Текст книги "Traded"

Автор книги: Rebecca Brooke

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

The perfect end to the perfect day.

CHAPTER 23

Elena

Ashton made sure to come out and show me to the table himself, and it was obvious it was the best table in the house. Secluded for private conversation, but still in the midst of everything. I looked down at my watch.

Fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes until Gretchen arrived.

I was excited to finally see her again. We’d exchanged text messages after Ashton got me the phone, but neither replaced the face-to-face conversations we used to have. So many things had changed since I last saw her; some good, while others . . . well, let’s just say the jury was still out on those.

“Elena.” Her voice was so loud, almost every head in the restaurant turned to stare. Thank God it was only the lunch crowd.

“Gretchen.” I waved, hoping to calm her until she got to the table.

But that was Gretchen. She didn’t apologize for who she was. It was often said that opposites attract, and this was true in the sense the Gretchen was everything I wished I could be. She was strong to my weak, confident to my cowardice. In the past, when she’d spoken about me leaving Dominic, she’d made it sound so easy, and every time I left after one of those conversations, I’d be full of good intentions; wanting to head home and let him know how unhappy I was, and ask him to change. Then I see him and all my fire would die. Yet, even though this to and fro happened often, she never despaired of me. She was always there in the background helping me, keeping me sane. And for that I’d be forever grateful.

Ashton was nowhere in sight, then again, I had a feeling he wasn’t faraway because he’d promised to come over and meet Gretchen at some point during lunch, and help set her mind at ease.

“Oh my God.”

Suddenly I was yanked from my seat into a crushing embrace, squeezed to the point where I couldn’t draw breath. “I missed you so much, you had me so worried.”

“I text you all the time,” I forced out.

She let go. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to squish you.”

“It’s okay,” I laughed. My stomach settled and I felt myself relax.

“I was just so worried,” she rambled, taking her seat. “You sent me texts but anyone could have the phone, claiming they’re you. And you could have been tied up in some creepy basement dungeon with whips and canes and God only knows what else.”

A throat cleared behind me. Gretchen’s eyes snapped up and her mouth dropped open. Then a warm hand curled over my shoulder and blood rushed to my face.

“Elena.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice. Oh God, how much of that had he heard?

“Ashton.”

He squeezed my shoulder then stepped into view. Reaching out, he offered his hand.

“And you must be Gretchen.” Slowly, she lifted her hand and took his. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“It’s a . . . a . . . a—” Gretchen swallowed hard. “Nice to meet you too.”

He brought her hand to his lips and her cheeks went pink.

“Excuse me, ladies, I need to take care of something, but I’ll be back. I just wanted to introduce myself.”

He placed a soft kiss to my lips and stepped away. Gretchen sat there, nodding dumbly. I snapped my fingers in her face, trying to get her attention. When her eyes returned to mine, I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped my lips.

Her expression. Not often was Gretchen speechless. Her eyes were practically popping out of her head when she looked back at me.

“That’s him?”

“Yeah, that’s Ashton.”

She gave her head a quick shake. “Holy shit. It’s about time you found someone like him.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m glad you approve, but he’s not exactly mine.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” She watched me for a moment. “Although, I’m kinda liking this new snarky attitude you’ve got going on.”

Watching my finger trace patterns on the tablecloth, I said, “I’ve learned a lot in the last two months.”

“Hey.” I looked up into soft, understanding eyes. “It’s never easy to see what’s wrong when we want it to be right.”

Tears blurred my vision. “I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

She shook her head. “It’s not your fault. That jerk had your mind so warped and twisted with his bullshit and lies that you couldn’t see what I was saying. What matters now is that you finally see the truth.”

“I do. Ashton helped.”

Gretchen peeked over at him and smiled. “Now I’ve seen for myself that he’s not abusing you in some underground room of pain, I want to know what you’ve been up to. You have so much time now that you don’t have to take shifts at the diner—what do you do all day?”

I hadn’t thought about those early mornings in a long while. For the longest time, the only thing that kept me going was my routine. Not that I didn’t still have a routine; this one was just markedly different. The corners of my mouth lifted.

“Actually, Ashton got me an audition for the new musical opening up in the theater district in a few weeks.”

Her head tilted to the side. “An audition?”

“I guess I never told you what I went to college for.”

“I didn’t even know you’d been to college.”

“Dominic and I got married right after graduation. Up until then, I wanted to sing on Broadway.”

“Really?”

“From the time I was a little girl.”

“Okay,” she said nodding. “When is this audition?”

