The Life That Mattered (The Life Series Book 1) Page 3

  “Oh my gosh … EVIE!” Lila grabbed my shoulders as soon as we slipped into the ladies’ lounge just outside of the room with the sinks and toilets. “He’s perfect! I like him. Graham likes him. He’s perfect! And that accent. I got so pissed that Graham kept interrupting. I could listen to Ronin read a dictionary. And don’t you dare tell Graham I said that. You have to marry Ronin. I mean … not until after my wedding, of course. But he’s the one!”

  She knew everything—almost. I spilled the details on our shopping excursion. His ethnicity, his famous father, his clothing-designer mother, and the fact that he had a flight the next morning to Denver.

  “I know. I know …” I plopped into a velvet chair and grabbed the skirt of my dress, fanning it to release some heat, but everywhere his hand touched remained ablaze.

  “You’re going to make the most beautiful babies with beautiful Asian skin and hair, dark eyes, and they’ll speak French like their grandpa.” Lila grinned, hitching her ass to the arm of my chair.

  “They’ll have half of my genes too.”

  She sighed. “Maybe they’ll be recessive genes.”

  “You’re awful.”

  She laughed, hugging me. “Kidding. You’re the most beautiful … special really … beautiful person I know.”

  “Wow! You’re more drunk than I am.”

  “Probably.” She forced herself to stand again, teetering on her high heels for a few seconds before zigzagging toward the toilets.

  We finished the night with dessert and more wine. Before Lila attempted to dry hump Graham’s leg, he excused them from the table, taking care of the bill with a simple nod to the waiter.

  “Do you golf, Ronin?” Graham asked, sliding his arm around Lila’s waist to steady her.

  “Sometimes.” Ronin finished his glass of water.

  “Call me when you get settled. We’ll play.”

  Ronin raised his empty glass before setting it down. “I’d like that.”

  Okay … when did they exchange numbers? What went on while we were in the ladies’ room?

  “Be good, Evie.” Graham winked at me, pulling drunk Lila away from the table.

  What’s that supposed to mean?

  “Sounds tragically boring,” Ronin said.

  I returned my attention to him and the grin on his face after they disappeared around the corner. “What does?”

  “Good Evie.” He leaned back, looking entirely too cool. Too put together. Too damn sexy.

  I grabbed my water and gulped it down. It’s not that I had any intention of having sex with Ronin that night (outside of my head, of course). The last time I had too much to drink and hopped into bed with someone, it was Graham. Look how that turned out. A cautionary tale.

  I flooded my system with as much water as possible to cleanse my thoughts.

  “I have an early flight tomorrow morning. Can I escort you to your room?”

  “Escort? Sounds like navigating to my room could be dangerous on my own. Is that what you’re implying?” I chuckled, pulling my phone from my purse to check the time. It was one-thirty in the morning. I cringed, making a quick inspection of the abandoned restaurant. The wait staff wouldn’t kick Graham Porter’s friends out no matter the time.

  “Your friends left you in my care. I feel responsible.”

  I peeled my ass from the chair, already feeling more sure on my feet than Lila. “But are you responsible?” As Ronin loosened his tie like it was ridiculous to have one on after midnight, I snagged my clutch from the table.

  “Responsible? Yes. Well-behaved? Sometimes.” He grasped my hand like he owned it.

  Again, I felt it in places that a responsible person should not have felt it. “So a sometimes-well-behaved man is escorting me to my room?” I followed him to the elevators, handing him my room card to gain access to my floor.

  He didn’t let go of my hand. Not in the elevator. Not down the short hallway to my room. Not when we stopped at my door.

  “Tell me about this?” He twisted my left arm, exposing my carbon atom tattoo.

  “It’s carbon.”

  Ronin chuckled. “Okay. What’s the significance?”

  My eyes narrowed. “What’s the significance? Um … only the main element in organic compounds; therefore it’s essential to life on Earth. So … pretty significant.” That came out on way too much instinct and possibly way too many hours in a lab. Closing my eyes, I shook my head. Rolling my lips between my teeth, I stifled a laugh.

