Page 23 of Worth the Try (Atlanta Granite #1)

Elodie

L ISTEN. I AM a patient woman. I am.

But when a man makes me orgasm twice in 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.

A thread . 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, I toss 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.”

“ I do,” 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, grabbing my 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. “You did tell 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.

She continues, “Are you saying that I get to be your very first client?”

Again, I blink as her words settle around me.

Get to be. Very first client. And I realize the gift she’s giving me, this belief.

This unspoken generosity of trust and faith that I’ll do exactly as she’s hoping for and then some.

It’s enough to remind me that I do have something to offer.

That it doesn’t matter that I’ve not done this for anyone, because I’ve still got the talent and the knowledge to make it happen.

The smile on my face is huge as I say, “Yes. Yes, you do.”

She winks knowingly. “Atta girl.”

Kari reaches for my free hand and squeezes it.

“You’re looking for an adventure honeymoon, right? You want it hot or cold?”

Allyson takes a sip of her coffee, some kind of whipped ice confection with cream on top, and grins. “Cold. My sweet man wants cold, so we’ll give him cold. Besides,” she says, her grin growing wicked, “there’s always something we can do to warm up.”

“Hell yes, there is.” Kari winks and laughs.

And just like that, I know I’ve made a new friend. I tap open the folder of ideas for discussion and launch in.

Kari and I go thrifting after the meeting, so it’s nearly dinner time before I roll up to Ansel’s house and make my way out of the house. I inhale deeply as I walk through the gate, catching the scent of grilled hamburgers as I close the latch behind me.

“Elle Belle!” Rosalie whips around the corner and barrels into me. “I missed you!”

I smile into her hazel eyes, trying and failing for the hundredth time not to think how remarkably similar they are to my own.

Between the eyes and unruly hair, the resemblance between us is sometimes a little uncanny.

I still don’t know anything about her mother; only that she’s not in the picture.

But I don’t know why, nor do I know how much of this sweet girl’s life she’s missed.

Every time I want to ask, something tells me to hold off.

That Ansel will tell me when he’s ready.

“I missed you, too, Rosie bug,” I tell her, then scoop her into my arms as she jumps up, monkeying onto me.

She peeks into the tote on my other arm. “What’d you get? Anything for me?”

I chuckle as I walk us around the corner of the house and toward the outside kitchen, where Ansel stands over the grill. “Nope, nothing for you,” I say. “Just a pretty shirt that I found at the thrift store.”

“Can I go to the thrift store with you?” she wheedles. “I bet I could find pretty shirts for me, too.”

“It’s a date,” I confirm, bopping her on the nose. “We’ll go next week.”

“Yay!” She wiggles down and runs to Ansel. “Daddy, Elle Belle is taking me shopping next week!”

Ansel turns, tongs in hand, and I snort out a laugh.

He sports a pink frilly apron, and between it and the tank top and shorter shorts he’s got on, it almost looks as if that’s the only thing he’s wearing from the front.

He looks down, then back up, and smirks.

“The guys thought it’d be funny to prank me the last time I had them over for a cookout.

Took my aprons and left me only with this one. ”

“And you haven’t gotten them back?” I prompt, giggling at him.

He shrugs, a tinge of pink staining the skin above his beard. “It’s…kind of comfortable. And it has better pockets!”

I can’t do anything except shake my head and grin.

He flips the burgers, then turns his attention back to me. “How did it go?”

“I got it!” I say, cheesing so hard my cheeks might actually cramp up.

“Ansel, she is so cool , and her ideas are amazing, and we just vibed, and Kari was all ‘I knew it’ and smug about it, but Allyson—that’s her name, Allyson—she’s the chillest person, and does Jake have any clue how lucky he is to have her?

Have you seen her? She is gorgeous!” I clamp my mouth shut, because I have babbled beyond all babbling.

“Sorry,” I say, waving my hand dismissively as I see how broadly he’s smiling. “I know I’m being silly. It’s just?—”

“No way.” Ansel puts the tongs down and closes the distance between us. Warm hands grasp mine as he continues, “This is great, Elodie. It’s amazing. You’re glowing, and I’m so damn proud of you.” He stops. “Now I’m the one being sorry—is it weird that I’m proud of you? It’s weird, isn’t it?”

I didn’t think it was possible, but I smile even bigger as butterflies erupt in my chest. “You’re proud of me?”

He squeezes my hands, then lets go and grabs my arms, looking at me with the sternest expression I think I’ve ever seen.

“Elodie. I am beyond proud of you. You’ve created something out of thin air.

You’re chasing your passion. Your dream.

Of course, I’m proud of you. I have no right to— oof .

” He grunts out a breath as I crash into him, squeezing him hard.

His arms wrap around me, their warmth seeping deep into my skin as I breathe him in.

“Group hug!” Rosie shouts, running over and wrapping her tiny arms around us.

The whole thing makes me nearly cry. I shouldn’t be so emotional about it, but I never got these kinds of moments growing up.

The only time my mother was even close to being proud of me was when I won a regional pageant—and even then, all she gave me was a crisp nod and the barest of smiles.

This is the woman who still doesn’t know I lost my job.

How is it that I’ve only known Ansel for two short months? It feels like he and Rosalie have been a part of my life forever. “Thank you,” I whisper against his chest.

“You did it all on your own, Elle. I’m just the lucky guy who gets to watch you succeed.” He kisses the top of my head and steps away with a wry grin. “Burgers,” he says with a nod to the grill. “Join us? Rosie here insisted I ask.”

“Cleocatra, too!” Rosie pipes up.

I laugh and wipe the rogue tear from my eye. “Sounds delicious.”