Reluctant to Love Read online

  “I’ll leave you alone, but I want you to look me in the eye first.” Slowly, she lifts her head. “I’m not going to give up, Ellie. We’ve been given a second chance and I’m not going to waste it.”

  Without hesitation, I lean forward and brush my lips against her cheek. My hand skims her waist, memorizing the new softness to her slight curves. “Sleep tight, sweets.”

  Then I leave her alone, hopeful she’ll listen to the universe and give me, and us, a second chance.

  3

  Eleanor

  It’s been exactly zero days since I’ve cried because of Roderick. My longest streak? Like, a week? I don’t know. Every day, something reminds me of Roderick and inadvertently, I end up crying.

  Tonight, when he apologizes through the door, confessing the mistakes he made, begging for a second chance, I can’t stop the tears. And when he asks for the opportunity to apologize to my face, I show him the pain he’s caused and call a truce.

  He’s not the only one with secrets to share. I’m just not ready to spill.

  I slide under the covers, exhausted and ready to close my eyes, but I can’t. Instead, I reach for my cell phone and scroll through my contacts. The phone rings four or five times until finally, my mother picks up.

  “We were getting worried,” she says a little breathlessly.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I finally made it to the hotel and there was a problem with my room.”

  “A problem? What kind of problem?”

  “Don’t worry about it, mom. Is the little princess asleep? Can I talk to her?”

  “Crashed out about an hour ago. Sorry.”

  I close my eyes and wipe away the stray tear traveling down my cheek. “It’s okay. I’ll call tomorrow.”

  “Don’t worry about us, sweetheart. Focus on what you’re there to do. We’ll be alright without you for a few days.”

  “Thanks mom. Goodnight.”

  The call ends and I set my phone on the pillow beside me.

  Finally, I sink into the mattress and close my eyes. My mind is temporarily blank from exhaustion and I drift into a dark, dreamless sleep.

  When I wake up, my room is blindly bright.

  Fuck, I forgot to close the drapery. I sit up and squint, trying to remember the events of last night.

  Roderick Payne was my unexpected knight-in-tarnished-armor.

  And he wants a second chance.

  I flop against the squishy pillows, flinging my arm over my eyes, shielding them from the offensive sunlight and the offensive truth.

  Because if I’m being honest, I want a second chance too.

  When I finally manage to drag myself from bed, I spy a note written on the hotel’s stationary slipped under the door.

  Order room service. Whatever you want. It’s on my publisher. – RP

  Spoiled, rich asshole. To think, only a few years ago, he was a nobody and now, well, he’s definitely a somebody.

  I open the door and take a tentative step out into the main living area of the suite. It’s quiet but I call out his name, just to make sure I’m really alone. When he doesn’t answer, I start exploring the space, looking for the room service menu because I am starving.

  Roderick’s things are sprinkled through the suite, reminding me we’re sharing this space. It’s been so long since we shared anything and now, I’m completely surrounded by him.

  While I wait for my breakfast to be delivered, I fish my laptop out of my backpack and open my email. There’s one from my mom.

  Hey honey –

  Just checked the horoscopes! Thought you might like to read this one:

  Hey Aquarian –

  This week is going to box you in, but don’t retreat. Embrace unexpected surprises instead of running for cover because the universe has a lot in store for you! This month, Leo plays the role of antagonist in the narrative of your life and is going to push your buttons. Don’t let this boundary pushing lion fool you; there are ulterior motives. Instead of relying on cold hard facts for answers, look inside of yourself and trust your intuition. We know you don’t believe in fate but trust us, this is one horoscope you don’t want to ignore.

  Enjoy yourself this week. Me and the little princess believe in you!

  XO,

  Mom

  Horoscopes are such bullshit but that doesn’t stop my mom from sending them to me on a weekly basis. To her, everything is because of the universe or fate or destiny.

  Me? I want another explanation, preferably one with evidence.

  This horoscope in particular catches my attention though since it mentions Leo, Roderick’s sign. A Leo will be my antagonist? Well, whoever wrote this garbage finally got something right. But I’ll be damned if I trust my gut because last night, it was telling me to strip that man naked and let him defile my body with his hands and mouth.

  Intuition is for suckers. If I want to end this week unscathed, I have to trust the facts: Roderick betrayed me, crushed my dreams and broke my heart.

  As for those ulterior motives, he pretty much laid himself bare last night. He wants me back but why?

  My gaze shifts around the room until it lands on his book. There’s my answer. He needs help writing the final book in his fantasy series.

  Five years ago, he hired me as his ghostwriter. The moment I read his manuscript, I was hooked. It needed a lot of work, but he was retelling one of my favorite stories – Tristan and Yseut. I read it in high school French class and fell in love with the beautiful and heartbreaking story. It’s been retold so many times but something about Roderick’s version called to me.

  We worked on the first two books together for a year but when our romantic relationship ended, so did our professional relationship. I wonder if he hired another ghostwriter to help him with the third and fourth books or did he finally find his true voice?

  I stand, walk over to the coffee table where there’s a small stack of books and pick one up. I thumb through the pages, stopping every now and then to read a page or two until I’m sucked into the story.

