Playing Hard to Master (18 page)

She arched a brow. “Well, hiding the new mixer you got me for Christmas was one thing. This is a little different.”

“I know. This is probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. And that’s saying something. I just need a chance to put this right. A few more days?” Ambrose gave her the pathetic puppy eyes, and she finally sighed and grimaced.

“Fiiiine. Just don’t blame us if we slip up. We’ll do our best.”

His father shook his head, but busied himself with taking the turkey out of the oven. If Mom said okay, Dad never contradicted her.

His father started his signature whistling along with the music coming from the living room, and Ambrose wished he could freeze this moment in time. It would have been like their own family holiday card, other than the fact that he had The Lie hanging over his head, and Augustine was missing. His girlfriend, Charlotte, had insisted on going over to her parents’ house for the evening. Ambrose didn’t mind because it meant fewer people had to cover for him, and his parents could get to know Everly better. He knew they’d love her. Who wouldn’t?

The commotion in the kitchen caught Everly’s attention, and she wandered in. Without any hesitation, his mother handed her a potato masher.

“Do you mind?”

Everly grinned. “Not at all. Ambrose never lets me help.”

“He can be a bit controlling.” His mother realized what she’d said and started to laugh, and his father joined in.

Ambrose rolled his eyes and shook his head. Leave it to his parents to get creepy.

“But I guess I don’t need to tell
you
that.”

Oh jeez. He was going to disown them.

Everly’s cheeks went pink, but she glanced at Ambrose and laughed, at least. “You should see your face.”

“I’m just trying to decide which nursing home to put them in when they’re old,” Ambrose grumbled. “I need to find somewhere that believes in feeding the residents TV dinners every night.”

His father clucked his tongue in mock disapproval. “Now, now, son. I know you’re annoyed, but luckily, your memory is short, and you’re not
that
cruel.”

Everly opened her mouth to respond, her eyes dancing with mischief. He arched a brow at his girl and she shut her mouth, satisfying herself with a giggle.

His parents turned away to fiddle with the gravy, and he grabbed Everly’s ass hard and gave her a warning look. A fire lit behind her eyes, and her expression softened. Unable to deny himself, he leaned down and kissed her, pulling her to him and enjoying the feel of her in his arms. Having her here with his family like this made him happier than he ever would have guessed. He loved having her to himself, but there were so many parts of his life that would be better if only she were there with him. Soon. As long as he could convince her he’d had his reasons to lie, and that he’d never meant to hurt her.

She stretched up against him, trying to get closer, and his body growled for hers. Maybe after dinner he could show her his old room. Trying to seduce her into fucking under his parents’ roof would probably be a challenge, even if he got her good and subby first.

Everly was watching him, a look of adoration on her face. A protective and tender ache started under his ribs. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for this woman.

Thank God for Kate telling him he needed to get a proper haircut for her wedding. He might never have met Everly otherwise. A series of astounding coincidences had brought them together, which made him wonder again about fate and other unseeable forces.

Loving someone this deeply couldn’t be an accident.

He studied her heart-shaped face. Every fleck of gold in her amber eyes held him transfixed. Time, like his heart, slowed.

When he was an old, old man, he wanted to die looking into those eyes.

His mom cleared her throat, and he reluctantly let Everly go.

“Quit snogging and help with the food.” His mother laughed, and smacked the back of his head affectionately.

The table was already set, so it only took a few minutes to get the multitude of dishes out into the dining room. He struggled to think straight again, like he’d fallen into a well and couldn’t climb out.

“Mom, how much do you think we eat? There’s enough food here for an army.”

She sighed. “I still cook like you and your brother are teenagers. It was like you had a hollow leg back then.”

Oh fuck.
Not stories from his childhood. Although, considering she was willing to avoid talking about his financial situation, he couldn’t complain.

