Chapter Twelve

Ellie

Damn, damn, damn. The man just didn’t know how to refuse me. Yes, I know I asked him to drive back to Indianapolis with me, but I figured he’d make up some excuse and bail. That’s what playboys did, right? But he’d agreed, and so here we were, sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic, neither one of us saying a damn thing. And it was getting really uncomfortable.

He broke first.

“So, um, what did you want to talk about?”

I considered lying, making up something trivial and going with that. But this whole date thing happened because I was trying not to be a coward anymore. Which meant I had to fess up.

“I didn’t,” I said as I gripped the steering wheel. “I thought you’d find an excuse to back out.”

He twisted in the passenger seat to stare at me. “You expected me to say no?”

I shrugged.

“Why exactly do you think people are automatically going to say no to you?”

“Experience?”

He snorted. “When have you ever been turned down?”

I sighed. It was like I could read his thoughts. He thought that a cute girl like me could wrap the world around her little finger, but that wasn’t true. It had never been true. Nobody cared that I was sweet or nice. The world didn’t bend over backward for me, any more than it did for anyone else.

“Ellie—”

“It’s not me, it’s Rachel. Ever since she was little, I’ve watched her barrel through life. She begs, cajoles, harasses, and bullies until she gets her way. And it works most of the time.”

“Yeah? So?”

“So I’m not built that way. I can’t pester people once they turn me down. So I don’t even try. Not unless I already know I’ll get the answer I want.” Didn’t he understand? That was the whole reason I started this “get rejected” campaign—so I would force myself to ask and keep asking for things, no matter how many times the world said no.

He didn’t respond, but just stared at me while I kept my eyes on the road. But this time, I was the one who broke first.

“What?” I asked.

“I need to know if you want me to be honest with you or just keep my mouth shut. We’re stuck together for the next few months, so I’m trying to make this as easy as possible for you.”

Traffic was going nowhere, so I turned and looked at him. “Why is that even a question? Of course I want you to be honest.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m not going to hold back.” He blew out his breath. “I’m known for being kind of blunt.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m a nurse. I’ll match your bluntness and see you a sarcastic retort.”

He grinned. “Game on, then.”

“So?” I prompted. “What did you want to say?”

“That you’re not timid. You have no trouble speaking your mind. And I don’t, for one second, believe that all the guys in your past have rejected you. You’re too beautiful for that to be true.”

My body flushed hot and happy at the word “beautiful,” and it was in no way drowned out by the fact that he was calling me a liar.

“You’ve met Rachel, right? Ms. Dramatic Beauty? No one ever looks at me after—”

“Bullshit. I looked at you. All the guys on the team looked at you. And that was just one picnic.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but then shut it with a snap. The idea that everyone had looked at me was…delightful. Special enough that I couldn’t help smiling. “Really?” I asked, knowing that I needed to hear him say it again.

He groaned. “I cry bullshit again, Ellie. You know guys look at you.”

“Then why don’t they ask me out? Why—”

“How many boyfriends did you have in high school?”

I bit my lip. “Serious? One.”

“And more casual ones?”

I shrugged. “A few.”

“So guys do ask you out. And I’m sure you got plenty of swipes of interest on whatever dating app you’ve used.”

No argument there. I had gotten lots of interest, but I was in school back then. I didn’t have time for guys. So I ended up deleting my profile. And smart man that he was, Jake took my silence for admission.

“See? You’ve been asked.”

I blew out a breath and accelerated too hard. The car jerked forward, but then I steadied out at a slow crawl. “Fine. Yes, guys do ask me out. Just not…” I shot a look over at him. “Hot guys. Popular guys. Celebrities like you.”

“Have you ever asked them?”

I tapped my nail on the wheel. “They’re supposed to ask me.”

“Well, yeah. But celebrities can be especially stupid. And distracted. So except for me, have you ever approached a celebrity?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know any celebrities except the Bobcats.”

“And I’m the only one you’ve ever asked out, and I said yes.” He leaned toward me, his green eyes narrowed. “So what’s all this ‘experience’ you’re talking about? Why do you assume you’re going to get rejected?”

“Because I made bad boyfriend choices in college.” They’d started out great, but quickly turned into selfish jerks. And being the romantic, I’d hung on way too long and gotten used to having all my ideas rejected as stupid.

“We all make dumb choices,” he argued. “My last serious girlfriend wanted to remake me into Clooney. She scrutinized my every public appearance and tried to change my hair and my wardrobe. Hell, even baseball babes have tried to change me somehow. One told me I needed to smile with less teeth.”

“You’ve got a great smile.”

He flashed me his pearly whites. “Of course I do.” Then his expression faded. “The point is, we’re all stupid at times. Just don’t make that a lifelong habit.”

And there was the reason behind all my exposure therapy. I hated that I stopped myself before I even tried. But rather than rehash old ground with him, I sidestepped the issue. “It’s not just guys, you know. It’s everything.”

“Let me guess. You had to work hard to get good grades, then fight to get any respect from your peers. When things just seem to come easy to pretty girls and hot guys, you had to work hard to force someone to even see you.”

I blew out a breath. “Yes.” That was exactly what I meant.

“Welcome to the club.”

I glared at him. “Please. I’ve seen your stats, your press, and your face. You’ve never—”

“Felt humiliated? Like I had to prove myself every second I’m on the field or up to bat? Everyone struggles, Ellie. But if you just assume you’ll lose, then you have to fight yourself as well as everyone else.”

I glared at him, hard enough that I allowed an asshole in a Ferrari to cut in front of me. But Jake took my glare with all the calm stoicism of a statue. And then, while I cursed the stupid Ferrari, he had the audacity to arch a brow.

“Go ahead. Yell at me. I can take it.”

“I’m yelling at the asshole in the—”

“But you’re angry at me.”

