Classic Novel
36
If Chandler was a hunter, pulling back on his bow, then Elena was the deer about to bolt into the safety of the trees.
Before she could move a single muscle to do exactly that, “Do what?” he asked with a frown.Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.
Elena grinned because she clearly thought he was an idiot, Chandler thought. “Mark your territory,” she replied, “Or whatever the fuck it’s called when you men do things like this. It’s not necessary, besides, he’s your dad,”
He tucked his hands into his pants pockets. Maybe it would make him appear non-threatening or some bullshit. “I know that… Which is why I don’t want you getting close to him…. Before he finds a way to…. I don’t know… Turn you against me, I guess,”
She blinked rapidly, “That’s not possible,” she answered slowly.
Under the lights of the hallway, her hair gleamed. Her cheeks were pink, and she needed to touch up her lipstick, but damn if he didn’t want to mess it up just a little bit more.
“What’d you two talk about, love?”
Vaguely, Elena gestured to the photograph next to her, one of many lining the hallway. The one in front of them was really depressing, if you asked him, and he’d never paid any attention to it, but they’d certainly been staring at it like it was a freaking Van Gogh.
“That’s it?” he asked.
Elena chewed on her lip as she studied the image again. Ahh. She was nervous to answer. Everything about this was strange, and inside the safety of his tux pockets, Chandler found his thumb drumming a rapid beat against his thigh as he tried to figure this woman out. Every woman, from the age of four to ninety-four, was a puzzle. Some were easier to put together, with better guides of what went where, and some were a bit tougher to assess. Honestly, he loved that about women. The beautiful variety of each one came in the pieces that you clicked into place. And Elena, with her pink dress and dark hair and brown eyes, was as intriguing of a puzzle as he’d seen in a long, long time.
“That’s it Chandler,” she told him, “I kinda like your dad though,” She noticed that the skin around his mouth had tightened a bit, and his eyes had lost some of the spark. This was hard on him,
“Well, that’s good for the both of you then,” he said, although his tone suggested that he wasn’t really fine with the development.
Her head tilted. “How old were you when your dad married Laura?”
Chandler looked away, “Seven… Eight… What does it matter? Look, Elena, it’s annoying enough being back here and I don’t want to make it worse by talking about stuff like this. Do you still want the tour of the damn house or do you want to stand here talking about shit that doesn’t matter?”
Elena didn’t want to upset him further, so she nodded, “Fine. Let’s have that tour, but I’ll ask any questions I want and you have to answer them with out being a grumpy, old man.
She laughed at his expression at being called a grumpy old man and started to walk away, clearly expecting him to join her, and he looked away so that she didn’t catch him checking out her ass, but come on, he was already struggling to keep his hands off her. Her peals of laughter were so damn adorable, he’d probably let her throw a concrete block at his head if he could hear them all night.
“Shit,” he muttered as he followed her. He was in trouble with this one, and he knew exactly why. His lifestyle didn’t lend itself to being around women like Elena. He knew a lot of chicks who were beautiful, strong and badass, and he counted plenty of them as friends but Elena was different. Smart, sweet, no-nonsense, and way, way too good for him. She checked every box on the hypothetical list that he never paid too much attention to in his head-the Keeper list.
His father was right, she was a keeper alright. He knew that already, which was why he didn’t want her getting close to his family. He wasn’t in competition with his brother, not anymore, but she was one of the few things in his life that he didn’t have to share with his brother, the Golden Boy, and he liked it that way. The earlier they were done with this wedding, the sooner they could leave.
“I can’t believe you grew up in such a beautiful house,” Elena said when they got to the garden.
Chandler nodded. Yeah, it was beautiful, but he could remember wanting to be nowhere near the house when he was younger and the relief he felt when he finally moved out. When you were constantly compared to your sibling and labeled the bad son, a house like this tends to lose its beauty in your eyes. He watched Elena move around amongst the flowers, staring and sniffing with a smile on her face and he couldn’t help but think that the garden looked more beautiful simply because she was in it. She looked like something out of a Disney movie and the urge to reach for her grew stronger.
“What?” her voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Huh?” he asked, almost absent mindedly.
She was walking up to him now. “You were staring…. And the look in your eyes were kinda weird,”
“It was?” He was responding like a crazy person, and he knew it, but for some reason his brain couldn’t come up with anything reasonable to say, so he went with the truth instead. “I was just thinking… That you look really beautiful,”
She grinned at him then, “You’re such a closet sweetheart, Chandler.”
“I am no such thing,” he replied, completely affronted. “No one has ever called me such a terrible name.”
She giggled, and it made his sudden rush of defensiveness worth it.
“Why does that bother you so much?”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say that just because he thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met didn’t mean he was a sweetheart. He was a badass, thank you very much. He was an inked, pierced, successful business owner badass who’d never had a woman giggle because she called him a sweetheart, and she could have that etched on his tombstone because that was how much he believed it. “It doesn’t bother me; it’s just not true. Ask my dad and step mother.”