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“Uh . . .” To be honest, he hadn’t even thought about it. Last week, Luke and his new girlfriend Christie had invited him to join them for New Year’s Eve. They were going to the fancy bash at Spruce Ridge Resort, the ski lodge just outside of Centennial, about seventy miles away. He’d said maybe, knowing he probably wouldn’t want to go, but not wanting to hurt his brother’s feelings.
“Oh, come on. You’re seriously going to sit in that half-empty house, alone, on New Year’s Eve, and not spend time with your brother, who, may I remind you, you’re abandoning to move a thousand miles away?”
Matt dropped his eyes to the floor as guilt hit him in the stomach like a punch. “I’m not abandoning you,” he said, trying his best not to sound defensive. “This is a really good opportunity for me. I need this.”
“I know, and you deserve it. But it’s gonna suck not having you around.”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, pushing away from the counter when the microwave beeped. “I don’t want to crash your plans. No offense, but it’s pretty hard not to feel like a third wheel around you two.” Luke and Christie were still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, and he didn’t want to be in the way, cramping their style.
“You’re not crashing our plans. I want to spend time with you before you leave. Is that so much to ask?”
He rubbed a hand over his face as guilt ate at him. He’d have to be a pretty big asshole to say no to that, even if he wasn’t really in a party mood. “What time?”
“We’ll pick you up in about thirty minutes. Oh, and wear a suit.”
Matt made a face. “Yup. See you later.”
Lukewarm, stale pizza in one hand, and a bottle of beer in the other, he sat on a stool next to the kitchen counter and flipped on the small flat-screen TV still mounted to the kitchen wall. It had come with the rental, so it was staying behind.
He cracked the cap off his beer and took a long pull just as an old Batman re-run starring Adam West filled the screen. Immediately, his blood warmed as his mind flashed back to Ellie. It struck him with an almost alarming clarity and certainty that she wasn’t the kind of woman you had a one-night stand with. She was the kind of woman you took to dinner, to the movies, on romantic dates, and home to meet your parents. She was the kind of woman you made love to, whose body you adored and explored, taking the time to learn exactly what she needed.
How he knew all of that after their brief interaction, he couldn’t say. He just did.
He took another long, deep pull on his beer and grabbed the remote, flipping away from Batman, willing himself to stop thinking of Ellie.
Chapter 3
“Here’s to Matt, Seattle’s newest robberies detective.” Luke’s girlfriend, Christie, raised her wine glass, smiling at him.
Matt raised his beer glass. “It’s actually called B&T. Burglaries and theft.”
“I was about to say we’re going to miss you, but now I’m not so sure, smart ass,” said Luke, and they all clinked glasses.
Matt laughed and sipped his beer. The party was in full swing around them. Tony Bennett was wafting from the speakers and up to the impressive cathedral ceiling, cedar beams crisscrossing each other in an intricate design. Tuxedoed waiters walked briskly throughout the room, moving back and forth between the clusters of square tables of two, four, or eight. Thick, cream-colored linens covered the tables, each topped with a poinsettia and a grouping of candles. The overhead lights were dim, and the room was illuminated instead with warm, soft lights shining up into the beams of the ceiling. A large fire crackled merrily from the fireplace nestled into the far wall. Despite his initial reluctance, he was glad he’d come. Unlike the New Year’s Eve parties he was used to, the atmosphere was decidedly adult, and the evening stretched ahead of him with a kind of anticipatory hope. This year would be a fresh start, and after the hell of the past two years, he was more than ready to move forward.
The windows lining the wall nearest him spread from floor to ceiling and looked out onto the brightly lit ski hills where small figures swished smoothly down the trails. He smiled to himself as light, fluffy snowflakes began to fall, drifting down like confetti and settling on the terrace outside the ballroom. Okay, maybe he would miss the snow. But only a little.
He cut into the steak the waiter had set down in front of him, and he closed his eyes briefly as the flavor of the tender meat hit his taste buds.
Damn. The steak alone was worth putting a suit on for.
“So when do we get to come visit you in Seattle?” asked Christie in her cute Southern accent, a piece of lobster dripping with butter on the end of her fork.
“Give me a few weeks to get settled, and then yeah. Come on out. Bring your umbrellas.”
“It sucks that you’re leaving, but I’m happy for you, man.” Luke clapped him on the shoulder. They were only twelve minutes apart in age, and they’d never lived more than twenty miles from each other. Leaving his brother, and his nephew, Luke’s eight-year-old son Ethan, behind, was the hardest part of the move. But they could come visit, and he needed a change.
A familiar, sweet laugh mingled with the music and he turned in his seat, heat prickling down his spine.
It was her. His Ellie, standing on the other side of the room near the bar, smiling and nodding at a man. But from her body language, Matt could tell she wasn’t interested in the conversation. Her shoulders were squared away from the guy, and she was listening politely, but she wasn’t engaged in what he was saying, not tilting her head, not leaning toward him. And yet the guy, who just kept talking and talking at her, didn’t seem to notice. Her long, blond hair hung in thick waves over her shoulders, and her lovely curves were emphasized by a blue dress that clung in all the right places.
Matt watched as the man put an arm around Ellie’s shoulders and spoke into her ear. He took in the rigid line of her spine, and the lightning speed and nervous laugh with which she extricated herself, pushing her sexy glasses back up her nose. Her eyes darted around the room, as if she were searching for an escape.
Before he was even fully aware of what he was doing, he’d pushed his chair back from the table.
* * *
God. Lionel Hutz would’ve been better. Granted, just about anyone would’ve been better than Baron von Grabbyhands, but still. Yikes.
