She sighed. “It means, do you have any idea what it means to fall in love with Princess Eleanor?”
He scoffed. “I’m not in love with her. I’ve spent, like, five minutes with her.”
“It’s not your smile in that picture. That smile is just shy of your posting smile. A little bit real, a little bit fake. It’s the look in your eyes. All that wild yearning is absent. You look content, settled, fulfilled.”
He rolled his eyes. “We’d just made it to the knockout stage. How else would I look?”
Sheena studied him, and he saw the disappointment in her gaze.
When they were younger, they’d frequented a corner store that carried single candy you could buy for change. One day, Tristan slipped a piece of candy inside his pocket. When the clerk confronted him, he denied it. His sister, offended on his behalf, scolded the guy. But when they left the store, she pulled Tristan around the corner and made him confess. In a fit of embarrassment and anger, Tristan had thrown the candy in the road.
The look on Sheena’s face at this moment mirrored the look she’d shot him that day.
“Just be careful.”
“I’m not going to hurt her.”
Sheena shrugged. “I’m not worried about her getting hurt. I’m worried about you.”
17
3 July
Denver, Colorado
With Sheena’s ominous words ringing in his ears, Tristan headed back to his room. Sheena could be both the devil or the angel perched on his shoulder. And as he parked his ass on the couch, it was doubly true. He wanted to shut out all of her theories and questions, wanted to just continue to enjoy whatever this was between him and Ele. He was having fun, and he was fairly certain she was having fun. Why did he need to think about what it was or wasn’t?
When the knock finally sounded on his door, he was more than ready. Ele and Robert slipped into the room. Ele walked directly to him and slid her hands around his neck. He pulled her close. Holding her against him, he closed his eyes, breathing her in. She was dressed casually—for her—in a pair of navy slacks, a navy silk shirt, and a yellow jacket. He liked her in the national colors, but he had an image of her wearing Hartesfield colors, and his pulse quickened.
One day.
Then, he remembered the picture. He glanced up and met Robert’s eyes. They needed to talk.
Apparently, Robert could read his mind because when Tristan stepped away from Ele, Robert remained in place.
“Ma’am, I need a moment with Mr. Davenport.”
Ele looked between them and then nodded, stepping into the very small living room.
Tristan stepped closer to Robert.
“Problem?” Robert asked.
“Telepathic too?” Tristan quipped.
Nothing from Robert on that one, not even a twitch.
“I’m not sure. Ele and I took a picture together at the party.”
Robert’s brow rose—in surprise maybe.
“My sister thought it was cute and sent it to my mom.”
Eyes narrowed, Robert waited for him to continue.
“Is that a problem?” Tristan finally asked.
“I don’t know. Is it?”
“Maybe. I have a big family. They follow my career, my posts. I texted her and told her not to do anything with it. But my nine-year-old sister is on her phone all the time. There’s no telling.”
Robert nodded. Then, he turned to leave.
“That’s it?” Tristan asked.
“What do you want me to do?”
“You know three hundred fifty-seven ways to kill a man.”
“Did I say three hundred fifty-seven? It’s really three hundred sixty.”
Tristan refrained from rolling his eyes. “Can’t you beam a satellite at the phone and zap the picture or something?”
Robert smirked. “No.” Then, “I suggest you tell her.”
“I was going to. I just thought you would want to know.”
“Word of advice?”
Tristan nodded.
“Everyone else underestimates her strength. Don’t be one of those people.” Robert stalked to the door, leaving Tristan alone with Ele.
And for the second time tonight, Tristan was left with something to think about.
He found Ele standing at the window, looking out at the mountains in the distance. Walking up behind her, he slipped his hands around her waist and rested his chin on the top of her head. She leaned back against him, sliding into place, molding her body to his. Their simple affair felt complicated.
“What was that about?” she asked quietly.
“I needed to run something by Robert.”
Neither of them spoke, nor did they move. With Ele in his arms, Tristan was content to hold her. Maybe he was afraid to tell her, afraid she’d cut their night short. It had been a week since he had her in his arms, had his mouth on hers, her body tucked within the confines of his. He liked her here. The last thing he wanted was for her to leave.
“The picture we snapped on the beach,” he began.
Ele nodded.
“My sister found it and sent it to my mom.”
Ele didn’t say anything for a moment. “So?” she finally conceded.
Tristan thought of Robert’s words, about her strength, and he smiled. So.
“I’d like to promise she’ll keep it to herself. But I can’t guarantee it. I don’t want you to be exposed.”
Ele considered, all the while burrowing deeper into him. She moved back infinitesimally, like she might be able to get even closer. “I’m not worried about that picture, Tristan. It’s easily explained away. People know we met at the St. Peter’s tour. And my appearance at the party was on my itinerary. It was no secret.”
Tristan breathed easy. It felt like his first full breath since he’d discovered Sheena with his phone in her hand.
“You were worried.” She turned in his arms.
He hadn’t kissed her since she walked in the room, but with her gaze focused on him, he didn’t resist. His hands on her hips flexed, and he pulled her flush against him. She cradled his jaw in her elegant fingers. His mouth dropped to hers, and he inhaled her, ravenous for the taste of her. It started with hunger, but she gentled it, slowing him down, exploring him. She controlled the tempo, the exchange, the parry. Her hand gripped his head, and he pulled her even closer. But he didn’t take control, wasn’t even sure if he could.
He liked Ele’s shy curiosity in their encounters. But he was even more enthralled by her bold handling of their kiss. He would follow her anywhere she led him. So, when she came up for air, he waited for her direction. She placed light kisses on the corner of his mouth.
“I missed that over the last week,” she murmured.
He smiled. “Me too.”
She continued kissing him, exploring his neck, nipping lightly at the space under his ear, making his pulse race. He knew she’d noticed when her mouth moved to the pulse point on his neck, and she rested there, letting his heart beat against her tongue. She moaned softly, and Tristan thought he might lose his mind. Her tentative perusal felt more aggressive, more determined and pointed. Her hands snaked down his chest, mapping his muscles.
She tugged on his shirt and whispered, “Off.”