I was about to slam him. Hell, I wanted to call him ugly names, but the truth was that I’d read enough self-help articles in my time to know that he was right. Every time I tried to take a risk, I had to climb the barriers I’d built up first. “I used to be bold as brass as a kid. That’s what my dad called me—bold as brass.”

“And at some point, life beats us down. Once we fall on our face enough times, we get cautious.”

“Or we’re told that good girls don’t speak up.”

“Or that no one ever makes it into the pros.”

I sighed. “I just stopped trying, except in the things I really cared about.”

He nodded. “And then keeping quiet becomes a habit.”

God, how could he know me so well? “I didn’t even notice how many times I swallowed my words, until that thing at work.” At his raised eyebrow, I explained. “I didn’t say anything when I was blamed for something I didn’t do. I didn’t even fight it, and that’s what…”

“Prompted you to start this whole rejection thing?”

“Exposure therapy. So I’ll stop acting like a coward.”

He kept silent for a moment, then touched my elbow. “Or you could just stop mentally checking yourself. You’ve got plenty of fight in you, Ellie. You just have to stop fighting yourself first.”

Deep stuff. And also true. I leaned forward onto the steering wheel, dropping my elbows along the contours as I stared out at the traffic. “It’s not as easy as you think.”

“I think it’s damn hard. But look what happened when you took a risk with me.” He flashed me a charming smile.

“One evening of hot sex. And now we’re saddled with each other for months.”

His expression became sober. “You don’t have to, Ellie.”

“You’re doing this to protect my reputation, not yours. It’d be stupid for me to fight it.”

“I know it’s not easy.”

I stared at him. Another car zipped in front of me but I didn’t care. “Easy?” I echoed. “It’s the easiest thing in the world. I’m going to date a hot celebrity. For months.”

“But—”

“But nothing. I feel bad for you. No more models on your arm. No more—”

“Baseball babes are really boring.”

“Really? Is that why you had four of them in your hotel room in Miami?”

He winced. “Do not believe everything you read about me.”

“So you didn’t have four women in a sex party in—”

“The details don’t matter,” he interrupted, and I knew I’d scored a hit. Plus, his blush was really cute.

“It’s okay,” I said. I’d known from the beginning that he wasn’t a Boy Scout. Still, I couldn’t resist teasing him. “But if you ask me to put on a bikini and roll around in Jell-O—”

“Please say yes. Please.”

I felt my cheeks heat as I considered the possibility. If he asked, I might do it. I…might.

“Woohoo!” he cheered. “Now I know what I want for Christmas!”

“Christmas?” I gaped. “We’re staying together through the holidays?”

“If that’s my present, you bet we are.”

And then I laughed. Finally, a real laugh, light and happy. Because that’s what he did to me. And bonus, the traffic was starting to thin. I accelerated and settled into the drive, feeling more at ease than I had since first asking him out. He seemed to sense my change, because he relaxed, too. He sank into the seat, though a moment later, he was playing with the controls…which, in my old Camry, meant he tilted the seat back in a lurch.

“I’m sorry. This car wasn’t really meant for someone over six foot.”

“It’s fine,” he said, though I could tell he was hurting.

“What is it? Your ribs?”

“Yeah. But it’s not too bad.”

I’d noticed him taking painkillers before he got into the car. And since we’d been on the road now for almost forty-five minutes, he should be feeling better, not wincing with every breath.

“Why don’t you close your eyes? We’ve got a couple hours more.”

“And waste this time with you? No way.”

I snorted. “I’ll make a deal with you. If you rest now, I’ll let you take me out for a real dinner tonight. No press. No hotel fires. Just a simple—”

“Old-fashioned date?”

I grinned. “The last one worked out okay, didn’t it?”

“It did on my end. You?”

I flashed again on the feeling of having him catch me as I fell. Of the way he’d licked me while I’d tried not to scream. Of his gaze, when it seemed as if he couldn’t take his eyes off me. “Oh yeah,” I murmured, my legs clenching against the wet heat in my belly.

When he didn’t respond, I turned to look at him. He was staring at me with that same dark focus I’d just been fantasizing about.

“What?” I asked.

“What are you thinking?”

Heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks.

“Will you do that with me?” he asked.

“What?”

“Whatever it is you’re thinking about.”

My cheeks blazed even hotter. “You don’t know what it is. It could be kinky.”

“Does it involve Jell-O?”

I snorted. “Absolutely not!”

“Pity.” He shifted in his seat. “So what was it?”

I shook my head. It was too embarrassing to say out loud.

“Come on,” he coaxed. “You can say anything to me.”

I was beginning to think that was true. And given the sparkling temptation in his eyes, I felt daring enough to try. “I, um, just really enjoyed last night. Before the fire, that is.”

“Good. Because I was thinking, maybe you’re doing this whole exposure therapy thing wrong.”

I jolted. That was not what I had expected him to say. “What do you mean?”

“Well, last night I told you no.”

In a backward kind of way.

“Maybe tonight, you could practice making demands and expecting a yes answer instead.”

I slowly turned my head, my thoughts a riot of possibilities. But even as very graphic images ricocheted around my brain, I wondered if I was bold enough to say any of them out loud.

“I’m really not the kind of sex kitten you’re used to.”

He grinned. “That’s why you need to practice.”

I bit my lip. Could I? Could we?

“I am not doing Jell-O,” I said firmly.

He released a very dramatic sigh. “You don’t have to,” he said. “But you could order me to. If you wanted.” Then he winked at me. “Maybe I’ll just lie back and dream about that for a while as I nap.”

Lord. Now he’d put those images in my brain. Him stepping out of a pool of cherry Jell-O. Me licking it off. And then…

I flipped on the air-conditioning. This was going to be a long, hot drive.