Dilynne
Rules & Roles
I’m tightening up the lug nut on a tire when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Setting the impact wrench to the side, I fish it out and see Elliot’s name flashing on the screen.
“Well, hello, my betrothed.”
“Aw, are you having a bad day, honey? Do I need to suck your dick later to turn that frown of yours upside down?”
He doesn’t answer me right away, and for a moment, I think I took our ruse too far. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” he grates out. “I don’t have all day. I just wanted to know if you’re busy tonight.”
“Oh, you wanna take me out on a date? Show me off all over town?”
“Do you know how to have a serious conversation? Or is this just going to be one big joke to you?”
“Jesus, you really do need someone to suck you off, don’t you? Like a penis exorcism, maybe?”
“You have no idea,” he mutters under his breath, but I caught it. “But to answer your question, there is no date. However, we do need to meet up and go over the rules like we discussed yesterday.”
“Pretty sure you were the one that suggested rules. You know I hate them.”
“Well, I need them. So…are you busy tonight?”
My eyes move to the Porsche in the corner of the shop.
I had planned on staying late to start rebuilding the fuel system, but Elliot sounds like he might burst into flames if I don’t let him feel like he has some modicum of control in this situation.
“I mean, I was just going to work on the Porsche, but since this can’t wait… ”
“It can’t. Meet me at my house at seven.”
“Where are your manners? No, please? No offer to pick me up?”
“Seven sharp. Don’t be late.” And then the call ends.
I take the phone from my ear and stare down at the blank screen. “Jesus, it definitely has been too long for him,” I mutter to myself before I pick up the impact wrench and finish tightening the lug nuts on the tire. “So much for quiet time with Betty tonight…”
“Oh, shit. You’re gonna stand up your girlfriend? For who?” Steven hovers over my shoulder.
I swing the impact wrench toward him, but he dodges it. “My fiancé,” I reply.
Steven covers his mouth as he laughs. “I still can’t believe that you’re pretending to be engaged to Elliot Thorne.”
“Trust me, I never thought I’d utter those words either. But desperate times call for desperate measures.”
“You and the word ‘desperate’ in the same sentence doesn’t make sense.”
Sighing, I push my rolling chair away from the car I was working on so I can face Steven. “Did the carburetor come in for the Porsche yet?”
“Tracking said it’s supposed to be here tomorrow, and I know you’re just trying to change the subject.”
“What about the radiator hose?”
He grins. “Next Monday, probably.”
I nod and turn back to the car. “Thank you, Steven.”
“Vinnie is going to regret he ever did you wrong when you show up to Motorlux with the Porsche, Dil. Trust me.”
I let his words wash over me, take in a deep breath, and get back to work while mentally preparing myself for whatever rules Grumpzilla is going to throw at me tonight.
***
My plan was to go home and shower before I went over to Elliot’s, but naturally, I lost track of time.
I told myself I would only do a few things with the Porsche.
Instead, I doublechecked all the parts I have on hand to rebuild the fuel system and what I’m still waiting on—even though Steven told me all that earlier, but you can never be too thorough—and then my phone pinged with a message from my fake fiancé.
Elliot: I told you not to be late.
Well, now I’m standing on his front porch thirty-five minutes past when I was supposed to be here, and I still smell like the garage.
Whatever. Grumpzilla gets whatever version of me he gets.
It’s not like I’m out to impress him or anything.
The man already has his ring on my finger, metaphorically, of course.
But I didn’t really eat dinner, so my favorite candy will have to suffice.
As I wait for him to open the door, I tear off the corner of the package I had stashed in my car and pop a few pieces in my mouth.
“Nice of you to show up,” Elliot says as he opens his front door, moving out of the way so I can pass through.
“Loosen your tie, Thorne.” Walking past him as I pop another Sour Patch peach in my mouth, I take off my shoes and place them right next to Elliot’s by the front door.
His eyes move up and down my body as he watches me, and I try to ignore the way it makes me feel.
“Sorry. I was just getting a few things in order for the Porsche.”
“I told you not to be late, but you still made time to stop for a snack.”
I spin around to face him, putting the bag of candy in my pocket and planting my hands on my hips.
