Chapter 16
16
Ella stared after Trish for several beats. The other woman may be diminutive, but she’d been as tall and straight and fierce as a freaking Amazonian right now. She glanced at Jake, her head spinning from this afternoon’s revelations, to find him inspecting her with brooding eyes.
“Well, I don’t know about you,” he said, “but I need another drink.” He picked up her half-finished wine glass from the table. “I’ll top you up.”
Ella followed him into the kitchen and stood quietly while he busied himself. Passing her the refilled glass, he popped the top on a Corona, pushed a wedge of lime into the throat and took a swig. Cocking a hip to rest against the granite bench top a couple of feet from her position, his gaze finally met hers.
“Bet that was more than you were expecting, huh?”
The bitter edge to his voice pricked like a Brillo pad on her skin. Did he think she was going to judge him about what had happened all those years ago? Because it was clear he was still beating himself up over it.
“Do you hate me?” he asked, his gaze anguished.
Ella sucked in a breath at the surprising question. “Of course not.”
Hate him?
Nothing could be further from the truth. She’d heard too much good stuff about him just now. Hell, she suspected she loved him. Not that she was about to blurt that out. Their situation was complicated enough without half-baked declarations in emotionally intense settings.
“I think you found yourself in a situation a long time ago that made you feel angry and powerless. I think it still does.”
He threw his bottle cap into the bin on the other side of the kitchen with the precision of a trained athlete. “Damn right about that.”
“That’s fair enough. But…” Ella hesitated as she took a tiny step closer. She was new to all this information and it was hardly her business, so she had to tread carefully. “If Trish is determined to relegate it to her past, perhaps you should too? Maybe it’s time to stop hating yourself, Jake?”
He nodded but she could see the whiteness of his knuckles as his hand tightened around his beer and Ella wanted to reach out, remove his hand, press his palm to her racing heart. Drag him back from the past, ground him in the here and now.
“Do you think it’s true what she said? About you hiding away?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, maybe.”
Ella watched the bob of his whiskery throat as he took a drink. The bottle tink’ed as he set it down again on the marble top, seeming very loud in the silence between them. The last time they’d been alone like this – six days ago – they’d danced and kissed and even though it was stupidly inappropriate to be thinking about that now, it was all she could think about.
Every cell in her body hummed with the memory. And the way his gaze lingered on her mouth, she wondered if he was thinking the same.
“So… knowing all that you do now you still want me to coach the team?” he asked, finally breaking the silence in a low rumble that sent warm air currents spilling over her skin.
She nodded because she didn’t quite trust her voice for a beat. “They need you, Jake.” In more ways than one.
A team of impressionable young men could do worse than Jake as a role model.
“And what about you?” His gaze dropped to her mouth again and she swayed a little. “What do you need?”
The air in Ella’s lungs felt as heavy as wet sand at his blatant invitation. She needed only one thing in this moment but if she cracked that seal for a third time, she was worried she’d never be able to slake her thirst and her needs had to come second for a little while longer.
There was a school to save.
Giving a husky little half-laugh, she waved dismissively and said, “That doesn’t matter right now.”
And she actually believed it for a split second. Until Jake snagged her hip and dragged her flush to him, all his heat and hardness pressing into her and she barely stopped herself from whimpering.
“ Ella .” His rough whisper drew her nipples to tight, aching points. “It’s okay to want things for yourself. To be selfish every now and then.”
Raising his hand, he gently tucked a strand of hair that had worked loose from her ponytail behind her ear, firing off a swathe of goosebumps down the side of her neck. She shut her eyes at the gentle touch, feeling it everywhere .
“Damn it,” he muttered and groaned a groan so low and rumbly it was practically subterranean. Her eyes fluttered open to find him staring at her mouth like he was starving for it and she was suddenly ravenous, too. “I wish I didn’t want to kiss you so much.”
