“You done?” my boss spits out, devastatingly unaffected by my panicked state. I stand there speechless, my mouth opening and closing without a word.
I watch in shock as Eli stalks back inside his house and slams the door.
What? That’s it? Good God. Could that man be any more ill-mannered?
The tears press heavily against the backs of my eyeballs but I’m determined to fight them off, determined to figure out my problems like a grown-up.
Five minutes later, I’m still standing next to my car, scrolling through my phone, searching for a blog post or a YouTube video that might help me figure out what the hell is going on in the engine bay when the front door swings open again. My breath catches. Eli comes stomping back out, this time in work boots and a Henley sweater fitted to his muscle-carved torso.
“You really don’t have to be so damn mean all the time,” I spit out, glaring at him accusingly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were raised by wolves.”
Ignoring me, he pulls keys from the pocket of his jeans as he walks past me toward his own car.
“You act like the whole world is against you but newsflash; sometimes a little kindness goes a long way,” I carry on, following him down the driveway with my eyes. “You can’t expect anyone to be nice to you if you go around being grumpy to every person you come across.” I feel like I’m lecturing a first-grader on the basics of good manners.
He doesn’t bother addressing my arguments. Actually, wait a minute—is the bastard smirking?! Like my frustration is funny?!
He yanks open his front passenger door. “Get in. I’m driving,” he grumbles.
I pause.
“W-what?” I blink in surprise.
His response is nothing but a long, drawn-out stare.
“I don’t think…You don’t even know where I’m going. My parents don't live in Crescent Harbor. No. It’s too far,” I ramble nervously. “And Cowersville is not the nicest town, either. You probably don’t want to drive your Audi out there. You’re bound to get a nail in your tire, especially in the trailer park. It’s the—”
“Get in the car, Jessa,” he deadpans, holding the door open for me. “I don’t have all day.”
My eyes narrow. My nostrils flare. The man is so rude.
His shoulders heave on a heavy exhale. “Please,” he adds on, no sincerity in the word. He makes a sweeping motion with his hand, gesturing toward his car. And there it is. That subtle hint of amusement in his eyes as he waits for me to get moving.
I fumble for a moment longer, wanting to play the tough girl, but it quickly sets in that I have no other reasonable options and my dad really needs my help today. So, I hop to it, dropping my car hood closed, shouldering my purse and climbing into my boss’s car.
After I reluctantly provide Eli with the address of my dad’s future repair shop, we spend the long drive to my hometown in complete silence.
When his eyes are distracted by the road in front of us, I steal glances his way. Why does this beautiful man have to be so cruel? I have so many questions. So many things I’d like to ask about his court case. My curiosity swells like a balloon filling up with helium. But I know I can’t bring it up. To him, I know nothing. And in turn, Eli knows nothing about me. Not that he’s aware of anyway. He only knows Monica. Sexy, adventurous, desirable Monica. Not me.
I notice the subtle way Eli tenses and grips the steering wheel tighter as we drive past the trailer park. “You grew up here?”
“Yeah,” I say sheepishly. A flush sprints up my neck to my cheeks.
“Hmm.” He doesn’t comment further on the hellhole but he looks…surprised.
I sit next to him, trying to take up as little space as possible, silently reminding myself that in just a few minutes he’ll drop me off and go about his business and I’ll finally be able to take a breath.
When we pull up outside my father’s new store, I utter a quick “Thank you,” and scramble out the passenger door to meet up with my parents where they’re standing in front of the building, analyzing the brick facade. That was the longest, most tense hour of my life, and I’ll definitely be finding alternate transportation for the drive home tomorrow.
Instead of immediately peeling off like I expect him to, Eli shocks the hell right out of me. His car door flies open and he steps out. Then, he’s rounding the car, climbing the curb and introducing himself to my parents.
“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Robson? Eli Kingston, Jessa’s boss. Nice piece of real estate you have here.”
My lips twist to the side. What on Earth is he doing?
My wide-eyed mother beams at me over Eli’s shoulder, shooting a discreet thumbs-up my way. “So handsome,” she mouths, while Eli is busy shaking Dad’s hand. Now the men are talking zoning laws and square footage.
Oh, God. What is happening?
I stand on the sidewalk, eyes darting back and forth, awkwardly waiting for my boss to leave. Only he doesn't. He and my Dad are laughing and chatting like long-lost bros while Mom is melting into a swoony pile of cartoon-hearts, costume jewelry and hairspray on the side of the road.
Charming, friendly, nice. Who the heck is this version of Eli Kingston? I thought I had met them all.
The man shields the sun from his gorgeous eyes, gazing up at the crumbling brick building in front of us. My jaw lands on the concrete when he squares his shoulders, pushes back his sleeves and asks, “So, where do we start?”
23 Eli
It’s well into the evening when I say my goodbyes to the Robsons. They’re one quirky couple, but they both seem nice and down-to-earth. I’m not sure I understood half the things Douglas rambled about his electronic repairs, but he seems like
