You Belong With Me Page 11

  “And yet, you’re running from them.”

  She frowns and looks down. “Because I have to. Even if they love me. And I, them. The fact that I fled the family doesn’t change. There will be hell to pay if they ever find me. The punishment won’t go unfulfilled.”

  “And what do you think that punishment will be?”

  “Death.”

  “You already said they don’t physically harm the women in the family.”

  “Not my death.” She swallows hard. “Yours.”

  “They don’t know that I’m here.”

  “It doesn’t matter. They know that, no matter what over the years, you’ve been the one thing in this life that means the most to me. Father made me leave you and promise never to pursue you again. And he swore, that you—your life—would always be the thing the family held over my head for the rest of my life. Or yours.”

  “So, I’m the pawn used to hurt you.”

  “If you want to put it like that.”

  “That’s not okay with me. I’m a grown man, and I can fight my own battles.”

  “Not against them.” She sits, her face lined with worry. “You can’t win against them, Archer. But they don’t matter as long as they don’t know where I am.”

  I pull her to me and wrap my arms around her, holding her close. “They won’t find you.”

  “Enough of this,” she says and pulls back to smile up at me. “I have dinner to finish. You haven’t eaten in about three hours. You must be starving.”

  I smile for her benefit. “I’m withering away over here because someone’s holding out with her spaghetti.”

  She laughs, plants a kiss on my chin, and walks away.

  “This will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  I don’t have the heart to tell her that I’m not hungry. For the first time since I can remember, it’s not food that I want at all.

  It’s revenge.

  Chapter 12

  ~Carmine~

  I haven’t seen her yet.

  But I know she’s here.

  “Can I get you another glass, sir?”

  The waiter smiles, gesturing at the glass of wine I’ve been sipping for over an hour. I shake my head.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Dessert, then? We have a delightful lemon cream cake with strawberry compote, or the house tiramisu, which is always a favorite.”

  I haven’t had a good tiramisu since I was in Italy last year. My sweet tooth wants to beg for a slice.

  But I have a job to do, and indulging in sugar isn’t part of it.

  “I’ll just take the check, thanks.”

  “Of course, sir.” He pulls a leather folder out of his pocket and lays it discreetly on the tablecloth. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  He walks away from the table, and I sip what’s left of my wine. I know Elena’s here. I can feel it in my bones.

  But I haven’t seen her yet.

  It’s only a matter of time.

  A text pings through on my phone.

  Shane: Any luck?

  Me: Not yet. With no name to go by, it’s not easy to ask around. I’ll give it one more night, and then I’ll start showing her photo around town, see if that turns anything up.

  Shane: She might not be there. This could be a waste of time.

  Me: She’s here.

  Shane: How do you know?

  Me: Call it a hunch. I’ll be in touch tomorrow.

  I slip enough cash for the bill and a substantial tip in with the check and slide it away from me. I take one last sip of my wine and stand to go back to the hotel for the night when a woman with dark hair and the right height walks into the restaurant. I can’t see her face because she’s walking away from me, but I’d swear it’s Elena.

  Same shape. Same hair. Even the gait of her walk is the same.

  My blood hammers through my veins as I walk toward her. She’s with a man, about the same height as my six feet, his hand resting on the small of her back as he escorts her to their table.

  The host seats them, her back still to me, of course, and then passes them menus. I wait for him to leave and approach, catching the man’s eye.

  I ignore him and look down into blue eyes.

  Not green and brown.

  Blue.

  “Can we help you?” the man asks.

  “My apologies,” I say, shaking my head as I glance down at the woman who is most definitely not my cousin. “I thought you were someone I know. Enjoy your evening.”

  Fuck.

  I walk out of the restaurant and turn toward the hotel. The town is so small, there’s no need to drive anywhere. I thought finding Elena would be easy in such a tiny community. But after two days of looking, that’s proving to be false.

  And every minute that I don’t find her only irritates me more.

  It’s past time for my cousin to come home and claim her rightful place with the family.

  Whether she wants to or not.

  Chapter 13

  ~Elena~

  The window’s open. I can hear the water churning below and the seagulls’ calls as they fly overhead, searching for breakfast.

  I reach my arms over my head and push against Archer’s tufted headboard, stretching sleep away. I’m quickly getting accustomed to these Saturday mornings off work. It never really bothered me to work every day, but sleeping in once in a while has its perks.

  One of the benefits is morning sex. But when I roll toward Archer’s side of the bed, I’m met with cool sheets instead of his warm body.

  I open my eyes and sit up, pushing my hair back to glance around the spacious bedroom then out to the deck.

  He’s not there either.

  I pad naked into the bathroom, and once I’ve brushed my teeth and used the facilities, I pull on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt then go in search of Archer.

  There’s still time for a morning romp.

  I grin at the thought. When we were younger, morning sex wasn’t something we could indulge in. We never lived together, despite being legally married for just shy of a week.

  But now, sex is on the table any time of day, and in the four days I’ve been staying here, we’ve taken advantage often.

