8. Scarlet
EIGHT
SCARLET
I’m wiped after feeding James and getting him in his jammies. Who knew such a small kid could make such a massive mess? I’m pretty sure there are still sweet potatoes in my hair.
Lucky him, he’s too cute to be mad at. Even if I will have to shampoo well in advance of wash day.
“Any word on the pizza?” I ask, as I rejoin Ellis in the living room, settling James into his cushy activity chair.
Ellis checks his phone. “Says it’s out for delivery.”
“Good, I’m starving.”
Wordlessly, he turns his show back on. The producers definitely know what they’re doing, because before I know it, I’m in deep, torn between taking a side in the on-screen drama and being horrified at the way these women treat each other.
Then again, shit like this is why I don’t have many friends. It seems like mean girl antics and drama have followed me ever since middle school when Ashley Sutton—my best friend at the time—told the whole school the reason my dad left was because he didn’t love me.
Don’t get me wrong—she wasn’t wrong. My dad was a prick who wouldn’t know love if it walked up and spit in his face, but he didn’t leave because of me. Okay… not only because of me.
I confided in her in the aftermath, thinking she’d have my back. Turns out, she only wanted to plunge a knife into it. Over a freaking guy, too. Apparently, a pre-teen boy with a peach-fuzz mustache and wandering hands was worth ruining our friendship.
So, yeah, this show absolutely reminds me of why I’m so hesitant to let anyone in. If they don’t know me, they can’t hurt me. I’ve had years to fortify the walls around my heart, and as long as they stay strong, my heart will stay whole.
Luckily, Nora’s a literal earth angel. I know I’m safe with her.
“Is being awful a prerequisite to working for their brokerage?” I ask after yet another colossal on-screen blow up.
Ellis tips his head my way and smirks. “Why? Thinking of applying?”
His cruel words make me want to lash out, and if Nora’s big night out wasn’t on the line, I would.
But I promised I’d be on my best behavior, so I swallow down the urge.
Nora deserves all of the good things, and I refuse to let my ongoing war with the stupidly handsome jackass next to me to ruin her first baby free night.
“Ha, wow,” I deadpan. “So, so funny.”
He grins like he’s hilarious. “Glad we agree.”
My throats going to ache by tomorrow with all the barbs I’m choking back. Nora’s worth the pain, I remind myself, refusing to rise to his bait.
I don’t miss the way he side-eyes me before huffing and sinking deeper into the couch.
Well, he can just fucking stew in it.
We settle into an uncomfortable silence as the drama continues to unfold on the TV. I’m not usually one for this kind of show—I’m a true crime and rom-com girlie, thank you very much—but before I know it, I’m every bit as sucked in as he is.
The more intense the show gets, the less unbearable the quiet between us becomes. By the time the next episode starts, the middle cushion between us barely exists. I somehow find myself angled his way, with my right leg pulled up onto the couch while he leans into me, as if drawn by a magnet.
We’re so close that his pinky finger is nearly brushing my knee. Mere centimeters separate us, and I’m torn between scooching closer and flinging myself into the relative safety the far corner of the couch offers.
I’m not sure what’s going on with me tonight—I mean, sure, he’s always been good looking.
And sure, the night I first met them, it was Ellis who first caught my eye.
There’s clearly something in the air—something lethal—because it’s making me soft toward the one person I know wouldn’t hesitate to tear me to shreds.
James makes a disgruntled noise, and I watch, entranced, as Ellis scoops him out of his activity chair and soothes him, rubbing his big hand up and down his small back in gentle circles.
That’s it—I’m being dicknotized thanks to my bullshit biological clock. It sees a hot guy loving on a sweet baby and is short-circuiting, like he’s not an epic asshole on every day that ends with y.
Or maybe I’m just hungry—for pizza, not dick.
Thankfully, before I can do something stupid—like close the miniscule gap between us—the doorbell rings.
Ellis jerks upright, jostling James in the process. “Wanna get that?” he asks, right as the little guy starts to cry.
