CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Ellery
Days blend together.
Mornings into days. Days into nights. Moments spent together working . . . and enjoying each other in every capacity.
What I didn’t expect was that one night I invited Ford to sleep in my bed to be the start of him being there every night.
It just sort of happened.
The next night he came to talk to me before bed. We both needed to shower, so logically we decided to conserve water. And then we may have lain in the bed with towels wrapped around us and talked for hours before drifting off to sleep.
And then the night after that, I called him in to look at an idea I had on my computer. He gave his input. He told me he trusted my decisions. And then he never left.
There was no conversation about the transition. No, “Hey, what do you think about me moving into your bed on a permanent basis?” It just happened.
And it happened in a way that didn’t allow me to freak out about it.
Even weirder is the self-admission that it’s rather nice to wake up with him beside me. There’s a comfort in him being there. A sense of companionship. A lack of loneliness.
“We can stay at the Sag Harbor house if you want,” Ford says, his shoulder leaning against the doorjamb. “I know it’s a drive, but if we do it together, it won’t be too bad.”
I inspect the freshly set granite in one of the suite’s bathrooms. The edge detail is right. The cuts are clean. The caulking straight. The edge detail craftsman quality.
I’m impressed. The installer did a great job.
Now to inspect fifteen more just like it but in different grain patterns. No two suites here will be alike.
“I appreciate it. It’s a good thought in theory, but even without traffic, we’d spend two hours a day commuting. That time could be better spent here.”
He nods. “I figured you were going to say that, but I wanted to put it out there. They do need to start work on your room though. How do you want to handle that?”
“I’ll move my stuff out. There’s not much. I can float from space to space that’s not being used or—”
“Or you can stay in my luxurious accommodations with me upstairs. Didn’t we agree that will be the last room since it has the least amount to change?”
I nod, my heart pounding in my chest. How ridiculous is it that it’s okay if he sleeps, stays, in my bed, but the thought of moving into his room makes me panic?
I’ll answer for myself. It’s completely ridiculous.
My smile is tight. “Sure. That will work.”
His laugh echoes around the empty bathroom. “Your expression looks like I just asked you if it was okay to amputate your arm or something.”
“It did not.”
“It did too,” Ford says as he moves toward me. His forefinger is on my chin, tilting my eyes up to look at him. “I would say I promise I don’t bite . . .” His lips brush against mine and have me reliving his nip to my shoulder last night. “But you know that’s a lie.”
The chuckle he emits vibrates into the ache forming between my thighs.
Who thought a love bite could be such a turn-on?
“Are you trying to distract me, Ford?”
Another kiss.
Another slide of his hands to squeeze my ass.
“Am I doing a good job of it?”
“I’m not completely distracted yet. I’m noticing that the grout line over there has a void spot between the fourth and fifth tiles.”
His hand slides inside the waistband of my jeans and heads straight for that ache. “Void spots are a travesty.”
I bite back a gasp as his fingers find my clit and slide into the wetness beneath.
“And the toilet needs to be reset. It’s not perfectly level. Sitting on an uneven toilet is uncomfortable.”
“Details. You’re so good at noticing them.” He nips my earlobe as his fingers tuck inside of me.
I’m helpless to my moan. There’s no fighting that as he hits that rough patch of nerves inside.
“That sound says you’re distracted now,” he says and then runs the tip of his tongue down my neck.
“The shower enclosure needs to be caulked in the far right corner.”
A lick of his tongue up my neck. “I know what else can be cocked.”
I laugh.
It turns into a mewl as I sag against him, fingernails digging into his biceps and forehead resting on his chest, as pleasure begins to build. As the coil twists tighter. As his harsh breaths and attentive hand bring me to the brink and then push me over the edge without any goddamn warning.
“Jesus, Ford,” I pant as my body absorbs the wave of sensations he just provoked. “What was that for?”
“I had to convince you why it was worth it to move into my humble abode.” He winks.
I swat at him as my breathing evens out.
“Sinclair?” a voice calls out down the hallway as the two of us jump apart.
“I thought everyone was gone,” Ford says as he removes his hand from between my thighs and I quickly button up my pants.