The waiter came over, interrupting the conversation. In his hand he held a bottle of wine, resting in an ice bucket. He set it up on a stand next to the table before presenting me with the bottle and popping the cork.

“Compliments of Mr. Hawes.”

I glanced over my shoulder; Ashton’s eyes were on me. He lifted his chin slightly, gave me a wink, and turned back to what he was doing. When I turned back to the table, the waiter had poured a glass. He held it out to me. Swirling the liquid like Ashton taught me, I took a sip, savoring the flavor.

“Perfect. Tell Mr. Hawes he has good taste.”

The waiter took our lunch order and after handing over the menu, I looked at Gretchen, who was gaping at me. “Look at you being a flirt.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Oh yes you were.”

Maybe I was, but I wouldn’t admit that to her. “What were we talking about before?”

She laughed. “That quickly that man fried your brain cells.”

I ignored her comments. “Auditions, wasn’t it? Well, I already auditioned and got the part.”

“You did?” she squealed, my reaction to Ashton completely forgotten.

“Yes. It opens in two weeks. Will you come?” I asked, shyly.

“You bet your ass I’ll be there.”

“Thank you. I could use some familiar faces in the audience. It’s been a long time since I’ve been under those lights.”

The waiter brought over our salads and Gretchen picked up her fork to eat. Pointing it at me, she said, “I’m sure Ashton will be there.”

“He will, but the more the merrier.”

She studied me for a moment. “What aren’t you telling me?”

I shook my head, hoping she would see how it was so much more than flirting with Ashton for me. “Nothing.”

She gave me a dubious look. “Okay, fine. Since you won’t ’fess up, tell me more about Ashton and what you do outside your time between the sheets.”

My face flamed. “I never said we’d slept together,” I whispered harshly.

The corner of her eyes crinkled and she laughed. “You don’t have to. I can see the sparks from here.” She grabbed her napkin and started fanning herself.

“Oh my God. Stop that.” I grabbed the napkin from her hand. “We don’t have that kind of chemistry. He’s just really sweet.”

She scoffed and lowered her voice. “You just called a loan shark sweet.”

“How else should I describe him? Ruthless, conniving, maybe selfish? Because he’s been none of those to me.”

Gretchen covered my clenched fist on the table. “Calm down, Elena. That’s not what I meant. It only seems like an oxymoron. ‘Loan shark’ and ‘sweet’ definitely don’t go together—unless you happen to be Ashton Hawes, who is obviously different.”

“He is.”

We finished our salads just in time for lunch to be delivered to the table. The waiter placed Gretchen’s in front of her and when I looked up, Ashton set my lunch in front of me with a flourish. “Enjoy, sweetheart,” he whispered, before disappearing again.

“Hello sexual tension,” Gretchen whispered at me.

Ignoring her, I cut one of the large raviolis into smaller bite size pieces, thoughts of his endearment tickling all of my nerve endings. It gave me chills every time he spoke to me like that. After a bite or two, Gretchen started again.

“You never answered my question about what you and Ashton do together.”

I sighed thinking about the trip a few days ago.

“Did you just sigh?”

I giggled. “I guess I did. Well, he took me to see the sunrise at the Grand Canyon.”

Gretchen’s fork slid from her fingers. “He did what?”

“He took me to see the sunrise at the Grand Canyon. We had lunch there before coming back for the baseball game.” Gretchen winced and I quickly added, “He got seats right behind the dugout. It was perfect.”

“Oh shit,” she whispered.

My gaze snapped back to hers. “What? What is it? Are you okay?”

“You’re already in love with him, aren’t you?”

I froze. Why would she think that? “I’m not. It’s just an infatuation. He’s helped me so much. Guys like him don’t fall in love.”

“Oh, sweetie, even I can see it’s more than an infatuation. Why are you so afraid to admit it?”

Tears welled in my eyes and I hoped to God Ashton wasn’t anywhere near to see it. “The last time I thought I was in love, look where I ended up.”

“Yes, but the man over there,” she nodded to her left, “is nothing like the dickhead you married. For crying out loud, he flew you to Arizona for sunrise. Dominic wouldn’t even take you out to dinner.”

I sniffled. “I don’t want to get hurt again.”

“Elena?” Ashton’s worried tone came from right beside me. He took one look at my face and pulled me from the chair and into his arms, sending a glare Gretchen’s way.

“What’s wrong?”

I tried to collect myself. “We were talking about what a fool I was when it came to Dominic.” At least it was a half-truth.

