Elliot #2
Fletcher shakes his head before leaning forward in his chair, clasping his hands together between his legs, staring me dead in the eyes again.
“Trust me, as someone who avoided Laney for the longest time, I wish I would have made her tell me why she hated me sooner. I lost so much fucking time that I could have been with her because we were both too stubborn to confront the truth.”
“That’s different, though. You two actually cared about each other…”
“And hasn’t Dilynne shown that she cares about you? Haven’t you helped her when she needed it?”
“Well, yeah, with legal paperwork and referring her customers and stuff, but…”
He waves a finger at me. “It’s still something.
But remember what I said about time, Elliot.
You can’t ever get it back. You two have four weeks left in your little ruse and my suggestion is, you make it count.
Confront whatever the fuck makes you two behave toward each other the way you do, and you might be fucking shocked at what’s really lurking underneath the surface.
” He sits up tall again and shrugs. “I mean, we already know that your dick likes her. Maybe there’s a lot more to it than that. ”
“Gee, thank you for that enlightening advice.”
He smiles proudly. “You’re welcome. Now, I must get back to my husbandly duties. Laney gave me a honey-do list and if I don’t get it done, she’s not going to be happy with me when she gets home from work.”
I trail him with my eyes as he stands. “Damn, now I’m so sad that I missed out on marriage.”
Fletcher chuckles. “Trust me, the attention she gives me when the list is complete is well-worth the duty.” With a waggle of his eyebrows, he heads for the door, turning back to me before he exits. “Just remember, if you need someone to talk to, you know I’m just a phone call away.”
“Yeah, yeah. Now go home before you get in trouble.”
Laughing, he rises from his chair and lets himself out of my office.
I gather the wrappers and empty cups from our lunch, deciding to take them out to the dumpster behind the building instead of letting them stink up my office all afternoon.
But when I move to open the door that leads outside, I’m caught off guard by the sound of my father’s voice.
“We had an agreement,” he grates out just loud enough that I know he’s pissed, but he’s clearly also trying to be discreet.
“I know, but how am I supposed to fulfill that when he’s with someone else now?”
Wait. Is that Tori? Why the fuck is she out here alone with my dad?
“Either get creative, or just wait it out. It’s only a matter of time before my son comes to his senses.”
“I don’t know, Henry…”
“You owe me, remember? But the only way that we’re both going to get what we want is if Elliot gets married.”
My pulse is racing as I continue to listen to this conversation through the crack in the door.
Why the fuck would they need me to get married?
“Elliot?” Thomas, one of the other attorneys in the practice, calls out to me as he approaches from the other end of the hallway.
I softly let the door close behind me and head toward him, hoping that my dad and Tori didn’t hear him.
“What’s up, Thomas?” I ask as I catch up to him and lead him away from the door. Meanwhile, my mind is spinning, wondering what the hell my father and Tori are up to—and why I didn’t think of this possibility sooner?
***
When I shut the door to my truck and look out at Clark Customs & Auto Repair, I’m relieved to find the lights still on inside of the garage. The small windows at the top of the steel bay doors hint that Dilynne’s inside, unlike the darkness I was met with at her house.
The ten-minute drive from Dilynne’s house to her garage only gave me more time to think—not only about what Fletcher implied today, but the snippet of the conversation that I caught between my dad and Tori.
I just don’t understand why either of them would need me to be married.
If that hadn’t sent me spiraling already, the sight of Dilynne in her garage when I step inside surely would.
Standing with her back to me, she smacks her gum as she stares at a vintage car that is clearly missing parts, like the freaking headlights of all things.
But it’s not just her backside that has me questioning my sanity—it’s her spinning her fucking bra around on her fingers again, with her other hand planted on her hip.
Clearing my throat so I don’t startle her, I wait for her to turn around before I speak. “Already breaking rule number one, I see.”
Her eyes meet mine over her shoulder. “Well, it shouldn’t count because you’re not supposed to be here, which means you’re breaking rule number four and not respecting my time in the shop.
And also, bras suck and if I’m here alone, I prefer not to wear one.
If you can’t handle that, then you can leave. ”
Fighting my laughter, I step further inside the space, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Fine, I’ll let this one slide.”
“Oh, how generous of you.” She rolls her eyes and then goes back to examining the car.
I walk over to her and move my eyes across her face. “You look frustrated.”
