Chapter 8
Elodie
A Charming Bull & An Asshole Boss
“You know, you don’t have to go out with my sister. It won’t hurt my feelings or anything.”
My eyes land on Henley where he’s watching me put my lipstick on in the mirror by his front door.
It’s one of the only things he has hanging on the walls in this house, and luckily, it’s in a very useful spot.
“You might not care, but she probably will.” Turning around to face him, I put the cap back on the tube of lipstick and stick it in my purse.
“And your sister scares me more than you do.”
He crosses his arms over his chest while tilting his head at me. “Doesn’t surprise me. She scares me too, but you don’t have to go out with her out of obligation. I can handle her.”
I drift my gaze over to Remy sitting in her high chair, shaking one of her toys around. “You can be honest, Henley. Do you not want me to go because you’re scared of being here alone with your daughter?”
Remy lets out a garbled noise, making us both laugh.
“Actually,” Henley says, stepping closer until I can feel the heat of him, “I feel a hell of a lot more comfortable now than I did two weeks ago before you came into our lives.” His eyes move up and down my body appreciatively, which I shouldn’t notice or enjoy, but I do.
“I don’t know what I would have done without you, El. ”
When he says things like this, it makes it even harder to resist getting lost in those hazel eyes of his. “You would have figured it out.”
He shakes his head slowly. “Doubtful. I’d probably still be cleaning up projectile vomit and poop.”
Laughing, I turn back around to check my appearance in the mirror one more time, fluffing my hair that I curled to give it volume, and making sure there’s no black specks of eyeshadow or mascara under my eyes.
It’s been a long time since I’ve dressed up for a night out, and honestly, seeing myself all dolled up is renewing that urge I have to perform.
Part of the fun of singing in front of a crowd is slathering my face with makeup, putting on an outfit that’s both sexy and fun, and talking to a crowd while singing songs and listening to them sing them back to you.
But it’s been a long time since I’ve had that rush.
And I’m not sure if I’m willing to give it up.
I adjust my jean shorts, pull up my socks so my cowboy boots don’t rub against my calves, and smooth down my white tank top.
“Hey, at least you have the internet to turn to. Can you imagine what our parents did before that magical invention? I mean, it wasn’t the powerhouse it was back when we were kids, but it still beats having to look stuff up in books, or worse, encyclopedias. ”
Henley grunts. “Even if my parents had reliable access to it, they probably wouldn’t have used it for parenting tips.”
Each time he makes comments about his childhood, it makes me want to push him further and ask him so many questions I’m fairly certain he won’t answer.
Because deep down, I know Dilynne was right—him becoming a father is forcing him to confront feelings he’s never dealt with.
I can practically see when his mind ventures back to a memory each time either of us brings up his parents, biological or foster.
And even though I still consider my childhood pretty great compared to others, I can’t imagine what he and his sister went through, and I want to be someone he can talk to about it.
“Even still. No one has all of the answers, and every child is different. You would have had to figure things out on your own, and for what would work with Remy.”
Remy tosses her toy to the ground. “Apparently what works for her is watching me pick this up a hundred times.”
I chuckle. “Well, you have fun with that tonight. And to your earlier claim, I’m not going out with your sister out of obligation. I genuinely like her. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt welcomed by someone like that, and since I’ve felt like I could be myself around them.”
“No super friendly people lining up to be your friends in Los Angeles then?”
His comment catches me off guard. “Oh. Uh…”
“Dilynne and Laney mentioned it the other night at the winery. If it makes you feel any better, it made your little performance last week make a lot more sense,” he explains.
“My performance?”
His eyes bore into mine, as if he’s recounting the exact memory, bit by bit. “When you sang to Remy to get her to fall asleep.”
“Oh. Yeah.” My heart rate climbs as we stare at each other, as I remember watching him sleep peacefully on the couch for almost an hour before I finally laid Remy down but didn’t wake him up to go to bed because he looked so exhausted.
“Don’t be upset with them. The guys were curious about you, and Laney explained—”
“I’m not mad,” I say, clearing my throat and turning my back to him while attempting to get my pulse to return to normal.
The truth is, I was kind of enjoying no one knowing why I’m here licking my wounds.
I told Laney because I felt compelled to in that moment, but something about Henley knowing makes me feel inadequate.
