Page 34 of Roughing the Player
“That’s nice. She’s nice.” I never once saw my mother in the kitchen. Heck, I barely saw her at all. She had staff who cooked, cleaned, and took care of me. When my nanny told me she’d passed away, I shrugged and continued playing with my toys. You can’t grieve over what you’ve never known.
I polish off the rest of the pie and drink the last of the coffee while Butch runs around the yard, acquainting himself with the place. It suddenly occurs to me that sitting here next to Ellie is as close to heaven as I’ll ever be. I swallow past the lump in my throat.
Her head turns in my direction, concern clear in her gaze. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just a crumb.”
Seeming to accept my explanation, her gaze swerves back to Butch. “You don’t have to worry about the plants. None of them are poisonous.”
“He won’t eat them. He just likes to smell them.” Now that I’ve gotten my emotions back under control, I go back to reassuring her about Butch. “In case you haven’t picked up on it, he’s pretty tame.”
“I can see that.” Her brown-eyed gaze glows with contentment. She’s happy in her home, with her life. Much as I’d like to get closer, the last thing she needs is the bad boy who time and time again screwed up.
Not wanting to overstay my welcome, I come to my feet and grab our empty plates and my cup. “I better go.”
“Already?”
Is that a wistful tone I hear? No. It can’t be. She’s just being polite, that’s all. “I want to take Butch for a run in the park. I haven’t seen him in forever.”
“Of course.” In one fluid move, she unfolds from the chair and stands. It’s only now I notice she’s not wearing any shoes. My imagination runs wild with images of Ellie naked on my bed while I bury myself inside her. I’ve never forgotten that one stormy night. Never forgotten the cinnamon scent of her throat, the sweet taste of her skin. Predictably, I get a hard-on.
“There’s one close by with a dog run. Turner Park. Just up the street.”
“Right.” I gotta get out fast before she notices my erection. Or worse, her mother does. I walk to the kitchen, where Ruth is up to her elbows in dough, rest the plates and cup in the sink. “Thanks for the pie and coffee.”
“You’re welcome,” Ruth says, rinsing her hands.
I push open the back porch door and yell, “Butch, come here, boy.” When he reaches me, I snap the leash on him. He doesn’t fight it. He knows the leash will lead to a walk.
With Ellie and Ruth trailing behind us, we head toward the front.
“I bought this dog food he likes. It’s in the SUV. I’ll drop it off when I bring him back. If that’s all right.”
Ellie nods. “Of course.”
“We’ll be here,” Ruth adds.
I don’t know how to bring up the subject, so I just come right out with it. “I’d like to pay you for the dog sitting.”
Ellie jumps in with, “You don’t have to.”
Ruth’s response is much stronger, “Absolutely not.”
“Please. You’re going through so much trouble.”
“No trouble at all,” Ruth says. “I love dogs. We had a Labrador Retriever back home, but he passed away shortly before our move to Chicago. For one reason or another, we haven’t adopted another one. It’ll be fun to watch over Butch.”
I have no doubt I’m leaving Butch in good hands. Not that I expected any less from Ellie or her mom. They were class acts then and are still so now. “Thank you. Nice seeing you again, Ruth. Thanks for the pie and coffee.”
“Anytime.” Something buzzes in the kitchen, and Ruth excuses herself to go attend to whatever it is.
I tell myself to get out fast. But a curl has fallen across Ellie’s face. And the need to touch her is more than I can stand. Unable to help myself, I reach over and tuck it behind her ear. My hand languishes at the feel of her soft skin.
“Where’s your daughter?” I ask. My voice is pure gravel.
“Computer camp.” She sounds breathless again.
“She’s smart, isn’t she?”
