Page 32 of The Decoy

While I wait at a light while pedestrians hurry past bundled in coats, I reach over to the passenger seat and adjust the small, silver-wrapped box sitting there. My stomach twists with a sudden knot of nervous tension.

I haven’t seen Ellis since the dinner at my house a few days ago. We’ve been texting every day, just little updates about her day and how she’s feeling. But I haven’t physically seen her since I kissed her until we both ran out of air.

What am I doing here?

The question has been lingering in my head. Was that night just a heat-of-the-moment reaction brought on by good food and hormones? Does she regret it? Ellis seems to have her life completely in order, minus this curveball of a pregnancy, and I get the feeling she doesn’t really like complicated. So the last thing I want to do is push for something that she may not be ready for or open to.

I pull my truck into an underground parking garage that she texted me the code for, and park in a visitor spot. I grab the silver package from the seat, check my reflection in the rearview mirror, get out of the car, and head toward the elevators.

When I reach the lobby, I exit, and a doorman in a crisp, brass-buttoned uniform recognizes me with a nod, then escorts me to the private elevator that requires a keycard scan to access the penthouse suites.

“Have a good night, Mr. Vaughn.”

“Thank you,” I say, just as the doors shut.

When the doors slide open, I walk right into her private foyer, and I can hear Christmas music drifting from somewhere in the house, mixed with the scent of pine, vanilla, and maybe cinnamon or some other kind of spice.

I take a few steps toward the double doors at the end of the hallway, but before I can knock, Ellis opens them.

My mouth suddenly feels like it’s stuffed with cotton balls. I respect her, I really do, but the second I see her, my brain goes completely rogue. I’m trying to be good while every single scenario running through my mind is shameless, filthy, and might even make Ellis Renwick blush.

She’s not in her usual workwear. She’s in a pair of sweats that probably still cost more than my first car, lying seamlessly over her gorgeous body, and she’s barefoot. Her hair is in loose waves hanging over one shoulder, and I can’t help but trace the curve of her neck on the exposed side. At this stage in her pregnancy, the curve of her stomach is unmistakable, a subtle little bump that shortens her shape.

She looks comfortable and undeniably breathtaking.

“Hey,” she says, a genuine smile breaking across her face the second our eyes meet.

“Hi, Princess,” I reply, taking a step toward her.

Before I can figure out what type of vibe is in the room, Ellis closes the distance between us. She reaches up, resting her hand against the side of my neck, stands on her tiptoes, and presses her lips against mine.

It’s not a rushed hello. It’s sweet, but lingers with intention. And I want to savor the feel of her soft lips pressed against mine.

Every single bit of overthinking I’ve spent the last twenty minutes doing melts right out of my chest.

When she pulls back, her eyes dance with humor. “You look like you’re frozen.”

“It’s about twelve degrees outside,” I laugh, my hand settling naturally onto the small of her back. “And traffic was bad, even at this time of night on Christmas Eve.”

“Well, let’s get you warmed up,” she murmurs, taking my coat when I remove it, then leading me through the doorway to the main living space.

Ellis’s penthouse is absolutely Manhattan elegance, a drastic contrast to my home. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows wrap around the living room, offering a panoramic view of the snow falling over Central Park and the soft lights of Midtown.

Her holiday decor is classy but understated. A ten-foot Fraser fir stands tall near the windows, complete with white lights, gold ribbon, and glass ornaments. There’s also a sleek electric fireplace built into a white marble wall, and muted amber flames cast soft light across her velvet sofa and hardwood floors.

Before I can look around more, a familiar brown furball comes running down the hallway.

“Oshie! Easy,” Ellis commands with a soft laugh.

Oshie doesn’t listen and bounds up to me, her tail wagging wildly as she nudges my hand to pet her.

“Hey, girl,” I laugh, dropping to one knee. I dig my hands into her fur to give her a scratch behind her ears while she rubs her nose against my leg. “Missed you too, Osh.”

Ellis stands next to me, her arms lightly folded over her chest, watching us with a sweet look in her eyes. “She clearly prefers your company to mine. After I took her out to potty earlier, she’s been keeping herself in the bedroom.”

“I can’t help it, I’m irresistible,” I say, laughing as I stand. “Buck is probably ready to eat and go outside by now. I’ve been gone for a while. I had my dog sitter run by earlier to check on him, and he has the doggie door, but I still like to make sure he’s okay when I’m traveling or am in the city for long periods of time.”

Ellis nods, understandingly, and gestures toward the sofa. “Come on in. Can I get you something to drink? Beer? Wine? Something stronger?”