He brushed the tears from my eyes with his thumbs. “You’re not a fool. That fucker has no idea what he had. He will never get his hands on you again. You’re mine.”

Time froze. The restaurant could have burned down around me as I glanced up into Ashton’s eyes. Even through his glasses, I could see something there. Something more than sex, or helping out a poor abused woman. He opened his mouth to say more when suddenly our bubble was burst.

“Mr. Hawes,” the maître d’ said, now standing next to us.

“Yes, Pierre?”

“Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have a problem.”

Ashton glanced back and forth between the two of us. He sighed. “I’ll be right there, Pierre.” He waited for Pierre to walk away before saying, “Elena, I’m sorry I have to take care of this.”

“I understand.” While that was true, it didn’t mean I liked it. But he had a restaurant to run. I took my seat and reached for my drink, needing to do something with my shaking hands.

“We need to talk when I get home tonight.”

It wasn’t a request. “Okay.”

“I shouldn’t be too late. Wait up for me, please?”

“All right,” I squeaked out. An empty feeling settled at the pit of my stomach.

What could he want to talk to me about?

Gretchen smirked at me over the rim of her glass. “You’re an idiot.”

“Thanks a lot. Ashton just caught me crying in his restaurant and now he wants to talk.” I said using air quotes. “On top of all that, you’re calling me an idiot. This day just keeps getting better and better.”

“Well, you are an idiot if you can’t see what’s right in front of your face. That man is so into you it’s unreal. I’m pretty sure he was just about to tell you so when you were interrupted.”

My mouth popped open. “No he wasn’t.”

“Oh, babe, he was. At some point you’re going to have to realize you can be loved without being hurt, otherwise you’re going to push everyone away and end up alone.”

Alone.

I’d been alone for a long time. Living with someone who didn’t spend time with me, only talking to me when they had to was possibly more lonely than actually being on my own. My nerves were shot and if we continued the conversation, I was likely to puke all over the table.

“Can we just drop it for now?” I pleaded.

She nodded and set her glass down. The meal continued with us both avoiding anything to do with Ashton, although, I did find my gaze straying as we talked, trying to get a glimpse of the man who occupied my thoughts.

The waiter brought our dessert over without us ordering: chocolate mousse cake. Ashton knew it was my weakness and the fact that he’d known to send it over made more questions swirl through my head.

Sooner than I liked, lunch was over.

“I miss spending time with you,” Gretchen said as we walked out of the restaurant. “We need to do this again.”

“We do.” I tried to smile, but it felt forced. “And you’ll come for opening night?”

“I will definitely be there.”

“Great. I’ll leave your ticket at will call.”

She wrapped me in an embrace. “Give him a chance. And tell him thank you for lunch.”

“I will, and I’ll try.”

We said our good-byes and Gretchen headed to the parking lot, while I turned to the front. Lewis was waiting with the car, ready to take me to rehearsal.

“Elena,” he greeted as he opened the door. It had taken me a while but I’d finally managed to convince Lewis to stop using my last name. I hated the reminder of Dominic.

Lewis pulled out into traffic and in no time at all, he was dropping me off at the stage entrance.

Rehearsals went smoothly; all thoughts of Ashton pushed to the back of my mind. But that only lasted as long as my attention was elsewhere. As soon as rehearsal was over, I began worrying about what Ashton might have to say to me.

By the time I got back to the house I was so jittery that I decided that a long hot bath was in order. The warm water soothed my aching muscles, the steam clearing my head. I lay back and closed my eyes.

As the temperature cooled, I knew it was time to leave my little cocoon and face whatever Ashton had to tell me.

Dressing, I went downstairs. The house was still quiet and none of the lights were on. Wanting the conversation over with sooner rather than later, I walked down the hall to Ashton’s office. Still nothing. He’d said he wouldn’t be late. Something must have kept him at the restaurant.

The sound of the garage door opening made the desire to sprint down the hall overwhelming. With a deep calming breath, I forced myself to walk slowly into the kitchen, but when the door opened, it wasn’t Ashton who greeted me.

“Miller. What are you doing here?”

“Ashton got stuck at one of the restaurants so I thought I’d keep you company.” He produced two takeout bags from The Bluewater Grill.

I laughed. “Let me guess, Ashton sent you over here with dinner so you could watch over me until he gets home.”

“Busted.” He set the bags on the counter and began pulling out plates and forks from the cabinets. “But can you blame him after what happened the other night?”

I cringed at how much he knew about my screwed up situation and went to the wine cooler to cover my reaction. I pulled out a Chardonnay that Ashton liked with seafood, along with two glasses. “Dominic has no idea where Ashton lives . . . but, no, I can’t really blame him.”

