Chapter 11
Henley
Drunken Confessions & Big Mistakes
Fresh from the shower and a body-numbing orgasm, I put on a clean pair of jeans, a simple gray T-shirt, and a flannel before styling my hair and slipping on my boots. My work attire isn’t much different from my normal attire, but when you live in a mountain town, that’s pretty par for the course.
Part of me is nervous to look Elodie in the eye after jacking off to the thought of her.
Although, I’ve been doing that for the past two weeks, so I’m not sure what makes tonight any different.
Maybe it’s because she knows that I’m about to go out and potentially chase the adrenaline I’ve been missing over the past month.
But the sight and sound that hits me when I walk back down the hallway leaves me stunned and completely aware that what I’m feeling for her isn’t just physical.
Elodie is sitting on the couch, Remy is propped up in the feeding pillow, watching her, and my nanny is playing the guitar while singing softly to my daughter.
I have to rub the center of my chest to help ease the ache this image is causing.
But before I let this yearning overtake me, I take my phone from my pocket and snap a picture of the two of them—because I have a feeling this is one I won’t want to ever forget, even if it’s making me want to run in the opposite direction.
“You’ve resorted to playing music for a four-month-old?” I ask as I step further into the living room, causing Elodie to spin around and meet my gaze.
She shrugs. “I do this every day but didn’t get a chance to earlier.”
Her comment makes me freeze. “You—you play for my baby girl every day?”
“Yeah. She loves it.” Her brow furrows. “Is that a problem?”
Yes. Yes, it’s a big fucking problem. It’s the kind of problem that makes me want to run the fuck out of my house right now.
So that’s what I do.
Spinning around, I reach for my keys and wallet. “I’ve got to go.”
“Henley?”
“I said I’ve got to go, Elodie,” I spit out, glaring at her over my shoulder before opening and slamming the front door behind me, stomping out to my truck and peeling out of the driveway.
I call Warren as I race away from my house. “You’re not canceling on me, are you?” he asks when he answers.
“No, but I’ll just meet you there.”
“Okay then.”
“See you in a few.” I end the call before he can say anything else, gripping my steering wheel tightly as I head for the highway to get out of town.
And as I drive to Asheville, I keep fixating on how necessary it is that I get laid tonight.
I need someone to suck this yearning from my body.
I need to know that there’s a cure for what I’m feeling—because no good can come from wanting Elodie, and I refuse to admit that she’s breaking my carefully curated rules.
***
“I’ll take another,” I say to the bartender as I slam the empty glass down on the wooden surface.
Warren winces. “Dude, slow the fuck down. That’s already three drinks in less than an hour.”
“Yeah, well, you’re the one who asked me to come out tonight, and this is what I need.” Side-eyeing him, I continue, “Is that a problem?”
Warren shakes his head. “Do what you need to do, I guess. But give me your keys.”
“Why?”
He leans in closer. “You’re off your fucking rocker if you think I’m going to let you drive after three glasses of whiskey, with a fourth on its way.”
Rolling my eyes, I dig my keys from the pocket of my jeans and slam them on the bar in front of him. “There. Happy?”
He takes the keys and slides them into his back pocket. “Almost. How about you tell me what’s got you throwing back whiskey?”
“This isn’t a goddamn therapy session, Warren.
You wanted a wingman, so you got one. In fact, I just might try to get laid tonight too.
” The words leave my lips, but my body is rejecting the idea completely.
In fact, nausea starts to swirl in my gut.
I don’t want another woman, but I have to keep fighting this need for the woman currently living in my home.
“Well, that isn’t going to work out well for you, my friend, if you have whiskey dick.”
“My dick is just fine.” In fact, my favorite appendage is immediately half-mast as I envision Elodie bent over in front of me earlier.
Warren shakes his head, taking a drink from his glass of bourbon before surveying the bar.
Riley’s Office is more modern than most bars in the area.
The booths are a dark burgundy, the lighting softer to highlight the sleek, black décor, and the clientele are mostly in suits, probably here to drown their sorrows from working their corporate jobs all week.
Honestly, I feel like Warren and I are sticking out like two sore thumbs, but it doesn’t matter. In my experience, a woman in a suit likes a man who isn’t afraid to get dirty for a living. Something about a worn pair of Levi’s and work boots just does something for them.
And I need to find one to take this edge off, stat.
“There’s two women directly behind us, a blonde and a redhead. White silk blouses, pencil skirts, and heels. Interested?”