  I have no idea how long I’ve been reading until the door to the suite opens and Roderick appears carrying a tray of food.

  “Is it that good?” He asks, setting the tray down on a small dining table.

  “Is what good?”

  “Don’t play games, sweets. I caught you reading one of my books. Must have been good if you completely ignored room service ringing the doorbell.”

  I shrug my shoulders and look away. “It doesn’t suck.”

  I get up and walk over to the table where my breakfast is spread out and start picking nervously at the Belgian waffle.

  “You were always a terrible liar,” he says with a chuckle, as he walks slowly over to where I’m standing.

  I was so engrossed in the book I didn’t realize the black running shorts riding low on his trim hips or the fact that he’s not wearing a shirt, baring his broad, muscled chest and well-defined abs.

  “And you need to put on a shirt,” I snap.

  He grins, running his hand up his washboard stomach to his chest. “Why? Am I bothering you?”

  I narrow my eyes in his direction. “Did you have to hire another ghostwriter? After you fucked me over?”

  He places his large hands on either side of the small table and leans over it. We’re practically nose-to-nose. “Books three and four are all me.”

  “That must be why they’re so terrible.” I reach down, pluck a strawberry from the plate and bite into it.

  His pupils dilate as he watches me. “When did you become such a fucking tease?” He growls.

  “Since I realized I have something you want.”

  “And what do I want?”

  “Me.”

  4

  Roderick

  Eleanor is right; I do want her. More than I’ve wanted any other woman before, including the one I married. But I don’t want this cold, hard hearted woman standing in front of me. I know she can be blunt; it’s one of the reasons why I hired her to
ghostwrite for me. She read my first draft and was not afraid to tell me it was garbage. And then she worked her voodoo magic on it.

  “You’re right,” I drawl as my eyes trace the trail of strawberry juice leaking down her chin. Goddamn, I want to lick it up and then kiss her silly. “I do want you. But I don’t want the woman standing in front of me. She isn’t the one I fell in love with.”

  The strawberry falls from her hand and she straightens up. Her glacial blue eyes are wide with surprise.

  “That’s right, sweets. I’m still in love with you and I’ll probably be in love with you until I leave this Earth. But who you’re pretending to be? I don’t want that woman.”

  “Asshole,” she seethes before she stomps away.

  I release a heavy breath because what I just said wasn’t easy. I know she’s got walls up and they’re big and bad but I’m not going to fight for someone who doesn’t want me. And I know, deep down, Eleanor and I want the same thing.

  Her breakfast stays on the table when I head into my room to go and get ready for the day. I’m supposed to sign books in the main convention hall today, which is something I love doing. Readers embraced my version of Tristan and Yseut but it’s sometimes hard for me to take credit for them. So much of their story came from Eleanor.

  I wish she could be there with today, to hear readers talk about characters that belong to her just as much as they belong to me.

  And then an idea begins to form.

  I rush through my shower and quickly towel off before changing into jeans and t-shirt and then quickly knot my hair into a bun.

  “Eleanor!” I call out, throwing open my bedroom door. Her door is still shut and fuck manners, I barge right into her room.

  “I’ll call you back,” she says quickly before ending her phone call. If looks could kill, Eleanor’s searing gaze would have been an instant death blow. “How dare you! How dare you just barge in here!”

  “I’m sorry,” I stammer, holding up my hands in surrender. “I didn’t think…”

  “No, you never think, do you? You didn’t think to tell me you were married. You just took what you wanted without a second thought.”

  “You wanted it too,” I challenge back. “You wanted me just as much as I wanted you.”

  “Of course I did! Of course, I fucking wanted you but what I didn’t want was to get my heart completely shattered. I thought you were mine completely until I realized you belonged to someone else.”

  I scramble around the bed, to the other side where she’s pacing frantically, and grab her by the shoulders. “I have always been yours,” I tell her. “I never truly gave myself to anyone else until I met you.” I reach down and take hold of her hand, bringing up to my chest. “My heart beats only because of you and I swear to god, Ellie, if you don’t give me a second chance, the minute I leave this convention, it will stop beating again.”

  Before I can stop myself, my mouth crashes down on hers, searing her lips with my kiss. This will probably get me in trouble too but fuck if I care. All that matters is how she tastes. Like home. My hands wrap around her, drawing her closer and the kiss deepens. Her hands creep up between us and fist my shirt. I’m surprised when she returns my kiss, drawing my tongue into her mouth, nibbling at my bottom lip. I groan from starvation because I’ve been hungry for her kiss for so long. Now that I’ve had a taste, I want more.

  But Eleanor has other plans.

  Her palms flatten against my chest as she pushes me away, breaking our kiss.

  “Get out of my room,” she growls breathlessly.

  Arguing with her would make things worse so I do as she asks. Sharing today’s event with her is out of the question and I’m starting to wonder if winning her back is a losing game.

  I finish getting ready and then head down to the main convention floor. Readers are lined up, waiting to get into the event and when some of them notice me, their eyes light up with excitement.

  “See you inside,” I call out to them with a wave.

