“Minor,” she said again. “A small problem at my place. Tiny, really. If I could borrow a tarp…”
A tarp? For a tiny problem? Unwilling to trust her assessment of things, he insisted they make the journey back to her house where he would see for himself.
With the asked-for plastic sheeting tucked under his arm, Eli and the rest trooped down the road en masse, but this time the mass of them huddled beneath a huge umbrella he found in his garage, the kind used on the golf course. The ongoing rain pummeled the nylon fabric and added to the wide puddles on the blacktop reflecting the yellow streetlight.
When Paige stumbled in her clumsy red rubber boots, without thinking Eli passed over the tarp to Sloane and then swung up the child in his free arm. She settled on his hip and he immediately regretted it. Fuck. This weight he remembered much too well.
It was a weight from his past and he was supposed to be focused on his future. Especially on the free-and-easy dozen days he had left.
His jaw dropped as they approached Sloane’s cottage.
Though mainly dark, light flickered inside. Frowning, he collapsed the umbrella and let it drop to the small porch. “You shouldn’t leave candles burning—” he said as she pushed open the front door, but he stopped, realizing they were the battery-operated kind, and enough of them were set about to reveal a nest of blankets on the living room couch, including a pillow inside a case decorated with the face of Anna from Frozen.
Yes, he recognized the character, because his sisters’ Disney love hadn’t died. From what he could tell it would last to infinity and beyond. Hmm. Maybe he could somehow use that Buzz Lightyear—Pixar, but parent company Disney—reference if he ever got back to those dating profiles.
He sighed. For some reason, at the moment that didn’t seem likely. Bending, he set Paige onto her feet. Then he turned to Sloane. “What’s happened?”
“The electricity went out,” she explained. “I’ll get it looked at tomorrow morning, but for now I hoped I could spread a tarp on the floor in the room in the back. There’s a leak.”
That sent him to the rear of the house with the flashlight she handed over as well as the folded length of plastic. “Hell,” he muttered. If he had to guess, the leak had compromised the electrical system. The buckets and pots she’d set about were collecting the water, but he spread out the tarp beneath them and then headed back to the living room where Sloane was settling her daughter under the blankets on the couch.
“We’re camping in the living room, just because,” she said brightly, smiling down at her daughter.
Boo looked at Eli, his expression worried as he hovered near the kid.
“Yeah, boy,” he said, addressing the dog, then raised his voice. “No camping tonight, people. Instead it’s a sleepover at my house.”
Sloane frowned. “Eli—”
“Won’t take no for an answer,” he said, picking up the child’s jacket and holding it out. “We’ll figure out the next step tomorrow.”
Then he’d figure out how to get the image of Sloane out of his head, the way she was looking at him now with apprehension written all over her which did nothing to curb the way the idea of having her under his roof…warmed him.
Fuck, he’d never sleep a wink if he was in bed and she was anywhere nearby.
“Are you trying to be a hero?” she asked.
If she knew how he wanted to have her between those sheets with him and what he wanted to do to her there, that’s not the question she’d ask.
But maybe it was best she thought of him that way, as some sort of David Do-Good. Wrenching his gaze from Sloane, he switched his attention to the little girl. “What do you say, Paige? Ready to go to my place?”
“Who are you again?” she asked. Yesterday he’d thought she’d liked him. Today, she exuded distrust. Because she sensed he had a thing for her mama? Kids were smart that way.
“My magic hair glows when I sing,” he said, thinking he might get a smile out of her if she caught the movie reference.
Paige drew back, looked down at her doll, then looked back at him. “Baby Sally says you’re not Rapunzel,” she told him with a curled lip.
It was best that someone had the good sense to see him for the imposter he was.
* * *
The next morning, Sloane left Paige with Boo in the playroom they’d found connected to the spare bedroom where they’d slept. It held a trunk of dress-up clothes, an open basket of blocks, and shelves that stored puzzles and books of all sorts. Paige, with Baby Sally at her side, sat in a child-size beanbag chair with a tower of picture books within reach.
On the jamb of the door to the special space were lines and dates and names, the chronicle of four children growing up. Eli’s heights had been noted in a solid blue of course, and the last indicated he’d been measured on his eighteenth birthday. Though Sloane knew his parents had died that year, there was no blip in the girls’ data. Their heights had been noted year after year. Clearly their brother had carried on the family tradition.
She stared at those markings for a long while, pondering how something so small could seem so significant to her.
Maybe because they symbolized those two simple words. Family. Tradition.
So foreign to her but so desired.
In the kitchen downstairs, she helped herself to the coffee already brewed, and as she sipped she gazed out a window that showed rain once again coming down. The night before, Eli had told her he’d be up and out early and that he didn’t expect to disturb her—he slept in the master suite on the first floor. Still, she’d been aware of his moving about even before dawn, and waited until she was sure he was gone before letting Boo roam the big fenced backyard for his morning needs. Once the dog’s business was complete, she’d returned to bed to snuggle with Paige until her daughter stirred.