Miller opened the takeout boxes and placed each meal on a plate, throwing the containers into the trash. “Hungry?” He gestured to the food.

“Yes,” I said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. Ashton had sent my favorite dish: crab sautéed in a white wine sauce. “Delicious. He always knows what to pick for me.”

Miller smirked, which I decided to ignore. “Yes, he does.”

Miller dived right into his food. I might have been hungry, but it was hard to think about food when all I wanted to know was what Ashton needed to tell me. Pushing my food around on my plate, I didn’t notice Miller trying to get my attention until he tapped me on the arm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You haven’t touched your food. Ashton swore this was your favorite.”

“He’s right, it is my favorite. I’m just having a hard time pushing something else out of my mind and it’s stealing my appetite.” I wasn’t sure sitting there having a conversation about his brother was a great idea. How much would he tell Ashton?

“Come on, you can tell me. You won’t be able to stop thinking about it until you do.”

For a few minutes I sat there in silence, battling with my conscience while Miller looked on. What would be the harm in talking to him? On the one hand, he might tell Ashton everything I said. On the other, he’d known Ashton since the day he was born.

Deciding I needed to get it off my chest, I put it out there.

“Today at lunch, Ashton asked me to wait up for him because there was something he wanted to talk to me about and I’m afraid he wants to make sure I’ll be out of his life in two weeks, when the three months is up. I’m just not sure if I’m ready for that.”

Miller’s glass was halfway to his lips but he quickly set it down as he burst into laughter, the sound making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

I knew talking to him was a mistake.

Gathering up my plate and glass, I pushed away from the table to move to the dining room where I could sit and eat in peace, when Miller reached out a hand to stop me.

“Please don’t leave. I’m sorry for laughing.” He wiped at his eyes. “It’s just the idea of Ashton wanting you to leave is absolutely ridiculous.”

I placed my stuff back down on the table, but stayed on my feet. “Why would you say that?”

He shrugged. “I’ve never seen Ashton react to a woman the way he does to you. Take the night we all had dinner at my parents’ house. He threatened me more than once for looking at you the wrong way. He even punched me.”

“He punched you?” I asked, my eyes wide. “Why would he do that?”

“He thought I was going to make a play for you after you talked to Aunt Veronica. Which was just stupid. He was already falling for you then.”

My mouth dropped open. “What are you talking about? I’ve only known Ashton for a little over two months. And only because my husband can’t stop gambling.”

Miller smirked. “A husband who I hear will be out of the picture very soon.”

“How do you know that? I only told Ashton the other day. I haven’t even met with the lawyer yet.”

“Ashton told me the morning after you told him. He’s normally so calm and collected. He doesn’t let his emotions rule him . . . except with you.”

“But . . . but he . . . he doesn’t—”

His hand came up to cover mine. “Don’t stress. My brother cares more about you than he’s admitted so far. I’m sure he won’t be able to keep it in much longer.”

Miller’s words had me breathing a little easier. Could Ashton really care as much about me as I did about him? Only time would tell.

Lost in my thoughts I began to eat my dinner. Miller did the same.

“How’s the show coming along?” he asked between bites.

“Good. I really like working with Alan.”

He rolled his eyes. “The two of them have been friends for forever. Dumbasses got themselves into a lot of trouble growing up.”

I couldn’t help my curiosity. “Oh really?”

“Mmm hmm. The stories I could tell you.”

“Please do.”

Miller and I finished dinner. It took longer than normal since I had to stop multiple times to laugh at Miller’s stories of Ashton as a child. It was easy, yet hard to hear about him being so carefree. I’d seen glimpses of both parts of his personality, but I was starting to think I was one of only a few who did.

“Since you’re stuck here until Ashton gets home, should we watch a movie?” I asked, loading the remaining dishes into the dishwasher. Yes, Ashton had a housekeeper, but some habits just wouldn’t die.

“Sounds good to me.” Miller winked.

I followed him down the hall and watched as he selected a movie, moving around the room with an ease that suggested he had been here many a time and was more than comfortable in his surroundings. I tried to focus on the screen, but my eyes strayed to the doorway every so often.

By the time the movie finished, Ashton still wasn’t home. Miller put another one on and I curled up under a blanket on the couch, all the anxiety of the last few hours catching up with me. My lids got heavy but I fought to keep them open. I had to know what Ashton wanted.

At the moment, nothing seemed more important.

Not even sleep.