Page 12
Tate
“ I ’m sorry.” I’m quick with my apology. Eve’s cheeks are now fire-engine red. I squeeze my eyes shut tight. I shouldn’t have said that. She looks flustered, and I’m sure she found an insult where none existed.
“No need for an apology.” She turns to the side so I can’t see her eyes. Can I feel more like a pile of dog shit? “I appreciate the clarification. It’s good to know that there’s no attraction on either side. Nothing that can cause problems later on.”
Ever so gently with her chin between my thumb and pointer finger, I turn her head in my direction. “I never said I wasn’t attracted to you.”
“It’s fine.” She doesn’t believe me. “Really. I promise.”
I release a shaky breath, upset with myself for ruining the night. I didn’t expect to enjoy talking to her so much. I feel like I can talk to this Evelyn forever .
“The truth is,” I try to explain. “Yesterday I felt . . . and today, these aren’t my best days. I’m feeling a little insecure, and I think you’d rather be sitting here playing footsie with Jonah ‘The Player’ Nurple than me.”
“Jonah, he’s the one that comes out swinging from a vine like Tarzan, right?
You know what?” She waves her hand in front of her face, letting on for the first time how much the wine is affecting her.
“It doesn’t matter. Baby man whores don’t do it for me.
” Trailing my finger around the rim of my wine glass to keep my hands busy so they don’t reach for Eve, I can’t help but snigger at her off-the-cuff characterization.
“Not when I had the pleasure of dealing with the president of the Man Whore Anonymous Club for more than twenty years.”
“Your husband?” I give her a side glance, afraid if I look at her straight on, I’ll make her uncomfortable.
“Mmm. The one and only.” She downs the rest of her wine, then sets the glass on the ground beside her. She looks so sexy and relaxed, I want to bend over and taste her sweet-looking lips.
I’m not sure if she places her hands behind her hips to hold herself up or to lean back to test my control. The conversation stalls as it does every now and then, leaving me wondering what the hell I’m doing with her.
This can’t go anywhere, regardless of whether I want it to or not.
“Did you know that I own a house in this neighborhood?” Eve says out of the blue.
“You do?” Surprise colors my voice, and damn if I don’t feel my face light up at the thought of her being close by. I hope she doesn’t notice. “Then why don’t you live here?”
“Because I just found out.”
“That sounds like bullshit.”
“No, really. Six years ago, when the development was new, Brandon and I looked at a house a few blocks away. We did that sometimes if we had nothing to do. We visited open houses to get ideas about furnishing and decorating. We loved the model. Oh my god, was it stunning.” Lost in her memory, she touches my shoulder for a moment.
“The house was sooo big and had so many rooms, he could’ve moved his whore in with us and I wouldn’t have known. ”
Like a scratch on an old-time record, my mind reruns what I heard. “Did you have an open marriage?”
“You look so serious.” Looking pensive, she traces my pinched brows.
Oh yeah, she’s drunk. My words sink in. “Why? . . . I’d never agree to that!
” She sounds insulted. Even though I’m enjoying this side of her, the speed and extent of her mood swing tells me I need to cut her off from the wine.
“Who in their right mind would agree to that?” Yep, she’s insulted.
I brace myself for what comes next. Eve snatches up the towel next to her and pulls her feet out of the pool as if my question poisoned the water.
“Is this what you teach Teddy about relationships? I need to have a long talk with my daughter.”
“Of course not. I didn’t mean anything by it. But, Eve, that’s more common than you think.” I get to my feet and join her. My six-foot-three frame dwarfs her five-foot-short stance .
“Are those the relationships you’ve been involved in? Mr. Tate?”
For a split second, I consider correcting her and reminding her that Tate is my first name, not my last, but I don’t want to piss her off more than I already have.
“Not me. But I’ve encountered teammates that had understandings with their wives since they were away from home so often.”
“I might be stuffy and old-fashioned like my name, but I believe a marriage should be between a husband, a wife, and that’s it. No one else.” Emphasizing her point, she moves her hands from side to side the way an umpire would if he were calling a baserunner safe.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” I reach for her towel and toss it onto a patio chair.
