Chapter 7
7
ELLIE
I ’d seen attractive men in the movies and on TV shows, but watching a man, in person, on his hands and knees scrubbing a toilet so I didn’t have to was the sexiest thing I’d ever witnessed. Cold seeped from the chipped tile through my diner uniform, cooling my overheated skin as I leaned against the bathroom wall watching Chandler finish cleaning the men’s bathroom. He already did the lobby and women’s bathroom, better than I ever had, which was saying a lot. As a female in The Church, I was trained from an early age how to clean until the house shined like the men deserved.
A perfect ultra-submissive female to fuck, whether they were willing or not, as long as they were of age, and take care of the house chores was what each woman was expected to mold into if they wanted to stay behind those gates long term.
I suspected it was all backward, but it wasn’t until I left the cult that I saw how the world outside the community viewed women in a more positive light. We weren’t born just to be used and abused. We had rights and dreams. There was equality out in the real world. Maybe not full equality in some areas but still way better than what I was led to believe was normal my entire life. Of course, those two years I stayed with Brett after I escaped Jacob’s firm hold didn’t help with the conflicting ideals regarding a woman’s purpose in life. But watching Chandler sweating, his fingers red and raw from scrubbing grout because he wanted to do something kind for me and not expecting anything in return, discredited those submissive ideals I was taught.
Well, most of them. A part of me was still suspicious that he’d expect something in the end.
They always did.
“And done.” Sitting back on the heels of his boots in front of the sink, he shot a proud grin my way. “See? Told you I knew how to clean.” He flicked his wrist to illuminate the digital watch screen. “And in less than an hour. Boom. Winning at life.”
I laughed, just barely holding in the snort that wanted to erupt, and smirked. “So you’re vying for my job now? Pretty sure your job as a profiler is way cooler than doing this.”
“Hell no,” he exclaimed. “That”—he pointed to the bathroom—“was way too much work.”
I shook my head, straight black locks sliding from behind my ear and tickling my face. Annoyed that it wouldn’t stay tucked away, I shoved it behind my ear.
Chandler stood with a groan, a hand on his lower back as he arched and twisted. The shirt rose a little with the movement, showing off a sliver of taut muscles beneath. “Let’s get out of here. I’m starving.”
On the way out, I stopped in the manager’s office and grabbed the envelope with my cash for the day’s work. I shoved the plain white envelope down to the bottom of my purse as I maneuvered through the small kitchen. Out front, Chandler was busy ordering half the menu as I slipped past the counter, hoping to make it to the front door before he noticed.
“Ellie, you want something?” he asked.
I paused. Not turning, I shouted over my shoulder, “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”
Shoulders to my ears, I cringed, knowing he read through the lie, and prepared to be called out. But he didn’t make a single comment, didn’t draw attention to my refusal of the deep-fried murdered chicken. At the door, I zoned out, staring at the soft blues and pinks highlighting the horizon while I waited for Chandler. It was picturesque the way the entire sky was bathed in soft colors. I had heard through others that the Texas sunset was unbeatable in its beauty. I’d have to take their word for it since I’d never have a chance to see another to compare it to.
A protective presence crowded close to my back. Keeping my gaze out the glass, staring past the brand’s gold stickers plastered to the door, I exhaled a measured breath.
“Is it true that a Texas sunset can’t be beat?” I asked absentmindedly. When he didn’t immediately respond, I turned, resting my chin on my shoulder.
“So I’ve heard.”
“Don’t you travel a ton to know from experience?”
“I do, but I’d venture to say it’s how the person views the sunset or who they view it with that makes it beautiful, not the location. Take me, for instance. I’ve seen the sun set in almost every state, plus a few different countries, but I’ve never paid attention to its natural beauty. So right now, for me, a Texas sunset can’t be beat because for the first time, I’m really seeing it.”
“Devil’s balls, that’s some line.” My high pitch drew his attention from the sunset to me. Smiling despite myself, I pressed my backside to the glass and pushed the door open for him, holding it until he walked through. On the sidewalk, I rubbed at my arms, remembering the coat incident and that I was still wearing the diner waitress uniform from this morning.
“Ready?” Chandler called out from where he stood beside the truck, holding the passenger side door open.
