The Infamous Ellen James (Infamous Series) (18 page)

“Son of a bitch!”

Trent laughs at my amateur display of terrible golf skills and attempts to help me with some "hands-on" assistance. He is standing behind me with his chest to my back, his hands over my hands, as I grasp my golf club. He's giving me step-by-step instructions of the proper way to hold a club and all I'm thinking about is him pressing his cock into my ass.

“Are you even listening to me right now?” He whispers roughly into my ear.

“Uh, no. I'm completely distracted by the close proximity of your dick,” I whisper back to him with my eyes closed. Trent grabs my hips and pulls me tighter against his body and I nearly shiver at the feel of him pressed hard against me.

“
This
is distracting you?” I can hear a smile in his voice.

“God dammit, Casanova. Now
you're
killing
me
.” He throws his head back in riotous laughter, which only causes him to press his pelvis into my ass even harder.

“All right, Dr. Thrust Me. You have to stop this or I'll make you finger-bang me out here on the golf course in front of everyone.” Now Trent and James are both laughing at my absurd outburst about inappropriate public displays of affection.

Trent steps back from me and instructs me to do my worst, which I do.

“FOORRRRRRE!” All three of us yell as my ball heads towards a small group of spectators standing off to the side of the course.

“Nice work, asshead!” Amy shouts from the golf cart.

“Come on out here and show us your spectacular golfing skills!” I roar back to her.

Amy attempts her first round and, to my extreme satisfaction, screws up just as badly as I did. Trent and James are seriously in for it. Trent might be willingly cutting off his left nut just to put himself out of misery by the end of this.

We continue on to the next several holes with James and Trent neck and neck. Surgeons are notoriously competitive, and I'm coming to find out that this even includes golf charity functions. Amy and I, on the other hand, are lucky if we keep the stupid ball on the course. We decide to take turns yelling, “Fore!” for each other, since it's become that much of an occurrence.

I'm generally competitive and get extremely frustrated when I'm not doing well at something, but the combination of beer and tequila has made me completely carefree. I'm taking the fact that I blow ass at golf quite well, considering that I would normally be screaming profanities at this point in the game. Trent and James keep us laughing with hilarious sexual innuendos and highly inappropriate banter.
Constantly
.

I think Amy may have met her match with James. He's sarcastic, hilarious, and as quick-witted as she is. They seem to be getting cozier together by the minute. As I head to tee off for the ninth hole, I notice James put his arm around Amy's shoulders and whisper something into her ear. She giggles loudly and can't contain the huge grin on her face. That's when I know he's got her. Whenever Amy starts giggling around a guy, she wants that guy. This is her tell, her little sign of approval when she is attracted to someone. No one else would probably pick up on it, but I know my Amy almost as well as I know myself, so I definitely do not miss it.

"Are you going to tee off or just watch those two flirt with each other?" Trent asks with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"You were noticing that too?" I set my ball on the tee and prepare to showcase my horrible swing.

"I am, and honestly, I think they'd be perfect for each other."

"Shhhhhhhh!" I whisper-yell to Trent as I prepare to tee off. "Can't you see the soon-to-be professional golfer preparing to stroke her ball into that pond over there?" I grin at him and then prove that professional and golfer will never be used in the same sentence to describe me.

"I'll give you something to stroke, smartass." Trent takes my club from my hands and wraps his arm around my waist as we head back towards the cart. I attempt to give Trent a serious look of disapproval, but my mouth betrays me. I can't help the chuckle that escapes my throat and the look of amusement that shines from my eyes. Trent is a pistol, and his sense of humor is something I truly enjoy. There really is nothing like a man who can make you laugh, and Trent Hamilton makes me laugh. All. The. Time.

James and Amy are quite the comfy little pair in the cart, and I grin at her like a lovesick idiot.

"Stop smiling at me like that. It's creeping me out." Amy is curiously gauging my reaction to her and James sitting next to each other. He's holding her hand and gently rubbing his thumb along her knuckles as they talk quietly about something. She looks so happy in this moment. I just slightly shake my head and chuckle at her before taking my place in the front seat next to Trent as we head over to the next hole.

