Too Hard to Resist Page 10

  “Water would be great. Thanks.” She takes a seat on the couch.

  I do the smart thing and sit across from her.

  She twists off the cap and takes a long sip. I watch her throat work, mesmerized by the tiny flex of her smooth skin. I lick my lips, remembering the taste of her and wanting another so badly I ache. “Want to watch a movie?” she asks. “I’m not tired enough to fall asleep.”

  “Sure.” I scramble for the television remote before I let my thoughts get too carried away. Unfortunately the TV is behind me, which means I need to get my ass up and park it next to hers in order to watch anything.

  “Elliot.”

  “Yeah?” I sit as far away from her as I can.

  “I don’t want things to be weird again.”

  I settle down and look at her. “I don’t, either. Truth, though?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Weird isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It will remind us to keep some distance.”

  “Okay.”

  Ten minutes into a romcom she wanted to watch—she hates anything scary or violent—weird disappears and we couldn’t sit any closer if we tried. She’s snuggled against my side, our feet are on the coffee table, and we’re laughing at the same jokes. It’s comfortable.

  Dangerous.

  “In a world full of temporary things, you are a perpetual feeling.”

  —Sanober Khan

  Sax/Hastings

  Workplace Strategy

  Scorecard

  Sax – -1 (need to up my game)

  Hastings – 2

  Chapter Eleven

  Madison

  When I say I don’t like scary things, I mean I really, really don’t like them. Even those Troll dolls with the neon-colored hair freak me out. Don’t even get me started on clowns. (Sorry, clowns. I know you get a bad rap.) Ghost stories? No thank you. And I’ve never been within a few hundred feet of a haunted house. I’m also terrible with blood. I am not your go-to person if you need bandaging up. My brother tortured me when we were younger by hiding creepy pictures in my homework and playing scary soundtracks from horror movies when we were home alone. He said he kept doing those things to toughen me up. I said he was the meanest brother on the planet.

  I’m having similar negative thoughts about my date tonight. When Jesse asked me to meet him at an arcade bar in Hollywood, I thought it sounded like a fun way to spend a Friday night. Right off the bat, he scored points for originality.

  He met me outside the nondescript building and led me inside to a darkly lit blend of childhood fun and adult intoxication. It was different than what I’d pictured, so I was a little nervous. “Let’s hit the bar first,” he said.

  To get to the bar, we walked through a huge selection of games and drunken people. That didn’t bother me. What took me by unwelcome surprise were the carnival-like toys peeking out of every nook and cranny. My childhood nightmares came flooding back. Sweat broke out on the back of my neck. I swear the clown doll next to Ms. Pac-Man stared at me the entire way across the room. “Jesse?” I said, my voice strained with obvious misery.

  He didn’t stop. He kept right on walking to the bar like he didn’t hear me. Which very well might have been the case with the noise from the various games and ’80s background music playing through hidden speakers. “What would you like to drink?” he asked when we reached the blue-lit bar.

  “I’m sorry, but do you think we could grab a drink somewhere else?”

  “Why?” he asked like I was talking crazy.

  Because I’m freaking out. “I feel a little claustrophobic in here.”

  “Really? This place is over two thousand square feet.”

  And that brings me to right now. It shouldn’t matter how big the building is if I’m uncomfortable. The bartender, a pretty brunette, smiles at him. “Hey, LuLu,” he says. “I’ll have my usual, and Madison will have…” He lifts an eyebrow at me. It’s an impatient arch, not a considerate one. He doesn’t understand how much this place gives me the creeps.

  If I weren’t being paid for this date, I’d turn around and walk out the door. But I owe it to Jesse’s mom to stick this out if I can. “Diet Coke, please.”

  Jesse makes a disappointed face. I smile at him. No way am I taking even a sip of alcohol in this place. I need all my wits about me in order to keep one eye on the creepy decorations to be sure they don’t come to life. He motions to a barstool so I sit while he leans against his, his feet on the floor.

  “You don’t like to drink?”