“Look. I get that you are all…anal retentive about time and shit. But if you recall, the whole point of you being my fake fiancé is for this car show, got it? So that means that the car is going to come first. Okay?” His green eyes are dark and narrowed as he stares at me, but then he reaches up and brushes his thumb along my cheek, taking me by surprise. “What the…”
“Take it easy. You had some grease on your cheek,” he says before giving me his back and heading toward his kitchen sink to wash his hands. “Are you thirsty?”
Confused, I follow him cautiously as I take in the open space.
“Uh, yeah. Water is fine, thanks.” As I look around, I realize I can’t remember the last time I saw Elliot’s house this clean.
It’s been months since I had to make sure he was showering and eating, and during those impromptu visits, this place looked like a dumpster fire.
With his house this clean, I can actually appreciate his style and décor without any of the touches Tori added to his place all those months ago.
The walls are a soft gray and all of the furniture is black.
The only thing hanging on the walls is a massive television, and the only color in the room is a plant resting in a corner by the front window.
Bookshelves flank each side of the TV—probably filled with law books—and the wood accents on his coffee table and couch break up all the black that complements his heart.
The poised lawyer has officially returned and translated that obsessive organizational need back to his home.
I try not to let that fact make me feel too proud since I kind of feel like my intrusion had something to do with it.
He slides a glass of water across the counter toward me, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Thank you.”
“Let’s sit on the couch,” he says, leading me into the living room. He picks up a yellow legal pad and black pen from his coffee table before taking a seat on the couch.
“Do you want me to grab the garden hose real quick?” I tease.
Glaring at me, he shakes his head as I take a seat on the opposite side of the couch from him. “That won’t be necessary.”
My eyes dip down to the yellow pad on his knee. “You made a list?”
He eyes me curiously. “Well, I figured we should have something in writing. You know, in case you forget something, like you did with our meeting.”
I roll my eyes. “Jesus, Elliot. It was thirty minutes.”
“Thirty-five,” he corrects me.
I can’t help but laugh. “Wow. Okay, maybe I’m beginning to think that you kept score of how many orgasms you gave Tori throughout your relationship and that’s why she left you for her boss.”
Elliot glares at me but says nothing. For a second, I wonder if my comment went too far, but then he speaks.
“Trust me, there was no possible way Tori could have kept count. She was never unsatisfied, I can confidently say that. Now, if you’d like, I can give you a play by play of all of the ways I made her come, or we can do what we planned to do and come up with some rules for the next six weeks. The choice is yours.”
My head is saying I need to shut up and just get this stupid list over with so I can get back to the shop—but my vagina is wondering if the cockiness is just an act, or if Elliot Thorne really does feel that confident about his skills.
You shouldn’t be wondering that at all, Dilynne. Now focus.
“That won’t be necessary,” I say, clearing my throat before taking a sip of my water. “So, what rules shall we institute to keep your blood pressure in check?”
Elliot reaches into his pocket and then holds his hand out with a black silicone ring pressed between his thumb and forefinger. “Here.”
My lips purse in confusion. “What’s that?”
“This is your engagement ring, remember? The one we told Tori that you left at the shop yesterday?”
“Oh. Uh, yeah.” Taking the ring, I squeeze it a few times. “Hey, that’s kind of cool.”
“Please don’t break it. I mean, it’s not expensive to replace, but…”
I awkwardly slide it down the ring finger on my left hand, curling and uncurling my fingers to get a sense of how it feels. “I could have bought one myself.”
“Well, since your memory isn’t great, I figured I’d take the lead on that detail.” He draws a line through something on his notepad and looks back up at me. “And it’s black, just like your soul, so…”
I flip him off before muttering, “Trust me, my memory is just fine, Elliot. I remember shit I wish I could forget.”
He squints at me for just a second, then returns his attention back to the paper. “Right. So, we can start with a few rules I took the liberty of drafting up.”
I reach over and place a hand on his knee, feeling him stiffen under my touch. “You’re not at work right now, Thorne. I told you to loosen your tie a little bit.”
“I’m not wearing a tie.”
“Jesus,” I say, retracting my hand while rolling my eyes. “Are you always wound this tight?”
“Are you always this argumentative?”
I huff out a laugh. “You should know the answer to that question already.”
“Ditto.”
We stare at each other and then Elliot breaks eye contact, tapping his pen to the paper. “Rule number one, no more sexual innuendos in front of anyone.”
“I’m sorry. What the hell do you mean by that?”