  “What?” he asked on a slight laugh of his own.

  “Wow! I just … went there. Couldn’t play it cool for two seconds before defending carbon’s role in the world like the science geek I was when I picked out the stupid thing and the science geek I clearly still am.”

  “Science isn’t sexy” was an original Lila Mason quote and a hard concept for me to remember, not that she had any room to speak. Before she decided on the winged tramp stamp, she seriously considered a long math equation straight down her spine. At the time, she had an insane crush on her multivariable calculus professor.

  “Your geek side is adorable.”

  My cheeks bloomed with heat. “Thanks. Obviously, it’s effortless too.”

  Ronin grinned. “Please thank Graham and Lila again for dinner. I’ve enjoyed every second of this evening.”

  I returned a slow nod. He still held my hand in his left hand and my keycard in his right hand. I wasn’t drunk, barely even tipsy by that point. The wine held no blame for my desire to invite him into my room. Had I been home, I would’ve invited him into my house. But houses had kitchens and living rooms. Okay, my suite had both of those things too, but the large king bed monopolized the space, demanding attention. I wasn’t sure I could invite Ronin into my room without doing something impulsive.

  Courting and no-sex-until-the-third-date rules didn’t apply to women in their thirties. That made it so tempting to give in to my impulsivity. By thirty, my parents’ generation gave up on my generation going down a straight path: school, love, marriage, children. Thirty and single was the new fifty and widowed. “Poor thing … she’ll be lucky if anyone takes her.”

  Sex on the first date in your thirties symbolized a goddamn miracle like the lottery, not a cardinal sin with a ticket to Hell. “Yay! Someone might take her!” Their opinions were not up-to-date. The average age for my generation to get married and start a family breached thirty’s door. However, my parents had two kids in school by that point in their lives, so they compared me to the past, not the present.

  Still … I smiled and took the traditional route with Ronin that night. “I had a nice time too. I hope you’re not regretting this in the morning when you’re dragging ass to the airport.”

  He winked. “I’ll sleep on the plane.”

  “You should stop by my shop when you get to Aspen. Well, wait a week until I’m there. But definitely stop by. No need to buy anything. Just …” Enough with the rambling, I chastised myself.

  “What’s the name of your shop?”

  “Clean Art.”

  He grinned. “Clean Art. Nice name. I’ll stop by as soon as I get there and grab a few things to try. When you return, I’ll give you my unbiased opinion of them.”

  No. He couldn’t stop by until I was there. Soapy Sophie, my manager and sole employee, would try to steal him.

  He was mine. I found him.

  “Really, you should wait for me. I’ll help you pick out the right products for your skin type.”

  “What’s my skin type?”

  Perfect. It was perfect.

  “I don’t want to say. It’s terrible lighting. I’ll get a closer look when I return home.”

  He released my hand, bent forward, and pulled his hair away from his forehead, hovering several inches from my face. “Oily? Dry? Combination?”

  I returned a nervous smile, wagging my head. “It’s … nice. I’ll find something that will keep it nice.”

  His grin swelled, showing a lot of white teeth while keeping
his face so close to mine I felt like it would be a waste of bending-over effort to not go ahead and kiss. I mean … he was right there, an evil tempter.

  “Nice, huh?” he whispered.

  As he started to stand straight again, I grabbed his face, pressing my palms to his cheeks. “But your lips might be a bit dry.” Holy crap! I sounded breathy.

  His gaze fell to my mouth. “Is that so?”

  My lips rubbed together as if a wave of self-consciousness hit them. “Happens when you’re in the elements so much.” My thumb brushed his bottom lip. It was barely dry. And it was probably the pad of my dry thumb, not his lip.

  As my bravery dissolved, loosening my grip, he grabbed my wrist, holding my hand by his mouth. His tongue flicked out, teasing his bottom lip and my thumb. When he grazed it with his teeth, my lips parted, releasing an even heavier audible breath.

  A prickly sensation spread along my skin while heat gathered low in my belly, up my chest, and along my cheeks.

  “Sweet dreams, Evelyn.” He twisted my wrist, pressing the softest imaginable kiss to the inside of it.