“I did too,” I whisper-yell.
“Ellery?” the voice calls again, closer.
“This bathroom smells of sex,” Ford says, looking around as if that’s going to help rid it of the scent of my arousal.
“Great. Good. Why don’t we get out of here so whoever that is doesn’t come in here?”
Ford pushes at my back. “You go first.”
“Yes. Great. Hi, whoever you are with the post-orgasm flush on my cheeks.”
He starts laughing. Isn’t that all we can do at this point?
“Well, I have you on my hand, so I’m no help getting rid of the sex smell.” His grin says he’s enjoying this.
“I’m in here,” I yell out from the suite, pushing Ford behind the bathroom door and out of sight just as Roddy passes.
“Oh, there you are,” he says, stopping and studying me with an odd look on his face. “You okay? You look kind of—”
“I was just making a punch list for this bathroom. Hot flashes hit at the strangest times.” I wave a hand in front of my face to sell the lie. “Want to walk to the next one with me?”
His eyes narrow. Come on, Roddy. Let it go.
“Sure. Yes. Okay.”
“What are you doing here? I thought you’d left for the night.”
“I did.” He blushes as he fiddles with his keys before holding them up. “Found them.”
What am I missing here? Why does he seem so nervous?
“Found what? Your keys?” But if he’d lost his keys, how had he driven his truck home when he left earlier? Why is he lying to me?
“Yes. Keys. These keys.” He nods again as we enter the only other suite on the floor. When he doesn’t speak, I begin to assess the bathroom installation in case he thinks I’m lying about what I was doing. A guilty conscience and all.
“Did you need something else?” I ask and look up to him when I finish making notes on the punch list for the suite.
“No . . . but I’m glad I came, though. The same lady who was nosing around earlier is out there again. I told her she was on private property and needed to leave or we’d call the police for trespassing.”
“What lady?” I ask, completely confused.
“The reporter who was here earlier? Or at least she says she is. I would have figured Ford told you about her since she was camped out there for so long.”
“No. He didn’t.” What the hell? “What does she want?”
“She wants an exclusive with him. Or at least that’s what she’s gunning for.”
“Over the inn? Over the book—”
“Yeah. The book. She wants to know why the other two brothers are promoting it and he’s not. She’s playing the ‘there must be trouble in paradise angle’ or some shit like that.”
“Um. Okay. I had no idea.” Nor do I have any real answers as to why he’s not.
“Ford knows about her. He was the one who told us to turn her away earlier.” He looks around the bathroom and then back to me. “So, see? Losing my keys meant I came back and saved the day.” The joke falls flat but his nervous chuckles echo within the empty suite.
Something is off here.
“Anything else you need?” He shifts back and forth on his feet and keeps averting his eyes from mine. “Roddy?”
“No. Yes.” He rocks on his heels, clearly unable to stand still, and gives me a strained smile. “I’ve really enjoyed working with you on this project.”
“As have I with you.”
“And since there are only a couple of weeks left before we open to the public, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go out and celebrate a job well done?”
“Of course. I was already planning on doing a little something for everyone who’s worked so hard on this. Great minds think alike.”
“That’s not—Ellery.” He looks at me and then looks back down as it dawns on me. The fidgeting. The nerves. The showing back up here for lost keys. “I meant you and me. Just us.”
My recognition of what’s happening takes longer to process than him asking, and so I stare at him, blinking with my mouth lax and surprise owning me.
“Um. I—Roddy—”
“Hey. Rod. What are you doing here? Did you need help with something?” Ford asks as he walks into the suite. Either knowing or not knowing that his timing is perfect in this most uncomfortable situation.
Roddy startles and jumps back. “Ford. I didn’t know you were here. I didn’t see your car out front. I—”
“It’s parked next door. The lot was full earlier.” He looks at me and then back to Roddy. “Everything okay?”
“Yep. Just left my keys is all.” He holds them up and then accidentally drops them. They clatter on the floor as he bends over and fumbles to pick them up. “I was—I was just chatting with Ellery about how the project’s almost over.”
“Crazy how fast it went,” Ford says. By the way he’s looking at Roddy, I know he heard what he asked. That he asked me out.
