Elle was smart enough to recognize when something was a bad bet. She’d learned what a relationship could do to her. She would avoid becoming that layman’s definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. She hadn’t done the same thing ever again. She’d changed course and protected herself. Was still doing it. Pushing people away.
She’d hurt him. Maybe on purpose. Maybe because that was all she knew how to do. And he’d set a boundary, one to protect his own pride…and heart.
But his plan wasn’t working.
The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted her, the more he felt for her. But he couldn’t tell what was driving that. Lust? The challenge? Something more than that? The last possibility was what had him worried.
Because knowing why Elle was the way she was helped him understand her better, but it didn’t mean he could accept that treatment from her. She’d let him know how she felt time and again. She was embarrassed about his job. She wouldn’t date him publicly. Even now, her family believed he was someone he wasn’t. This could never work. He had to get that through his head.
But when she walked out half
an hour later in a sexy royal-blue dress that would guarantee she’d outshine the bride tonight, his body forgot to listen to that advice.
She put her hand on her hip and tilted her head. “You all right? Did I smear my makeup or something?”
Lane got up from the side of the bed and cleared his throat, trying to keep his eyes off the plunging neckline of her dress. “Uh, no, sorry, just lost in thought. You look great.”
Her gaze glided down his matching blue tie and his gray suit. She walked over and adjusted the knot on his tie and then gave it a playful flick. “You clean up nice, too, Cannon. You’ll be the beau of the ball.”
“No one’s going to notice me if you’re on my arm.”
A half-smile touched her lips. “You don’t have to pretend right now. We’re behind closed doors.”
He reached out and centered the pendant on her necklace, indulging in the feel of her skin against his knuckles. “Elle, we’re pretending we’re a couple. I never have to pretend that you’re beautiful. That’s just a verifiable fact.”
Her gaze met his, her mascara-darkened eyelashes making her eyes look electric blue in the lamplight. She wet her lips and her throat worked. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Not for the compliment,” she said, pressing her fingers against her necklace, the place he’d just touched. “But for all of this. No one…” Her throat worked. “No one’s ever done something this nice for me. You’re…an amazing guy, Lane.”
He shook his head and tucked his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted to touch her again. “I’m just a guy, doc. This is how you should be treated. Don’t let the people outside these doors make you think you deserve any less than that. They’ve given you a warped view of what you should expect from people.”
She smirked, though it seemed more sad than sardonic. “They have. But I also know that I’ve done enough not to deserve this from you.” She gripped his tie again and then pushed up on her toes. She brushed her lips over his cheek in an all-too-brief kiss before pulling back. “So, thank you.”
There was so much he wanted to do in that moment. He wanted to haul her against him, part her lips and taste her, feel her body fitted to his and hear his name on her lips. He wanted to convince her that it didn’t have to be this way. He wanted her to show up to the rehearsal dinner with flushed cheeks and a wrinkled dress and a satisfied smile on her face. He wanted it all.
He inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Anytime, doc.”
She rolled her lips inward and nodded. “Okay, guess it’s time to go play bridesmaid and not lose my shit in front of everyone. Fingers crossed.”
“Worried you’re going to throw a punch?” he asked. “Because frankly, I don’t blame you. Your ex could use a good knock to the head. Or the soft parts.”
“I wish it were that. Anger actually helps me keep it together. This isn’t that.” She lifted her hand and showed him how it trembled. “I don’t think I’ve been this close to a panic attack in years. I should probably have a stiff drink before I get there. The thought of all those people looking at me and thinking—oh, she’s the one he left for her sister. It shouldn’t bother me, but…”
He took her hand and sandwiched it between his palms, pressing heat into her cold fingers. “Of course it bothers you. You’re human.”
She groaned. “My worst nightmare is having Henry or Nina see me fall apart. I don’t want to give either of them the satisfaction of knowing I’m bothered at all. But I feel like I have a live wire inside me. Everything’s setting me on edge. Maybe I should’ve brought a Valium.”
He smiled. “Let’s not recreate the Sixteen Candles wedding scene, all right? I don’t want to have to carry you out over my shoulder.”
“At least I wouldn’t be panicking. People would just assume I have a drinking problem. That’s way more acceptable in this social circle.”
“Tell me what I can do to help,” he said, taking both her hands in his. “Do you want me to tell everyone you’re feeling sick?”
She shook her head. “They’d see right through that. I don’t want to be a coward. I need to be there.” She rolled her shoulders. “I just wish I could shake it off. It’s dumb. What the hell do I care what these people I never see think of me? I’m a grown woman. This shouldn’t affect me.”
“Worrying about those people’s opinions was ingrained into you growing up. It’s embedded deep. Just like my issues with school. We know it’s not a life or death situation, but our body still reacts like it’s a real threat. So, don’t be so hard on yourself. We all have some fucked-up wiring. Life is an inefficient electrician.”