Ella wished she didn’t want to kiss him either but suddenly that’s exactly what they were doing, his lips hot on hers, her breasts squashed against his chest, her arms snaking around his neck. Passion exploded full roar between them as the kisses deepened and they pressed closer, the long, hard thickness of him grinding into the apex of her thighs setting her instantly aflame, making her dizzy with need.
Too damn dizzy. He filled her up too much. Made it hard to breathe. Hard to think.
She broke off, dragging in much-needed air, her heart pounding like a massive sub-woofer at a rock concert. His mouth was wet, his pupils so dilated there was only the thinnest rim of green iris as he closed in again.
“Wait.”
Her pulse thrummed as she held herself back from him. As much as was possible anyway with their thighs pressed so intimately and his aroma – beer, lime and pheromones – drowning her good sense. But she was determined to finish business before she got to pleasure.
“Ella?”
His voice was a ragged pant and it was gratifying to see him looking just as sucker punched as her.
“I take it this is a yes? You’ll coach the team.”
“Yes.” He huffed out a pained laugh then reached for the hem of her blouse and yanked it over her head in one swift movement. “Paradise,” he muttered, staring at her pink bra before sliding his hands to cup her breasts, kneading them, lowering his mouth to the swell of her cleavage.
Ella dragged herself back from melting into a puddle on the floor. “Wait,” she said again, pulling his head up.
“What?” he demanded, his breathing hard.
“We’re supposed to be keeping this professional.”
He snorted. “ Fuck professional.”
Then he reached for the twinkling diamante clasp in the depths of her cleavage, flicking it with an expert twist of his hand. Ella looked down as her breasts sprang free.
“Is there some place you go to study that?”
“University of life.” He traced the ridge of her collar bone with his index finger. “Got myself a PhD.”
The finger headed south over the swell of a breast to the rapidly hardening nipple which shot a bolt of pure, unadulterated need right between her legs.
Oh God .
“Jake,” she whispered, grasping his shoulder as the whole room tilted. She had to keep her head here. Be the responsible one. “I’m serious about the professional thing.”
“Fine,” he muttered as he bent his head and his lips followed the path of his fingers. “Tomorrow.”
And, as his mouth closed over one taut, achy, flushed tip, Ella figured she could be professional tomorrow, too.
The dogs greeted them enthusiastically as she and Jake walked up the front path the next afternoon. Cerberus almost wriggled out of his skin, he was shimmying so much, and Ella watched as Jake gave the dog – his dog – some extra love. It had been a tumultuous twenty-four hours but suddenly things felt like they were back on track.
They’d just come from practice where Jake was given a hero’s welcome by the team before getting straight down to the business of putting the Demons through their paces. Considering the man had barely slept a wink last night – lucky her – he was firing on all pistons.
Which was just as well with the playoffs two weeks away.
Cam, who’d already disappeared inside the house chatting to Miranda on the phone, was happier than she’d ever seen him, and after the revelations and catharsis of yesterday and the night in Jake’s arms, so was Ella.
For two long days everything had felt helplessly derailed and now suddenly, it wasn’t. Ella was feeling quietly confident that this testing they’d been put through was the worse Iris had referred to and things would be easier moving forward.
They found Daisy, Iris, Rosie and Simon in their usual places at the table on the back porch. At five-thirty in the afternoon, the light was fading and the cooler night air was creeping in but it took more than that to drive the aunts from their beloved porch.
“Jake!” Rosie, sporting a black Drac Sucks T-shirt, leaped up from her chair and gave him a big hug. “It’s so good to see you back.”
Simon greeted him with a smile when Rosie eventually unhanded him. “Hey,” he said with one of those manly chin-tilt movements that Simon, despite his Hugo Boss suit, actually pulled off quite credibly.
Daisy, less enthusiastic, eyeballed him for a long moment. She flicked a glance between him and Ella and back again. “You sticking?” she asked in her gruff, two-pack a day voice. “Cos we’re getting older by the moment and we don’t need to waste our precious time on someone who ain’t going to stick.”
Clearly unperturbed by Daisy’s straight-talking, he grinned. “I’m sticking.”