“Yeah, but any chance we can stop by my place before we go to Alec’s?” My steps slowed as I approached the truck. Tossing my purse to the floorboard, I gripped his extended hand for help into the tall cab. “I swear I’ll be quick, and I can pay you for gas or give you a free pancake tomorrow.” I cringed at my rambling. “Please.” I gave an exaggerated look to my outfit. “I’d rather not stay in this getup.”
My cheeks warmed when he had to rip his attention from the expanse of thigh that the short skirt exposed. I tugged at the hemline, suddenly self-conscious that he didn’t like what he saw.
“I don’t mind swinging by your place, but I will take that free pancake you offered.” A megawatt smile spread across his face, displaying his bright white, straight teeth. “Plus one of whatever you have in there.” He tipped his head toward my purse. “I left my stash of gum at the station.”
I bit my lower lip to hide a smirk as I shook my head. “My stash is limited at the moment. Long day.” I shrugged. “You can go through the candy bowl at my place though.” Just as he started to close the door, it hit me. “Wait, how did you know I hoard candy in there?”
“I see everything, remember?”
With that, he double-checked that I was safely tucked into the truck before slamming the door shut. I watched, mouth slightly gaping, as he rounded the hood. When was the last time someone paid this much attention to me without ulterior motives?
Back inside the truck, Chandler pressed the start button and shifted into Reverse. Eyes on the video screen displaying the backup camera’s view, he maneuvered the truck out of the parking space.
“What do you want from me, really?” I asked, side-eyeing him to watch his reaction. “You know I won’t help you get past The Church’s gates. So why do all this? Why be so nice when you don’t have to?” I held my breath, expecting a selfish or sexual response like others had in the past. Men were men, all the same, right?
He lifted one shoulder in a noncommittal shrug and switched hands on the steering wheel. “Nothing you’re thinking, I’m sure, but I can’t explain why I can’t walk away from this. All I know is I feel happier when I’m around you and don’t feel the weight of life pressing on my shoulders. Hanging out with you, it’s….”
“Boring? Hard work? Too much?” I responded for him.
“I was going to say real.”
“Oh. Well, there’s that, I guess.”
“Not what you were expecting?”
“No. I’m used to people having ulterior motives.”
“And by people, you mean men. Because you seemed friendly with that woman from the bar last night and the other waitress today.”
“Right, men. It’s a long story. But when you’ve grown up the way I did, you find it hard to trust people at their word. Because you’re a man, I can’t process the idea that you did all that today without wanting anything from me in return. That’s not the way I was told life worked.”
“As in?”
I cleared my throat and fidgeted with the hem of my skirt. “As in you did something nice for me, so now I need to do something for you in return.” I turned to look out the window, hoping he got the hint that I didn’t want to go into any more detail. How do you tell a guy that you were trained to thank a man by giving him access to your body any way he wanted?
Thankfully he understood my nonverbal response and let the conversation drop.
I directed him toward my apartment complex. Apprehension swelled within me, heating me to the point of sweating as the truck drew closer to the low-rent side of town. Who was I kidding? The entire town was low rent; I just lived in the lower low-rent side, also known as the slums. But I called it home. A lot of great—and a few not-so-great—people called it home.
I caught him watching me out of the corner of his eye as I shifted uneasily in the seat.
“I don’t have to go in,” he murmured as he pulled into the complex. “I can tell you’re nervous.”
I swallowed hard, taking in the two-story apartment building and imagining what Chandler was thinking about my home. Rusted metal railings that needed to be painted years ago lined the upper level, outward facing doors spaced close together down the first floor and second, and an empty swimming pool in the center of the parking lot that clearly hadn’t held water in years. A few cats, two stray dogs, and people of all ages, sizes, and color mingled along the stairs and sidewalks as he drove through the lot.
“I’m not nervous about you,” I whispered. Wiping my sweaty palms down my bare thighs, I swallowed past the rising anxiety. A few spaces away, a familiar neighbor stood from his plastic lawn chair, a deep scowl on his face as he stared down the truck. “Listen, I appreciate you bringing me here, but don’t tell anyone you’re a federal agent, okay?”
“What is up with everyone hating me because of my employer?” he grumbled.
“And whatever you see or hear, forget it happened.”
