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Selling Scarlett (Love Inc. #1) Page 73
Author: Ella Jame

“You think I'm a gentleman?” he smirks, then kisses me soft and low. His eyes burn when he pulls away.

“I want a rain check,” I murmur.

“What do I get when you cash it?”

I stroke my finger down his chest. “You get what you paid for.”

I'm shocked when he pulls me close. His arms close hard and firm around my back, and his face is buried in my hair. “I already got it and more.”

He holds me for the longest time, and I hold him. My eyes are hot with tears.

“I wish things weren't like this,” I whisper.

After I say this, my heart pounds. I've never been so open with anyone, and if Hunter sees me as nothing but a bed buddy, I think my heart will break in two. I'm holding my breath when he says, “So do I.”

My voice cracks when I start to speak. “Will you call me sometime soon?”

“As soon as I can.”

I look up at him, and I'm surprised to see the sadness in his green eyes. He's still got one arm around my back; the other hand is smoothing my hair off my forehead.

“I could stay here with you,” I say. “I don't mind if you're busy getting everything sorted out.”

He slowly shakes his head. Before I can argue, he brings a finger to my lips. Then his mouth meets mine for a kiss so gentle it makes me shiver. “I won't forget this.”

I nod. “I'm going to miss you.”

Half an hour later, I'm gone.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

~ELIZABETH~

“Seriously, Lizzy. You just can't make this stuff up.” Suri looks at me from behind the wheel of her lavender Land Rover. We're driving on the lonely, two-lane roads between Crestwood Place and Napa Valley Involved Rehab, and I've just finished my story—or at least, the censored version. Suri doesn't know all the heavy details, and she probably never will, which kind of sucks, because I don't think she has any clue how ripped up I am over leaving Hunter.

This is confirmed when she shakes her head in wonder. “Do the girls from the ranch know yet? That it didn't happen?”

“Yet?” I snort. “You think I'm just going to call and tell them? No way.” Sarabelle's funeral is today. I'm sure they're all too busy to care about how my sex life isn’t going.

“Are you going to tell the truth if one of them asks you?”

“I don't know.” I look out the window, at the bleak gray day. “I can't see myself lying, but it is kind of embarrassing.”

“I don't think so. I think it sounds like he really likes you, Liz.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” It's been three days, and I haven't heard a word from Hunter. With every hour that passes, I worry that he was too gentlemanly to take my V-card, but his care never quite reached the next level.

He's got his own life and I've got mine. Yeah, he has a vineyard home, but that doesn't mean he has time for or interest in having a California girlfriend. “There's no question, we have chemistry, but chemistry isn't everything.”

“Isn't it?” Suri murmurs.

And I know she's referencing Adam and her. She hasn't talked about it much, but her sadness is obvious.

I check my phone's screen—I'm pathetic, and have put Hunter's name into a search engine's alert system, so I'll know if anything about him is published online. Nothing new has popped up, not even news of his next tournament.

I slide my phone between my thighs and try to think of something non-Hunter-related. “I want to hear more about you and Cross.”

It's an intentional turn of phrase, because I think there's something going on, even though Suri won't spill.

She shrugs. “We've been hanging.”

I haven't had a chance to visit Cross yet, unbelievably. My first day back, Mom's rehab called and wanted me to do a discharge visit. It actually went better than they usually do. Mom looked more fit and happy than I've ever seen her. They’ve got her on a new antidepressant, and I'm trying to be positive about her recovery. I even stayed the night in one of the guest rooms at the 'spa'—where I lay awake on my little cot half the night, combing Google for news about Hunter or the investigation into Sarabelle’s death. The next day, yesterday, Cross got a visit from his father, so I couldn't visit then, either.

“I can't wait to hear how the visit with his father went,” Suri says. “I hope he wasn’t an ass**le to Cross.”

“I hope so too.” I try to squash the awful curiosity about what Hunter's father said—about the governor—but I can't. So I look out the window and focus on the grass and trees.

A few minutes later, we pull into the parking lot of NVIR and I start getting butterflies. “Are you sure he doesn't mind if I come?”

It seems ridiculous asking. Cross has always been more my friend than Suri’s. But I’m struggling with the feeling that in just two weeks, Suri has taken my place.

“Of course, you silly goose. He's dying to see you and hear how your 'class trip' went.”

“Ugh. I hate having to lie to him.”

“ Are you actually going to write about it for school?” she asks as we get out of the car.

“I don't know. Maybe. Probably.”

We're quiet as we walk through the door, and there's Nanette. She's got her long brown hair pulled up into a pretty bun, and she's wearing purple scrubs. She reaches out her arms for me, and I'm kind of surprised, and kind of thrilled.

“Nanette. Long time!”

“Too long. How are you?”

“I'm good,” I say. It only feels a little like a lie.

“That's great.”

“How is Cross?”

“He's up and moving. He shaved today and he's been playing games on my cell phone. He's still having some trouble with his left hand and leg, but we’re seeing improvement in the leg.”

“Not his hand?” Suri asks.

“Not much,” Nanette says. “But we’re not anywhere near the end of his rehab.”

I tear up, because it's so amazing to hear that. Cross is awake, and he's doing rehab. Suri and I hold hands as we walk back to his room.

“Ready?” she whispers.

I nod.

She pushes the door open, and I feel like a kid at Christmas.

Cross is leaning against his bed, wearing gray scrubs and a dark blue t-shirt, which is enough to knock me off my feet. Then I see his face, and I feel like I've been punched. As soon as his eyes land on me, he looks...infuriated.

I open my mouth to say his name, but he beats me to the punch. “Suri,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine. “Give us a minute. In fact, come back later.”

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Ella Jame's Novels
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