And damn if that didn’t make Ella swoon just a little.
Daisy stared for a moment longer before giving a nod of approval. “Good.”
Jake switched his attention to Iris. “Hello, Iris. What are the cards saying lately?”
Iris glanced worriedly at the tarot deck she was gripping. “There’s more to come,” she said.
Ella blinked. More? They were in the middle of a media feeding frenzy. How much worse could it get?
But then Jake slid his arm around her shoulder and squeezed and said, “We’ll get through it,” and she forgot all about Iris’s tarot predictions as her heart skipped several beats.
Apart from some very explicit dirty talk last night, they hadn’t spoken at all, much less about what was next for them. Maybe because they both knew that their priority was the team.
But it did seem like Jake wasn’t going anywhere.
For God’s sake, the man could have chosen to go home to his quiet, expensive Lake Michigan bachelor pad condo after practice but he’d chosen to come here, to this suburban bungalow and this zany found family she loved so much.
In a million years she never would have pictured herself with someone from Trently. Someone who was privy to her past in all its messy disappointment.
And certainly never Jake .
But suddenly the thought didn’t scare her as much. A shared background made things easier in lots of ways. She didn’t have to explain or justify anything to Jake. Because he understood her, like she understood him – in ways other couples might take a really long time to figure out.
Ella’s pulse fluttered madly at the thought and she barely stopped herself from breaking out into a happy dance. She certainly couldn’t concentrate much on the conversations that followed as they all sat at the table talking about Deluca High and football. Although that was mostly due to Jake’s blatantly sexual gaze seducing her from across the table. His eyes roving over her face and hair. Lingering on her mouth. Dropping to her cleavage.
All she could think about was excusing them and picking up where they’d left off at dawn and she wondered how long was polite enough to make conversation before they could get away.
In the end she was saved by Cam who called out to her. Ella leaped up gratefully. “Coming,” she said, sliding Jake a side-eye which she hoped like hell he could interpret.
His answering look left her in no doubt that he’d picked up exactly what she’d put down and he’d follow her in ASAP .
She dealt with Cam’s math homework query quickly and was heading to her bedroom when she heard a car door slam out on the street then the latch lift on the gate. In an instant, the dogs barked from the porch, almost bowling her over in their haste to the front door and Ella heard Jake say, “I’ll check and see who that is,” and she smiled to herself.
Attaboy…
Letting the dogs out the door, she vaguely heard Jake talking to Cam as she followed the barking rabble at a more sedate pace. Stepping out onto the front porch, she found the pack all barking at two men who had retreated behind the safety of the fence and were regarding the animals warily.
Ella rushed down the steps, calling the dogs back as she assured the visitors, “They’re all bark, no bite,” and then yelled at Genghis, “ Heel. ”
All the dogs retreated to where Ella stood on the bottom step, positioning themselves in front of her like a canine shield, protecting their human. Except for Cerberus, clearly conflicted between loyalty and his need for love and attention. Especially if the newcomers had some kind of food.
They didn’t have food. But one of them had a camera. A big ass one. And it took Ella a beat or two with all the dogs and the barking to compute he was taking a picture of her. Multiple pictures if the rapid-fire clicking was any indication.
She blinked. “Umm, can I help you people?”
“Just wanted to ask some questions about the team, Ella,” said the guy without the camera. “You must be pleased with how the Demons are going. This is the kind of publicity your beleaguered school needs, right?”
“I’m sorry.” She frowned. “Who are you? Which outlet are you from?”
“The Herald ,” he confirmed.
Ella’s mind blew a little to think the city’s flagship newspaper was interested in their story and what kind of exposure that could give them. But, exposure, she was coming to learn, could be a double-edged sword. “Very pleased,” she said, non-committally and turned to go.
“You’ve done well,” he continued. “Deluca didn’t even have a football team a few months ago and here you are at the playoffs. Kudos to you.”
