Accidentally on Purpose (Heartbreaker Bay #3)(54)

Feeling like a jerk, Elle let go and nodded. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”

“No, that was on point.” Morgan met Elle’s gaze. “You’ve got every reason to err on the side of caution with me. I get it, Elle. I really do. But people change. Look at you, for instance—family used to mean everything to you. There was a time you’d have done whatever you could to keep us together.”

“We weren’t ever a real family.”

“Yeah,” Morgan said as she stood up. “I know. I’m just saying, people change, including you. In fact, you’ve changed a whole hell of a lot.” She tossed some money onto the bar and walked out.

“Morgan,” Elle said. “Wait.”

But she didn’t. Watching her go, Elle drew a deep breath and before she could let it out, Spence slid onto the stool Morgan had just vacated.

“Am I crazy, or did I just see you and your doppelganger sitting together?”

“That was my sister.”

Spence lifted a brow. “The elusive Morgan Wheaton?”

“The one and only. Long story.”

“I love long stories,” he said.

So Elle told him what Morgan wanted, leaving out most of their wretched past. She loved Spence, she loved all her friends as if they were family, but no one knew the whole story.

Well, except Archer.

Spence was quiet a moment. “You don’t think she’s good for it this time? You think nothing’s changed?”

Elle hesitated and then shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Spence nodded slowly. “And I’m guessing you’ve been burned by her in the past.”

Elle lifted a shoulder.

“Yeah, you have, and I’m guessing you’re worried you’re wrong about her this time.”

“Yes,” she said softly.

Spence slung an arm around her and kissed her on the top of her head. “What does your gut say?”

“That I’m a bitch.” Elle resisted the urge to burrow in and pretend her life wasn’t in complete uproar. She wanted her calm quiet back. But she managed a smile. “I like to stick with what I’m good at.”

Spence smiled back but his eyes said he was onto her. “I don’t know, Elle. If you were such a bitch, you wouldn’t be giving this the time of day; instead you’re sitting here hoping she proves herself.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“Isn’t it?”

Yeah, she supposed that’s exactly what she was doing. She wasn’t big on trust and Morgan would be the first to tell her that was wise. Hell, it’d taken her an entire year to trust Archer.

And look how that had turned out . . .

“I know you hired me because Archer asked you to,” she said, and then she grimaced. She’d meant to finesse that statement but it was too late now.

Spence looked confused. “What are you talking about? Archer didn’t ask me to hire you.”

“Then how did you end up with me in the pool for the position?”

“I started out with a headhunter,” he said. “Your resume came to me in a stack of a hundred others. Getting them down to the top ten nearly killed me. Archer helped.” He paused and gave her a quiet look of speculation. “And yeah, he recommended you personally but I made the final decision on my own. The truth is, once I met you, I knew you were the only one for the job.”

Okay, that didn’t seem nearly as intrusive as she’d imagined.

Finn brought them a tray of sliders and fries. They dug in for a few long minutes before Spence got a text. He snorted, responded, and put his phone away.

“What?” she asked.

He slid her a look and said nothing.

Annoying alphas. “What?”

“Caleb wants to know if he should bother trying again.”

“And you said?” she inquired, brow raised, not sure she knew what she wanted the answer to be.

“I said that we’re not in high school and he could figure it out for himself. Although I should’ve told him not to bother because you’re all sorts of screwed up.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You are.”

“Don’t start,” she said.

“Then you don’t start,” he said seriously, putting down a French fry—which meant he was very serious indeed. He blew out a sigh, muttered something about hating being forced to discuss feelings, and then looked at her. “Okay, so you’re you, which means you’re going to bury your heart deep and you’re going to continue to wear that ice shield you’re so fond of. Poor Archer probably doesn’t know what hit him.”

“Poor Archer?” she asked in disbelief. “Poor Archer is a big boy.” A very big boy . . . “He plays by his own rules and anyway neither of us even has a copy of the rules. So trust me, Spence, he’s not the one who’s going to get hurt here. He probably has them lined up.”

“Are you talking about other women?”

“No, I’m talking about kittens and rainbows!” she said, exasperated. “Yes, I’m talking about women!”

Spence blinked at her unusual vehemence. “Elle there’s been no other women for him, not in a long time. A year, in fact.”