And I’m not one hundred percent certain how I feel about the jealousy firing in his eyes.
Normally it would piss me off. I don’t belong to anyone.
But for some reason, the look on Ford is sexy.
“It is.” Roddy takes a few steps back and checks the door for what seems like the twentieth time. He’s more nervous now than before.
“Thanks again for earlier. The reporter.”
“Not a problem. She was here again. I got rid of her.”
“See? I knew we could count on you to look out for everything to do with this project.” Ford’s smile is electric. “I’ll walk you out.”
And as the two men clear the doorway, Ford looks back at me and gives a shake of his head.
He overheard Roddy all right.
And since there are only a couple of weeks left . . .
Roddy’s comment repeats in my head.
Is that what’s been bugging me? Why I’ve been kind of bitchy this last week?
Because like it or not, Roddy’s right. There are only a few weeks left here on the project.
Then what? What do I do next? How can I go back to the life I lived with people who didn’t believe in me when I’ve spent the last few months with someone who has done just the opposite?
Ford has let me make decisions. He’s let me struggle and applauded me when I’ve figured out the solution.
He’s let me succeed and told me he knew all along I could do it.
He’s looked to me for my suggestions and allowed me to bend his ear when I’m trying to find my own answers about a problem or a situation.
He’s let me grow in ways no one ever has before. And when I’ve doubted myself, he’s looked me in the eye and either given me the tough love I deserved or the soft words of encouragement he somehow knew I needed.
And that’s only touching the professional side.
Personally? How do I unpack that?
He’s been my friend. My confidant. My lover. All three combined have been something I’ve never experienced before.
What does the future hold for us? It’s not something we’ve talked about while we’re in “project land” where we don’t have to think about beyond this.
But beyond this is coming.
Beyond this is only weeks away.
Then what?
I can’t imagine him not being a part of my life. It’s just that simple. It’s like he convinced me to do this project with him, has held tight, and hasn’t let go.
It’s almost as if I’ve fall—
“Well, that was awkward,” Ford says with a huge grin when he walks into the room. But his feet falter and his eyes narrow when he sees the expression on my face. “Elle? What’s wrong?”
No.
No.
No.
This can’t be happening.
I can’t be—I haven’t—there’s no way I’ve fallen for Fordham Sharpe.
It’s impossible.
I don’t do that. I don’t fall. I don’t love.
I don’t let myself love.
This is sex.
This is companionship.
This is loneliness mixed with a forced proximity combined with great sex and a good friendship.
“Nothing is wrong,” I assert forcefully. “I’ve just got work to do.”
His chuckle is low and taunting, oblivious to the internal war I’m simultaneously waging and freaking out over. “That’s not what you said about fifteen minutes ago.”
“You’re right. It’s not.” I emit a nervous chuckle. “But Roddy and his asking me out kind of killed the mood.”
“Love the guy but not in particular right now.”
“Please tell me you didn’t get mad at him for—”
“I didn’t say a word. Acted like I never heard a thing. Didn’t want to embarrass the guy.”
“Good. Great.” I go to walk past Ford, and he grabs my hand.
“What’s going on?”
“I said nothing.”
“C’mon, Sinclair. Lay it on me. What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing.”
His face is a foot from mine, and I have nowhere to hide. I try to keep a straight face, but I’m certain there’s panic in my expression. Desperation.
I need space. Time. Distance. Anything to have a few minutes to build that wall back up that I clearly let slip.
I am not in love with Ford Sharpe.
That’s absurd.
Ellery Sinclair does not fall in love.
Correction, Ellery Sinclair will not fall in love.
He nods. His lips are pursed. His eyes searching. “Okay. I’ll accept that answer. For now. But I know you well enough to know something’s going on. I just hope you trust me enough to tell me what.”
Emotion I don’t want to acknowledge clogs in my throat. Trust and love go hand in hand. So no, I don’t want either it seems. I clear away the emotion and straighten my spine.
Deflect.
Dodge.
Redirect.
“The book? What’s bugging you? The reason the reporter is snooping around?” I shrug dramatically. “It appears the same thing could be said of you, Ford.”
And with that comment, I turn on my heel and walk away.