  It hasn’t quenched my thirst for him. If anything, the regular sexcapades have only made me want more.

  I’ve turned into a wanton woman. Well, where Archer’s concerned anyway.

  I swing by the kitchen that’s quickly become my favorite room in the house, aside from the perfect balcony where I sit and watch the ocean, and fill a glass of water.

  I can hear thumping coming from downstairs, so I follow the noise.

  I turn a corner, and there he is, in the workout room, punching a bag that hangs from the ceiling. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of grey sweatpants that look as if they’ve been through war. At some point, he cut them off just above the knee. The drawstring is pulled and tied, keeping them low on his hips.

  That V that women go on and on about? Yeah, it’s there. Along with a six-pack that would make the gods weep.

  I lean against the doorjamb and sip my water as I watch him beat the shit out of that bag. I wonder who he’s picturing in his head as he throws the punches.

  Whoever it is, he’s cleaning their clock.

  I’d ask him, but he has earbuds in. So I settle in to watch.

  He stops punching and, to my amazement, immediately falls down into the push-up position, easily pumping out twenty reps as if it’s nothing at all. He’s breathing hard and sweating like crazy, but his body moves with such fluidity that he makes it look easy.

  His muscles bulge as he moves from push-ups to a hanging bar, where he executes ten pull-ups and then turns back to the bag.

  Jesus.

  Who knew? I mean, his incredible body is obvious. I’ve been with him, naked, several times now. I’ve touched him everywhere. I know what he looks like.

  But watching him go through the motions that help to keep him in stellar shape does things to my alr
eady overstimulated libido.

  So, I set the water on the hardwood floor just inside the door and strip out of my clothes. The motion must catch his eye because he turns my way, breathing hard, sweaty. His eyes narrow on me.

  He pulls the buds out of his ears and tosses them aside just before I dash to him and jump against him, wrapping my legs around his waist as I clamp my mouth to his.

  “Whoa,” he says in surprise and stumbles back, but catches himself and sits on a bench with me situated on his thighs. “Good morning.”

  “Fuck me.” I bite his bottom lip and scoot back on his legs to tug at the drawstring of his sweats. “Right now.”

  “Never was good at telling you no.” He grins and helps me work his shorts down his hips. When he springs free, I pump him twice with my fist before rising up and lowering myself over him, making us both moan in delight. “Jesus, babe.”

  “So hot,” I chant as I ride him, fast and hard. “So fucking hot.”

  I’m clenching around his hard length. I can feel the orgasm building in me, the power that flows whenever we’re together like this. I don’t want to slow down. I don’t want to stop.

  I want to make him lose his mind.

  He pushes a hand between us and presses his thumb against my clit. I can’t hold back any longer. I explode around him, crying out as I shiver and grind down. To my delight, he pulls me against him hard and comes, as well.

  We’re a panting, writhing heap.

  It’s fucking glorious.

  “Hi,” he says and kisses my collarbone.

  “Hi, yourself.”

  “What happened?”

  “Saw you working out.”

  His bright blue eyes fly to mine. “That’s it?”

  “That’s all it takes, champ.”

  His lips twitch as I pull away and stand, freeing him from the bench.

  “And why is that?”

  “Do you need me to stroke your ego?”

  “You already did that.” He tugs up his shorts and ties the drawstring.

  “Okay, look.” I pull my T-shirt on and prop my hands on my hips. “You’ve always been hot. Like, stupid hot. You were so good-looking that it was almost unfair.”

  “Keep going.” He grins, his arms crossed over his chest, clearly delighted by this conversation.

  “Somehow, you’re better-looking now than you ever were. And I don’t know how that’s possible. Like, did you sell your soul to the devil or something?”

  “No.”

  “I’m not complaining. I want you to know that this is not me complaining, not in the least. But I don’t understand it. It’s a mystery. Anyway, you’ve only managed to improve with age, and then I came down here looking for you and found you doing”—I wave my arms around—“this.”

  “What?”

  “Punching the hell out of that bag, and push-ups like they’re your job. And that.” I point at the pull-up bar. “With your back muscles flexing and everything.”

  “So, you like it when I work out.”

  He tips his head to the side, watching me.

  “Yeah.” I swallow hard and nod once. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Good to know.” He grabs a towel off a shelf and wipes down his face and neck. “I’ve been training pretty hard with Ben in Seattle. It’s how I’m able to eat pretty much what I want and not gain a gut.”

  “Who’s Ben?”

  I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he takes a drink of water.

  Damn, I have it bad.

  “You’ve been gone a long time,” he says, but there’s no censure in his voice. “I’ll give you the CliffsNotes version. My cousin Jules married Nate. Nate’s dad owned a gym in downtown Seattle, but he recently retired, and Ben bought it. Ben is Matt’s wife’s best friend.”

  I blink at him, not following at all.

  “I’m gonna need a diagram. I think your family tree is more confusing than mine.”

  “There are days I need a diagram, too.”

