Read Online Love Starts with Elle by Rachel Hauck - Free Book Online
Authors: Rachel Hauck
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her alone in a strange place only to have her wake up with me beyond crying distance. I’ll sleep in the room with her. The floor suits me just fine.”
Elle draped the wet dish towel over the stove’s handle. “How would you feel if your wife or daughter let a stranger spend the night? Even a seemingly nice guy like yourself?”
“I don’t know, but I’m not leaving her.” Heath hesitated, then turned for the hall. “Thanks for your hospitality. I’ll find a hotel.”
Elle breathed in, checking her emotions with her thoughts before trailing after him. “Wait, Heath, don’t wake her.”
He gazed down at her, the hall light filtering through the ends of his winter-blond hair. “Look, I’m exhausted. I don’t want to debate this. I’ll find a place tonight until I can work this out with Marsha.”
“I called Marsha. She already confirmed your lease starts now.” Elle pointed up and to the left. “I have a studio over my garage. It used to be a guesthouse. I’ll sleep up there. You take my room. I suppose we can make do for a few weeks until my wedding.”
His hands slipped to his side. “Now I feel guilty. I can find a hotel for the night.”
“And then what? We still have tomorrow and the day after and the day after. You’ve paid fair and square. It’s not your fault we’re in this mess.”
“Yours either.” His low laugh brought the situation into true light. “Give me Marsha Downey’s address. I can go knock on her door, see if she has a spare room for the next month.”
Elle motioned to her room. “I’ll get my stuff together.”
Heath looked dubious. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
In her bathroom, Elle packed up her toiletries. Heath’s surprise arrival had jerked her out of her mental swirl.
When she came out from the bedroom, he was waiting on the couch, barely awake. “I left you a couple of good towels and put clean sheets on the bed. Tomorrow, I’ll clear out more clothes.”
He rose. “I feel like a heel, putting you out.”
“Heath, you’ve actually done me a huge favor. Given me perspective. Sleep well. Hope your girl feels better in the morning.”
Elle jogged across the backyard, autodialing Jeremiah. Better let him know what’s up in case he called the house phone. But his voicemail answered and last week’s reality washed over Elle again as she clicked her phone closed and entered the stale, hot studio.
SIX
With the TV on but muted, Heath tapped his fingers over the keys of his laptop, his legs stretched to the coffee table. An overexposed brunette belted out a song on American Idol . The contest was down to the wire. Final twelve.
He rarely watched TV, but Ava had TiVoed Idol and he’d adopted her habit. Somehow watching people go for their dreams as he curled up on the couch with his wife hooked him.
Muted TV was fun TV. Effervescent Paula encouraged the singer by rocking back and forth, circling her hands as she spoke. The camera moved to Simon. Uh-oh. His expression told Heath the truth about the contestant.
Ava had wanted to be a singer or actress growing up, but when she went to college and joined the newspaper staff, a new ambition coursed through her veins. “I wanted to star with Brad Pitt and kiss him like crazy. Then I discovered Tom Brokaw.”
Her still-familiar laugh echoed up from the overgrown valleys of his heart. He didn’t bother to swish away the water in his eyes.
The opposite of Ava, Heath had never aspired to Hollywood-like fame. He wanted to live in the city, became a prosperous lawyer, bank his large annual bonus, take vacations and maybe drive a Maserati. And, of course, he also wanted to marry the gorgeous girl in his three-hundred-level poly-sci class.
Shoving the hot laptop off his leg, Heath slouched against the couch. How did all his aspiration now seem meaningless, if not cliché? Money purchased items like loneliness and heartache and packaged them in fancy cars and oversized bonuses.
What would he do
Elle draped the wet dish towel over the stove’s handle. “How would you feel if your wife or daughter let a stranger spend the night? Even a seemingly nice guy like yourself?”
“I don’t know, but I’m not leaving her.” Heath hesitated, then turned for the hall. “Thanks for your hospitality. I’ll find a hotel.”
Elle breathed in, checking her emotions with her thoughts before trailing after him. “Wait, Heath, don’t wake her.”
He gazed down at her, the hall light filtering through the ends of his winter-blond hair. “Look, I’m exhausted. I don’t want to debate this. I’ll find a place tonight until I can work this out with Marsha.”
“I called Marsha. She already confirmed your lease starts now.” Elle pointed up and to the left. “I have a studio over my garage. It used to be a guesthouse. I’ll sleep up there. You take my room. I suppose we can make do for a few weeks until my wedding.”
His hands slipped to his side. “Now I feel guilty. I can find a hotel for the night.”
“And then what? We still have tomorrow and the day after and the day after. You’ve paid fair and square. It’s not your fault we’re in this mess.”
“Yours either.” His low laugh brought the situation into true light. “Give me Marsha Downey’s address. I can go knock on her door, see if she has a spare room for the next month.”
Elle motioned to her room. “I’ll get my stuff together.”
Heath looked dubious. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
In her bathroom, Elle packed up her toiletries. Heath’s surprise arrival had jerked her out of her mental swirl.
When she came out from the bedroom, he was waiting on the couch, barely awake. “I left you a couple of good towels and put clean sheets on the bed. Tomorrow, I’ll clear out more clothes.”
He rose. “I feel like a heel, putting you out.”
“Heath, you’ve actually done me a huge favor. Given me perspective. Sleep well. Hope your girl feels better in the morning.”
Elle jogged across the backyard, autodialing Jeremiah. Better let him know what’s up in case he called the house phone. But his voicemail answered and last week’s reality washed over Elle again as she clicked her phone closed and entered the stale, hot studio.
SIX
With the TV on but muted, Heath tapped his fingers over the keys of his laptop, his legs stretched to the coffee table. An overexposed brunette belted out a song on American Idol . The contest was down to the wire. Final twelve.
He rarely watched TV, but Ava had TiVoed Idol and he’d adopted her habit. Somehow watching people go for their dreams as he curled up on the couch with his wife hooked him.
Muted TV was fun TV. Effervescent Paula encouraged the singer by rocking back and forth, circling her hands as she spoke. The camera moved to Simon. Uh-oh. His expression told Heath the truth about the contestant.
Ava had wanted to be a singer or actress growing up, but when she went to college and joined the newspaper staff, a new ambition coursed through her veins. “I wanted to star with Brad Pitt and kiss him like crazy. Then I discovered Tom Brokaw.”
Her still-familiar laugh echoed up from the overgrown valleys of his heart. He didn’t bother to swish away the water in his eyes.
The opposite of Ava, Heath had never aspired to Hollywood-like fame. He wanted to live in the city, became a prosperous lawyer, bank his large annual bonus, take vacations and maybe drive a Maserati. And, of course, he also wanted to marry the gorgeous girl in his three-hundred-level poly-sci class.
Shoving the hot laptop off his leg, Heath slouched against the couch. How did all his aspiration now seem meaningless, if not cliché? Money purchased items like loneliness and heartache and packaged them in fancy cars and oversized bonuses.
What would he do
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