Page 3 of Slow Kind of Love

It pissed him off.

By the time he pulled into Elise’s driveway, Link was more than pissed off, he was riding the edge of something dark and mean. And he hated that he felt that way. He cut the engine and waited for his heartrate to slow, for his anger to wane. He didn’t have a right to feel much when it came to Elise Avery.

And it was exactly that, that made him crazy.

He glanced at the warm lights that glowed from her front window, cutting a swath of gold through the early evening gloom. Her car was parked in the garage—the door was open for him to see inside—and there was a large black SUV parked behind it.

One he didn’t recognize.

One with out-of-state plates.

He slid from his truck and rolled his shoulders, rubbing the tightness that laced his muscles before he headed up the steps that led to her door, fighting a nervous pit of something in his gut. It was a feeling he didn’t like, and his face darkened even more. He’d stared down the sights of six-foot-six defenders barreling down the field, the footballers’ every intention to maim or hurt, and he’d done so without a thought. So what was it about Elise that chipped away at the steel armor beneath his skin?

He raised his hand to knock on the door, an automatic reflex, but hesitated as his mind worked overtime to figure this out. He’d been gone for weeks, and she’d barely given him the time of day. What the hell was he doing on her stoop like a lovesick puppy looking for scraps?

He thought back to their last conversation.

“We can’t work. I can’t do this. I can’t be more than friends.” Her voice was soft and halting.

“I’m good enough for a shag, but not good enough for more?” He’d been incredulous. He was Link Major. World-class footballer. He had money and wealth and title and prestige. And not to be an asshole or anything, but he wasn’t lacking in the looks department either. He could have any woman he wanted.

“It’s not you,” she’d finally said, lowering her eyes.

She was really giving him that speech?

“It’s me.” She gave him a peck on the cheek like he was a schoolboy of ten and then closed the door in his face.

And here he was, just like a ten-year-old schoolboy who didn’t know better. What the hell?

Link took a step back, undecided on how to proceed, when the door opened and a man stood there, a surprised look on his face. He was a tall, handsome guy with silver hair and lots of it. Well-built, Link would put him in his fifties and with an expensive Rolex on his right wrist, he was definitely the owner of the black SUV in the driveway.

“Elise, you’ve got company.” The man gave Link a thorough once-over, and his expression shifted. The guy knew competition when he saw it.

“Let them in, David. I’ll be there in a moment.”

David turned back to Link. “You must be one of Boone’s pals.” His tone was light, but Link saw the possessive glint in his eye. “Do me a favor, bud?”

“I’m not your bud,” Link said slowly, “but I’m happy to pass along a message.”

“Tell Elise I’ll be here at four tomorrow night to pick her up for dinner.”

Link gave a tight smile and stood back to give the man room. Pancake, Elise’s three-legged mutt, appeared from nowhere, tail wagging crazily as he licked his fingers. The dog paused and growled quietly, eyes on David.

Link gave her a scratch behind the ears. “Yeah, I feel ya.” He watched until David climbed into his vehicle, feeling satisfied when the bloke had to do two three-point turns in order to get around Link’s truck. Once he’d cleared the driveway and disappeared down the street, Link closed the door behind him and took a moment to take in the familiar sights of Elise’s modest bungalow as Pancake jumped onto the sofa and settled onto a large pillow.

She’d painted since he’d been away, and the carpet that used to be in the living room was gone, replaced by light gray wood flooring. There were remnants of dinner for two on the kitchen island. A half-finished glass of red wine, two plates along with the cutlery stacked by the sink, and lit candles.

That spark inside him, the one that had smoldered for days now, ignited with the kind of heat that spread fast. His jaw was clamped shut, tight with that something he’d felt earlier. Coming here was a bad idea.

He turned, about to reach for the door, when she spoke.

“Link.” Her voice was soft. Hesitant. “I didn’t know you were back.”

Link had to take a moment because he was so close to losing it, and was afraid he’d do or say something he’d regret. He slowly exhaled and turned to face her.

Elise’s hair was loose around her shoulders, shiny ribbons of blonde that slid across a simple black top that fit like a glove and left her arms bare. She wore a pair of faded jeans and big fluffy leopard-print slippers. Smoky makeup made her eyes huge, and soft gloss glistened on her lips. She was beautiful. Ethereal. And she was looking this damn good for another man.

“Who’s David?” His voice was low and controlled.

---