He paused, a hand hovering over the door handle. Turning, he narrowed his eyes, zeroing his focus in on me. “I don’t know if I can do that, Ellie. If I see someone being abused or taking advantage?—”
I waved both hands in front of my chest to stop him from thinking the worst. “Oh no, nothing like that. More like… drugs. Low-level ones.” His brows rose. “Not me, but maybe a few of my neighbors. Or some people might be ‘borrowing’ other people’s Netflix logins and Wi-Fi passwords.” I cringed. “That last part could be me.”
Tipping his head back, Chandler laughed, eyes closed in relief. “Well, you don’t have to worry about me reporting any of that. I’m not that much of a narc.”
Shoving open the door, I held it with the toe of my boot to make sure the wind didn’t slam it closed and then slid off the leather seat. The crumbling asphalt ground under my boots as I made my way toward my apartment.
“Hey, Ellie girl,” my neighbor called as he swaggered closer.
“Hey, Stan,” I yelled with a wave, hoping it would halt his approach.
“Heard you left work early. You good?” He shot a narrowed-eye glare at Chandler and spit a dark wad to the ground. I rolled my eyes. “Who’s this guy?”
“A new friend,” I said as Chandler stepped to my side. His hot, wide hand pressed to my lower back, somehow boosting my confidence with the simple touch. “I’m all good, promise. I thought I was coming down with something, that’s why I left work. But Ryan said it was nothing to worry about.”
“Cool. You coming down for a beer before your shift tonight?” Stan motioned to the wide circle of lawn chairs in the far corner of the parking lot where the other neighbors sat, watching this whole exchange.
“No, I actually picked up another side gig.”
“Damn, girl, you hustle.”
“Like a boss,” I said, lifting my hand for a high five. His meaty hand smacked against mine and held on to my fingers to pull me closer.
“Seriously, girl, you good? I could take him,” he whispered.
Chandler chuckled but cleared his throat to stop himself. “I don’t want any trouble. She’s right, I’m just a friend.”
The little bubble of hope and excitement that built in the truck of him being attracted to me suddenly deflated, leaving a hollow feeling in my stomach. My shoulders rounded as I folded into myself. I had to stop assuming the attraction went both ways. He was being nice to me, that was all.
I offered Stan a side smile as I nodded and turned toward my door. The sound of rock and glass grinding beneath heavy steps was the only signal Chandler followed close behind. Hand deep in my bag, I rummaged around in search for my keys but came up empty. With an exasperated sigh, I tugged it open and peered down into the dark abyss, sifting through the candy wrappers and wadded-up receipts.
Having made the walk several hundred times before, I thought I’d stepped high enough to clear the small step up from the asphalt to the concrete porch. The stupid too-large boot toe clipped the edge, tipping me forward.
With a silent curse, I free-fell forward, my stomach lifting and twisting at the strange sensation.
A strong arm wrapped around my waist, halting me midair. Chest heaving, breaths quick and shallow, I stood stiff in his hold as he straightened, keeping my back pressed tightly to his hard chest.
Heat radiated off him, slowly relaxing my tense muscles until I was nearly limp in his arms.
“I’m normally not this clumsy,” I whispered, the ends of my short hair brushing across my face and sticking to my lips.
Neither of us made a move to pull apart. The sensation of his lips ghosting over the shell of my ear made my entire body shiver with desire. “I don’t mind.” Behind me, his hips shifted, drawing my awareness to something hard pressing into my back. “You good?”
No , I wanted to scream just so he’d keep me in his tight hold. But we couldn’t stay like that forever unfortunately.
Unable to speak with his lips so close, I simply nodded and took a shaky step out of his protective hold. The bite of the winter chill felt like a bucket of ice water when he finally stepped away, leaving my back exposed once again. One by one, he loosened my fingers’ death grip on my bag’s canvas strap. Before I could protest, Chandler had his hand digging around inside for a moment before grinning and holding up my key chain.
My heavy key chain weighted down by the two dozen or so charms.
He gave it an odd look before holding it out to me.
“Don’t judge me. I collect them,” I said, sticking out my tongue as I swiped the keys from his extended hand.
“You’ve been to the Golden Gate Bridge?”
“No.” There was no hiding the disappointment in my low tone. “But I know someone who has, and they brought it back for me.”