  I swallowed, choking on my own erratic and out of control pulse. “I …” Just great. A huskiness infiltrated my words. His effect on me couldn’t have been more obvious. I cleared my throat, grappling with my composure. “I should get your phone number, so you know when I’m home. For … soap.” The second I said the word soap, I bit my lips to hide my grin and closed my eyes to run from my embarrassment.

  Yes. Soap. Ronin was moving. Taking a new job. Settling into a new home. Yet, surely the distress over finding the right soap in Colorado kept him up at night.

  Ronin straightened his back, wetting his lips while releasing my hand to my side. “Clean Art. Don’t worry … I’ll find you.”

  Oh god.

  He wouldn’t find me. He didn’t give me his number because he didn’t want me to call him. Right? I mean, why not just give me the damn phone number?

  “I could give you my phone number?” I shrugged. You know … so I could obsess over why he wasn’t calling me. That was always a good time.

  “True. Or I could just see you soon.” He opened my door with my keycard, handed it to me, and winked before sauntering toward the elevator.

  My mouth fell open. No numbers were exchanged. That wasn’t good. Not good at all.

  Goodbye, tall, sexy, runway model who can ski and nearly make me orgasm just by biting the pad of my thumb.

  I would never see him again, unless just by chance. Then it would be awkward. That, “Hey, didn’t we share buns and bubble tea?” followed by fading smiles and an uncomfortable silence.

  Au revoir. No … I think that was more of an “until we see each other again,” which was unlikely. Maybe “adieu.” If I recalled correctly (after three years of French), it was the goodbye you gave someone for the last time. “Until God.” Yes, I thought it was more final.

  Adieu, Ronin Alexander.

  Just before I shut my door, Graham opened the door to their suite across the hallway. He’d changed from his suit to navy silk pajamas with white piping. “Thought I heard you out here.”

  I grinned, eyeing his getup. “I’m sure those pajamas cost around a grand, but they make you look like an old man. Where’s Lila? Finishing the job on her own?” I smirked.

  Graham narrowed his eyes, closing his door and crossing into my territory, forcing me to retreat and let him inside my room. I frowned. It was the early hours of the morning. My dream guy just left me. I wasn’t in the mood to have a pajama party with Graham.

  “I can’t sleep.” He gave me a matter-of-fact look.

  “I can. I’m actually really good at it.”

  He brushed past me, flipping on the light by the king-sized bed and plunking onto it with his back against the headboard. On an exasperated sigh, I closed the door, grabbed my nightshirt, and slipped into the bathroom, sliding the door shut.

  “Why did you ditch me after we slept together?”

  I paused while removing my dress, narrowing my eyes at the floor, questioning if I heard him correctly. My brain had already turned off the lights. There was no way I’d answer him. I continued to get ready for bed.

  “Did you have to convince Lila to be with me? To give me a chance? I wanted to do it on my own, you know? That was the point.”

  I rolled my eyes as I brushed my teeth. Graham’s nightcap must have been laced with an overdose of insecurity. He didn’t sound like a thirty-six-year-old man planning on making a run for governor. Everyone needed a dumping ground for their insecurities. I was Lila’s. She was mine. But I was also Graham’s. It wasn’t fair that I got dumped on twice.

  After washing my face, I eased open the door and yawned, hoping he’d get the hint that I wasn’t in the mood for that conversation. Slipping under the covers, I snuggled onto my side with my back to him.

  Hint. Hint.

  He scooted down, inching closer to me so his head rested on my pillow just behind mine. “My father said you weren’t good enough for me. A nice girl, but not focused.”

  I flipped around facing him, eyes squinted. “I don’t like this bedtime story. Got a different one?”

  Graham wasn’t like a brother or a cousin to me because we had, in fact, had sex. We were overly acquainted friends, a different dynamic than my friendship with Lila. I’d known her longer. I would have jumped in front of a bus to save her life.

  Graham? Well, I’m not sure I would have leapt in front of a bus, but I might have warned him with a really loud scream, and I would have been the first to call for an ambulance. I definitely would have donated blood to save his life, and maybe even a kidney like my sister donated to my father because she was the best match.