We're finally nearing the end of our anything but ordinary golf outing. Amy and I have consumed enough alcohol to tranquilize an elephant.

Does that make any sense?

Sure it does. Everything makes sense after you've been drinking for several hours straight. Trent and James were tied throughout most of the game, but my sexy man managed to pull out the win by a few strokes. Amy and I demanded that they stop keeping track of our scores because it was a huge waste of time. She quit after the ninth hole, and I managed to lose a disturbing amount of golf balls throughout the course. My voice is actually hoarse from yelling, “Fore!” after every shot.

I'm definitely more of a mini-putt kind of girl.

Trent and James take us back to the country club where we will have a nice sit-down meal with everyone at the event. Amy is overwhelmingly giggly and clingy at the moment, and I'm concerned of the possible scenarios that could occur during this meal. My fingers and toes are crossed while I simultaneously pray that she manages to keep her shit together and not act like a boozed-up idiot in front of our coworkers. This, I know, is a shot in the dark, but I'm trying to keep a positive perspective on the situation. Luckily, James seems to be handling her pretty well at the moment. He keeps her laughing while concurrently managing to keep her from yelling drunken obscenities at everyone we pass. That's kind of her thing—the "I'm going to yell incomprehensible words of drunkenness at you" thing. Don't ask me why. It just is.

"Trent, I'm going to head to the restroom for a moment. Mind keeping an eye out?" I nod my head towards an unsuspecting Amy. Trent just gestures a
yes
in return as he asks that adorable boy from earlier, Jailbait, to put the clubs in his truck.

As I walk under the elegant awning that encompasses the clubhouse, I notice my ex-fiancé, John, standing near the front doors. He's having an animated conversation with Veronica. Yes,
that
Veronica, or Loose-Lips McGee as I warmly enjoy calling her.

Normally this situation would have my chest hurting and bile rising from my stomach, but I'm relieved to not feel overwhelmed by those feelings. The feelings of heartache and anger—the very feelings that nearly ate me alive only a few short months ago. I know that this has everything to do with Trent. He's been more than just a pleasant surprise; he's the surprise of a lifetime. He's like the winning lottery ticket, Olympic gold medal, and Nobel Prize wrapped up in one beautiful package with a giant red bow.

Can I pass that last comment off as the alcohol?

Yeah…didn't think so.

The feelings I have for him are overwhelming but in a wonderful, amazing, fan-fucking-tastic kind of way. Am I getting close to being able to say I'm in love with him? Maybe. The only thing that is holding me back is the fear I have. The fear that I'm falling too fast. The fear of letting myself jump head first and him not being able to catch me. What John did to me was devastating, heart-crushing even, but what Trent could do to me… I don't think I could survive something like that.

I continue to walk past John and Veronica, and I can't help but notice their discussion is actually an argument. This argument seems to be slightly heated for this type of occasion. I'm surprised that John is even allowing this conversation to occur and risk other people overhearing them. He is all about appearances and maintaining a perfect persona.

I feel his eyes on me as I head in towards the bathroom but maintain my composure and avoid making eye contact. I know this is for the best. Maybe someday I'll actually be on speaking terms with him, but we are a long way off from that. Our best bet is to continue living our lives and moving forward. We are no longer a part of each other anymore.

As I'm washing my hands and attempting to fix my hair a little in the mirror, I see Veronica burst in through the bathroom doors and lock herself in one of the stalls. Tears were streaming down her face and she was visibly upset by whatever conversation had occurred between her and John. I feel a little bad for her—
just a little
—but I really don't think it's my place to ask her what's wrong. I figure I'll let one of her close friends know she's in here and encourage them to go check on her.

I mean, at least I'm nice enough to do that, right?

It's not like I owe her anything. She did bang my fiancé—in my bed. I think that kind of gives me a free pass in terms of not being responsible for giving her a shoulder to cry on.