The key slid in easily, but the lock caught, forcing me to shove a shoulder against the door to get it to unlatch. The faded red door finally swung open. Stepping through, I held on to the knob, expecting Chandler to follow me in.
But he didn’t. Instead he stopped the door from shutting in his face with a palm to the center.
“What’s wrong?” I questioned as I continued inside. The entry table wobbled on its uneven legs under the weight of my purse landing on the scuffed top. A quick tug on the laces loosened the boots enough to slide my small feet free without the hassle of undoing each one. Hands on my hips, I waited for his answer. “Either in or out. You’re letting out all the heat.”
“Doesn’t seem that much warmer in here,” he muttered under his breath as he crossed the threshold and shut the door behind him. Back against the flimsy wood, he clasped his hands behind his back.
“Why are you being weird?” I asked, eyeing him. “You seem suspicious. Like you’re rethinking your plans to murder me.”
“What?” he said on a half laugh, half exclamation. “You really need to stop watching crime shows.”
I shrugged. “Just saying. You were fine in the truck and now you’re acting strange. What gives?”
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, a stranger being in your space.”
“Oh.” I waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m good. But I will warn you, I’m not what you might call a clean person.”
Chandler shoved off the door and stepped deeper into the apartment. His brows rose up his forehead as he scanned the disheveled—okay, fine, messy living room, sink piled high with dirty dishes, and several opened boxes of sugar cereal on the short counter.
“I see that. How do you live like this?”
I snorted, swallowing down the panic that small sound caused. “Living like this is freeing. It’s my space. No one can tell me how to live in here.”
“Hmm.” I watched as his fingers twitched at his side. “Um, are you going to change?” He didn’t look my way as he spoke, only stared down the dirty kitchen like it was about to attack him.
“Yeah, give me five.” Instead of turning, I backed out of the main room and into my small bedroom, watching him push his sleeves up his thick forearms.
I swallowed hard and closed the door, leaving a wide crack to peer around. Chandler muttered something to himself and rubbed at his eyebrows. With a huff, he moved to the kitchen and began pulling dishes out of the sink to the counter. Squatting low, he dug around the cabinet and rose with a sponge and soap in hand. Completely engrossed in watching, I slipped the door open a few inches wider as I pressed forward for a better angle.
“You going to watch me clean all this or get changed, Ellie?” His deep voice carried easily across the small living room. “Based on your neighbor’s comment, you have to be at the bar later, which means we don’t have much time.”
Cheek to the edge of the door, I continued to watch as he furiously scrubbed the dishes like he had the bathrooms earlier. My stomach flipped and I smiled. All those shows I’d watched described what it felt like to be attracted to someone, to want to be closer, but this was the first time I’d experienced it myself.
The wanting, almost uncontrollable desire to be close to him.
Late twenties and this was the first time I was turned on by a man’s presence alone. How sad was that. I was no virgin—Jacob took care of that the day I turned eighteen on our wedding night. But this, how I felt when I looked at Chandler, this was new and exciting and scary.
“Ellie.” Chandler’s loud voice snapped me back to reality.
“Right, changing now,” I said, hiding halfway behind the door in case he could read the desire and attraction on my warm face. “Five minutes.”
“Make it ten,” he said, taking in the small apartment. “I should be done by then.”
I sank my teeth into my lower lip as I bit back a shy smile and closed the door. The latch clicked, but I didn’t bother locking it. Call it habit or brainwashing that wouldn’t shake, but being told you were property, that not even privacy was your own, stuck fast. Even though I wasn’t under Jacob’s control any longer, engaging a simple lock still made me physically ill from the fear of punishment.
The door trembled as I slid down until my ass hit the dingy shag carpet. Face toward the ceiling, I closed my lids and smiled. Chandler might not return the fascination, but that was okay. It didn’t take away from this amazing feeling.
Because feelings were the one aspect no one could control.
And right now, I wanted to cherish this sensation of… hell, I didn’t know what it was. But I never wanted it to end.
As I stood and stripped off the diner uniform, I tried to pinpoint exactly what it was about Chandler that invoked the new feelings. Sure, he was handsome, kind, funny, smart, but there was something else.
I was halfway through changing when it hit me. The weight of loneliness wasn’t weighing me down.
And for the first time ever, I felt valued.