  “I do. Just not feeling it tonight.”

  He gives me an indifferent shrug. “So you’re in finance? That sounds like a fun job,” he says full of sarcasm.

  “And you’re a game designer, so I imagine you have loads of fun.”

  “Every single day.” He looks me up and down a little more closely, his eyes lingering on my chest longer than good manners dictate. I had time to go home and change clothes after work. It finally stopped raining today, but it’s chilly, so I have on jeans, a V-neck sweater, and ankle boots. “I design characters for the company I work for. Female assassins primarily.”

  That he’s artistic has me intrigued. “Do you sketch them by hand or are they computer generated?”

  “Both.”

  The bartender delivers our drinks. Jesse’s is a dark beer. My Diet Coke has a cherry in it. LuLu winks at me like I’m twelve. Jesse pays for both, then stands and says, “Come on. Let’s play.”

  Classic pinball machines are lined up against one wall. Each has a cup holder for endless alcohol-fueled sessions, I assume. Several people playing the games are using slurred words to express their excitement.

  On another wall are video machines like Mortal Kombat, X-Men, Donkey Kong, and Galaga. Gameplay seems to be taken more seriously here because the players are quieter. Focused. I’ve never been a big fan of arcades, mostly because I’m not the best player, but on a few family vacations my brother and I spent some fun hours in the hotel game room.

  Jesse leads me to a table version of Pac-Man and we sit across from each other. I’m sure to be ten times worse than normal because my concentration is on keeping my focus off the nightmarish stuffed—oh crap. There’s another clown.

  I close my eyes for a moment. When I open them, I stare at the video screen. Jesse slips some quarters into the game. He starts first, oblivious to me, my dilemma, and pretty much everything else around us. He’s completely engrossed in the game, to the extent that he continues to the next level, and the one after that, and the one after that, before I get a turn. My Pac-Man is gobbled up in less than ten seconds.

  “Wow, you suck at this,” Jesse says, his tone hard to decipher.

  You suck at first dates. “Gee thanks.”

  “You say that like I’m wrong.”

  Is he for real right now? “Are you this complimentary to all the girls you meet?”

  He leans back in his chair. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” Apparently Jesse used up all his friendly words in our messages to each other.

  “Here’s something”—he leans onto his elbows, blocking the blinking colors of the video game—“you’re gorgeous, but the last person I want to be around is someone who can’t take a joke.” He resumes playing the game. “I was messing with you.”

  I swallow the emotion threatening my tear ducts. I don’t think he was, and that’s reason enough to cut our date short.

  “I’m going to go.” At his nod, I dash out of the building, relieved when cold, fresh air hits my face. I walk slowly to my car, unlock it, and climb inside. The clock on my dashboard reads eight thirty. It’s too early to go home. My mom will still be awake and ask for details of my date. She’s like a bloodhound whenever I walk through the door, tracking me within seconds even when I’ve taken off my heels to tiptoe to my bedroom.

  “Have a good time tonight,” she’d said, catching me on my way out. She pops
up out of nowhere when I leave, too.

  “Thanks.”

  “Do you have a jacket?”

  “I’ll be fine, Mom.” I gave her a hug goodbye. She’s a great mom. She just likes to be in my business and offer unsolicited advice.

  “You know for the evening, you could apply more makeup.”

  “I know.” Much to her chagrin, I did not inherit her love of cosmetics. Mascara and lip gloss and I’m good to go.

  “I could help.”

  I took a calming breath. “I’m good, but thanks.”

  “Maybe tonight’s the night.” She’s still shaken over my wedding disaster. She had a picture of her daughter in her mind and I ruined it. In a way, she wants me out of the house as much I want to be out, only she envisions me married, while I see only freedom.

  Hope, however, is something we could both agree on. “Maybe,” I’d said.

  “I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

  Which is why when the dashboard clock changes to eight thirty-one, I decide there is one other place I can go. I hope it’s not rude to arrive late, but I was invited.

