Page 56 of Worth the Try
“Fuck.” His face darkens. “Tell me everything.”
Chapter 18
Elodie
LISTEN. I AM a patient woman. I am.
But when a man makes me orgasmtwicein one night and then leaves me high and dry for the next two weeks, only to press me against a door and make me come in under a minute? Sure, I paid him back, but this is getting ridiculous.
I walk into the house each morning and he’s in there, showing off those thighs and wearing those glasses and finding every reason to touch me when Rosalie isn’t looking. And he keeps making me breakfast before heading to practice, but insists I spend the nights working on getting my business off the ground?
I am hanging by a thread.
Athread. Lord help me.
I don’t know how much more I can take. Seriously. I might jump the man and climb him like a tree if something doesn’t happen soon.
Something’s going on with Ansel, too. He won’t talk about it, but I can see the tension bracketing his eyes. The smudges of purple beneath them. I suspect it’s got something to do with the phone call he got that night. I’ve asked him if everything’s okay,but his answer is always the same:Nothing for you to worry about.
Which is, of course, horse hooey.
But I can’t do anything about it right now. It’s a beautiful, hot, summer Saturday morning, and I’m getting ready to meet Kari and Allyson to talk about Allyson’s honeymoon. I could almost pinch myself with excitement—that, or throw up. It’s one or the other.
As I walk out of my house, Ansel and Rosie are in the backyard, Rosie paddling in the pool while Ansel sprawls on one of the lounge chairs, frowning at something on his phone. He finally looks up after Rosie and I exchange our hellos, and as always, I have to brace myself at how hot he is.
He’s clad only in short swim trunks, his tanned skin on full display for me to ogle. And I do, taking full advantage of the moment to let my eyes travel up his legs to feast on those thick thighs and compact stomach and broad chest. Because it’s morning, or perhaps because he knows what it does to me, he’s wearing his wire-rimmed glasses, too, so when I finally meet those deep brown eyes of his, they’re twinkling with amusement.
“Heading to meet your first client?” he asks.
I lick my lips, not missing how his gaze dips to watch the movement, and adjust the tote on my shoulder. “I am.” Huffing a laugh, I admit, “I was actually worried that these pants wouldn’t fit. Haven’t worn them since leaving the day job.” I wanted to dress professional, but I’m already regretting the structured slacks and silk top.
“Those curves are perfection, Elodie,” he says, his expression ravenous.
Heat blooms on my cheeks and neck at the compliment, and I shift uncomfortably, unsure how perfect they are if he isn’t going to do anything with them. But I don’t respond. Instead, Itoss him a flirty, “Wish me luck,” then leave without a backward glance.
The coffee shop Kari picked is, naturally, perfect. Located in a bustling part of Atlanta that’s closest to Allyson, it’s filled to the brim with every type of person the city has to offer. I absolutely love it. I also love that they allow a small number of tables on the balcony to be reserved, so I head up to the one I snagged last week online and dump my bag, then go back to order a drink and some pastries for us to share.
I’ve just gotten set up when Kari and Allyson walk in, laughing at something one of them has said. Allyson is tall and graceful; her ebony skin beautifully complemented by the Kelly-green linen skirt and top she wears. She’s draped in gold: bangles, necklaces, and big hoops that dangle almost to her shoulders, and her hair is in long box braids that swing down her back. When they make it up the stairs with their coffees and she leans in for a hug, I catch a woodsy, almost masculine scent that works so perfectly with her that I’m instantly in love. No wonder the team’s burly Samoan was brought to his knees by this woman.
Her glossy lips part in a wide smile as she sits. “It’s so good to meet you. Kari has blown you up to me, so I’m fully prepared for you to deliver me a miracle.”
I laugh. “I don’t know about that.”
“Ido,” Kari says, releasing me from the hug she’d pulled me into and taking a seat.
Allyson beams. “If Kari tells me you’re good, then it’s settled: you’re good.”
“She’s in public relations—it’s her job to make people look good,” I protest, but it’s halfhearted. Inwardly, I’m blooming with love for my friend. Clearing my throat before I do something embarrassing like get choked up, I open up my iPad and pull up my latest organizational app. “So,” I say, grabbingmy Apple pen and doing my best to look like I know what I’m doing, “let’s get started. Maybe you can tell me a little about your vision, and then I can offer some ideas.”
Allyson clasps her hands together and wiggles her shoulders, practically squealing in excitement. “Does this mean you’ll do it?”
I blink, confused. “I thought this was more like an interview.” Then I glance at Kari. “Youdidtell her that she’s my very first potential client, right?”
Kari has the decency to at least appear a bit chastened. “I mean…”
Allyson’s bangles slide down her arm as she holds a hand up. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait.”
I hold my breath.
