“Fine.” I fake a pout as I slide my short arms into the sleeves of the giant sweatshirt and pull up the zipper. I’m practically floating in the thing. I spread out my arms by my sides and I can’t even find my fingers in all that fabric. Callie munches on her crackers and giggles at my predicament.
“Oh, come here.” With an eyeroll, Eli grabs one arm and folds back the overlong sleeve with military precision. My skin prickles with awareness every time his fingertips brush my wrist. He repeats the action on the other arm. His cheeks go even pinker. “There.”
“You happy now?” I quip, trying to sound sassy but instead, the question comes out as a low rasp.
His pupils flare as he takes me in, wearing his sweatshirt. I think he likes seeing me like this. “Yeah, I’m happy,” he quips back.
I want to crawl across the dock, thread my fingers into his hair and kiss him. That’s exactly what I’d do if Callie weren’t here right now.
Eli’s gaze slowly breaks away from mine. He glances up at the sky. “I think it might rain. We should get inside.”
He grabs the bucket and the fishing rods and heads up the dock. Callie skips along behind him. I bring up the rear, with the picnic basket in hand. When the gorgeous father glances at me over his shoulder, lust shimmers in his expression.
I really don’t want to be presumptuous but I’m starting to think that Eli wants me. I’m not sure what to do with this information but breaking into the Macarena dance here on the dock does not seem like an appropriate response. So I refrain from doing that.
Instead I let the words of his latest letter to Monica replay in my head. He wants Monica, not me, I remind myself.
I’m in the kitchen putting away the leftovers from our picnic when the man approaches me. “Hey, about the other day…”
I move away from the fridge where I’m about to store a Ziplock bag of celery sticks and turn to face him. “Yes?” I’m on defence, ready for another fight because that’s all we seem to do whenever we’re alone.
He runs a hand over his beard. “I’ve been a complete asshole,” he says, taking me by surprise. The rest of his words come in a rushed tumble. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did that morning on the porch. It was uncalled for and I’m sorry.”
I clutch the celery sticks to my chest to keep my heart from popping out. “I—I accept your apology…” I whisper and Eli turns to walk out of the room, but Lexi’s advice from last night rings out in my head. I need to let him know that I won’t be mistreated anymore. At the last second, I call out to him. “I know that you’re the boss and technically, you’ve got all the power but I’m here to do a job, to take care of Callie and I need you to show me respect.”
He reads my face for a long moment then he gives me a nod. “You deserve it…and from now on, you have it.”
On that, he walks away, leaving me there with a sweaty upper lip, a pounding heart and a feeling of pride at having stood up for myself.
20 Eli
It’s been raining since dinner. If not, I would have gone for a moonlit walk in the woods to clear my head. I’m sure Walker’s happy for the precipitation but me, I’m stuck here on the couch, staring up into the darkness of my basement, mind racing, trying to figure out what my next project will be.
I’ve worked on my car, scrubbed out my gutters and now I’m virtually finished with the deck. I even put up that damn trellis and planted the little garden Jessa seemed to think was such a good idea. The prospect of empty days looming up ahead is making me anxious.
I’m used to keeping busy and now that going back to the family company isn’t an option for me, I’m feeling uneasy about how I’ll go about filling my days.
Anyway, it’s really pouring down now, and I imagine the river will be running high, so I guess we’ll get to test how solid the house’s foundation is now. Is it weird that I’m hoping I’ll have some work to do on that tomorrow?
This is kind of pathetic.
My mind drifts to Jessa. I wonder what she’s doing right now. I imagine her with a hand inside her silky little sleep shorts, stroking herself and tossing around in that big bed upstairs.
The bed you used to share with your ex-wife, asshole.
Shit. This is ridiculous. I’m in my mid-thirties, you’d think I’d be able to control my libido by now. These inappropriate thoughts have a mind of their own.
Looking for a distraction, I pick up my outdated phone to do some mindless scrolling but I get a sour taste on my tongue when I see that I have two voicemails and four text messages from Jude urging me to meet him for a couple beers. Then there’s Cannon. His half-dozen notifications are just glaring at me, mocking me. He’s still all hung up on the notion of us running Kingston Realties together.
I’m not interested.
Walker says I’m being stubborn, but what the hell does he know? The idea of working with Cannon pisses me off to the point of insanity even now that I understand he didn’t screw me over deliberately. The idea of seeing him sitting in that executive chair that’s rightfully mine makes my blood stew like magma.
He’d argue that I’m being unreasonable but he’s never been wrongly imprisoned. Lost his job. Lost his wife. Lost his six-figure salary and his freedom right along with it. I think I deserve to be as pissed as I want to be right now.
Thunder crashes and booms loudly, with enough force to shake the
