Taming the Tycoon

The gash on his cheek hurt like hell.

Nate Archer traced his fingers over the fresh wound, and his fingers came away slightly sticky. Shame coiled in his belly as he padded barefoot into the shallows of Ruby Lake, scooping up handfuls of icy cold water to rinse the blood and sweat from his face.

He could see his buddy Chase’s house from here, could view the beams from flashlights already arcing through the treehouse where he and his best friends planned to spend the night.

Chase, Lucas, Gavin—none of them would comment on the cut on his cheek, the split in his lip, or the swelling around his eye. No, they wouldn’t say a word, but they would see it. And they would know that not only could bad-ass Nathan Archer not protect his mother, he couldn’t even keep himself safe from his asshole stepdad’s fists.

Nate straightened and waded out of the water, working his wet feet back into his black canvas Converse sneakers. Shielding his eyes against the last blaze of the fading sun, he looked back to the treehouse, to the shadows moving inside.

Part of him, a really big part, wanted just to take off. To run away from shitty small-town Ruby Beach and never return. The ache to escape the fucked-up circumstances of his life called to him, a seductive whisper that was almost impossible to ignore.

But he couldn’t. No matter how good it sounded, he just couldn’t run. Though he was always pissed off that his mom didn’t leave his stepdad and get them both the hell out of there, the fact remained that if Nate took off, Hannah Archer would have no one. The knowledge weighed him down as he trudged across the rocky beach to the fence and gate that surrounded Chase Marshall’s yard.

Standing with his hand on the gate, he stopped for a second, closed his eyes and listened to the familiar sounds of his three best friends. They’d been friends since eighth grade, were sixteen now, and as close as brothers.

If he left, they’d follow.

He wouldn’t ruin their lives by making them chase after him. So it seemed that for now at least, he was stuck.

Spirits slightly lifted by the laughter of his friends, Nate reached for the gate latch that he’d opened a thousand times over the years. Swinging open the heavy wood, he pushed through, then shouted when he collided with something solid.

“What the—” Nate reached out and grabbed hold of … a person, his grip landing on soft upper arms. The scent of ripe strawberries hit his nose, and he knew it was Ellie Marshall before he made out her features in the fading light.

“Shit!” The sunshiney blonde glared up at him, a finger reaching up to shove her thick plastic-framed glasses back up her nose. “Watch where you’re going, Nate!”

“Better not let your parents hear you talking like that, Blondie.” Nate arched an eyebrow at Chase’s baby sister, younger by two years, and much of his anger at his stepdad dissolved.

Especially when she saucily planted her hands on her hips and glared at him.

“Where’d you learn to talk like that, anyway?” he asked.

“From you and my dopey brother, duh.” Ellie hiked a thumb over her shoulder, gesturing in the direction of the treehouse. “Gavin and Lucas are already here, cackling over some magazine with boobs.”

“Ellie.” Nate wasn’t the type to get embarrassed by the female body. In fact, he was the first of his friends to have gotten his hands on a pair of tits, thanks to Janey Bloom, a girl in their class who liked to put out. But hearing Chase’s younger sister toss out the word so nonchalantly had the barest hint of a flush creeping into his cheeks. “Don’t talk like that.”

Ellie rolled blue eyes, the color of Ruby Lake on a bright summer day, then shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans, looking up at him. Nate squirmed a bit under the assessing glare. Yeah, he was the badass of Ruby Beach High, but he’d always felt like this smart girl could see right into him.

Ellie’s smirk died as she took in the cuts on his skin. She hissed in a breath, rising onto her toes with a hand outstretched to touch.

“What happened, Nate?” The tips of her fingers were cool on his heated skin. Though his instinct was to jerk away, instead he found comfort in the simple touch.

But only for a moment. Then the raucous laughter of his friends from up in their treehouse broke through the calm, and Nate jerked back from Ellie’s curious touch, the aching humiliation of his stepfather’s beating back in full force.

“None of your business.” He shrugged his shoulders with irritation, now doubly embarrassed because he’d found some comfort in the innocent caring of a kid. Worse, she was Chase’s little sister. “And don’t ask me to explain,” he said, anticipating her next response. “You’re too young to know.”

As he’d expected, Ellie bristled.

The truth was, at fourteen years old, she was the smartest, most mature person he knew, and that included all of the so-called adults in his life. But lately, he’d started having these weird dreams about her. Like, kissing dreams.

Nate liked kissing just fine, but again, she was Chase’s baby sister.

He didn’t even need a warning from his friend. He was warning himself. Hands off. He didn’t have to be told—he wasn’t good enough for her, and he never would be.

