Chapter Seventeen

At four a.m., Ginger’s alarm blared. Elliot rose, but she didn’t budge. After a visit to the bathroom, he tugged on his discarded boxer briefs and made his way into the kitchen, in search of coffee.

A quick scan of the counter revealed a toaster, a microwave, a cutting board, but no coffee maker. He scowled. Seriously? Going through the cabinets, he located a French press that looked like it had never been used. Deep in her pantry, there was a small container of coffee grounds that looked like it came from a long-ago gift basket.

Letting the water run from the tap until it heated up, he scratched at the overnight growth on his face, staring at the crack in the wall where the mouse had gotten in. He could do better than a sponge. As cute as Ginger’s reaction had been last night, he’d hate it if she didn’t feel safe in her own home.

Her alarm buzzed again, but she cut it off quickly. Expecting her any second, he dug through her junk drawer, found a roll of duct tape, and covered the hole with it. Afterward, he replaced her full trash bag with an empty one and filled the French press with hot water. The coffee turned out surprisingly good.

With no sign of Ginger yet, he filled a mug for her and returned to her bedroom as her alarm sounded again. Her arm shot out from beneath the covers, and she banged hard on the snooze button.

He set the coffee next to her clock and gave her shoulder a gentle shake. “Good morning. I assume there’s a reason you set the alarm this early.”

She groaned, mumbling, “Emergency meeting.”

“What’s the emergency?”

That got her attention. She bolted up, the covers falling, exposing her bare chest, and sending a twinge of sensation through his groin.

Instead of covering up, she threw the rest of the sheets off her lap and swung her naked legs out of bed. Scooting past him, she scampered toward the bathroom, her long hair brushing the small of her back as it moved with her. Gorgeous. His head clouded as a rush of feeling moved up his chest, leaving a warm tightening in its wake. Everything he was made of wanted to chase her, challenge her, drown in her.

But the stakes were high.

Her job, his future. But when he looked back on the last few weeks, the only thing right was her. A few stolen moments with a woman he couldn’t have. How fucked up was that?

And how long could they go on like this before she ruined him for anyone else?

Reluctantly, he gathered the rest of his clothes and got dressed. Desperate, longing feelings rushed through him. He missed last night already.

Who was he kidding? He was already ruined beyond all recognition. No one from his past would recognize him with his intention so singularly focused on one woman. One who seemed all wrong for him on paper, but who, for reasons he could not articulate, felt like a perfect fit.

He zipped up his hoodie. According to his schedule, he was supposed to be at the Hacienda at eight for whatever ridiculous challenge they’d dreamed up for him and his partners today. Cleaning storm drains, pulling up shrubs, or whatever the fuck, though Ginger mentioned yesterday there’d been a change of plans. Before he had too much time to guess at it, Ginger strode back into the room, still completely bare from top to bottom with her hair up, making her look even more naked. She bent over a dresser drawer and started tossing clothes on the bed.

Elliot didn’t bother not staring. Before she put anything on, she noticed the coffee on her bedside table. “You made coffee?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“Wasn’t easy.”

She glanced over at him. “Thanks.”

His eyes roamed all over her.

“Don’t,” she said as she picked up the mug. Blowing a stream of air across the top, she took a sip, her eyes locked on his. “I don’t have time.”

“I don’t see you getting dressed any faster.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “You want me to drink your coffee or you want me to get dressed?”

“I’m not complaining.”

Her smile curled over the brim of the mug as she took another sip.

“Sure you can’t spare a few minutes?” he asked, extremely turned on by her complete lack of modesty.

Her face went serious all of a sudden. “I can’t.” She set the mug down and without further stalling, dressed in the clothes she’d thrown on the bed. It took less than a minute. “Listen, I gotta go. Are you leaving? ’Cause you can’t stay.”

He checked his pockets for his shitty phone and wallet. On his way to the front door, he swung by the kitchen and grabbed the trash bag. “You have a bin?” he asked when she picked her messenger bag up from the couch.

“A what?”

“A trash bin.”

She threw a glance over her shoulder at him. Her face froze in surprise for a second. “At the curb,” she said. “I can get that.”

“I’ve already got it.” He gestured toward the door. “After you.”

“Um…okay. Thanks again.”

“No problem.”

Just as she was about to open the door with him right behind her, she stopped, turning to look up at him. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Listen.”

He was all ears.

“This is it, okay?”

As she dropped the axe on their arrangement, some new emotion coated his insides like a sludge. It was a sick, depressing feeling, and not how he’d wanted to start the day. “You sure?”

She hesitated. Again. Her second guesses and mixed signals were killing him. “You’re getting close to finding what you came here for. I don’t want to make it any more confusing than it has to be. I want this for you.”

The words blasted through his chest like a grenade.

“Because you’re amazing, and you deserve it,” she added, as if it could make getting dumped any better.

