Blame It on Your Heart (22 page)

She pressed a kiss to his head and ruffled his hair. "You're probably pretty tired after your big day."

"I'm not," Anthony lied around a jaw cracking yawn.

"I guess I better get going," Damon said, though he wanted to do anything but. He reached out and rubbed Anthony's back. "Goodnight, buddy."

To his surprise, Anthony twisted around to face him, arms outstretched. Damon stepped forward, instinctively wrapping his arms around the little boy while Ellie still held him. Anthony let him go after a brief squeeze and went back to his mom, flashing Damon a shy smile as he rested his head on her shoulder.

Damon’s gaze drifted back up to Ellie's. Once again her eyes were moist. The look of sadness and regret there was enough to make his own eyes burn.

"Thanks again for dinner," he said curtly and turned to go, afraid if he stayed a second longer he'd blurt out something he'd regret, something he had no business saying in front of Anthony.

All the way home the words reverberated in his head.
It should have been me. It should have been us.

###

After Damon left Ellie put Anthony to bed and took a glass of wine out on the porch. Her heart felt swollen and sore, her mind buzzing with all kinds of hopeless fantasies about a life and family with Damon that an irrational part of her brain tried to convince her were not so irrational after all.

Her phone chimed to signal an incoming text, and her heart leapt to her throat when she saw Damon's name on the display.

If I don't show up tonight, don't think it's because I don't want to be there. It was wrong enough doing it with your mom right down the hall when we didn't think she knew.

Ellie smiled and wrote back:

Quite the mood killer, I have to say. We'll have to come up with plan B.

Don't you mean plan F?

Ellie's surprised laughter echoed across the grass.

The next few days passed in a whirlwind of activity as Ellie scrambled to pull together the last minute party details. Despite their best efforts, she and Damon couldn't seem to find a spare fifteen minutes to be alone together.

But even her jam-packed schedule didn't keep her from missing him to the point of desperation, and based on the content of his text messages, the feeling was mutual. By Wednesday they were determined to get plan F in motion.

Meeting with JT at 2, done by 3. Don't have to be back until 5 for dinner. You???
She texted Wednesday morning.

My house. 3:30. Cannot fucking wait. More the point, cannot wait to fuck.

Ellie's body was already humming as she set off for the Lazy Creek to discuss the last minute details with JT, as the guests would begin arriving the next day.

Her body was positively steaming as she headed back to town, to the point where even the bumps in the gravel road from the ranch to the highway were almost too much for her over-stimulated body to bear.

Since the air conditioning had crapped out over a week ago, she rolled down the windows. But the hot July air did little to cool her down. Only five more miles to—

Her thought was interrupted by a muffled "whump" followed by the sound of rubber flapping against asphalt. She cursed as the car jerked hard to the right and knew without looking that one of her tires had finally given up the ghost.

She picked up her phone, cursing even louder this time when she saw the dreaded "no signal" at the top left corner of the screen.

Struggling to hold back angry tears, she thudded her head against the headrest and contemplated her options. Though her leather sandals were comfortable, they weren't made for long distance walking, but she was confident she could make it five miles.

But then she'd have to hire someone to fix the tire or tow the car, and God knew how much that would cost.

She flung open the car door and marched around to the trunk. If nothing else she was careful to keep the spare filled in anticipation of just such an event.

She hefted the thing out with a grunt and retrieved the jack and tire iron from where she'd tucked them in the corner.

By the time she was finished she was covered in black smudges and drenched in sweat. She looked at her watch and wanted to cry. Four fifteen. Forty-five minutes late for her tryst with Damon. At this rate, she'd barely have enough time to clean up for her shift at the restaurant.

She heaved the blown out tire into the trunk—more out of a desire not to litter since there was certainly no salvaging the damn thing—and was about to slam the trunk closed when the roar of a big engine and the sound of a vehicle squealing to a stop had her jumping for the shoulder.

"Where the hell have you been?"

###

Damon took one look at the black smudges on Ellie's face, streaked here and there with perspiration and possibly tears, and put the reins on his temper.

In anticipation of her arrival, he'd gone home at three to make sure the place was picked up and there were clean sheets on the bed and fresh towels so she could shower after. He'd even had Brady make some sandwiches and a salad in case she was hungry.

Three thirty had come and gone, no sign of Ellie. By three forty-five, he was starting to get annoyed, thinking maybe she'd blown him off. Ten minutes later, worry started to mingle with irritation especially when she ignored the texts he sent to check in.

It wasn't like Ellie to be late, and there was no reason for her to be angry enough for her to blow him off without a word.

Finally he called JT to see if maybe she got stuck in her meeting.

"Ellie left here at about three," JT said when Damon asked if she was still there. "Is something wrong?"

"She was supposed to meet me at three thirty," Damon said tightly. He hung up without another word and was backing his truck out of the driveway within ten seconds. His cell phone chirped on the seat next to him. He glanced down and ignored it when he saw it wasn't Ellie, just JT calling him back.

He pulled onto the county road that led out to JT's place, leaving the posted speed limit in the dust. As the miles flew by, he tried to tell himself she was probably fine. Maybe a little car trouble.

Still, he couldn't completely prevent his brain from going to the worst case possible scenarios involving everything from her getting hit head on by a driver crossing over the county roads double yellow line to her skidding into one of the massive cottonwoods that flanked the road.

About ten miles out of town, he finally spotted her beat up Accord parked on the other side of the road, looking none too the worse for the wear. But Ellie was nowhere in sight, he noted as his stomach took a dive for his boots.