Ella shrugged, cautious of the flattery. None of it had been her idea and she certainly didn’t want to jinx anything by getting too cocky and running her mouth. “I’m just a math nerd who’s trying to keep her school open for the kids, that’s it.”
“Quite a coup to score the services of Jake Prince. How’d that come about?”
She stiffened at the mention of Jake, the air suddenly feeling ten degrees cooler. And then, as if by just naming him, Jake was by her side. “Don’t answer that,” he said, as he slipped his arm around her waist.
It was a total alpha move but Ella was here for it.
The guy asking the questions smiled as the cameraman went all trigger happy again. “Jake.”
“John.”
The response was terse and Jake’s lips flattened into a hard line in Ella’s peripheral vision.
John?
Was this the John Wilmott that Trish had mentioned yesterday? She guessed it was given the tension as the two men stared each other down. Had this been the Wild West, their hands would be hovering over their pistols.
“What do you think, Jake?” John Wilmott leaned his elbows on the gate, earning a low growl from Genghis. The journalist stood, eyeing the dog warily as he continued. “Is she just a math nerd? You and Ella go back a long way, don’t you?”
“No comment.”
“I don’t suppose while I’m here you’d care to name the mystery woman from all those years ago?”
“No comment,” Jake repeated, his voice utterly glacial.
“What about you, Ella? You and Jake are obviously…” His gaze drifted to Jake’s possessive hold. “Close. Any pillow talk you care to share?”
A bubble of irritation at the impudent question popped behind Ella’s eyeballs at the same time Jake’s hands tightened on her waist. “We’re done here,” he announced as he urged her back up the stairs.
Ella followed without argument, the clicking of the shutter sounding ominously like bullets as they stepped inside the house.
It took two days for the bullets to hit, but at seven minutes past ten on Sunday morning they found their mark squarely between Ella’s shoulder blades. Everyone, except Cam who was still asleep, was out on the porch, eating pancakes that Jake had fixed. Practice was scheduled for the afternoon but for now, nobody had to be anywhere.
The morning was crisp and cold and clear, the sky a dazzling blue, sunshine bouncing off neighborhood roofs and railings and glistening in the water droplets pearling at the ends of bare branches. The dogs were lazing off to one side all fully reclined near the back stairs in a sunny patch, their bellies full of table treats.
The coffee was hot – bourbon laced for Iris and Daisy – and the company was wonderful. Jake had spent the last two nights at the house which had been intense and intimate but also cozily domestic and Ella couldn’t wipe the smile off her face.
She should have known things were going too well.
“Uh-oh,” Simon announced, sitting forward in his chair, frowning at his phone.
“What?” Jake asked.
“ Herald site,” Simon said, glancing at Jake. “Page five. Not good.”
Everyone at the table picked up their devices except for Iris who leaned close to her sister to look at the iPad screen.
Ella’s fingers shook as she navigated to the Herald and clicked on the link that took her to today’s edition. Her heart thumped as she scrolled to page five to find it dominated by a picture of her and Jake standing on the front porch, the dogs in the foreground. Above, the headline screamed:
THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER
And just beneath that in slightly smaller print:
Former NFL jock slumming it in the suburbs.
Daisy grabbed the bourbon and poured an extra slug into hers and Iris’s mugs as a wave of nausea roiled through Ella’s gut. Her gaze dropped to the byline.
John Wilmott.
Part of Ella didn’t want to read the rest. But part of her couldn’t not read it either.
In a run-down house in the run-down southside suburb of Deluca, ex-Founders tight-end royalty, Jake Prince, whose net worth exceeds 100 million hides out in plain sight.
Ella blinked. Jake was worth one hundred million dollars? Sweet, Jesus. But that wasn’t what the article was about. Not by a long shot…
Two years after his career ended in great ignominy, Prince has quietly remerged as the unlikely coach to a high school football team that didn’t exist prior to this season. After turning down several lucrative coaching contracts, how did this come to be?
