Page 135 of Ripped & Shipped
“And Aiden and Duke. They’re here too.”
“Oh my gosh! That poor guy. He had to be shaking in his boots.”
“We were mellow—this time. But, yeah. He knew he was outnumbered.”
She giggles a little and my chest loosens.
“Are we good?” I ask her.
“Yeah. We’re good. Where are you?”
“Still in Columbus. We literally just got rid of that guy when you called. Want me to stop by when I get back?”
“Yeah. I have some things to tell you.”
“Good things?” I ask.
“Yeah. I think so. Yes. Good things.”
“Okay. I’ll be there in about an hour and a half at the latest.”
“And, Chris?”
“Yeah?”
“Next time, talk to me first. I deserve to get to make the call on things like this.”
“Okay. Next time, I’ll come to you. You have my word.”
I walk back to the table. The waitress shows up and asks Duke if he wants to look at a dessert menu. He instantly says, “Sure!” Then he looks over at me and Aiden who have identical expressions on our faces. “What? It looks like good pie.”
Aiden and I end up splitting a sandwich while Duke eats his dessert. Then we load up in Aiden’s van and head back to Bordeaux. The van barely stops, and I hop out and trot to my truck to drive straight to Ella Mae’s—beyond eager to see her.
Ella Mae answers the door in a pair of loose gray sweats with some designer name running up one leg. She’s got on a thin white T-shirt, and she’s barefoot. No makeup. She’s looking good.
“Hey,” I say, trying to keep from reaching out to touch her too soon.
“Heya, Big Boy. Come on in.”
As she walks toward the back of the house, she says, “Meg’s home. She’s upstairs getting ready for bed.”
“Okay.”
“Can I get you anything?”
Is a kiss out of the question? A hug?
“I’m good.”
She walks to the far side of the couch and plops down. I glance between the other corner cushion and the middle one.
“Where do you want me?”
Ella Mae smiles. “Your choice.”
I take the middle cushion. It feels like ages since I’ve seen her. I place my hand between us, palm up in an unspoken invitation.
She loops her fingers through mine.
