The Infamous Ellen James (Infamous Series) (14 page)

"A little bit of a Ray LaMontagne fan?" Trent asks with pure amusement in his voice.

"You have no idea! If I could have sex with his voice, I would," I admit as I tap my fingers on the passenger door to the beat of one of my favorite songs.

Trent looks over at me as he comes to a stop at a red light. His blue eyes pull me in, and I'm just looking back at him, letting his eyes wash over me and grab my soul. Normally, this quiet silence would make me feel uncomfortable and awkward, but I relish the opportunity to just take in this moment with him.

We're speaking with our eyes instead of our mouths.

His mouth. Oh, his beautiful, beautiful mouth.

Pink full lips that are just begging my teeth to bite. Because of the intense combination of the sexy voice playing over the speakers and Trent's blue-as-the-sky eyes, I'm feeling seven shades of horny. I can practically hear my vagina encouraging me to straddle Trent's lap and grind myself all over him. He gives me a wicked, seductive grin as he slowly pulls his eyes away from mine and pushes on the gas when the light turns green.

"I'm a little jealous right now." Trent's truck starts to accelerate onto the highway.

"Jealous?" I'm extremely curious and secretly enjoying the idea that Trent is jealous.

"Yeah, babe. I'm jealous that another man's voice has that effect on my Ellie girl."

I like the idea of being his far too much. The sixteen-year-old girl in me is scribbling “I love Trent Hamilton” in big fat bubble letters with corny hearts all over her girly notebook as we speak.

I'm left a little dumbstruck at his recent declaration of being his. I'm internally beaming as I continue to sing the lyrics to one of my favorite Ray LaMontagne songs. This song is the absolute sweetest—a man declaring that a woman is the best thing in his entire life.

What girl wouldn't love the idea of this?

This is the ultimate fantasy, perfect dream, and wish come true for every girl out there, no matter how much she denies it. This song is hands down the best declaration of love anyone could hope for. I picture John Cusack standing outside my window with a stereo blaring this song. This song is like The Notebook, Say Anything, and Sixteen Candles combined into one perfect, lyrically beautiful track.

Trent and I talk about my love for Ray Montagne and specifically this song. I give him a little insight into how amazing I think the lyrics really are. I tell him that it's every girl's dream to have a guy feel about her the way
You Are The Best Thing
describes. It paints the perfect picture of love, friendship, and fairytale happiness. Trent seems to find my keenness for one single song "adorable"—his word not mine.

I know I'm making it blatantly obvious that, although my heart was broken not too long ago, I'm still a romantic deep down. I still want to find the one guy to sweep me off my feet. My knight-in-shining armor, my prince on the white horse, my "You had me at hello" perfect man. Now, I know this isn't completely realistic, and I definitely don't want perfection. I just want someone who will love every part of me, including the obnoxious, sarcastic, and often times awkward Elle. And although I'm desperately trying not to admit it, Trent is looking more and more like this guy every moment I spend with him.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" I ask him as I look around at my current surroundings.

"Nope." He looks over at me with a sweet smile and warmness to his eyes.

"You're killing me, Casanova.
Killing me
." I continue to browse through his music selection and choose another big favorite of mine. The soulful voice of Van Morrison starts to fill the air as he sings
Brown-Eyed Girl
. I quickly roll down my window and turn off the air conditioning. I turn up the music and start to loudly sing along with one of the all-time greats. I let the warm breeze of the summer air wash over my face and long, auburn locks. This song is downright lovely, and it soothes my soul into utter contentment.
Brown-Eyed Girl
reminds me of summer and sunshine and young love.

Trent starts to sing along with me, and I'm not going to lie, his voice isn't perfect, but the huskiness definitely has a sultry sexiness. I could quite honestly listen to him sing to me every single day of the week. Trent rolls his window down and we continue to sing along to
Brown-Eyed Girl
together as we head down one of Charlotte's main highways.

I'm pleasantly surprised when Trent pulls off of the highway into downtown Charlotte. He obviously took the very long way in order to keep me on my toes. We head into Uptown Charlotte, a really nice part of downtown. The real estate in this area is extremely expensive. I'm expecting him to take me to dinner at a nice restaurant but realize that he's got a whole different type of date planned.