“You guys are such assholes.” Ellie narrowed her eyes at him, her slender fingers curling into fists. He felt exactly like what she called him, but instead of showing it, he smirked, nodding at her in dismissal.

And when that strawberry scent lingered in his nose as he walked away, then climbed the sturdy ladder to the treehouse, well, no one had to know but him.

“What’s up, bitches?” Wincing as the forced grin tugged on the cut in his lip, Nate swung himself through the trapdoor in the floor.

His body ached as he clambered through, taking his usual spot on top of the pile of sleeping bags in the treehouse, the word sounding super juvenile. The wooden structure perched in the sturdy oak tree was more like their fortress. The four of them had spent countless hours here over the years, and now that they were juniors in high school, it was still where they gathered to hide away from the adults and talk about important things. Mostly about sex.

Nate reached for the small cooler shoved into the corner and fished out a dripping can of Dr. Pepper. It wasn’t until he’d cracked open the lid that he realized how silent the others had become.

He looked up, glancing at each of them in turn. Chase, with the same blond hair and blue eyes as his sister, had grown up in a strong nuclear family. And even if his mother had a stick up her ass and a problem with Chase’s lower-class friends … Chase had a good life. He’d never known Nate’s kind of pain. Gavin was Nate’s partner in crime when it came to being bad, and Lucas was the one who hid his brains behind black clothing and an emo haircut, but neither of them had ever been beaten.

He knew each of them as well as he knew himself. And as he weighed their stares, he knew that this time they weren’t going to stay quiet.

“Dude.” Lucas ran a hand through hair dyed raven black. “Why does your mom stay with him?”

He didn’t ask why Nate stayed with his mom. They all already knew. They’d probably do the same for their own mothers.

“Dunno.” Nate shrugged, uncomfortable, even under the familiar stares of his best friends.

“When we were kids, your mom was awesome.” Gavin, the biggest of them all and star of the football team, frowned. “She would have done anything for you. So why is she letting Tom beat the shit out of you now?”

“I—” Nate swallowed thickly. Now that they were asking, it was hard to answer. “She used to be... different. She changed when she met Tom.”

Tom. The man who had charmed his mom with the attention she hadn’t received in years, not having dated since Nate’s real dad had died. But that sweet attention, the flowers, and fancy dinners and jewelry, had so gradually and insidiously changed into shouts and fists that it was hard to say when life went to shit.

Yeah, marriage to Tom had changed his mom. Had changed him. He was never going to make the same mistake. Nothing good could come from tying himself to one person forever.

“I’m never getting married.” The words came out more viciously that he’d intended, but none of the other guys appeared shocked.

In fact, as he watched he saw first Gavin, then Lucas, and finally Chase all nod in turn.

“I’m with you.” Gavin’s face looked like it was set in stone, but there was the barest hint of something in his eyes that told Nate that the other guy was serious. “Never.”

“Me, either.” Lucas, too, seemed determined.

And Nate felt... well, he felt a lot of things, most of which had to do with bonding with these guys he called his friends. They got it. They understood. A big lump rose in his throat, but he swallowed it back. He wouldn’t admit a thing. He wasn’t a freaking girl. “No marriage, no way. I don’t care how big her boobs are.”

They all snorted with laughter. Finally, Chase, well-adjusted Chase, held his hand out. “Let’s make a pact. All of us, we’ll remember this night. We’ll remind each other. Marriage is bad news.”

“Yeah.” Gavin nodded, placing his hand on top of Chase’s. “Let’s swear it. None of us will get married. Ever.”

“Are girlfriends okay?” Lucas held out his hand, then snatched it back. “‘Cause I’m not vowing to keep my dick in my pants forever, no matter what you old ladies think.”

Nate rolled his eyes.

“Girlfriends are fine.” Chase scowled at Lucas. “Just no rings. Are you in or not?”

Lucas nodded, contemplating, then placed his hand on top of the pile. “‘Kay, I’m in. No weddings here either.”

The three boys turned to look at Nate, whose throat felt strangely thick. This—this was what mattered. Friendship. It would last longer, be stronger than any stupid wedding.

Finally, slowly, he placed his hand on the very top of the pile. He felt strength emanating from the heat of his friends—they were stronger together. They always had been.

“No weddings,” he agreed, his mood as solemn as the words he spoke.

“Never.”

The curvy redhead pulled a pair of sheer stockings up her shapely legs, and Nate did his best to enjoy the view. He wasn’t sure what it said about him that all he could muster was a lukewarm reaction to the woman sitting on his bed.