The answer to that possibly lies with the principal of Deluca High School, Ella Lucas, who hails from the same small Kansas town as The Prince. Ms. Lucas, it seems, is exceptionally persuasive, a talent she no doubt inherited from her mom who eked out an existence in Trently as the local hooker.
All the color leeched from Ella’s face. “Oh. My. God. Oh my God .” She rubbed a hand across her forehead. “Oh my God.”
Jake, always less wordy, just said, “ Fuck .”
There it was, right there. The worse Iris’s cards had been predicting. On the cusp of getting the one thing she’d desperately wanted, she was about to lose probably the most important thing she’d gained since leaving Trently.
Her anonymity.
The article went on about her mother’s sordid history, including quotes from people in Trently, and repeated the old rumor that Ella had run away with her high school principal. It questioned her moral integrity, challenged the appropriateness of her being a role model for school children and her ability to raise her fifteen-year-old brother.
But Wilmott hadn’t stopped there. He’d done a little more digging and found out that Iris and Daisy, the two circus freaks – his words – that had taken Ella in after her scandalous exit from Trently, had never lodged a tax return. Suddenly they were tax evaders in the order of Al freaking Capone.
Glancing up from her death grip on her phone, Ella said, “You two seriously haven’t ever lodged a tax return?”
The sisters traded a look. “Never could wrap my head around those damn forms,” Daisy said, pouring another slug of bourbon.
Ella returned her gaze to the screen where John had moved on to their beloved dogs. Apparently, he and his photographer had been menaced by a pack of mangy, unruly , unregistered dogs. She flicked her gaze to the picture again that had caught Cerberus mid-wriggle, obviously ecstatic at the attention.
He ended with a lot of inference about the state of public education in Wisconsin intertwining it with a freaking treatise on the moral choices made by people who were in charge of impressionable students. Ella wanted to cut John Wilmott’s heart out of his chest and stomp on it.
Throwing her phone on the table, she buried her face in her hands. “I feel sick.”
“Fucking. Bastard,” Rosie muttered as she tossed her phone next to Ella’s.
“Can he say that stuff?” Ella asked, lifting her head.
Simon nodded. “Unfortunately. Most of the facts are essentially true. And he’s been really careful to wrap the more outrageous things in phrases like ‘it’s rumored’ and ‘sources say’.”
“Yep,” Jake concurred, his hand sliding onto her shoulder, his thumb absently stroking her collar bone.
Ella’s head pulsed like it was about to explode. Prior to today, the only people outside of Trently who knew her story were the people sitting at the table. Now everyone in Inverboro, anyone with a Herald subscription, knew her shame.
When Simon had alerted them to the article, Ella had been prepared to pick up the pieces for Jake. She’d had no idea that the media machine she’d so eagerly embraced last week to push her agenda would turn around and kick her in the teeth.
She’d brought this on herself.
“You okay?” Jake asked, his voice low and soothing.
“Not really.” She cradled her face in her hands. “But I’ve got no one but myself to blame.”
“No.” He shook his head as his hand moved to her nape and massaged. “This stuff is inexcusable.”
“I don’t understand.” Ella frowned. “Most of this is just salacious gossip wrapped up in some loose public interest excuse. What does he hope to gain from this?”
Rosie shrugged. “Notoriety?”
“Circulation,” Simon said.
Jake shook his head. “He’s hoping to flush me out. Yank my chain enough that I’ll give him what he wants in exchange for him backing off.”
Ella laughed. There was a slight note of the manic about it, but she couldn’t help herself. “He doesn’t know you very well.”
But she did. She knew Jake Prince was his own master and didn’t dance to anyone else’s tune.
“What are you going to do?” Daisy demanded, looking directly at Jake.
“Nothing. For now. I’m not going to feed this monster any more morsels. None of you should.” He stood, the chair scraping back loudly, his mouth a grim slash in his face. “I have playoffs and hopefully the game against Chiswick to concentrate on and I will not let that asshole distract me. But after we’re done, I’m not going to rest until John Wilmott is writing the fluffiest-cat-in-show stories for some cowboy operation in fucking Siberia.”