10. Scarlet
TEN
SCARLET
I bolt down the hall, quickly peeking in on James—despite his fussing, he’s still sleeping—before locking myself in the bathroom.
The woman starting back at me in the mirror may as well be a stranger, with sleep-mussed hair and pupils the size of dinner plates. I will my heart to slow as my chest heaves and my cheeks burn hot enough to rival the damn sun.
“Holy hell,” I whisper on an exhale as I slump against the bathroom door. Ten minutes ago, my greatest worry was the newfound knowledge of how Ellis’s cock feels pressed against my ass.
But now, I’m about to lose my shit because Ellis is right, I have a stalker.
Not some rando with a crush.
Not a secret admirer.
A full-blown, real-life, honest-to-god stalker.
“What am I supposed to do?” I ask my reflection. My mind is reeling as my thoughts scatter like spilled marbles in my brain.
Who in the hell is stalking me? Why? Was Ellis hard for me or was it really just a case of morning wood?
The answer to all of it is the same though—I don’t know. And the uncertainty of it all is enough to send me right over the edge.
If I’m being honest, I want my mom. But she’s living it up in the Bahamas, and there’s no way I’m ruining this trip for her. Even if a hug from her could fix all of this.
At least, metaphorically. In reality, everything’s a fucking mess, and I don’t have the first clue of how to fix any of this. Especially my stalker.
So, I focus on the here and now, namely Ellis and his not-so-little problem…
There are certain things people shouldn't know about other people. Under no circumstances should I know how Ellis Wilder's thick, long, hard-on feels. I shouldn’t know he’s absolutely packing, in both length and width.
But I do know, and I don't know what to do with the knowledge. I damn sure don't know how to forget.
Isn’t there some stupid saying that says, once you know, you can never go back?
Well, that's me right now. Because, how am I supposed to return to the life I had before I knew how he felt pressed against me. Am I supposed to pretend I don’t remember how good his hands felt on my body before we were both fully alert and awake and aware?
And worse still, I can't stop my brain from running wild with made-up scenarios based on that knowledge. Am I saying Ellis has never played a role in my fantasies before? Of course he has. I'm a red-blooded female with eyes.
I know what the man looks like. He's stunning. And as long as he keeps his mouth shut, he's perfectly welcome in my fantasies.
Then again, every part of me liked the way he sounded when he said he’d keep me safe. From my stalker. Because, holy shit, I actually have a stalker.
Nope, focus on the fantasies, Scarlet. Focus on the yummy, but frustrating, hunk of a man who hates you but also vowed to keep you safe.
Fantasies that were previously built by me and my very vivid imagination. But now I know my imagination didn't give him enough credit, and I’m really just not sure what to do with that information.
I shift my thighs, the wetness gathered there tells me we know exactly what to do with that info, but that’s never—I repeat never—going to happen.
“Get it together, Scarlet,” I hiss before splashing cold water on my face. “You’re a grown ass woman, act like it.”
Unfortunately, acting like it is a task that proves to be easier said than done, as evidenced by the way I tiptoe to the door, my legs shaking from a combination of shame, exertion, arousal, and lingering fear.
Waking up to an early morning eyeful of Ellis’s dick threw me off kilter. Add in this latest note, and I honestly feel like I’m falling apart. Only, I can’t fall apart. Nora asked me here to watch James, which means my impending breakdown will have to wait until later.
I crack the door and press my ear against the opening, listening for Ellis. When all I hear is the sound of coffee brewing, I slip out of the bathroom and make a mad dash to the living room to retrieve my bag.
I peek in on James one more time and find him starting to wake, so I rush back into the bathroom, where I fly through brushing my teeth and tossing my hair into a messy bun, before finally throwing on a pair of yoga shorts and a tank top.
Feeling a little more grounded, I set my bag in the hallway and slip into James’s room to grab him. He’s on his back with his toes in the air, but reaches his arms out for me the second he sees me.
“Let’s get you ready for the day, little man. Your mama should be home soon, and I know she’s missed you.”
He babbles back in whatever language it is babies speak as I hoist him into my arms.