She caught him looking and grinned, making a deliberately seductive show as she stood, sliding her feet into high-heeled pumps that brought the top of her head level with his eyes. Nate forced his face into a flirtatious smile, but he just wasn’t feeling any of the usual sensual pleasure that should be present.

“Get your thoughts out of the gutter.” Tapping a scarlet-tipped finger against his chest, Addison, the woman currently warming his bed, reached for her designer purse. A stack of his unopened mail sat on the polished table in his entryway, beside the sleek leather bag, and she plucked a heavy cream-colored envelope from the top of the pile.

“You should open this. Looks important.” She handed the large envelope over, then started to dig in her purse, muttering about putting her keys in a special place. Nate was only too happy to turn his attention away from the lack of sexual desire to the heavy paper in his hand.

It was addressed to him, lettered in ornate script that, in his opinion, was barely legible through all the loops and curves. His appreciation for the change of subject disappeared as he realized what was inside. Hell, he’d been avoiding thinking about it since he’d gotten the call from Chase a few months ago. Still, he couldn’t ignore the return address that had strange feelings churning in his stomach.

Chase Marshall and Meredith Olsen 7 Scarlett Way Ruby Beach, WA 98227

With fingers that suddenly felt thick, Nate tore open the envelope and pulled out a slender stack of elegant-looking paper. Several of the smaller pieces fluttered to the floor as he held the largest card, foreboding making his stomach turn.

Together with their families, Meredith Elizabeth Olsen and Chase Nicholas Marshall Request the honor of your presence at their marriage.

Marriage.

“Son of a bitch.” Nate stared at the piece of paper, his insides chilling as though he was standing outside in the dead of winter. Yes, Chase had been dating Meredith for a couple of years, and yes, Chase had asked Nate to be a groomsman, but he’d thought if he put the matter out of his head, the day of reckoning would never come.

A streak of probably unreasonable betrayal stabbed into his gut. What about their vow? Yeah, they’d made it fifteen years ago, but they’d reaffirmed it all the way through college and in the years since. Although not recently. He was forced to admit he’d lost touch with his best friends … his brothers, but he’d been busy building the Archer Hotel empire. A twist of guilt added to the mix of emotions churning inside him. He had no excuse good enough for avoiding the guys.

And deep down, he knew that the strength of his reaction wasn’t really about some vow made when they were kids. No, it was because all he’d been able to think about since finding out about the wedding was her.

“Ooh, a wedding?” Addison peered over the edge of the invitation, reading it upside down. Casting a glance at the papers on the floor, she nudged one with the toe of her shoe. “And it looks like you’re a groomsman, too. Need a date?” she asked.

Nate swore to himself, and as Addison’s words sank in, he slowly raised his head to look her in the eye. “A... date?”

She averted her eyes, and he mentally grimaced. It was time, he thought. Past time. Catching her by her shoulder, he tugged gently until she looked back up at him.

“Addison, what do you think this is?” he asked carefully.

“Relax, I wasn’t proposing marriage.” She pasted a bright, clearly fake smile on her face and patted him on the cheek, pretending not to be hurt in the least. “See you later.”

Nate groaned out loud, watching those long legs walk out the door, probably for the last time.

He’d been in this position too many times to count. Except this time, he thought he’d picked correctly, believing he and Addison agreed on sharing some good, no-strings-attached fun. Great sex without any of the obligations that came with commitment. Hell, Addison had been the first to say that she didn’t want a relationship, he thought, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

Looked like she’d changed her mind. And though Nate had been perfectly clear from the start, knowing that didn’t erase the jagged discomfort caused by hurting her feelings. But wasn’t it better to let her go than to lead her on when his head was full of someone else?

He could still coax a response from his body when it came to Addison, or to any sexy woman, for that matter. But somewhere along the way, he’d stopped enjoying the lifestyle he’d so carefully cultivated since taking that vow with his best friends. He could pinpoint the moment he’d stopped savoring the freedom and lack of commitment. From the time he’d heard Chase was getting married—and realized he’d be seeing Ellie again.

The invitation still clutched in his hands, Nate thought back to the last time he’d seen Chase’s sister. He’d been eighteen, and he and Chase had been headed off to college. Of course, he’d been sporting a fresh bruise on his temple, courtesy of his stepdad, but at least this time he’d managed to inflict a few marks of his own.

When he’d stopped by the Marshall house to pick up Chase, his car packed full of boxes, sixteen-year-old Ellie had answered the door. As always, the cornflower blue eyes behind their thick-rimmed glasses missed nothing. She’d immediately noticed his wounds and her pretty eyes radiated pain on his behalf.