“It’s so funny. When Ambrose was a little boy, we just couldn’t get him to eat. Pizza, chicken nuggets, grilled cheese . . . We tried everything, even the overprocessed stuff. He’d turn his nose up at it and ask to go watch TV. He got so skinny that we had to hang on to him if there was a brisk wind.” Jody shook her head. “Then one day, it was our anniversary, and we took the boys out somewhere nice for the first time. I think Ambrose was about six, and Augustine was five. When they brought the food, Ambrose inhaled everything on his plate, plus most of Augustine’s, and was picking off of ours too! You could have knocked me over with a feather!”

“So it wasn’t that he was a picky eater,” his father said. “He just couldn’t stomach the kid slop we kept trying to feed him. After that, it was smooth sailing.” He chuckled. “Except when he started getting fascinated with expensive cheeses and cuts of meat. We had to head him off at the pass with that business.”

Jody handed a platter of ham down to Everly. “We always say that’s why he . . .” His mother paused, looking horrified.

Ambrose realized what she’d been about to say, and his heart almost stopped. It was a long-standing joke in his family that he’d worked so hard to succeed in business because he needed to finance his fancy-cheese habit.

“Got so good at cooking,” she finished uncomfortably.

They filled their plates in silence.
Crap.
How could he fix the awkwardness?

“Hello? Merry Christmas!” a booming male voice rang out. The front door closed with a
bang
.

Augustine? What on earth was he doing there?

His brother strode into the room, grinning. “I escaped. They ate so early over there, they’ve moved on to board games. I told Charlotte that I’d be back for dessert, but really I was hoping you hadn’t eaten yet. They’re on a low-carb diet over there. Very sad for someone like me.”

He kissed their mother’s cheek and shook hands with their father, then slapped Ambrose on the back as he went to the vacant seat beside him.

“And how’s the boss man tonight? It’s always strange seeing you when you’re not sitting behind your desk. Did you have to pencil this into your agenda, or was this a standing date?” Augustine grinned at him and sat down, filling his plate with the food that was within reach.

His parents handed him platters, sliding worried glances at Ambrose.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Everly was staring at Augustine like he was an alien. After a moment, she started to eat, but the confused look didn’t leave her face.

“Sorry, I’m Augustine, by the way. Ambrose’s accountant—I mean, little brother.” He laughed in his usual fake businessman way, which Ambrose always found annoying.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Everly replied, her expression hooded.

Could he drag him into the other room and get him to shut up about the business before it was too late? As it was, the damage might be irreparable. Sweat pricked his palms, and he shifted in his seat. This was the absolute worst way for her to find out.

Augustine started to eat, and, uneasily, Ambrose took a few mouthfuls of food. It all tasted like cardboard in his dry mouth.

Everly turned to him. A candle flickered between them, just to the right of his vision. In the shimmering light he saw the questions multiplying behind her eyes. She took a few nibbles of food, then laid her fork aside.

“Ambrose? I thought you said you were in transportation.” She fiddled with the napkin in her lap.

Oh shit. Not now.
“I am.”

“A delivery driver, right? But you’re the boss too?”

Augustine snorted, and Ambrose kicked him under the table. Not being a stupid man, his brother realized he’d stepped in something, and ate, minding his own business for once in his life.

Ambrose sighed inwardly. This wasn’t his brother’s fault. It was all his.

“Not exactly.” He paused, trying to choose his words carefully. “We need to talk, but it should probably wait until after dinner.” To be polite to his parents, if nothing else.

Nodding slightly, she took another bite of food, chewed, swallowed, but he could tell she’d lost her appetite. He tried to eat, but all he could do was watch her indirectly, hanging on her silence, terrified she’d open her mouth and speak.

Now was the day, but he wasn’t ready. The right words had never found their way into his silent rehearsals, but he was out of time. She would press for answers as soon as they were done, and everything he could think of sounded like a lame excuse in his head.

His parents tried valiantly to make conversation, but what was supposed to be a nice dinner had turned into an awkward mess.

When it seemed like everyone was done, he exchanged a glance with his mother, who nodded. He stood and went to Everly’s chair and guided her to her feet.

“Come with me.”