I lay him on his changing table, and my ovaries all but spontaneously combust when he stretches his arms and legs out so wide his little back bows off the changing pad.
“You, sir, need a fresh diaper.” He gives me a toothy grin, like he’s proud of his output. “Men… you’re all the same,” I mutter as I grab a diaper from the drawer.
Once he’s changed, I grab a onesie and get him dressed. “Well, there’s nothing left to do but face the music.” And by music, I mean sexy jackass in the kitchen who has a note from my stalker. Potato, po-tah-to.
I walk into the kitchen with James on my hip, expecting to make him some breakfast, drink some coffee, and maybe get lectured by Ellis. But my steps falter at the sight of him pacing and tugging on the ends of his hair, looking more tortured than I’ve ever seen him.
“Um.” I scoot past him and secure James in his high chair. “Are you okay?”
“No.” He drags his eyes over me. “I’m so far from fucking okay, I don’t even know where to start.”
“I hear the beginning is a great place.” I go the long way around the island to the fridge to grab the eggs and some blueberries. “Try there.”
“He. Watched. Us,” Ellis says through gritted teeth.
“Wha-what do you mean?” I ask, ignoring the way my hand shakes as I reach for a bowl to mix the eggs in.
“That motherfucker sat outside of this house and watched us through the window. He watched us as we fought, as we ate dinner, as we slept. Said he wanted to break my hands for touching you.”
“Oh,” I whisper, shame wrapping around me like an unwanted blanket on a summer day. It’s hot and suffocating, and I hate it. “That.”
“Yeah, Princess. That.” He crosses his arms and glares. “What are we going to do about it?”
“We?” I stare down at the eggs I’m whisking, avoiding his gaze. I’m too split open to make eye contact with him right now. Especially since I’m not sure if I’ll see judgment or pity—or which one would be worse.
“Yes, we, Scarlet. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
“You don’t even like me,” I mutter as he grabs a pan and starts the burner for me. James claps and squeals, as if to emphasis my point.
“Doesn’t mean this shit is okay.” He steps back, and I slide seamlessly into the space he vacated, pouring the eggs into the pan.
“Agreed.” I let the eggs sit a minute before pushing them around the pan with a spatula. “But I’m not really sure what to do.”
He pauses mashing James’s blueberries. “I’d start with a police report,” he says, looking at me like I’m an idiot.
“I didn’t think it’d help.” I turn off the burner and plate the eggs, fanning them to speed up the cooling process.
James smacks his hands on his high chair tray.
“Your food’s coming, little dude,” Ellis coos, using that soft voice he reserves for James. “Scar’s making sure you don’t burn yourself.”
The baby only babbles and bangs the tray harder.
“Here you go.” I set the plate down with flourish. James wastes no time, grabbing a fistful of eggs and smashing them into his face.
“I mean it, Scarlet. You need to file a police report.”
“What’s the point? I know literally nothing about the person leaving the notes. Not their name, what they look like… literally nothing.”
“The point,” he growls, “is a paper trail.”
And that’s it. That’s my tipping point. I wrap my arms around myself, my shoulders shaking with silent sobs as the tears I’ve been fighting since I woke up break free. “I can’t do this, Ellis.”
“Hey, whoa, no. Please don’t cry.” He sounds… concerned. Which only makes me cry harder. “Fuck. Come here.”
I’m about to ask where, but he’s in my space with his arms around me before I get the chance.
My brain short circuits at the contact. Ellis-freaking-Wilder is hugging me. And even worse, I lean into him, soaking every drop of the comfort he’s offering.
How a simple hug and some soft words from a man who hates me on most days can soothe my soul, I’ll never know.
Safe to say this hug—everything about us, really—is anything but simple.
The sound of the front door opening has us jumping apart like two polarizing magnets.
“Hello,” Nora singsongs as she flounces into the kitchen.
“Oh, you’re home,” I stammer, taking another step away from Ellis, all but flattening myself against the wall.
“I couldn’t stay away another second,” Nora confesses, causing me to smile despite the turmoil rocketing though me.