  “Well, whoever Ben is, I like him.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve never been here,” Archer says later that evening. We’re sitting in the dining room at the resort’s restaurant. It sits on the cliffs, looking out over the Pacific Ocean. We have a window seat where we can watch the birds and sea life below.

  “I came to the resort for a massage a few years ago,” I reply and sip my crisp white wine. “That’s how I met Lindsey. But I’ve never had a reason to come up for anything else. Certainly not a fancy dinner.”

  “The steak’s good.”

  I grin. “My salmon was great, too.”

  “I know.” He eyes the last of my apple pie. “I stole a bite when you went to the restroom. Are you going to finish that?”

  “Yes.” I eat the pie and watch as his eyes round and then look sad. “Aw, poor guy.”

  “It’s okay, I’ll take some home for later.”

  We don’t hurry. When more wine is offered, we accept it and linger over the candlelight and conversation.

  “How are your parents?” I ask, realizing that I haven’t inquired about them before this.

  “Good,” he says. “Dad had a heart attack last year. Gave us a scare. But he’s recovered, and Mom has him eating mostly rabbit food, much to his dismay.”

  “I always liked them,” I murmur. “I’m glad that everyone is doing so well and that your dad recovered from his heart attack.”

  I regret not being there for Archer during what I know was probably a terrifying time.

  “Why did you sell your fishing boat?”

  He sips his wine. “I was offered a lot of money from one of the bigger operations. I was sick of spending the majority of the year at sea, away from the family. It was time to be a land dweller, and real estate always interested me.”

  “We used to spend hours driving past places for sale,” I say, remembering back. “And going on that Parade of Homes, daydreaming our way through gorgeous places.”

  “I still do that,” he says. “I love what I do now. It’s not nearly as smelly, the income is steadier, and I’m around for the family whenever they need me.”

  “You always did take care of everyone around you, Archer. Even me.” I finish my wine. “You’re still taking care of me, it seems.”

  He looks like he’s about to say something, but we’re interrupted.

  “Hey, guys.” Lindsey grins as she approaches the table. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I could say the same about you,” I reply. “You don’t usually work this late.”

  “I had a late client, and then I had some inventory to do. Being the boss sucks sometimes.” Her gaze shifts between Archer and me, but I don’t offer any information.

  I know I’ll get drilled later.

  “So,” Lindsey says, “Archer didn’t leave town, after all.”

  “Nope,” he says with his charming grin. “Ally decided she wanted me to stick around for a while.”

  “He’s like the plague,” I reply. “He just never goes away.”

  Lindsey laughs. “Must be nice, having someone so handsome sticking close.”

  “Don’t make his head any bigger than it already is.”

  Lindsey’s cell rings, and she checks it. “Sorry, have to take this. Have a nice dinner.”

  She waves and hurries away to take her call.

  “She’ll insist on lunch soon so she can ask all the nosy questions that friends do.” I watch as Archer signs his name on the receipt. “Which is fine. She’s a good friend.”

  “I’m glad you have someone here. I hate the thought of you being alone.”

  “I have Lindsey and my coworkers, who are all great. I have a fulfilling life here, Arch. I’m not sad or bored.”

  “I’m glad.”

  The waiter brings out to-go boxes full of desserts, and we stand to leave. As we walk out the door to the parking lot, Archer’s phone rings.

  “Hello? Yes, she’s right here.”

  He passes the cell to me, just as a ca
r catches my eye. It’s the black SUV. A man is in the driver’s seat, but the windows are tinted enough that I can’t see his face.

  And the license plate is from Washington.

  My stomach jumps into my throat.

  “Ally?”

  I look up at Archer. “Yeah?”

  “Phone’s for you.”

  “Oh, right.” I take it from him and fumble with it before pressing it to my ear. “This is Ally.”

  “This is detective Garcia. I wanted to update you on the case. We arrested two suspects today. When we found your iPad in the backpack of one of the boys, they confessed to the break-in and robbery of your house.”

  “Wow.” I blink at Archer as he holds the car door open for me. “Thank you so much. I didn’t even realize my iPad was missing.”

  “It had your name on it,” he says. “Inside the cover.”

  “That’s mine. I appreciate your work on this, detective.”

  “You can pick up the iPad at the station anytime.”

  “Thank you.”

  I hang up and sit in the car, then pass Archer his phone.

  “Good news?” he asks.

  “It was kids, after all.” I fill him in on what the detective told me. “So, yeah, good news.”

  “That’s great.”

  He starts the car and pulls out of the parking space. The SUV is gone.

  Part of me knows I’m being ridiculous. This is a resort. People vacation here from all over the place, including Washington. In fact, it’s likely someone from Washington would come here because it’s within driving distance. It’s probably a family who came down for a long weekend at the beach.

  That’s what common sense tells me.

  It’s most likely not someone from my family in their typical mafia-style vehicle, looking for me.

  The odds of that are incredibly slim.

  But the odds aren’t zero, either. And my gut says something’s coming.

  My instincts are rarely wrong.

  Summers at Grandma’s are the best. I get to come here with my cousins—Carmine, Shane, and Rocco—and we can do whatever we want for two whole months.