  On the drive to Mateo’s house, I rehearse my speech. My date was a jerk. End of story. I’m not much for speeches. Plus, I hate the idea of going into detail about another awful date. Not that I’ll be asked for any, since tonight is a celebration for Levi.

  I lightly knock on their front door, second-guessing my decision to show up. From the sounds coming from inside the house, the movie has started. I’m already here, though, so when no one answers the door, I decide to try the handle. It’s unlocked.

  I slip inside. Sure enough, the kite-surfing film Levi worked on in Australia is showing on the flat screen above the fireplace. The glow from the television is the only light in the dark house. There’s a small crowd of friends gathered to watch the movie for the first time, and I’m suddenly glad my date sucked. This is a much better place to be.

  There’s no room left to sit so I lean against the back wall.

  “Hey, you made it after all,” Elliot whispers, brushing my arm as he joins me. “It just started a few minutes ago. Don’t move.” He disappears around the corner, then returns with a chair from the kitchen. “Sit.”

  I smile in thanks. We’ve been nothing but professional since we got back from Seattle a few days ago. Correction: besides glances that keep us engaged longer than they should, we’ve been professional. It helped that the week was insanely busy. I’ve never loved working so much. The days fly by, and I have no trouble falling asleep at night. My brain needs the time off.

  We watch the film with the rest of the rapt audience. When it’s over, cheers and praise rain down on Levi. Harper hangs onto his arm, soaking up the compliments for her man with a gigantic grin on her face.

  The group spreads out, some people keeping to the family room, while others go to the kitchen and the backyard.

  “You’re here!” Teague says, wrapping me in a hug. “Wait,” she says far less enthusiastically. “You’re here.” Mateo, who’s standing beside her, looks at me with his usual kindness. He knew where I was an hour ago, and now I’m here.

  I wave away her concern. “The film was amazing. Especially the camera work.” I notice Levi and Harper on their way over.

  “It was, wasn’t it?” Harper beams since I spoke loud enough for them to hear.

  “Congratulations,” I say to Levi.

  “Thanks, Mad. I’m glad you got to see it.”

  “I think this calls for a round of celebratory shots,” Elliot says.

  The six of us move into the kitchen where Elliot pours us tequila. “To a future Academy Award–winning cinematographer,” Elliot says, raising his glass.

  “Here, here,” we say before simultaneously tossing our drinks back. The alcohol slides smoothly down my throat.

  “I think we need another,” I volunteer. “For good luck.” And because I’ve never asked for “another” before. It feels good to be less careful and more carefree.

  “Can’t argue with that.” Elliot pours seconds.

  I slam my shot glass down on the counter when finished. With my throat a bit numb from the first drink, this one slid down like honey.

  “Excuse us,” Harper says, taking Levi’s hand and leading him away. I’m pretty sure they’re headed toward Levi’s bedroom to celebrate by themselves.

  “Hey, Madison,” the guys’ good friend Van says as he walks into the kitchen. He settles next to me at the counter.

  “Hi.” I hope I’m not blushing. I probably am, though. Van always flusters me. He’s gorgeous, and I’ve never been able to string more than a few words together when I’m around him.

  “How’s it going?”

  “Good.”

  He smiles. He knows the effect he has on women. “What’s new?”

  “Dude,” Elliot says, “what’s with all the questions?”

  “Ignore him,” Van says. “He’s jealous you’d rather talk to me than him.”

  I nervous giggle. Van is a total ladies’ man with a long line of females wanting his attention, and here I am, not wanting it at all. To make it worse, a couple of people come into the kitchen and grab Mateo’s and Teague’s attention.

  Elliot’s phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket. “I get to talk to her all week, have at it.”

  “What do you mean?” Van asks.

  “Shit. I have to take this.” Elliot steps out of the kitchen. “Hello?”

  “What does he mean?” Van casts his movie-star eyes on me.

  “We work together,” I say.

  “I didn’t know that. I’m so sorry,” he teases.

  I laugh this time. “It’s actually great.”