"So I'm making you dinner tonight," he reveals as he pulls in front of a very upscale and modern looking building.

"Oh. Is this your place?" I'm definitely surprised.

"Yeah it is. I hope you're in the mood for steak."

Can he read my mind?

Wasn't I just thinking about how I've been craving a nice steak for over a week now?

He gets out of the truck and opens my passenger door. I know I'm staring at Trent with an odd expression on my face, but I'm a little freaked out that this guy might have some weird mind-reading super power that I'm not aware of.

Oh my god!
What if he can hear everything I'm thinking at this very moment? Or all the times before this when I've stared at his pants and tried to telepathically take them off!

"Elle, are we going in or just going to stay here and stare at each other? I've got no problems with either choice." Trent is grinning from ear to ear, and those heavenly blue eyes are filled with mirth.

"Tell me what I'm thinking right now." I'm looking back at him seriously.

Don't think about his cock. Don't think about his ridiculously hot body.

"Uh, you're really hungry for steak?" He guesses questioningly.

I pull him by the shirt so he is standing between my thighs and I stare directly into his eyes.

"Are. You. Sure?"

Trent attempts to hide his amusement at my unexpected display of weirdness, but I can still see a small grin on his lips. "I'm. Not. Sure
."

I nudge his chest a little with my hand and laugh. "Stop fucking with me. I feel like you're always reading my mind, and I'm just trying to make sure you're not hiding some Hamiltonian super power from me."

Trent softly kisses my lips and pulls me out of the truck. "I promise I can't read your mind, but now you've got me really curious about what's going on inside that adorable head of yours."

"Believe me, you do not want to know what's going on up here. All kinds of crazy!" I tap the side of my head lightly.

"Come on, Ellie girl, bring those fuck-me heels and get your sweet ass into my apartment."

He grabs my hand and pulls me towards the entrance of his building.

We make our way up to his place, and I'm utterly impressed. Large pillars, gleaming hardwood floors, and arched ceilings frame the open living area. The entire apartment is done in warm, neutral hues. The kitchen is state-of-the-art with stainless steel appliances and beautiful marble countertops. The apartment has a modern yet elegant feel to it.

“Your place is gorgeous, Trent," I tell him as I stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling window looking out onto a balcony that gives a nice view of downtown Charlotte.
"Thanks. I honestly could see myself living here for a long time." He opens a bottle of Merlot and hands me a glass. I try to ignore the idea of Trent living in Charlotte permanently. I just don't want to allow myself to get my hopes up.

“When is Dr. Grey due to be back from his medical leave?” My mouth sputters out, and now I wish I could just take back that stupid question. I don't really want a timeline I can obsessively watch like a hawk.

Trent's look is pensive, relaxed. “The last I heard, he is due back around the second week in October, but no exact date is set. I'm in no rush though.” His treacherously sexy smirk is nearly knocking the wind right out of my chest.

There's your fucking timeline, you idiot.

My brain is already trying to mentally count the days.

STOP
.
Don't do that
.
Don't make yourself crazy counting down. Just live in the moment, enjoy the fact that this undeniably amazing guy is here, and for some reason, he wants to spend time with you.

Sometimes I really wish I could take the advice my subconscious gives me…

Trent takes a plate of steaks out onto the balcony and puts them on the grill. I follow him out and lean my back against the railing, facing him. He tells me about his family in Seattle. His parents have been married for over thirty years and his dad, also a physician, just recently retired and sold his family practice. I can tell Trent is extremely proud of his father, and it's very apparent that his dad was a huge inspiration for him to finish medical school and become a surgeon.

His mother stayed at home with Trent and his two older siblings. She seems lovely, and Trent's adoration for her is undeniably cute. His brother, Josh, and sister, Leah, both reside in Seattle and are happily married. Leah has a four-year-old daughter named Mia, and Trent is completely in love with this little girl. His parents seem utterly delightful and are currently enjoying time together, road tripping to various tourist spots across the country.

"So tell me about cute little Mia. I can tell you adore her." I swirl my wine around in the glass and take a sip.

