing out of the window.
There aren’t many people around, but I still feel antsy, having him here. I know Sophie’s at work and Kitty is hopefully enjoying her day off. Still, the last thing I need are people running and telling Sophie about a strange man in the store.
Not that she’s been around for people to be able to say anything to her. Most of the time, I can’t even find the woman.
“At your place,” I tell him, flicking my gaze back to assess him.
“Are you hiding me, Eloise?”
“Please stop saying my name.” It sounds like a sin. I sigh before I continue. “And you know I am.”
“You would hide the generous benefactor?—”
“We discussed the terms, and you agreed to them.” My response is resolute, and I look him in the eyes as I say it.
“Can we be trusted alone in my home?” he asks, and flashes of our heated kiss on his dining table assault me. Still, I try to pretend it never happened.
“I don’t see why not,” I mutter, frowning.
His chuckle has me rolling my eyes before leaning down to grab a box. In my peripheral, I see Ezra move toward me.
“If you try to help me, I will bite you,” I warn him, sick of men and their misplaced concern.
He barks out a laugh that fills the space around us, and I turn in time to catch his features while enraptured in his enjoyment.
Ezra really is a beautiful man. It’s unfair, how long his lashes are, how perfectly plump his lips are, how his suits fit him as though they were made for him.
They likely are.
I set the box on the counter next to the one Ben placed there and rip at the top, folding the flaps back and pausing at the sight of the books.
A good cover always deserves a moment of admiration.
“I like you, you know,” he says, interrupting my examination, ruining my peace.
Did he really…
My eyes squint in disbelief before I look up at him, giving him a good hard stare. “What did you just say?”
“I told you that I like you,” he tells me, shrugging. Like he isn’t wearing a suit that likely costs more than what I make in a month, standing in my dusty bookstore that he financially backed like that amount of money just sits in his bank account for no good reason.
Like he didn’t just confess to something I have no room in my life to tackle.
“Are we children, Mr. James?” It’s all I can muster at his proclamation.
“You ignore me like one.”
I clasp my hands in front of my chest, as if I’m about to pray. And if I am, it’s for patience. So that I don’t physically harm the man in front of me.
“Okay, okay.” He runs his hands over his suit jacket, and I try to overlook the fact that I remember what his chest felt like against mine. “Let’s try to play nice. May I take you to lunch, Eloise?”
I want to chastise him for using my name again but I’m too tired to be difficult anymore. The morning is suddenly looking more and more daunting to me.
“Sure,” I tell him, hoping to cut the exchange short. “I’ll meet you at your house at noon.”
When I start pulling books from the box, he doesn’t move.
“Anything else?” I ask, holding a stack of books against my chest.
“A confession.” He watches me set the books down, then comes behind the counter to grab more from the box, stacking the others on top of it. I worry he’s going to ruin his suit, but he doesn’t seem to care, so why should I?
When he straightens, adjusting the sleeves of his suit jacket, I speak.
“Another one?”
“You left the other day and…I couldn’t stop thinking about how badly I want to taste you again.” His tone is even, his words are purposeful. I just wonder what that purpose is.
And he’s labeled the words correctly. They are a confession. Only, I’m not the person who’ll grant him immunity. I’m the person who’ll take them as warning.
“Never again,” I whisper, hating that I can’t be certain. “It will never happen again.”
“Maybe not. But I can’t get your flavor off my tongue.” He stops, just in front of me.
His body heat reacquaints itself with mine.
When his index finger reaches out to brush against my cheek, I hold my breath.
I’ve always heard the saying that there’s a thin line between love and hate.
Those people never straddled the line between lust and disdain. It’s become my permanent residence since the day Ezra walked in with his business partner, ready to make an offer on this place.
“Tell me to stop,” he instructs me.
His finger trails to my shoulder.
“Tell me.” His words sound like a plea. “And I will.”
That finger dips lower, grazing the swell of my breast.
Still, I’m silent, relishing in his desire for me, letting it wash over me even as it threatens to unravel me.
“I’m going to kiss you, Eloise.”
The sound of my name has me jerking back, blinking before I open my mouth.
“Stop,” I tell him, leaning against the nearest bookshelf, taking a breath so deep, I swear I take all the air in the room.
How am I going to last a whole summer in his presence?
“See you at noon,” he announces, as if the ghost of his touch was just something I dreamed up.
And without another word, he walks out, leaving me with the wooden beams that held me together when everything else had fallen apart.