“I am. The next thing on my list is putting the seats back in the Porsche, the interior pieces on the door, and testing the windows to make sure they work with the new electric system I put in, but I’m still missing a few things, like the dash gauges I have to drive and pick up next week.
But I know if I start that project tonight, it’s going to take me well past midnight to finish, and I need my beauty rest, you know? ”
I shrug. “Sleep clearly isn’t helping with that anyway, so what’s the big deal?”
Dilynne glares at me and then smacks me across the face with her bra.
“Jesus! What the hell, Dilynne?”
“Well, clearly no one ever taught you how you should speak to women. One woman refused to marry you, and if you keep that shit up, this fake fiancée of yours is going to dump your ass too.”
The corner of my mouth tips up. “I was only joking, Dilynne. That’s what we do, right?”
She darts her gaze from mine. “Yeah, well…I’m not really in the mood for that kind of banter tonight, all right?”
That’s when I notice the dark circles under her eyes. “Everything okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“That was hardly believable.” She glares at me again, but I keep talking. “Where do you have to go to pick up the gauges?”
“Georgia.”
“Ah… That’s a long drive.”
“Yeah, but not one I haven’t made before.”
“Need some company?”
She turns to look at me, her brows drawn together tightly. “You’re offering to go with me?”
I shrug, trying to brush off my offer. “I mean, I think it would give us some time to talk about Motorlux and what I can expect when we’re there. If it’s going to be a week-long affair, I’d like to be prepared.”
She turns back to look at the car. “I appreciate the offer, but…”
“Dilynne, it’s just a car ride.”
She inhales deeply and then sighs. “Fine. Yeah, I guess it would give us time to talk.”
“What kind of Porsche is this anyway?” I ask, pointing to the one that’s clearly her project for the show.
“A 1950 Porsche 356. I debated between this and a 1962 Chevy Corvette, but there was something about Betty that spoke to me. Maybe next time I’ll restore a Corvette. It is another one of my dream restorations, after all.”
“I couldn’t tell you the difference between the two.”
She rolls her eyes. “Trust me, I’m aware.”
“You seem to still be irritated.”
“Well, you have that effect on me.”
My smirk appears effortlessly. “You sure it’s just me that’s got you in a mood?”
She sighs again. “Look, it’s not a big deal…”
“Does it have anything to do with the press junket last Saturday?”
She slowly turns to face me. “Did you…watch it?”
Shrugging, I turn back to the car in front of us so she doesn’t read too much into my response. “I did. I mean, that’s what a supportive fiancé would do, right?”
She flings her bra off to the side and then turns to face me head-on, her hands back on her hips. “What’s going on, Elliot?”
“Nothing.”
“Really? Then why are you here?”
“Is it a problem that I’m here?”
“I mean, no but…”
“Well, I did need to confirm that you’re good for dinner with my parents this Friday, and you weren’t answering your phone, so…”
One of her brows lift. “It’s crazy. There are these things called voicemails and text messages. I would have responded eventually.”
Sighing, I say, “Look, I guess I just wanted to check on you. Is that a crime?”
Her scowl softens. “Okay…”
“And Fletcher said that I should take this more seriously, so…”
“Oh, so you’re here because Fletcher told you to be. Got it.” She moves to walk away from me, but I reach out and gently grab her arm, spinning her into my chest. “What the…”
I place a finger to her lips, silencing her.
“Can you just shut up long enough for me to finish a goddamn sentence, woman?” Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t say anything.
“Thank you. Now, as I was saying, Fletcher reminded me that I need to take this more seriously, and part of doing that is checking on you, communicating with you, and sharing shit with you so that we’re on the same page.
Got it?” Her eyes widen, but she nods. Having her this close, I can feel her bare breasts pressed against my chest, separated by nothing but her thin tank top and my dress shirt.
With her overalls hanging loose at her waist, it’s not nearly enough to keep me from wondering what she might feel like without those layers between us.
“Good girl.” I drag my finger down her mouth slowly, drawing the tip of it across her bottom lip as her mouth parts slightly. My eyes can’t focus on anything else but the sight of her red lips under my touch, which only make my dick throb in my pants even harder.
Fuck. What is this woman doing to me?
“Elliot?”
“Yes, Dilynne?” I ask, my gaze still fixed on her mouth.
“You can let me go now.” Her words wash over me like a cold shower, snapping me back to reality as I release my grip on her upper arm and take a step back, giving her my back as I reach down and adjust my cock in my slacks.
Fuck.