“Upsetting me seems to be a skill that comes natural to you, Mr. Grimm.”
“I swear I don’t mean to.”
She makes a face like she doesn’t believe me. “Let me make this perfectly clear.” She points her finger at me. “My husband rarely traveled, and we had no such understanding.”
“Okay, I understand. Then how did you find out?”
“After he died. I couldn’t believe it about the house and drove over there with the keys. Guess what I found.”
I shake my head. Any one of a thousand things pop into my head, and I don’t want to piss her off further.
“A note on the door with Zana’s name and phone number. Apparently, she left some belongings there and wanted to come by to retrieve them. I guess she heard about Brandon’s death.”
“That sucks.” I make sure that there’s no hubris to my tone. I want to comfort, not antagonize her.
“Honestly, I’m not that surprised.” She picks her glass up off the ground and holds it close to her chest like it might shield her from something.
“We didn’t have a great marriage. I got pregnant young, and he thought the best ‘remedy,’” she uses air quotes, “his word, not mine, was to get married.”
“Doesn’t sound very romantic.”
“It wasn’t, but that didn’t matter, because I loved him.”
She loved him. Of course she did. That’s why she’s so hurt. I wonder if she still loves him, knowing what she does now.
“Surprisingly, the first five years were great, and Gemma was the center of our world. We both revolved around the same sun, you know what I mean? Then we started to drift. He found brighter stars and got meaner and less attentive at home. We spoke about divorce . . .”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Gemma. We agreed, or so I thought, that a stable home would be best for her. At least until she went off to college.”
“She’s in her second year, though, and your husband died very recently. Did you stay because he was sick?”
“No.” Her eyes won’t meet mine. I’m losing her; I feel it.
I need to draw her back in because, with her defenses up, she’s a totally different person.
“I’d love to say we reconsidered and came together in the end.
We didn’t. At least nothing that we spoke about.
I just didn’t know divorce was still the plan.
” What an asshole that man was. I’d love to give him a swift punch in the nose. I would too, if he weren’t dead.
“I don’t mean to sound judgmental.” I take the glass from her.
Making sure to brush my fingers against hers.
I want to touch her, pull her into my arms and hold her tight.
Instead, I have to settle for the non-threatening, “accidental” touch.
“I only meant . . .” I pause, staring into her eyes.
They’re nervous, leery. I don’t want to scare her off. “Never mind. Let’s go inside.”
We head to the French doors without a word. In the silence, I feel my heart pound against my chest. It’s beating so hard, I wonder if she can hear it. Not giving her a chance to first, I open the doors, gesturing for her to go inside.
Once we’re in my house and my back is turned, she makes a mad dash to slip into her shoes and grab her purse. I don’t realize what’s happening until I come back from placing our glasses in the kitchen sink.
“Eve?”
I don’t want her to leave, but I don’t know how to ask her to stay. Feeling like whatever I do is going to be wrong, I look around while running my hand through my hair, trying to think of something, anything to make her want to stay.
“I understand. It’s time to go.”
“No. That’s not why I suggested coming inside.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not about to pull out the ‘I drank too much, can I stay’ card. I’ll call for a ride.” She’s not snarky. She sounds sort of sad .
“No.” She flinches, and I realize my voice is louder than I meant for it to be. “I promised I’d see you home.” I just . . . don’t want you to leave yet.
“Yes. However, you drank as much as I did. You shouldn’t drive.”
Shows how much attention she paid to me. I only had one glass of wine to her three plus. I actually lost count since she never quite finished her glass before it was refilled.
“Then don’t leave.”
“I don’t want pity, Mr. Grimm.” The pain in her blue eyes is unmistakable. An invisible hand squeezes my heart tight. “Please let me go while I still have a trace of dignity.”
I’ve had it! Why the hell can’t she keep her mouth shut and allow me to think for a minute? “Holy shit, woman, at least give me a chance to speak before you launch off like a ballistic missile.”