She was the only female in the world who seemed to see past the cocky image he’d built for himself of the tattooed bad boy—the only one who cared about how he felt inside. And it was that even more than the way her little tank top clung to her ripening curves, that had him aching for her in ways that would cause her brother to kick his ass. That would cause him to kick his own ass.

And then Chase joined them outside, yelling at his sister to put some clothes on. Nate and Ellie had both slipped back into the roles that they played outside of those rare moments of connection—he the brooding big man off to college, and her, with her smirks and smart mouth, giving hell to her brother. Jesus, even at sixteen she’d been sexy, and he’d liked her—a dangerous combination.

She was off-limits for so many reasons. Even if she weren’t Chase’s little sister, Chase would kill him for even thinking about touching innocent Ellie with the dominance that he craved during sex. Plus, even though he could only admit it way deep down inside, the opinion of Chase’s family, of the town, echoed inside his head. He came from a broken, white-trash background and he was beneath her. She was all that was good and right with the world. And he’d rather die than dim her light.

In the years since, Nate had clung wholeheartedly to that anti-marriage vow, throwing himself into a string of emotionless relationships—and thanks to the press and the damn gossip mill, he was a well-known playboy. It hadn’t been hard to stay true to the promise, the image, not when the only woman he wanted was out of reach. And he knew he’d never give in to love, not while he had breath in his lungs. He couldn’t. His fear of the long-term was too shaky, his lack of trust in women too ingrained.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t wait to see Ellie Marshall again.

***

Closing the door behind her with more force than necessary, Eleanor Marshall tossed her duffel bag to the floor and flopped face first onto the hotel room bed.

“Ow!” She quickly sat up again, rubbing her cheek and adjusting her plastic framed glasses.

The bed, while wide, was hard as a rock, the duvet the color of a bruised peach and made of a cheap synthetic material that pulled at the skin.

“Figures,” Ellie muttered as she pulled off her eyeglasses and rubbed at her temples.

This day had gone wrong from the start.

Running a hand tentatively over the cheap bedspread, she contemplated ‘accidentally’ sleeping through her brother Chase’s rehearsal dinner... and she was only half joking.

“Come on, Ellie. Order some coffee, brush your hair, and get dressed. You have sisterly duties tonight.” After everything it had taken to get to the small town of Ruby Beach, in Washington’s Olympic National Park, she was damn well going to paste on a smile and wish Chase and Meredith well.

Even if her own love life had crashed and burned, quite spectacularly, at eight forty-two that morning. A glutton for punishment, Ellie worked her iPhone out of the pocket of her wool pants. She already knew what the words said—had read them over every time she’d had a chance throughout the day—but she still couldn’t help doing it one more time.

TEXT:

To: Dr. Eleanor Marshall From: Dr. Miles Karim Message: Ellie, I need some space. I think we both know this isn’t working. I feel like we’ve been together for years... and we’ve only been dating for five months. I need some excitement, both in and out of the bedroom, and despite our many talks on the subject, it’s not getting any better. Sorry to break things off this way, but I made the decision last night, and thought it was best to let you know right away.

He needed some excitement, both in and out of the bedroom. Right. Dark clouds of frustration and the requisite tears welled up as Ellie read the text yet again. She’d tried to make things good between them... especially in the bedroom.

Miles had been good-looking enough, with tasty golden skin, dark mocha eyes, thick black hair, and a health club fit body. Despite all that, he’d never been able to make her feel more than lukewarm between the sheets, and though she’d wanted more—so much more—her body hadn’t responded in kind.

“Argh!” Standing, Ellie grabbed one of the hideous fringed pillows from the head of the bed and hurled it across the room.

There. That felt a little better.

She was not frigid, damn it.

Nor was this breakup all her fault. She was smart, wasn’t she? She was a well-respected optometrist who had run her own successful Seattle practice for the last three years. She was responsible. Though she didn’t typically work on Friday afternoons, an elderly patient had called her emergency line right after she’d closed for the day, complaining about seeing a bright flash of light followed by a curtain across her vision. The symptoms indicated a potential retinal detachment, something that needed to be treated right away, and though Ellie had needed to get on the road for the wedding, she’d taken a look before referring the patient for an emergency appointment with an ophthalmologist.

She wasn’t some weak, whiny woman, either. She was capable. When her car had broken down on the freeway five miles from the lodge, she hadn’t gone into hysterics. She had simply sighed, called Triple A, then, with a glance at the ever forward-moving minute hand of her watch, had slung her duffel bag over her shoulder and hiked the rest of the way. In the snow. Her sensible shoes had finally served a purpose.

Smart. Responsible. Capable. Yep, there was a recipe for an exciting woman in the bedroom.