Now the day lay ahead. Eli assured her he’d made a call and a friend in the construction business would be assessing the situation at her place as soon as possible. Because of that, she decided to postpone contacting the Riccis. Perhaps interrupting their vacation would prove unnecessary. A quick text to a coworker explained she wouldn’t check in at the office today, but with their curtailed hours already planned, that wasn’t a problem. Paige’s daycare was apprised she’d be absent as well.
Meaning Sloane had an unexpected day off, with none of her usual tasks to occupy her. Eli had also made her promise not to enter the cottage until he heard back from the professional scheduled to look it over, pointing out that she’d gathered and carted to his place enough belongings for the time being. Then he’d added, with a narrow-eyed look, that her daughter and her dog counted on her to keep them all safe.
Yeah, he’d struck that low, so what could she do but agree?
And then secretly decide to use the free time to find out what made the man tick.
She didn’t want to consider it snooping. It was merely a necessary precaution, right? She’d put herself, her daughter, and her dog under his roof, after all, and she had a responsibility to understand exactly who owned that roof. At this point it was irrelevant to recall she never would have knocked on his door in the first place if she didn’t know and trust him enough through her acquaintance with his youngest sisters.
Yep, that point was irrelevant and her intended snooping wouldn’t be…well, it just wouldn’t be snooping.
The King house itself was expansive and charming, if a little worn. The furniture looked solid but cushions almost threadbare. The kitchen had space to spare, though the layout left something to be desired. Upon finding the laundry room, she spied a pile of the towels they’d used the night before, so she took it upon herself to throw them in the washing machine along with a few others in a basket.
The hum of the appliance combined with the drumming of the rain created a comforting sound and further exploration brought her to the entrance to the master bedroom. Through the open doorway she saw the covers on the king-sized mattress were thrown back. Framed photos sat atop a tall c
hest of drawers. Paisley curtains framed long windows, their simple style and blue, gold, and salmon design appealing, despite having clearly been there for quite some time.
She liked them. She liked the whole house with its traditional farmhouse style and comfortable ambiance. Glancing around the large room, her gaze caught on two chairs, upholstered in the same paisley design as the curtains, on either side of a small round table. A pair of battered jeans were thrown over one.
Reminding her this was Eli’s room. That and the unmistakable hint of masculine soap and tangy aftershave in the air. She’d smelled it last night, too, when he’d been close enough to run the towel over her wet hair. Even with the thick material between his hands and her, his touch had a warming effect, dispelling the rain’s chill and setting a minor fire kindling low in her belly.
Taking another breath of his scent, her curiosity urged her inside his room, even as her conscience balked. You have no business in there. Your nosiness doesn’t need to go beyond the threshold.
But curiosity spoke again, encouraging her to explore inside. Where else would he have stashed your panties?
A persuasive excuse, she found, as one foot, then two crossed over.
In her pocket, her phone rang. She gave a guilty jump, then drew back on the hallway side of the threshold.
“Hey,” the man in question said, when she accepted the call.
“Hey,” she turned her back on his bedroom, hoping shame didn’t color her voice.
“A buddy will get up on your roof, secure the situation there. But the electrical…that might be another matter from what I’ve described to my friend.”
“Oh, no.”
“Don’t borrow trouble, but…” Eli hesitated. “I think you should plan on staying another night.”
She grimaced. “I couldn’t.” Her mind tried conjuring affordable options that would accommodate herself, a child, and a dog.
“You will,” Eli said firmly.
“I don’t—”
“We’ll talk about it when I get home.”
At which time it would be too late to secure an alternative, but her will wavered, as she once again scrambled to think—without success—of where she might go. “Eli…”
“Sloane,” he said, still implacable. “Another night.”
“Then I’ll have dinner prepared,” she offered quickly. It was the least she could do.
He didn’t hesitate. “Sure. That would be nice.”
It was her watchword for the rest of the day. Doing things that Eli would find nice, such as clearing out the laundry room of dirty clothes—though she didn’t dare open any drawers to put his away, instead leaving them on the long folding surface—and running a cloth over the furniture. She even ventured into the girls’ bedrooms upstairs, again, just to dust, and noted that these had been updated, unlike the common living areas.
She imagined that each sister had selected paint colors and décor, putting their own stamp on their own spaces, making it the kind of home where it was great to grow up, where an individual was valued.
Yet still a family home, dedicated to the comfort and pleasure of the family living within its walls.
Later, Paige helped her in the kitchen by rearranging the lower shelves in the pantry. For an almost-four-year-old, she did a good job with the haphazard collection of canned goods. With what she found there, Sloane made chicken enchiladas which she and her daughter ate together at Paige’s usual early hour, before Eli arrived back at the house.
He came in from the garage as they were putting their plates and utensils into the dishwasher.
Paige, suffering a sudden attack of shyness, hid behind Sloane as he strode in, looking male and gorgeous in jeans, a T-shirt with the King Nursery name on it, and a denim jacket. He shrugged out of the last and hung it on a convenient hook, then directed his attention to them.
“Ladies.”