“She’s not lying,” Atlas adds, his face giving away nothing, but his voice is warm with love. “She even asked if we could come home around midnight. I convinced her everything was fine.”
They exchange one of those loaded looks only couples deeply in love are capable of.
“And by convinced me, he means he showed me the camera feed approximately a hundred times.”
“Ca-camera?” I choke, my eyes flying around the room in search of it. Sure enough, there’s a little blue light flashing on the bookshelf. Can this morning get any worse?
“Yup,” Atlas says popping the p, his lips curling up into what can only be described as a shit-eating-grin. “I’ll admit, I always thought Nora was exaggerating when it comes to the two of you, but y’all sure looked cozy last night. Intimate, even.”
Deny, deny, deny. “I don’t have the faintest idea of what you’re talking about.” I suck in a deep breath and tap my index fingers against my thighs five times before slowly exhaling.
“Other than the two of you”—he lifts his brows—“you know, was everything okay? No… trouble?”
Now it’s Ellis and me exchanging looks—not the same kind as Atlas and Nora, thank you very much. “Um…”
“Don’t like the sound of that,” Atlas growls, low and lethal. “Someone better explain and in a hurry.”
“It’s just…” I interlace my fingers behind my back as I rock on my heels, enough nervous energy running through me to power a lighthouse. “I—”
“She freaked herself out thinking she heard something outside,” Ellis lies smoothly. “I checked, there was no one. It was probably just a racoon or branch scraping the house.”
“Yup.” I force a laugh, wondering why on earth he’s not telling Atlas about the note. My brain is spinning like a top as I struggle to make heads or tails of all of this. “You know me, such an overactive imagination.”
“I think you just thrive on drama,” Ellis unhelpfully adds, winking at me over Atlas’s shoulder.
Atlas snorts, and I decide it’s time to go—if only to keep myself from spilling the beans. “I hope y’all had the best time,” I say to Nora, who’s now holding James on her hip while she wipes his hands and face. “I have a lot to do today, so I’m gonna head out.”
“Lunch this week?” she asks.
“Sounds good.” I cross to her and give James some love before grabbing my bag and hoofing it out the front door without so much as a goodbye.
I want nothing more than to hightail it home, but when I crank my car, I’m quickly reminded I need gas—and caffeine since I ran out of Nora’s house without a drop of coffee.
Luckily, there’s a gas station right before the highway, where I make a quick stop, filling up before running inside for an energy drink and a muffin. Weird as it is, they get them day-old from a local bakery, and I am obsessed with the banana nut.
“That it?” the clerk asks.
“Breakfast of champions,” I murmur, tapping my card before heading back out.
I set my drink on the hood of my car so I can open the door, but someone calls my name before I can open the door.
My heart thunders in my chest as I crane my neck, scanning the parking lot for whoever yelled for me
“What the actual fuck?” My head spins on a damn near swivel as I scan the parking lot for anything amiss.
But there’s… nothing. Just average, everyday people doing average, everyday things Even so, my spine tingles with awareness.
It’s almost as if I can feel someone’s eyes on me, cataloging my every movement.
“Over here, Princess.”
I look up and lock eyes with Ellis as he pulls up next to me.
“Ellis.” My entire body deflates as he throws his truck into park. “Why are you yelling at me in a parking lot?”
“Didn’t want you to leave before I pulled up.”
“Ever hear of a phone?”
He shrugs. “This is more of a face-to-face kind of talk.”
“Oh,” is all I manage to get out.
“My place work?”
“You…” Every synapse in my brain simultaneously misfires. “You want me to come back to your place?”
“To talk, Scarlet. It’s not like I’m inviting you into my bed.”
I choke on air while Ellis watches from his truck, a smirk curling his lips. “Right.” I pound my fist against my chest before cracking open my drink and chugging half. “To talk.”
I planned on doing my typical Sunday reset—groceries, laundry, cleaning, and meal prep—but anything sounds better than being home alone right now—even following Ellis home to talk.
“I’ll follow you,” I murmur, sliding behind the wheel.
Ellis nods and pulls out of the parking lot, and, against my better judgment, I follow behind him.