"My Mia is the cutest four-year-old you will ever meet. She has me wrapped around her little finger and I love every second of it." He smiles over at me as he flips the steaks.

"I bet you're an awesome uncle and spoil her rotten. Do you miss her?"

"I make a point to bring her a new Barbie doll every time I see her, and yes, of course I miss her, but I'm extremely happy about what Charlotte has brought me." He waggles his eyebrows and grins devilishly.

Good god, he's this irresistible combination of charming and sexy. This combination is lethal and dangerous, yet I just want to dive head first with my tongue.

"That's freakin' adorable, Trent. I would love to meet her someday." I let that little statement leave my lips before thinking about the fact that I'm openly admitting to wanting some sort of future with him.

Son of a bitch.

"Elle, I would love for you to meet Mia. Honestly, she's a lot like you. She's adorable, yet she has this sarcastic quick wit to her that keeps me laughing constantly. My sister Leah wants to strangle me most of the time because I seem to encourage her precocious personality."

He gives a sexy wink before turning his attention back to grilling the steaks.

I tell Trent about my family in Louisville—my wonderful parents and older sister, Elizabeth. My parents own a small diner that's conveniently located near the University of Louisville's campus. I tell him about my waitressing days, and he seemed to get a kick out of the idea of me in an apron. I still talk to my mom and dad daily but haven't really spoken with Lizzy in a while. She's married to a successful lawyer and always seems to have a benefit or charity function to attend.

Lizzy is six years older than me, and although we are similar in looks, we are
complete
opposites. She's conservative and, in my opinion, a little uptight. Lizzy worries about appearances and strives for nothing short of perfection in everything she does. I'm more of a free-spirit, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl. I'm spontaneous and seem to make a career out of being found in embarrassing, ludicrous situations. Lizzy hates spontaneity, and I'm sure you can see why we're not as close as most sisters. Despite our differences, I still love her and would do anything for her. I would just rather do it from a distance in order to avoid her judgmental attitude. Because that's just Lizzy; she can be a little pretentious at time.

"I'd really like to see the two of you interact together," Trent says with a grin. Yeah, that's probably not going to happen anytime soon. The next time I see Lizzy will be when I head home for Thanksgiving in the fall.

We take our conversation into the dining area, and Trent refuses to let me help with anything. He grabs me by the shoulders and leads me towards the dining table when I attempt to help him with dinner.

"
I'm
making
you
dinner tonight, so sit your cute ass down and relax."

Once dinner is ready, Trent refills my glass of wine and sets my plate in front of me before sitting down at the table. My mouth is watering at the sight of this delicious meal. New York Strip, asparagus, baked potato, and bacon-wrapped-scallops. I take a bite of my steak and moan out loud with appreciation.

Holy shit this guy can cook
.

Our dinner conversation is easy, relaxed. There are never any awkward silences or uncomfortable small talk, and I find myself wondering why I was even nervous about this date.

Trent continues to make me laugh about stories of him and his brother getting into trouble growing up. It sounds like his mother had her hands full with those two boys together. They are only eighteen months apart, and if Josh is anywhere near as good-looking as Trent, I bet they had quite the female fan base in Seattle. I share a few stories of my own about Elizabeth and me. Most of my stories end up with me making an ass of myself and Lizzy being pissed. Trent finds this extremely sidesplitting. I'm glad I'm not the only one who finds her dramatic reactions comical.

I once dressed up like Lizzy for Halloween when I was eleven. I wore pearls, my grandmother's cardigan set, and a hideous pencil skirt. Let's just say her reaction was less than enthusiastic. She was furious. The costume was pretty damn accurate though, if I do say so myself. Lizzy never left the house in anything but conservative cardigan sets and prim-and-proper skirts.

I'm not really sure how she landed her husband. I guess he gets off on the Lizzy-look. It's a cross between "my husband is running for a presidential campaign" and "I'm the school librarian." It's hard to believe a sixteen-year-old girl was dressing like that in high school, but that's honestly Lizzy. Conservative, prim-and-proper, prudish Lizzy. If my parents weren't so head-over-heels in love with each other, I would strongly entertain the idea of me being the mailman's kid.