He walked down the hall with her, wishing it weren’t winter, so they could have gone outside. Band posters still covered the walls and ceiling of his old bedroom, and the teenage him gloated for a moment about having such a sexy girl set foot in there. He shut the door behind them.

She turned to him, looking upset and perplexed. “Explain.”

“I—I love you, Everly. This all ended up happening ass backward. I wanted to explain in a few days, but really I’m just a fucking coward. I should have told you weeks ago.”

“Your brother called you the boss, and said he was your accountant.” Her usual teasing was gone. She was dead serious.

“Yes. It’s true. I work in transportation, but I started my own company. A small business.” That didn’t sound too bad, so far, right? “I met you, and I liked you a lot. Right from the beginning. But you told me you didn’t have a very good opinion of people who . . .”
Fuck.
What word would make this less bad? “Had money. So I realized if I wanted to have a chance to win you over, I needed to downplay that. It was dumb, I know. I just—I really liked you, and I didn’t want to fuck it up.”

“So you own a small business?”

“It got bigger over time. There are . . . employees.”

“So you couldn’t take me to the Christmas party, or I’d find out.” Her gaze was stony.

“Yeah.” When he tried to brush her hair back from her face, she jerked back from him, as though his touch might burn her skin.

Fuck.

Oh god, he felt like he was drowning. And it was his own fault for drilling holes in the boat.

“How far do these lies go?” Her voice was cold.

Where could he even begin? “The house I told you was my friend’s is mine. All that crap is mine.”

“And you thought what?” she spat. “That not telling me was okay? That I shouldn’t be allowed to have the truth and make my own decision?”

“Everly, I know it looks bad, but I did it because . . .” This was coming out all wrong. His throat closed up. He could see she had no interest in hearing his excuses.

“You lied to me because you love me.” She snorted. “Is that what you were going to say? That’s pretty fucked up.
You’re
pretty fucked up, if you thought lying like this was going to be okay.”

The ugly words coming from her mouth hurt more than he could have imagined. Like someone was killing his every hope for happiness.

God, he was an idiot.

“I’m so sorry.” He sat on his old bed, remembering how only an hour ago he’d thought of seducing her in here. It felt like years had tumbled past. “I know it sounds like a load of crap right now, but I’ve been worried about this for weeks, trying to figure out how to tell you. I kept making excuses for myself, but I wasn’t being fair to you.”

She flipped her hair back. He wished he could convince her to sit with him and hash things out, but trying to make her sit with him would probably just make him seem like more of a spoiled, rich asshat. He had to show her that he wasn’t like that. But how?

“So what you’re telling me is that I didn’t actually fall in love with you. I fell in love with a lying, manipulative, rich guy.”

He could feel her pulling away from him like a physical sensation, even though they weren’t touching. It made him cold.

So the fact that he’d done the best with the cards he’d been dealt in life made him automatically evil? Sure, the lies he’d told her had been wrong. He wasn’t proud of himself for that. But she was judging him based on a stereotype of what
some
people with money were like. This was what he’d been avoiding all along. He wasn’t the monster she thought he was, and neither were his friends. They were just regular guys who’d worked hard and been lucky. All three of them had given up dreams to do what it took to help support their families. Yes, he deserved her anger for the lies, but he didn’t deserve the stereotype. Hadn’t he shown her he was one of the good guys?

“I’m the same person, Everly. Only one thing has changed. This is why I was so afraid to tell you. My money doesn’t make me the enemy.”

Her gaze was hard. Determined. Had the love there all been a lie? She’d gone from adoration to loathing in the course of a short conversation. Real love forgave, didn’t it?

“You’re right. Having money doesn’t make you the enemy. But the lies make you disposable.” A wall had gone up between them, and the final stone had been set in place. She was done with him, and anything else he said would be used against him.

“I love you, Everly.” He thought of the collar he’d had made for her, and how he’d hoped there would be so much more between them. Permanence. A love like his parents had, but possibly even deeper because of the extra bond they shared.

Everly turned her back on him.

She left the room without a backward glance. By the time he was calm enough to follow, she was gone.