  There are so many people already in the main hall; these people paid a premium to get in early and from the corner of my eye, I spot a giant banner with my name emblazoned on it. A long row of people stand in front of it, waiting for me. I start feeling nervous; this is all new to me and somehow, I feel like a fraud. These people love my books, love the story and the characters, but everything about this moment feels all wrong.

  I didn’t write these books alone.

  My eyes shift around the room until at last, I make my way over to the table stacked full of my books.

  A representative from my publisher greets me and I settle in the hard chair behind the table.

  For the next few hours, I’m so busy signing books, talking to readers, and posing for selfies that I forget all about Eleanor.

  Until I catch a flash of auburn.

  My eyes flick up just in time to catch her pass by. Her hair is pulled high into a ponytail and she’s wearing a black and white striped top that’s slightly cropped, revealing a hint of creamy white skin. Her black jeans hug her curves but it’s her red lips that distract me.

  Damn, I want to kiss her so badly.

  “Ellie,” I call out, catching her attention. She stops and looks at me, her red lips in a full pout. I motion to her. “Come here.”

  She looks around the room, confused but I persist in trying to get her over to my table. Slowly, she walks toward me. “What do you want,” she asks, turning to glance at the line of people waiting for their turn with me. “Everyone is waiting.”

  “Just come and sit next to me.” I place my hand on the empty chair next to me. “Please.”

  Reluctantly, she complies and sits awkwardly in the chair.

  “What am I doing here,” she mumbles as I greet a reader and sign their book.

  “Just listen to the things they say about our book,” I whisper in her ear.

  “Your book,” she says with a roll of her eyes.

  Under the table, my hand lands firmly on her thigh and it remains there for the next few hours. I feel her start to relax under my grip and a few times, she manages to engage in conversation with the readers.

  “I was so bummed to see Tristan and Yseut separated at the end of book four,” one reader says as I sign her book.

  “Me too,” Eleanor interjects. “They were finally reunited and then boom! Separation.”

  “I can’t wait to see what happens next.” The hopeful tone in the reader’s voice makes me lifts my eyes.

  “Me too,” I answer truthfully as I push the book across the table.

  Beside me, Eleanor smirks.

  “Need a hand,” she says low enough for only me to hear it.

  “Only if you’re offering, sweets.”

  5

  Eleanor

  So, this is what it feels like to be a real author.

  Roderick looks exhausted but excited as he finishes signing the last book for the last reader in line. Most of the other authors on the floor are gone but he stayed.

  He stands up and runs a hand through his long hair. Secretly, I love that it’s the same color as mine. His muscles strain against his long-sleeved shirt and I lick my lips with appreciation.

  “I’m starving,” he groans, looking down at me with a sly smile on his lips. “Let’s go have dinner.”

  “Roderick,” I scold him.

  He holds up his hands. “Easy tiger. You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

  “Of course I am but this isn’t like old times. We can’t just pick up where we left off.”

  “That’s not what I want, Ellie. We need to talk, and we need to eat. Let’s kill two birds with one stone.”

  His persistence is already exhausting, and we’ve barely spent twenty-four hours together. “Alright. But you’re paying.”

  One corner of his mouth lifts as he slings his arm around me. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, sweets.”

  Instead of heading to the hotel restaurant, Roderick leads me outside and into a cab. Without h
esitation, he tells the driver where to go. I narrow my eyes. “You had this planned, didn’t you?”

  “There’s a restaurant I’ve been dying to try. I made reservations weeks ago.”

  I sneak a glance at Roderick, who’s scrolling through his email. Is it possible he’s changed in the last few years? I want to believe he did.

  He certainly looks the same. His hair was always long, and he always had some sort of scruff covering his cheeks. Now, he’s a bit more polished. The scruff is a neatly trimmed beard and the hair is an expertly styled mess. But the man I fell in love with is still there.

  “You haven’t changed a bit,” I say, lost in thought.

  His large hand slowly strokes his beard before he turns to look at me. “Yes, I have. You just can’t see it.”

  “Tell me,” I demand.

  “You first. Why aren’t there books out there with your name on them?”

  I swallow hard and look away. “I’ve been blocked.” That’s an understatement though. The words just didn’t come. For the first two years after we broke up, I couldn’t write a single word. I sat down in front of my laptop or at a table with a notebook, but nothing came. When I was finally honest with myself, little by little the words started to trickle out until I finally wrote a book.

  “I know what you mean,” he says softly. “The third book took longer to write than I expected. After you left, I wanted to hurt Tristan and Yseut but that wasn’t fair to you or to my characters or to the story.”

  “Heartbreak is a bitch.”

  The cab pulls up in front of a pretty nondescript building. Roderick opens the door and reaches his hand inside to help me scoot along the backseat. He hands the driver a few bills and then grabs my hand. It’s warm and familiar and comforting. I melt into his touch.

  Tonight, I can acquiesce.

  “Heartbreak is a bitch,” he repeats with a sad smile.

  We walk into the restaurant, which is anything but nondescript on the inside. It’s cozy but luxurious. The hostess takes us to a booth tucked away in a quiet corner. There are heavy drapes on either side, which she closes once she leaves.