The bartender slides my fresh glass of whiskey across the bar to me. “Let’s do it.”
Warren slaps me on the back, grinning from ear to ear. “Perfect. My dick is already excited.”
***
An hour and another glass of whiskey later, the blonde sitting next to me—whose name I can’t fucking remember right now—is giving me all the right signs.
She’s leaning in to me, licking her lips before sipping on her white wine, and rubbing my thigh under the table. With a glance, I see that the redhead is doing the same thing to Warren, and he’s eating up every second of it.
“So, you want to get out of here?” The blonde purrs in my ear. I’m waiting for my dick to have a reaction to the sound, but not even a twitch happens between my legs.
Nonetheless, I push forward with my mission. “I’m not from here and my buddy has the keys to my truck.”
Warren slides them across the table to the blonde. “He’s got a large backseat, but no driving, you two.” Winking at me, he nods slowly.
The blonde giggles. “Fine by me.”
I drain the last of my glass and stand, finding myself shaky on my feet but steady enough that I can make my way out of the bar and to the parking lot.
I pull the blonde behind me, fighting to focus on putting one foot in front of the other before she spins me around and pushes me up against the side of my truck.
“I knew as soon as I saw you walking toward our table that I wanted you tonight,” she says, licking her lips before reaching for the button on my jeans. Any other time a woman would say something like that to me, my dick would be racing to stand at attention.
But I feel nothing. In fact, I’m pretty sure he just shriveled up a bit and my balls just tried to climb back up inside of my body.
Focus, Henley. This is what you need, remember?
The sound of my zipper being pulled down brings me back to reality as the blonde starts to push my jeans and underwear down and drop to her knees.
Nope. I can’t fucking do this.
“Stop,” I slur, bracing myself against my truck.
Her hands freeze on my waist as she rises to standing again. “What?”
“I—I can’t do this.”
Anger paints her features, her lips pursed with annoyance. “Seriously? You were all about it earlier.”
I remove her hands from my body and pull my jeans and boxer briefs back up, lifting the zipper and buttoning them closed. “And I changed my mind.”
“Ha. That’s rich. A man changing his mind about getting laid.” She crosses her arms over her chest.
“Why does it matter if I’m a man? No means no.”
Rolling her eyes, she spins on her feet and walks back toward the bar. “Whatever.”
For a moment, I wonder if there’s two of her and I’ve been oblivious to it the entire night, but that’s when I realize that I’m drunk, far too drunk to drive and not stupid enough to try.
Warren is still inside talking to the redhead as far as I know, and the last thing I want to do is cockblock him after just doing it to myself. But I don’t want to be here anymore. I need to lie down and get the world to stop spinning.
I want to go home to my girls.
As soon as I close my eyes, all I see and hear is Elodie—her smile, those eyes, her voice. All my body and mind want is her.
And I think my heart is making his decision known at this moment as well.
“Fuck,” I grumble while attempting to pull my phone from my pocket and hit the number for someone I know won’t judge me for the state I’m in.
“Henley?” Fletcher’s groggy voice comes through the line.
“Hey, man.”
“Everything okay?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I mean, I’m fine, but I’m not okay.”
“All right…” he trails off.
“I was wondering if you and Laney could come pick me up. I—I’ve been drinking and I can’t drive my truck.”
The sound of movement filters through the phone. “Where are you? We’ll be right there.”
“Riley’s Office. It’s a bar in Asheville.”
“Got it. Be there soon.”
“Thanks, man.”
“No. Thank you, Henley. Thank you for calling and not driving.”
I decide to wait in my truck for them to arrive, locking myself inside. As I doze off, I hear Elodie’s voice singing, which only helps me drift off to sleep faster.
***
Bright light pierces through the window, dragging me out of my slumber. My back aches as I slowly lift my eyelids and realize I’m not asleep in my bed, but rather on a couch—Fletcher and Laney’s couch.
“Jesus Christ,” I mumble.
“Aw, he’s alive.” Laney’s soft voice pulls my gaze to her, standing over me with a cup of coffee in her hands and an amused smile on her lips.
“I’m not so sure yet.”
Fletcher chuckles behind me. “I’m gonna grab you some water.”
“Thanks.”
Laney tilts her head at me. “Do you remember how you got here?”
Slowly blinking, I open my eyes further and survey the room. I vaguely remember talking to Fletcher on the phone, but after that, the rest of the night is missing. “Not really.”