When I finally turned out the bathroom light and returned to the bedroom, Ellison was dead asleep with his mouth wide open and his arms and legs starfished across the bed. There was absolutely no sight of a Hadrian’s Wall of pillows.
His hair was wild with messy curls still half-damp from his shower. I reached over and gently shoved his arms and legs over to his side of the bed before sliding in beside him and lying on my side to face him. He was beautiful. More attractive today than he’d ever been in college. He was noticeably more comfortable in his skin, and his face now bore traces of his life experience. He looked like an adult, a man, someone who knew there was more to life than frat-boy dares and drunken pranks.
There hadn’t been a single moment in the past week that had proven any of my assumptions about Ellison York from that night at the country club.
He wasn’t a user. He wasn’t uncaring or unkind. He wasn’t a pompous asshole. In fact, he was the opposite of everything I’d ever tried to tell myself he was.
I reached out and pushed a wayward curl off his forehead. Despite being tired, I felt like I could stay up for hours simply watching him sleep. It was the only time he truly shut up, but it was also the only time I knew for sure he wasn’t worrying about me.
At first, I’d thought he was worried I’d fuck up—either in manners or in our fake boyfriend story—but at some point during dinner, I’d realized he hadn’t been worried about my actions. He’d been worried about my feelings. I wasn’t used to people looking out for my feelings, but when one of Ian’s friends—who I vaguely knew through a friend at Goldman Sachs—had begun pressing me aggressively about acquiring Heath and Kelty earlier this year, Ellison had butted his nose into the conversation and defended me like a rabid Yorkie.
“Did you know the net asset value of Heath and Kelty has gone up nineteen percent since the date of acquisition?” Ellison had asked, leaning around me to make a nuisance of himself. “And because of the transition, Stitch Trend reversed course and gave Heath and Kelty a healthy ownership stake after turning Bob Kelty down only three months earlier.”
He was like my own little public relations firm. I wasn’t even sure when he’d had time to gather the information he’d shared, but I wasn’t complaining. It was nice to have a champion after all these years.
I ran my fingers through his hair one more time just to make sure it didn’t dry in a big bird’s nest, but then I forced my hands to myself and closed my eyes to sleep.
It shouldn’t have surprised me to wake up with an armful of Ellison York, but it did. He was plastered sweatily against my side with his cheek mashed against my neck and his hair in my face. One of his legs was thrown over one of mine, and his morning wood pressed against my hip.
Both of my arms were around him, and I took a few moments to inhale the warm, masculine scent of him.
I could get used to this. But even thinking about something like that was dangerous. I sighed and nudged him away from me. Today was the first full day of activities Binnie had planned for everyone. This was the part of the week I’d most been dreading since I would have done just about anything to spend the day researching potential new investments instead of making a fool of myself in unfamiliar sporting situations.
Thankfully, I’d taken tennis lessons a few years ago at the country club after one of the members had invited me to play with him. I wasn’t exactly championship material, but I at least understood the rules of the game and could hold my own for a casual day of social tennis.
I made my way into the bathroom to shower and shave. Last night had gone better than I’d expected. After reconnecting with Ellison York, I’d gone right back to that headspace of thinking I was the poor kid from White Plains who didn’t know shit about anything, so it had taken me a little while to realize that I was as well educated and well traveled as anyone at this party now.
I’d carried the mantle of my poor upbringing for so long, I hadn’t noticed when I’d begun to feel more comfortable around people with money and culture. Somehow, though, I still felt like I didn’t belong.
I didn’t know if that feeling was simply a holdover from my years caddying at the Crosbie club job or as a scholarship kid at Yale, but I was tired of feeling like an outsider. It had been my biggest hesitation in agreeing to this plan and was one of the many reasons I dreaded the arrival of Ellison’s parents.
When I came back out of the bathroom to look for clothes to wear, Ellison was just waking up. “I’m going to get dressed and go in search of coffee,” I told him. “Take your time. I don’t think we have anything scheduled for a couple of hours.”
His hair was hilariously messy, and his eyes were only half-open. “I fell asleep fast. How’d you sleep?”
“Good. Yeah, you were out before I even finished brushing my teeth.” I pulled clothes out of the drawer and returned to the bathroom to change. I hadn’t missed Ellison’s furtive glance at the towel around my waist. Good. Let him be the one disconcerted for once. I’d spent plenty of time lusting after his ass; it was about time the tables were turned.
Not that he was lusting after me. It was most likely simple curiosity. Regardless, it gave me inappropriate thoughts that needed tamping down.
I dressed quickly and left the room. The butler who’d greeted us the day before was on hand to direct me to the breakfast room, where a few of the guests were already gathered at one of several round tables. “Good morning,” I said before making a beeline for the coffee station set up on a table against the wall.
The redhead from San Francisco, whose name suddenly came to me after my first sip of coffee, invited me to sit at his table. “I’ve decided to stop doing the time-difference math to justify my jet lag,” he said with a sleepy grin. “Instead, I’m going to try to remember my Stanford days when staying up all night wasn’t a big deal.”
I took a seat next to him and reached for one of the scones from the porcelain tray in the center of the table before placing it on the little plate in front of me. “Are you normally an early riser?” I asked politely.
The woman on the other side of him leaned over to answer for him. “Jake hates mornings. When we were growing up, he slept past noon as often as he could.”
The redhead nudged her with his shoulder. “Ignore my sister. She thinks I’m still the sleepy teen from a decade ago.”
I sipped my coffee and devoured the scone while the sibling pair teased each other. The sun was shining on another clear day outside, and I looked forward to getting some exercise later.
“Do you both play tennis?” I asked. I hated this kind of small talk, but I was very familiar with it. It was an integral part of networking and making connections with people.
“Jake played singles in college,” the sister said. “Which means he’s a terrible doubles partner if you actually want a chance to hit the ball yourself.”
I eyed the attractive man with a smile. “But it probably means you win.”
Jake laughed and nodded. “And isn’t that the most important part anyway?”
We were still laughing when Ellison walked in. He had an odd look on his face that I couldn’t interpret. I pulled back the chair next to mine and gestured for him to join me. I could tell he was still half-asleep, so I stood up to fix him some coffee.