  “You know you don’t have to say that when he’s not in the room, right?” Van jokes.

  Usually when I’m around the guys it’s all of them and I can keep quiet during their banter, so with Van’s undivided attention, I get even more nervous.

  “I know,” I squeak out.

  “Huh,” he says. I have no idea what kind of “huh” it is. “Shot?”

  “Yes, please.” I push my shot glass over to him.

  He pours us each a couple inches of liquid gold and then we down them. Okay, so that probably was one shot too many, because all of a sudden, my head fills with butterflies.

  A hand wraps around my waist. Warm breath tickles the side of my neck. It’s not Van. I know it’s not. “Can I see you for a minute?” Elliot whispers in my ear.

  “Sure.”

  “I need to talk to her,” he says to Van. Without waiting for a reply, he takes my hand, leads me down the hallway, and steers me inside his bedroom. “Sorry. I hope it’s okay I dragged you away.” He jams a hand through his hair as he closes the door.

  “Is everything okay?”

  He pulls the chair out from his desk and motions for me to sit. He rests his very fine ass on the side of his bed. There are only inches keeping our knees from touching.

  “I was wondering if you would do me a favor?”

  “Of course. Anything.” Tequila = agreeable Madison.

  “You might not be so inclined once you hear what it is,” he says seriously.

  “Do I have to steal something?”

  He smiles. “No.”

  “Kill anyone?”

  His smile grows wider. “No.”

  “Harm an animal?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Then I’d say we’re good. What is it?”

  He drops his elbows onto his knees. “You’ll probably think it’s ridiculous.” This is a new side to Elliot, one I’m not sure what to make of. He’s not nervous, per se, but stressed out. I’ve seen him at work juggling multiple financial tasks and he’s always calm, confident. He’s neither of those things now.

  I think about reaching out to comfort him, but I don’t. Because it’s then that it hits me where I am. We’re alone in his bedroom. I take a quick peek around. It’s neater than mine, clean, with a bed, desk, dresser, and, be still my h
eart… “You have a kitten?”

  Elliot looks over at the tiny ball of black-and-white fluff curled up on a pet pillow in the corner. “As of three days ago, yeah. She showed up and won’t leave.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t mention it.”

  “We’re not talking about personal stuff at work.”

  “Oh. Right.” I look everywhere but at him. “Have you named her?”

  “No. I keep thinking someone’s going to show up to claim her or I’m going to see a sign posted with Lost Cat and her picture.”

  How cute is he right now? He’s worried he’ll get too attached, not that he’d admit it. “She picked you over Mateo and Levi, huh?”

  “I am the best looking.”

  “Says you.” And me. Thankfully, tequila does not = gush over your boss out loud. I watch the kitten, hoping she’ll wake up so I can hold her.

  “Back to why I brought you in here.” Our eyes meet, and for a quick minute, I allow myself to imagine he brought me in here to strip me naked and do very bad things to me in bed, in the shower, against the wall…you know, wherever he wants.

  “Yes?” God, I hope that sounded like a question and not permission.

  “My parents are having brunch at their house on Sunday and I was hoping you’d go with me.”

  I rub my forehead. I didn’t hear him right.

  “You heard me right.” Gads, it’s crazy how we do that sometimes. “I just need a friend, Mads, nothing else.” He says this with warmth and reverence, like I win the Most Valuable Friend award.

  Lately, I’ve needed my friends much more than they’ve needed me, so this is a nice change. “Not as your date or anything? Just to clarify.”

  “Correct. The truth is I don’t need to bring anybody, but I’ve avoided going over there for the past few weeks, and my mom basically just called to put me on the ultimate guilt trip, so I have to.”

  “You avoid your family?” My heart aches a little at that. My family means the world to me even when they drive me crazy.

  “Sometimes, yes.” He stands and paces around the room. “They don’t expect me to arrive with anybody. I just…I’d like someone on my side for once. Will you come? Brunch is at eleven and we’ll be there for two hours tops.” He stops moving to look at me.