Game of Love (The Remingtons, Book One: Love in Bloom Series)

Chapter Three, Game of Love

Chapter Three

DEX COULD HARDLY believe Ellie was there in front of him, and damn, she looked more beautiful than ever. He'd thought she'd disappeared forever when they were teenagers and she'd been sent away to a new foster home. He'd been devastated about her leaving, but when he'd gone to her house the day she was supposed to leave and found she'd left without saying goodbye, he'd been completely inconsolable. She'd stolen his heart as a teenager, but until she'd shown up four years ago, he hadn't realized how much he'd still loved her. In one brief weekend she'd filled his heart so full he thought he'd died and gone to heaven, and just as quickly as she'd reignited his love, she'd shattered his heart and left him a broken man. Ellie wasn't safe. She was Kryptonite. She'd only bring him more pain. But he'd never been able to walk away from her, and as he drank her in, intoxicated from just being near her again, he was powerless to turn away.

Two drinks later, the tension around her eyes eased, and he saw hints of the softer side of her, the side she'd hidden from the world but that he'd known so well. He wondered if anyone else had gotten into those places in her heart over the years.

"Why New York?" His stomach did a little tumble of hope. Did you come back to see me?

Ellie shrugged, fiddling with the rim of her glass. "Roots, I guess. I spent more years in New York than anywhere else, with the exception of college, of course."

"How was Maryland?" Dex knew he was walking on eggshells. At their closest, Ellie hadn't talked about the harsh realities of her life. When the foster family she'd lived with treated her badly, she'd gone mute. She'd cuddled beside Dex without a word. It didn't take long for him to recognize the faraway look in Ellie's eyes for what it was. She'd been running back then, too, only she'd been running emotionally, not physically. Back then he'd wanted to understand what had driven her into that muted, unhappy state—what he'd come to know as her silent place. He'd gone to her house late one night and peered through the windows. Listening through the thin walls of the rambler, he'd heard yelling, and at the time, Dex had wished his older brothers, Sage, Kurt, Rush, and Jack, had been there to knock the shit out of her foster father, but Jack had joined the military, Rush was off training for the Olympics, and Kurt and Sage had been away at college. Only Dex and Siena were still living at home, and when he'd finally found the courage to ask Ellie about it, she'd shut him out. That had been the first and only time he'd brought it up. Sitting with Ellie now, he wondered if she'd shut him out or let him in.

Ellie dropped her baby blues to the table and fiddled with the edge of her glass. He recognized the straightening in the curve of her lips, the hooded expression in her eyes, and he knew she wasn't going to let him in now, either.

"It was okay. Not bad like it was with my foster family in our old neighborhood, but not exactly good, either."

She finished her drink and fisted her hands in the side of her hair, up high on the crown of her head. When she let go, her hair had a tousled look, parted in the center and falling in thick waves down her shoulders. Bedroom hair.

Coming out of the bedroom with tousled hair and that sweet, sexy look in her eye would require Ellie to let someone into her world. Damn, he wanted to be in that world. Dex looked away, trying to dissuade his mind from thinking of Ellie in that way.

Christ. Stop it. It's Ellie.

Dex needed a runner in his life like he needed to miss his release date. She couldn't be counted on. He knew that. She'd had no qualms about tearing his heart out. He'd been there, done that with her, and it had hurt like hell. But then again, it was Ellie, and for Ellie, he had no idea what he would or wouldn't risk. Just being with her stifled his ability to think straight.

An hour later, Ellie's eyelids were at half-mast. She'd had three drinks, in contrast to the one that used to send her stumbling as a teenager. She hung her purse across her shoulder and sighed. "I'd better get going." She swayed on her feet and grabbed the table as she slid from the booth.

Dex reflexively put an arm out to steady her and rose to his feet. When had their height difference gotten so vast? Ellie was so strong and stubborn that he'd envisioned her taller, not nearly as petite and feminine as she was. He had the urge to wrap her in his arms and hold her until that guarded look fell away.

"Where are you staying?" he asked.

She looked up at him and put her hand on his chest. Dex tried to ignore the way his heartbeat sped up and his chest tightened from her touch. Jesus, she'd touched his chest too many times to count when they were younger, but he didn't remember it inciting a rise in his pants. Or maybe it had but he'd been really great at ignoring it. Fuck. That weekend she'd come back had changed everything—and nothing at all. It didn't matter. This was Ellie, and he wasn't going there with her. He suppressed his desire to let Ellie in again.

"Thrive!" Mitch yelled from across the bar.

Ellie turned quickly in Mitch's direction and clung to Dex's chest to steady herself. "Hey, I think he's calling you."

"Yeah, that's Mitch. Every time I come into the bar, he does that. It's kind of his way of greeting me. He and Reg work for me. We were just about to have a meeting before I saw you." He put his hand on hers and pulled it from his chest—missing it instantly and chiding himself for feeling that way. "Come on. I'll introduce you."

"Hold on." She leaned over the booth and tugged her suitcase from beneath the table.

How the hell did I miss that? He realized that she hadn't answered him about where she was staying. "Wait. Is this your first night here?"

She looked at the suitcase, then back at Dex, as if she were trying to figure out the answer. "It is," she finally said.

"Are you here for a week?"

"No. This is all my stuff. I'm moving here."

Holy shit. Your entire world fits into one suitcase? He remembered when Ellie had left her foster family when they were kids. She'd told him that people had a lot of wasted stuff and that she preferred to keep only what she needed. He realized now that she'd probably said that to protect herself, so he wouldn't think less of her. Damn it. I could never think less of you. Everything about Ellie was so much more valuable than material belongings could ever be. Nothing and no one in his life had ever replaced her, and he didn't know if anyone or anything ever could. He reached for the suitcase, and she struggled to get it out of his hands.

"I can do it, Dex."

Same old Ellie.

"I know you can. I was just trying to help."

"Thanks, but I've got it." She flipped her hair over her shoulder with one practiced snap of her chin and tugged the heavy bag behind her.

He could hear the unsaid words in his head. I don't need your help. I can do it myself. That's what she'd said when they'd first met. She'd been in fifth grade, he in sixth. Because Ellie was a year younger than him, he'd immediately put her into the ignore column of his brain. Ellie had been living with a family a few blocks from Dex's house, and when she'd stepped off of the bus, she'd dropped her binder. He'd stopped to help her pick up the contents and she'd snapped at him. I don't need your help. I can do it myself. Having grown up with a four-star-general father, Dex knew when to step back and shut up. But standing back and watching her run after the papers that had been carried in the wind went against everything his hippyish, peace-to-all-creatures mother had ever taught him. He'd picked up the papers that had fallen at his feet, and Ellie had glared at him with those beautiful—though at that moment dart-throwing—eyes and hadn't said thank you when he tucked them into her binder. In fact, she hadn't said anything at all, and neither had he. But like two peas in a pod, from that day forward, they'd walked home side by side in amicable silence. When they'd reach the corner of Marlboro and Carlisle Streets, where Dex turned right and Ellie turned left, Dex would lift his hand in a waist-high wave and Ellie would lift her chin and walk away.

During those afternoon walks home, Dex had been drawn to Ellie's strength as much as her quiet vulnerability. Dex was a quick study, and he'd learned what made Ellie comfortable and what set her off. Like a baby hawk, he'd imprinted onto Ellie with silent adoration. When Ellie climbed into her silent place and shut him out, he was there for her. That was all she needed—and maybe even all she wanted.