An Unlikely Match. Arlene James
had driven Ellie’s unhappy grandmother into bitterness and her spoiled mother into paroxysms of self-pity.
Ellie had soon learned that just as she could not depend on her mother or grandmother to help her through her father’s loss, neither could she make up for his absence, so she had clung to her good-natured grandfather. Not yet thirteen when her querulous grandmother had suddenly died, Ellie had naturally turned to him for support and comfort during their mutual time of grief, and that, her mother had declared before packing up and disappearing, was just where she belonged.
Her mother’s abandonment had hurt, but leaving Ellie with her grandfather was perhaps the greatest kindness that Sonia had ever given her daughter. Ellie owed so much to that wonderful old man. For years, he had bravely smiled in the face of criticism and coldness from his wife. He had been as devastated as she by their son’s passing, perhaps more so, but somewhere along the way, Kent Monroe had learned to make his own happiness. He had taught Ellie to do the same. Just once, though, Ellie wanted her grandfather to actually have his heart’s desire, and she wasn’t about to apologize for that, not even to Ash, who had obviously allowed his own disappointment to warp his judgment about such things.
Pushing through a heavy glass door, Ellie stepped out onto the sidewalk of the downtown square that framed the Buffalo Creek courthouse. Pausing to toss on her jacket, she spied Lance Ripley coming toward her.
She had done her best to avoid Lance after their date on Valentine’s Day. It was not an easy task. As coworkers, they taught in the same building, but while she loved teaching and enjoyed children, Lance, she had discovered, despised both. He had told her bluntly that he would continue to teach only until one of his unlikely inventions sold, the latest of which was a backpack containing an air bag. Ellie shuddered at the idea of school hallways filled with exploding air bags as children did what came naturally, bumping, shoving and jabbing each other.
Lance called out to her even as she quickly turned in the opposite direction. “Ellie!”
Sighing inwardly, she resigned herself and put on a smile before slowly facing him. He strode up to her, hunching inside his rumpled trench coat. His tall frame seemed to fold in upon itself as if unable to support the shock of wheat-blond hair that sprouted from his scalp, too thick to part or comb down without a proper styling. One of those men who could have been truly handsome with just a bit of attention to the details of grooming, he had once struck her as a bundle of possibilities. Now, he represented every dating disappointment she’d ever experienced.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” The pale blue eyes that pinned her from beneath the line of a shaggy unibrow seemed oddly calculating, but she forced a tight smile anyway.
“Hello, Lance. I’ve been, um, busy.”
“Not too busy for me, though, I’m sure,” he insisted, sliding an arm across her shoulders.
Ellie stepped aside, frowning at his familiarity. They’d shared a single date, for pity’s sake, and she’d regretted it long before their dinners had arrived. He’d asked her out a full week in advance, and she’d been happy to accept. She’d dressed carefully, twisting up her hair and donning one of her favorite dresses, only to find that he hadn’t even bothered to make reservations. After driving all over town, they’d wound up eating burgers in a joint frequented primarily by loud teenagers while he droned on and on about his invention. She’d avoided his good-night kiss after that and his calls ever since.
“Actually,” she told him, “this is not a good time. I’ve got to run. Sorry.” She attempted to step away, but his hand shot out and fastened around her arm.
“Now, hang on,” he said, frowning.
Ellie glanced around meaningfully, but Lance seemed not to realize that they were on the verge of a very public scene. “Please let go of me.”
“You’ve been avoiding me for the past week or more,” he accused, as if she had not realized that fact, “and I want to talk.”
“Lance, I don’t have time for this,” she began firmly, but he cut her off.
“Those old ladies you live with, the Chatams, they might be interested in investing in my safety pack. I didn’t get a chance to meet them last time, so I thought I could come by sometime soon and do that.”
He’d picked her up at Chatam House for their date. Thankfully, the Chatam sisters had been out at the time; otherwise, he might have hit them up for investment funds right then and there! Alarmed to think that he would try to use their tenuous connection to importune the Chatams, Ellie glared up at him.
“Absolutely not! My grandfather and I are just guests at Chatam House. We’ve only been here for a couple of weeks. I wouldn’t feel comfortable having my own company come over.”
“Huh,” he said, as if the niceties of such things had never occurred to him. “But I’m not really company. We’re dating.”
“No, Lance, we’re not,” she stated flatly, drawing herself up straight. “And I really have to go.”
Scowling, he gave her arm a shake. At that precise moment, Asher pushed through the door of the building and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Barely glancing at Lance Ripley, he walked over, calmly took Ellie’s arm in his, breaking Lance’s grasp, and turned her toward her grandfather’s pharmacy.
“Excuse us,” he said over his shoulder, propelling her down the sidewalk. “Mr. Monroe is waiting.”
Stunned, Ellie glanced back at Lance. He brought his hands to his hips and glowered but did not seem inclined to follow. “I’ll phone you,” he called, as if that alone would prompt her to take his calls when she had not done so thus far.
“You can try,” she muttered, swinging her smile up at Asher. She couldn’t help a tiny thrill of appreciation. It really was rather gallant, the way he had swooped in and swept her away.
My hero, she thought with a melodramatic, inward sigh. If only she could believe he’d meant something personal by it. But of course, given his feelings about romance, that was out of the question. Entirely.
Chapter Four
Of all the stupid, ill-advised things to do! Asher scolded himself sternly, all but shoving Ellie Monroe along at his side. He glanced down at her worshipful gaze and inwardly groaned. If he was not mistaken, the girl had a crush on him already, and he had just added fuel to that fire. Nothing could come of it, of course. He was old enough to be…well, fifteen years her senior.
A decade and a half.
Good grief, he’d been learning to drive when she was born! But did that stop him from riding to her rescue like a knight of old? Nooo.
Yet, what else could he have done? He had come down the stairs intending to turn to the back of the building and walk right out into the alley where, as usual, he had parked his SUV. Then he’d caught sight of Ellie and that man through the front glass. Within moments, Asher had realized that the idiot had put his hands on her and that she was not particularly welcoming the familiarity. He hadn’t really thought at all after that. Before he’d even known what he intended to do, he was doing it.
“One of your ‘first dates,’ I assume?” Asher muttered.
“A first and only date,” she answered.
“He seemed anxious for a repeat performance.”
“But not for the reason you may think.”
“Oh?”
“He wants your aunts to invest in one of his inventions.”
Asher stopped short of the corner and looked down at her. “Inventions?”
“A backpack with an air bag.” He blinked slowly at that. She made an expression somewhere between a grimace and a grin. “To guard against pedestrian accidents.”
“Pedestrian accidents,” he muttered, shaking his head. Glancing back over his shoulder, he