Elisabeth Naughton - Hold On To Me

Mitch frowned. “I’ve obviously confused you. I meant start over as friends. And if not that…then at least not enemies. I don’t want to spend the next few days fighting with you or ignoring you. We got along once without the romantic stuff. I think we could do it again. At least for a couple of days, if we tried. What do you think?”

That warmth went ice cold, and her stomach rolled all over again, but this time not from hunger. This time the pain was from knowing everything between them was truly over for good.

Which was the best thing all around, she reminded herself. The sooner he got away from her, the better off he’d be.

She lifted her shoulders and straightened her spine, telling herself this was the only way it could be. Even if they could somehow fix things between them—and that was a big if, considering everything that had happened—honestly, she wasn’t sure her heart could take another blow like the last.

“Yeah,” she managed. “I think we could do that.”

His smile widened. Not a heated smile. Not a come-get-me smile like she’d seen on his lips so many times before. But a friendly, I’m-making-the-best-of-it smile. One that made her feel even worse than before.

He pushed his chair back and reached for the plates. “Good. Why don’t you go get dressed, and I’ll clean up the kitchen. Then we can decide what we’re going to do with the rest of the day.”

Simone nodded and rose from the table. But as she made her way for the stairs, she couldn’t help but feel as if something inside had died. Something that had come to life the day Mitch Mathews had barreled into her life. Something she was sure she’d never find again.

Mitch watched Simone head for the stairs and clenched his jaw to keep from calling her back.

When he heard her bedroom door open and close upstairs, he set the plates on the counter in the kitchen, braced his hands against the cool granite, and drew in two deep breaths.

This was going to be harder than he’d thought. Act like nothing had happened? Yeah, he could do that. Act like he didn’t still want her, mind, body, and soul? No way. He was already aching with the need to touch her, and they’d only been here one night.

God, he was fucking pathetic.

The new cell phone he’d picked up on the drive to Tahoe buzzed, and he grasped it from the counter, anxious for word from Ryan. But when he saw the number on the screen, everything inside him stilled.

Chris Murdoch. His boss. His Cypher contact within the company.

His pulse picked up speed, and sweat gathered against his palms. It could just be about work. Chris was probably wondering why he hadn’t shown at the job site in British Columbia. But something in Mitch’s gut said this call had nothing to do with work. It had to do with what had happened at his house. And why the hell Mitch wasn’t already dead.

Mitch hit Decline, then chewed on the inside of his lip and debated his options. At some point he had to call Chris, but he wasn’t ready yet. Not until he had more info and knew how to play it.

He cleaned up the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher, and poured himself another cup of coffee. By the time he was done, Simone was just coming back down the stairs.

He looked up when she stepped into the room, then nearly swallowed his tongue. She was wearing slim-fitting jeans, a loose white sweater with a ballet collar that showcased her toned shoulders, hung to her hips, and covered all but the tips of her fingers. Her hair was loose around her face, hanging in a fall of chocolate to her shoulders, and her face was clean of makeup except for a little mascara.

He’d seen her dolled up in expensive gowns for several charity events. He’d seen her in her lawyerly business suit, the picture of confidence. And he’d seen her first thing in the morning, when she’d roll over, all rumpled hair and smelling like him and the night before. And each of those times he’d thought she’d been at her most beautiful. But he’d been wrong. Walking into the room with the sunlight streaming over her, wearing that simple white sweater that shouldn’t be sexy but made him ache to touch her, he was pretty sure she’d never been more beautiful than she was right now.

“I heard your phone ring,” she said. “Was it Ryan?”

“No.” He fought back the need to reach out for her and tossed the dishtowel on the counter. “Someone from work.”

“You didn’t answer it, did you?”

“No. And I don’t plan to.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Good.” She dropped onto the couch, rested her elbow on the armrest, and rubbed her forehead. “I don’t mean good. It’s not good that you’re having to interrupt your life for all this.” She dropped her hand. “What I meant is—”

Mitch moved into the living area. “What you meant was…not to say anything. We’re starting over, remember? This is what it is. We’re both dealing with it. So no more apologizing, okay?”