He skidded to a stop, did a u turn that sent the smell of burning rubber wafting up into the air, and pulled up behind where she was parked on the gravel shoulder.

He lit from the car and slammed the door, relief making his legs weak when he saw her pop up from the passenger side of the car. She moved around to the open trunk and heaved something inside.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked in reply to his gruff greeting.

Anger flared in his chest at the oh so casual inquiry. He'd spent the last half hour imagining all the ways she could meet a violent death in that imported tin can of hers, and she wanted to know what he was doing there? "I'm looking for you," he said, barely managing to keep his voice below a yell. "When you didn't show up, I finally called JT. He told me you left at three. I was worried."

"Really? You were worried?" she said with a little half smile that made him want to shake her as much as kiss her.

"When you don't show up and you don't call? Of course I was fucking worried."

She strolled over to him, her narrow shoulders raising in a shrug. "I thought you'd just assume I was standing you up and get pissed off."

His lips tightened and he decided not to tell her that at first he'd thought exactly that. "So what happened?"

"Flat tire," she said wearily.

His attention was once again drawn to the smudges on her cheek and across the front of her pale yellow shirt.

"I don't get cell reception out here so I couldn't call anyone. Figured it was just as easy—and cheaper—to fix it myself."

"You know how to change a tire?" he said and walked around the car until he saw where she'd installed the spare on the front passenger side. "I'm impressed," he said as he knelt down to examine her work.

"Mom made sure Molly and I both learned how."

A distant memory niggled at the back of his brain. "Then how come that time my truck got a flat up over by the golf course you acted like you had no idea what a spare even was?" They'd been up at their favorite spot fooling around, and when they got back to the truck they'd discovered his left rear tire was flat as a pancake. Ellie had acted like she didn't know a lug nut from a logger's saw and stood back while he was doing all the work. Not that he would have let her lift a finger, but still...

She flashed him a guilty smile. "Just because I knew how didn't mean I wanted to! You know how I hate to get dirty," she said grimacing at the state of her hands.

"Now Ellie," he said, giving her a knowing look as he checked one of the bolts, "you and I both know that's not true." Heat flushed her cheeks. He felt an answering rush to his groin, and he wondered fleetingly if they had time to pull the car farther off the road and squeeze in a quickie before she had to be back at the restaurant.

The thought fled as quickly as it came when he caught a glimpse of her rear right tire out of the corner of his eye. He straightened and went to examine the tire more closely.

His mouth pulled tight and his brow knit at what he saw. The rubber was so worn that not only were the treads gone, in parts you could even see the ply peeking through. An examination of the other two revealed they were in equally bad shape.

"What the hell, Ellie?" he demanded, his irritation increasing when she just shook her head and gave him a confused look. "What are you thinking, driving around on tires like this? Any one of them could have gone at any time! That goddamn spare is the best thing you have on that car."

She folded her arms across her chest. "I know they need to be replaced—"

"Do you understand how fucking dangerous that is? You could have just as easily slammed into a tree, or an oncoming truck when that damn thing blew out."

"But I didn't, and I'm fine, and now I need to get to the restaurant," she snapped and stalked to the other side of the car.

He kept her from opening the driver's side door by flattening his hand on it. "Forget about your own safety. I can't believe you drive Anthony around in that piece of crap."

Tears spring to her eyes. Her mouth opened and closed several times but no words came out.

He felt a prick of guilt, but shoved it away. Even though she'd grown up so much since he'd last seen her, there were still pieces of the old Ellie in her, the girl who barreled forward without much consideration for the consequences. And just like before he, had to be a voice of reason. "You need to get new tires," he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

There was a flash of something in her eyes. Defiance mixed with her own guilt. "I know. But right now I need to go so I can clean up before the dinner shift. So if you don't mind," she said, looking meaningfully at his hand.

He lifted it and let her open the door, and as she climbed inside he saw a pile of papers on the passenger seat. As he watched her pull away, frustration churned in his stomach as he marveled at how what had promised to be an excellent afternoon had twisted around until both he and Ellie ended up feeling like shit.

He climbed in his car and sped to catch up with her. He didn't care if she was pissed at him—he was going to make sure she and her hunk of junk made it back safe. Then right as she pulled onto her street, it dawned on him what that pile of scraps on the seat next to her were.

Coupons.

Guilt hit him like a knife to the gut and he mentally berated himself for being ten kinds of asshole.

He remembered when Anthony's allergies flared up a couple weeks ago, he'd overheard her on the phone asking the doctor's office how much the medication would cost. At the time the worry in her voice hadn't really registered.

Her moving back home, that beater car, all signs she was as flat broke as she claimed to be, despite speculation by reporters that she had some secret fortune stashed away.

Of course he'd known that all along, he mused as he pulled up behind Ellie's car in the driveway. But until now, it somehow hadn't really registered just how broke.

She couldn't afford new tires.

And he'd all but gone and called her a bad mother because of it.

"What now?" Ellie snapped over her shoulder as she trudged up the front steps. Though her face was tight with anger, her shoulders stiff and straight, he could see the slight tremble in her lips as she pinned him with a glare.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have implied that you weren't thinking of Anthony's safety. That was a shitty thing to say. I know money's tight, and you're not in a position to—"

"You want to know what's worse than not being able to afford tires? How about birthday cake?" she said, her voice taut. "You know what Anthony's favorite kind of cake is? German chocolate," she answered before he could guess. "Every year for his birthday we got him a cake from this amazing bakery on the Upper East Side. The German chocolate cake was made from scratch, with coconut that the baker cracked and grated himself, from, like, an actual coconut." She moved her hand in a quick back and forth motion to demonstrate.