I mean, he hired me to be his nanny, but that’s not even close to what I was doing before this.
Honestly, I’ve felt more purposeful in the past two weeks as Remy’s caretaker than I have in the past three years.
The reality of that slams into me like a freight train.
“You sure?”
Spinning around, I paste on my most convincing smile. “Of course. It’s fine. I mean, it’s the truth.”
“And is it true that your parents don’t support you wanting a career in music?”
I shrug. “Pretty much.”
He takes a step closer, a pinch in his brow as he places two fingers beneath my chin, tipping it up so I can meet his eyes. It steals the breath from my lungs.
Up close like this, I can make out each of his eyelashes and count every piece of dark stubble dusting that hard jaw, and as I watch his Adam’s apple bob, I clench my thighs together because God, this man is rugged and handsome, and right now, his attention is purely on me.
“I’m sorry they don’t support you,” he says, his voice low and rough.
“Because listening to you sing the other night…” His eyes close, almost as if he’s transporting himself back to that moment, inhaling deeply before releasing his breath and snapping back to the present.
He jerks away and turns his back to me, pushing a hand through his hair.
Glancing at me over his shoulder, he says, “You’re really fucking talented, El.
Don’t give up on what you want for your life, okay? ”
Stunned and confused, I stand there and finally release the breath I was holding. “Thanks.” That’s all I can manage to say.
“You should get going.”
“I’m—I’m waiting for Dilynne to pick me up.”
As if on cue, a car horn honks from outside. Henley strides over to the front window, peeking through the blinds. “Looks like your ride is right on time.”
I reach behind me and grab my purse from the entry table and sling it over my shoulder. “Okay. Well, you have my number if you need anything.”
Nodding, he turns back to Remy. “We’ll be fine. Have fun.”
But the tone of his voice sounds like he doesn’t mean those words at all, not even one little bit.
***
“So…you told your brother about my singing aspirations?” Taking the tiny straw between my teeth, I sip my whiskey and Coke as Dilynne waits for the bartender to finish making her drink.
“Well, Laney told me and I didn’t realize he didn’t know.” Her eyes meet mine. “Is that a problem?”
Shaking my head, I stir my drink slowly. “No, it just caught me off guard when he brought it up.”
She turns to face me head on now, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Hey, I’m sorry. We didn’t know you weren’t sharing that with anyone. Otherwise, I totally would have honored that. So would Laney.”
I shrug. “It’s no big deal.” Meanwhile, inside I’m still replaying the look on his face when he told me how talented he thought I was.
And it wasn’t that his words didn’t mean anything.
It’s that I’ve heard those words before from a man, and believing them cost me much more than just my pride.
Shaking off the melancholy that the conversation with Henley caused, I turn my back to the bar to survey the room around us.
It’s been years since I’ve been to The Charming Bull, a two-story bar and dance spot located about forty-five minutes from Blossom Peak. And the only reason I’m familiar with it is because it’s about the same drive from Garnet Valley.
Taking a drive to The Charming Bull was like a rite of passage once you reached the age of twenty-one.
Big groups of us would make a weekend of the trip, booking two hotel rooms for ten people, pre-gaming in the rooms before heading to the bar, dancing until they closed, and then grabbing a greasy diner breakfast the next day before returning to our regularly scheduled lives.
That last year of college was epic, even though the only reason I have those memories was from appeasing my parents’ demand that I get a college degree. But I’m sort of missing what those memories made me feel—like I belonged and had roots.
Right now, I just feel like a plant that hasn’t been able to really grow because I keep being moved around, exposed to the elements, and tossed on the ground when I’m no longer needed.
And that’s exactly why I ran back to a place where I did feel whole—because I never felt that way in Blossom Peak.
Dilynne smacks me on the ass, making me jump. “Then let’s find us a table, a spot on the dance floor, and maybe later, a man to give us some orgasms.”
Laughing, I follow her lead as she pulls me by the hand, weaving us through the throngs of people.
For one split second, I wonder what Henley and Remy are doing back at his house, but I shake that thought off quickly and focus on the melody of LoCash’s “I Love This Life” booming through the speakers.
Once Dilynne finds a high-top table she deems suitable, we take a seat across from each other and sip our drinks.