She sighed and dropped her hand in her lap. But her eyes softened when she looked up at him. Not in the way they had been before, when they’d been a couple, but in a way that told him she was relaxing, if only a little.

He’d take that for now. Because…the sad truth was, he didn’t know what he wanted. His head was still a mess, and he was trying to sort things through in his brain. And he didn’t know what she wanted or if there was even still a chance for them. But this was more than he’d had yesterday. And until they heard from Ryan, it would be enough.

Or so he hoped.

“I think we need to do something to take our minds off everything.” He swiped his sweaty palm against his thigh and moved for the cabinet in the entertainment center he’d discovered earlier.

“I don’t think I’m up for watching a movie. If it was baseball season, I’d totally watch a game with you, but football really isn’t my thing.”

No, football definitely wasn’t her thing, and that didn’t bother him in the least. He only watched it this time of year because there wasn’t much else on after the World Series wrapped up. Memories of the games he’d taken her to at AT&T Park ricocheted in his brain, especially when he’d surprised her with tickets to see her beloved Orioles. And the way she’d thanked him after when they’d celebrated the Birds’ win over the Giants back at his house.

“Um”—he swallowed the lump growing in his throat—“I wasn’t thinking of a movie.” He grabbed the box in the cupboard and turned. “I was thinking of something a little more involved.”

Simone’s brown eyes widened when she saw what he was holding. “You want to play Monopoly?”

“We’ve got hours to kill. What do you say?”

Simone eyed him like he had a second nose smack in the center of his forehead. And yeah, maybe it was a stupid idea, but if he didn’t do something with his hands soon, he was going to reach for her, then all his plans about keeping things platonic so she’d stop avoiding him would be shot to hell. And if that happened, she might run before he had his answers.

“Come on.” He tipped his head and shot her his most devastating smile. “Unless you’re scared I’ll win. In which case, we could just call me the champ right now and find something else to do.”

Her eyes narrowed, and he saw it then—that flash of challenge, of interest, of strength. And in that moment, it was like looking at the old her. Not the victim he’d seen the night his house had been attacked. Not the one who was afraid to hold on to what she wanted. And definitely not the one who was ready to give up her life and run. No, in that second, he saw a spark that told him the confident, take-charge woman he’d fallen in love with was still in there.

She leaned slightly forward and pinned him with a look. “You do not want to challenge me at Monopoly. Trust me.”

His smile widened, and he set the box on the coffee table in front of her. “Why not?”

“Because Shannon and I play this all the time, and I never lose.”

“You take advantage of a ten-year-old? I’m pretty sure I can hold my own.”

“That ten-year-old will probably end up with an MBA. When it comes to Monopoly, she’s got claws as sharp as Ryan’s. Regardless, though, if you insist on playing, I will destroy you. Be forewarned.”

Mitch’s heart squeezed tight, and his smile faded. Sweetheart, you already did that. He pushed the hurt down and flipped the box lid open, then sat in the chair across from her and worked to keep things light. “We’ll see. Here. You can be the dog. I know how much you like to bitch at me. I’ll be the car.”

She lifted her brows and took the piece he handed her. “Good thing it’s not a minivan.”

His hand hesitated over GO. Yeah, good thing it wasn’t. There was a time he thought he was minivan material, but that was slowly drifting away. And right now, he wasn’t sure how, or if, he ever wanted it back.

“North Carolina Avenue with one hotel…” Simone looked down at the back of her card. “You owe me one thousand, two hundred, and seventy-five dollars.”

Sitting on the ottoman with his elbows resting on his knees, Mitch glanced over the measly stack of Monopoly money on the coffee table in front of him, then frowned across the board at her.

“What?” she asked with an adorably innocent, one-sided smile. “I warned you before we started. I always win.”

He was not going to let her win, even if it did brighten her eyes and bolster her mood. He counted his money, then flipped over his three yellow properties. “I had four houses on each of these and they cost a hundred and fifty each, so that’s—”

“You’re selling properties?”