The moment felt as traditional as the house, the unsaid “I’m home” lingering in the air. It was a place for that, she decided, for dinners on the table as people came in from work, looking forward to a quiet evening with loved ones.
Before she could get too fixated on the idea, at Eli’s agreement, she served up his dinner, the enchiladas and a crisp green salad, as he washed up. Then he took a seat at the kitchen table, glancing at her and her daughter, an eyebrow rising.
“We already ate,” she explained. “Paige has an early bedtime.”
“Ah.” He nodded, then picked up his knife and fork. “This looks great. Thank you.”
She began ushering her daughter to the second floor, then paused in the doorway, suddenly loathe to leave him. It was too easy to think of all the times she’d eaten alone, and perhaps he wasn’t as accustomed to it, considering those four sisters he’d been raising. “Would you like some company?” she asked. “I have a short while before bath time.”
“We should talk,” he said, and so she took a moment to settle Paige upstairs with more toys, promising to be back before long.
Once again in the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of ice water then joined him at the table, taking a chair but leaving another between them, so as to be companionable but not too chummy.
“How was your day at work?” she asked, and felt herself blushing because the question sounded something like a query for a Mrs. King, not the next-door single mother seeking shelter. “I mean—”
“Unsurprisingly quiet in terms of foot traffic,” he said, as if finding nothing amiss with her question. “The rain keeps people home. But we had our own storm damage which meant repairing some of the protection for the shade plants and cleaning up leaves and other litter left around.”
“Do you get out from behind your desk to do that?” she asked. “Or are you in an office all day?”
“We’re a small operation as nurseries go,” he answered, “so I do what needs to be done when it needs to be done. I have a great staff…but I like to get out there and work with my hands too.”
“Your father started the business?”
“Actually, it began as a sideline for my grandfather who farmed—mostly strawberries and tomatoes. But then Dad built it from a simple fruit stand to what we have today.”
“You keep his legacy going.” She admired that.
“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t choose to,” he said firmly. “If I didn’t want to.”
“Sorry.” She made a face. “I didn’t mean—”
He cut her off with a wave of his fork. “No, it’s fine. It’s just…”
Sloane thought about letting that lie, but her curiosity still ran strong. “Just?” she prompted.
Setting down his utensils, he looked at her over his plate. “Often people think I’ve done what I’ve done—taken over the business and raised my sisters here in this home, out of a sense of obligation.”
It wouldn’t have been intended as an insult, she thought, but she could see how others, looking at an eighteen-year-old taking on that amount of responsibility, might naturally have considered he’d felt cornered by the death of his parents. Without a choice about what he’d do following the loss.
“But it’s nothing like that,” Eli continued. “Not at all.”
Now her internal warning signals started sounding. Bong. Bong. Bong. A confidence was coming. Some utterances he might not share with a random single mother.
But she shouldn’t find out any more about the man, a wise voice cautioned. Safer that he remain as near a stranger to her as could be, bearing in mind he’d given her a place to sleep and she’d done his laundry and made him a meal. Because adult male companionship had been absent from Sloane’s life for four years—and before that nearly as scarce—and too much familiarity might affect that meaningless infatuation she’d had for the man.
It might feed the crush on Eli she’d been managing to tamp down pretty well since arriving wet and bedraggled on his doorstep the night before.
Meaning now would be a good time to escape, she thought, to make excuses and hea
d upstairs. But then he was talking again, and she wouldn’t be rude.
“Doing what I do…if I say it was, is, a privilege, my poker buddies would ban me from the table.” He smiled, undercutting that assessment of his friends’ reaction. “And telling you it’s an honor makes me out to be way too noble.”
But, damn, she saw him as that now—noble—a principled, self-sacrificing, stand-up guy, who’d carried on when his parents could not. Staring at his handsome face, her chest tightened and her heart did strange things inside it, seeming to unlock and unfold like a puzzle box, making it harder and harder to breathe.
Her mouth moved, but nothing came out.
Eli didn’t appear to notice. “I guess I don’t have the right word for it,” he said, shrugging. “It’s…my life.”
She swallowed, trying to modify her guppy-imitation by saying something halfway intelligible. “You, um, you’ve lived it, your life, in a great house.”
He glanced around. “You like the old place?”
Licking her lips, Sloane nodded. “I do. And it’s wonderful to think that someday your own family will add more memories to the ones stored here.” How easily she could picture it. When Eli was ready, when he was finished with the long-postponed sowing of oats, he’d settle in this home with his smart and beautiful wife and begin building a smart and beautiful family.
“I don’t know about someday and me and a family. I doubt it, but I’m not thinking that far ahead.”
She smiled at him. That was all right. Sloane was thinking that far ahead for him. There would be two sons, she decided, to offset all the females in his life. Two tall, lean, strong sons who would know they had an even stronger foundation in their father.
“But as for this house…”
Half lost in her head and those boys she was imagining, it took her a moment to tune back into what he was saying. “The house?”
“For sure it won’t be in my future,” Eli said. “As soon as the twins get into college, I’m putting this place on the market and moving into something more suited to a single guy.”
NO LIMIT (7-Stud Club Book 2) Page 6