I walk out of the restroom and notice John leaning against the wall with an annoyed look on his face. He looks stressed and slightly older. His eyes aren't as bright as they used to be. He starts to smile at me but then thinks better of it.

"Hey, Elle. How are you?" He is looking at me with caution, almost like he's afraid I'm going to go off on a rampage.

"Hi, John. I'm great. How are you?" I lean on the wall next to him and give him a friendly smile.

"You look great, Elle. Really, you do. I've been better." His expression is sad and slightly off. His attempt at showing happiness isn't all that successful.

"Thanks. You look stressed. I hope your night gets better." I pat him gently on the shoulder and realize that touching him no longer evokes any type of intimate feelings within me. Contact with him doesn't seem to bring out any type of emotion from me. Being close to him, talking to him doesn't remind me of the past. It just allows me to open my heart up to the future, to the possibilities of finding the right relationship, the right person to spend the rest of my life with.

"Thanks." He hesitates for a minute, looking down at his shoes, and then glances back up at me. "So you're making a go of it with Trent?" He's waiting for my reaction. He's trying to figure out just how serious Trent and I are.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. Trent and I are definitely making a go of it." I can't help the grin that spreads across my face with the mention of Trent's name from my lips. John frowns slightly and runs his fingers through his tousled brown hair, frustration radiating off of him.

"That's really great, Elle. I guess it's time I started to move on, huh? I guess it's time I realized that I made the single biggest mistake of my life and there's no way you'll ever take me back." He pauses for a moment and takes a shuddering breath. "Ellie, I just want you to be happy. I really hope you're happy." John's eyes are filled with tears as he steps toward me and kisses my forehead softly before walking away.

I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding and lean back against the wall.

Did I just hallucinate that entire conversation?

I'm unknowingly shaking my head and sighing in what seems to be relief. Relief that John has realized it's time to move on, relief that we were able to have a civil discussion without one of us yelling, and most of all, relief that even with his admission of still wanting me, I am one hundred percent certain that I am over John Ryan. He no longer owns my heart.

Someone else has my heart now. Someone who walked into my life at a very unexpected yet perfect moment. Someone who makes me laugh and smile, and someone who has my pulse racing at just the thought of his lips pressed against mine. Someone who embraces me for everything I am—even the flaws. Trent doesn't put me down or try to change me. He seems to like Elle just the way she is.

I lightly touch my lips with my index finger as I reminisce about the last time Trent kissed me; I can still feel his warm, supple mouth on mine.

My face is beaming as I glance up to see Trent walking towards me. His blue eyes are tender and taking me in. His demeanor is sweet and loving as he flashes a grin in my direction. Trent comes up beside me and pulls me in for a gentle hug. My cheek is pressed against his chest as I inhale his scent. He's sweet and spicy with an undertone of sexiness. Like ginger, cedar, and clean laundry all rolled into one.

"Are you sniffing me?" Trent laughs into my hair.

"Yes, I'm sniffing you. I could just sit here and sniff you all day long. You're like a combination of Christmas, sex, and rugged, manly hotness."

Trent starts to laugh harder as he pulls me in tighter.

"God, you crack my ass up, little spitfire." He leans back and looks into my eyes, gently brushing strands of my auburn hair out of my face. "Do you realize how much you make me laugh? You're so damn adorable and yet, you manage to be ridiculously sexy at the same. Do you even know how much you turn me on? I've been walking around in a constant state of blue balls since the other night when our date was interrupted."

I stand up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his. "You're making me fall in love with you."

Did I really say that? Fuck, I said that, didn't I?

I close my eyes in anticipation of Trent's response. Alcohol sure has a way of making me lay out all of my feelings.

Fucking feelings.

Stupid, fucking feelings and my stupid emotional inner monologues…

"Open your eyes, Ellie." Trent's husky voice and sweet breath washes over me. I slowly open my eyes and the expression on his face nearly knocks me on my ass.

He's beautiful.

His face is warm and embracing every part of me. He's drinking me in with every blink of his eyes, almost like…like he feels the exact same way. He looks like he's falling hard, too—falling faster than he has ever fallen before.