“Nope.” I straighten up as well, reaching for James “But you can hand me the baby and you can get that. After all, it’s your treat, remember?”
I can tell he’s gearing up to argue, because of course he is, but the doorbell rings again, effectively silencing him. “Fine, but you owe me.”
I snort out a laugh as I cuddle James in close. “Your generosity knows no bounds.”
His lips curl into the cockiest of grins. “And don’t you forget it.”
A few minutes later, Ellis stomps back into the living room, his arms loaded down with cardboard boxes. “Are we eating in here or the kitchen?”
I stand from the couch and place James into his jumper, hoping he’ll bounce out any remaining energy before his bedtime. “Here works for me.”
He sets the boxes down and retreats to the kitchen, presumably for plates.
Unfortunately, I skipped lunch, and it smells too good to wait for something as unnecessary as a plate, so I flip open the lid on the first box and help myself to piece of lava bread.
I moan in delight as the flavors of the greasy, melty cheese and buffalo sauce explode like a flavor bomb inside my mouth.
“You decide to watch porn instead?” Ellis asks, his voice tense as he rounds the couch, paper plates and napkins both clenched tightly in one hand, strategically placed in front of his crotch.
It’s almost as if he’s covering up… something, but I shake the thought away as quickly as it came. There isn’t a universe in existence where Ellis Wilder would be hard around me, much less for me.
“Sorry,” I mutter around my mouthful of bread before forcing myself to swallow the extraordinarily large bite. Heat rises in my cheeks, but I pretend everything’s fine. It’s not like he can hear my thoughts. “These are just really fucking good.”
“So I heard.” He sits with the paper plates still covering his lap.
Reluctantly, I join him, nodding toward the plates. “Wanna maybe pass me one of those?”
He sighs and hands me one before sliding a pillow beneath his.
There's a tightness around his eyes that wasn't there before, but given the mega asshole he's been all night, I can't really say I care enough to ask why.
I load my plate with two slices from my box, along with the ranch cup.
“Disgusting,” he mutters, and I can’t help but laugh when his lip curl at the sight of the pineapple sitting proudly atop my pizza.
“I promise it's good,” I tell him, dipping it into the ranch before shoving half the slice into my mouth, sauce dripping down my chin in the most unladylike fashion imaginable.
I moan again, this time at the perfectly balanced blend of spicy and sweet. Not to mention, hot, gooey cheese. Yum. The pizza and the baby snuggles are honestly the only high points of the night.
He lets out a throaty groan. “I swear to fucking god, Scarlet.”
“Problem?” I arch one brow as I glance his way. I’m not sure what crawled up his ass, but he’s particularly snippy tonight. Maybe he needs to get laid.
“Nope.” He bites out the word before grabbing a slice from his box. “No problem.”
“Great.” I roll my eyes and settle back against the overstuffed cushions. “TV while we eat or no?”
Wordlessly, he grabs the remote and hits play, resuming our Enemies & Escrow marathon.
“What's in there?” I ask, nodding toward the unopened, round tin in the center of the coffee table.
“Dessert.” He reaches for it, peeling back the lid. “Figured maybe it'd make you sweeter.”
My eyes tighten at the corners as a sugary-sweet cinnamon scent fills the room. “Right.” I nod, suddenly at the end of my rope. “Because I'm so miserable I need help being sweet. Got it.”
He sighs and rubs the back of his neck, like dealing with me is just too much. Which is a response I’m used to. Somehow, I’m always too much. “I was just fucking with you, Scar. Don’t be so sensitive.”
I wish it was that easy—that I could turn it off. That I could be the ice queen everyone seems to think I am and let his callous words roll off my back, but for some reason, tonight… I can’t.
“Hey, no worries.” My voice warbles, but I push forward anyway. “I always prefer knowing exactly where I stand with someone.”
He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but no words come out, which is fine by me, because I have nothing else to say to him.
Paying him no mind, I grab my phone and check the time. “James needs his bottle.” I gather my trash and stand. “Thanks for dinner.”