  “I used you to make Lila jealous. I’m sorry. I think I even used you to piss off my father.”

  “Glad I could assist you in pissing off your father. But newsflash, dickhead, sleeping with a woman’s best friend is not the way to make her jealous. Lila greeted me at the door with a can of disinfectant after I left your apartment that night. She knew you were a walking STD. And honestly, I was embarrassed that I’d stooped so low. Let myself get that drunk.”

  “Wow, Evie … don’t sugarcoat it.”

  “Coming from the guy who is ninety percent amazing to me. Really … you’re there for me when Lila’s busy. You’ve advocated for my family, for my dad. I honestly consider you my best guy friend. But that other ten percent of the time you are a cruel asshole.”

  He flinched, blinking several times.

  “I get it, Graham. That’s why we’re friends. I think I get you better than anyone, including Lila. The good in you gets suffocated by the expectations your family places on you. I’m not an idiot. Your dad still goes on and on about Lila. She has an engineering degree. I make soap. Her parents died in a car accident—that’s tragic. My parents struggle to make ends meet because my dad was out of a job for so long with his health issues. And you paid for his treatment. That makes my parents poor and pathetic in your father’s eyes.”

  “I like Ronin,” he said in a monotone voice.

  I coughed a laugh. “Okay then … now we’re talking about Ronin?”

  “I like him. You could use someone like him in your life.”

  “Fine, Graham … I’ll bite. Define someone like him.”

  He reached up, pinching a few strands of my hair between his fingers, nose scrunched.

  I batted his hand away.

  He smirked.

  Asshole.

  “Well, once Lila and I get married, she’s going to have a different life. Especially after I become governor.”

  “If you become governor.”

  Graham ignored my jab. We’d become experts at ignoring each other’s jabs.

  “She’s going to take on a new role.”

  “She has a job.”

  He shrugged. “She’ll have a different job: being the governor’s wife. New duties. New friends.”

  “Wait …” I laughed to keep from kneein
g him in the balls for what I believed he was insinuating. “If you’re suggesting Lila and I will no longer be friends if you become governor, then you’re sorely mistaken. Also, there’s no way in hell she’s quitting a job she loves just to plan fancy dinners and attend fundraisers on your arm. No way.”

  “I’m not saying you won’t be friends. I’m just saying she’ll be much busier. Your weekly lunches might be more like monthly lunches. Your endless phone chats and incessant texting will have to scale down to quick chats on a need-to basis. Her jaunts to Aspen just to make soap with you on the weekends will have to stop. I’m saying you won’t have unrestricted access to her like you have now. Therefore … back to my original statement. I think Ronin is good for you. I think he could fill the void she’s going to leave once we get married.”

  I sprang to sitting, spine straight, jaw clenched.

  “Stop.” Graham sat up, grabbing my arms. “You have such a knee-jerk reaction. Just … stop. We’ve been friends for over a decade. You’re the first to put me in my place when you think I’m fucking up my life. I’m the first person to come to your rescue when your life begins to fall apart. Like with your dad. I don’t know exactly what it is between us. I don’t know how I can be in love with Lila but at the same time feel so connected to you. It just is … we just … are.”

  Anger muzzled my words. That hurt. Graham knew how to hurt me because he knew I needed him. Or so I thought. I didn’t know anymore. Something told me Governor Porter would no longer drive to Aspen to watch football with his buddy, Evie, while Lila read a book. He had Lila, so he no longer needed me to sing his praises. My dad had fully recovered, hopefully ending my days of begging Graham for help.

  “Are you breaking up with me, Graham? Is that why you’re so smitten with Ronin? You’ve found my replacement for you?”

  “You know, Evie, if you don’t stop thinking the worst of me, I’ll find it hard to pardon you if you get into trouble.”

  “You’re the world’s biggest dick, Graham Cracker. Even without actually having a big dick.”

  “Low blow—”

  Three knocks rapped at the door.

  “Can’t imagine who that might be.” Graham smirked, climbing out of bed and opening the door.