What helped cushion the blow was the equally wrecked look on her face. It would have been worse if he were the only person there who understood how badly this sucked.

“Do you wish things were different?” he asked.

“Well, they’re not…so…”

“But if they could be?”

“No.” She gave his arm a solid pat. “But this was super fun. Thanks.”

The words were ridiculous, patronizing, and dismissive.

But Elliot let it go. It was hard to be angry with her when she was all over the place. Her dizzying unpredictability charmed him too much to be mad about it. “You’ll let me know if you change your mind?” God, he hoped she changed her mind. Even the possibility of it could be enough.

She let out a short, derisive laugh. “Yeah. All right.” She reached for the doorknob.

He put a hand on hers. “Ginger, wait.”

She didn’t look up at him, but she didn’t move, either.

“I’m not ready for this to end,” he said.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have signed that contract.”

“I know,” he admitted. “It was a mistake.”

She didn’t speak for long enough that a shred of his hope began to reemerge. But then she opened her mouth. “No worries, Elliot. I promised you a happy ending, didn’t I?”

He swallowed, her falsely upbeat tone filling him with dread. His heart cracked open, words he’d never said coming out so quietly he was afraid she wouldn’t hear them. “You make me happy.”

She twisted the knob and yanked open the door. “I was never your first choice.”

Her parting words stuck with Elliot as he waited in the guesthouse to be told where to be. Outside his west-facing window, a small crew bustled around the gazebo as Kat shouted instructions at them.

Never his first choice.

As if he’d ever even had one when it came to her. If Ginger knew the amount of time he’d spent thinking about her during Jenna’s season, she’d shove those dismissive words straight back into her mouth. The first time he’d met her had been during an interview. She’d told him to elaborate on his short answers, and she’d sounded frustrated and rushed and fed up with him from the beginning.

She’d been the opposite of Jenna. Petite and delicate where Jenna was tall and strong. Dark where Jenna was light. Hard where Jenna was soft, and he’d wanted her. Being with Jenna had been a long shot until the end, but Ginger was real. Her existence made his mouth water. Her words were like a flogging, and he’d loved it. But she’d been impossible. Impossible to find, impossible to pin down, and impossible not to think about in all the hours Elliot wasn’t spending time with Jenna. God, his Ginger fantasies had been filthy, though. Pure indulgence.

The reality of having her, turned out, wasn’t too far from his dirtiest thoughts. It made him sick to think he could never be with her again, that he was destined to have something less than. Meanwhile, it was getting harder and harder to convince himself his feelings were only physical. He wondered what her secret was—although this morning her little act had been a hell of a lot less convincing than usual.

He shook his head like he was trying to clear mud from it. He could do this. He could find a way out.

The need to get his hands on that contract and rip it to shreds surged, stronger than ever. He should have left the show last night when he’d had the chance. Fists clenched, he returned to the window and stared out at the gazebo, perched on the edge of the hillside.

Lavonne was there now, facing Elliot’s window, speaking to someone with her back to him, a blonde in the kind of dress that distinguished her from the crew. A rush of familiarity had Elliot leaning forward to discern who she was. Her hair was too long to be Cassie’s, and there weren’t any more blondes left. When she spoke, her head turned. Elliot slumped, catching himself with his hand on the window.

What the fuck was Jenna doing there?

The urge to destroy something overtook him, and he ripped off his blazer, flinging it onto a chair. He drove both hands through his hair and paced. What was this? She was the last person on the planet he wanted to see, much less have any kind of on-camera moment with.

A tap on his door stopped his stride, and he changed direction. Vanessa stood outside, her headset on.

“We’re ready for you.”

“Where’s Ginger?”

“On the set. You ready? That’s what you’re wearing?”

“I’m ready,” he all but growled.

“Follow me.” Into the headset she said, “I’ve got Elliot. We’re on our way. We’ll be rolling as soon as you step outside the door.”

Of course they would be. Assholes.

Passing the kitchen, Vanessa picked up her pace.

He could have left. Right then. Turned on his heel, headed for the front, gotten into one of the cars and taken off, but curiosity won out. That and the need to see Ginger’s face—figure out all the ways she’d lied and manipulated him to get him to that point.

Vanessa opened the back patio doors, stepped out of frame, and Elliot walked outside.

Lavonne and Jenna stood in the gazebo, waiting, gazing, like the marriage rite was about to be performed.

Elliot stilled, staring across the distance at Jenna, the woman who’d made marriage seem like a decent idea—the reason he was even putting himself through this circus show again. And then his gaze found Ginger—the real reason he was here, standing next to Jamie, giving Elliot a firm nod to get moving.

She’d known about this.

She’d known, and she hadn’t even dropped a hint.

So this was what she wanted. She’d been serious that morning when she’d said she wanted him to find the one.

Ginger was giving him away because their affair was meaningless.

And it was over.

Elliot stepped into the light.