by Cora Davies
Could she?
It almost slipped out. She had been up since three in the morning -- almost twenty-four hours ago. The lack of sleep must have made her loopy. That was it.
And now, Eli stood in her doorway, frozen in time with her. What did he say? He did not mean to scare her?
He didn't scare her. She scared herself. She was not one to go after what she wanted. Who she wanted.
"Claire?" Eli asked, his head dipping in concern. "Are you okay?"
"Tired," Claire said. "I'm tired. I forgot what I was saying."
Eli looked tired, Claire decided. He needed to go before she offered him a place to sleep for the night. The words danced on her tongue. Words. Thoughts. She blinked, and she saw him without his jacket, no shirt. His arms -- muscles, tattoos and needy -- wrapped around her.
"I'll walk you to the door." Claire pushed by him, his body hard and taut as she brushed by him. He followed her into the living room, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. She studied his profile. Her eyes trailing over his butt. Rock hard. Just like his arms and his chest. He turned, and she saw what else was hard. He adjusted his t-shirt.
"What if I wanted you to do something?"
No.
I did not just say that.
Eli stood in front of her, blank expression on his face.
"I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that. Well, I do. Molly got in my head."
Eli did not move. "Molly?"
"She has this theory. She thinks... it doesn't matter what she thinks. You're a good-looking man. But you know that already though, don't you?" Shut. Up. "You make me nervous."
Not only rambling, but putting herself out there. She did not do that.
Eli dropped his backpack. His fingers flexed at his sides.
"It's only, I haven't been touched in a long time, and when you grabbed my hands in the kitchen, well, every time you touch me, I get all tingly. I know you're just being nice and you have a line of women waiting. I'm not stupid enough to think that someone like you could-"
Eli stepped towards Claire. The intensity in his eyes, finally enough to scare her. What was she thinking? She backed into the wall as Eli reached her. His hands on either side of her body, trapping her.
He was basically a stranger, in her house, at midnight, and she invited him to-
Claire gasped as his mouth found her neck, then the soft skin below her ear. His cologne woodsy, his body warm. Soft, gentle lips and teeth grazing. Warm breath against her ear.
His hands wrapped around her back, roughly pulling her against him. Parts of her body awoke that had been asleep for years. Maybe even her whole life. Eli's mouth traced the line of her jaw, until his lips brushed her own.
"Eli," she whispered against his mouth. Claire's hands found a home on his arms, his shoulders, the back of his head. He left by her mouth without landing, moving back to the base of her neck. She wanted him.
"Your skin tastes sweet," he murmured at her ear.
No.
She needed him. Claire needed his touch. She needed to be desired. Wanted. It had been too long.
Before her marriage to Robert, she had been a brave girl trusting men with her heart, pulling it back in before they broke it. Robert smashed it to bits, and it lay, broken in slivers and chunks within her chest for two years. It was time to start gluing it back together. One sensual touch at a time.
"If I kiss you..." he whispered.
"Kiss me," she begged.
His lips against hers, soft and smooth. She wanted him to dive in, take her. But he froze.
"No," she whispered. "Kiss me. Please."
"It's after midnight, and your phone's ringing," Eli said, drawing away from her mouth and kissing her firmly on the forehead. His hands traced down her sides and across her stomach, dangerously low. "That's never a good sign."
Claire felt like she had just rode the tilt-a-whirl and then was unceremoniously tossed off. She finally heard her phone ringing. "It's probably just Rachel."
"Claire," Eli said, placing her phone in her hand. His backpack was on his shoulder. She looked down at the phone. Robert. Why was Robert calling to ruin her good mood?
The kids.
She answered.
"Claire bear, I need you to come over." Robert's voice barked into her ear. She heard Ella crying in the background. "Ella's throwing up, and she keeps missing the toilet. I can't deal with this shit right now."
"She doesn't like to throw up in the toilet," Claire said. "The bleachy scent makes her throw up more; give her a big bowl. Does she have a fever?"
"Probably. She looks sweaty," Robert said.
"Take the thermometer and put it in her armpit," Claire said, the words lost on Robert. She doubted he had a thermometer in his apartment. She realized she already slid her shoes on, and mouthed to Eli, "I'm sorry."
He nodded and after an awkward moment's hesitation, he gave Claire a hug and walked out the front door.
"I'm coming over right now, okay? Tell Ella I'll be there in a few minutes." Claire ran to the bathroom, grabbing the sick bucket from a high shelf and tossing in the thermometer, washcloths and medicine.
Claire cursed herself for giving in to a moment with Eli. Who did she think she was? She had responsibilities she already pawned off on Robert so she could go to school; did she think she could add something else into the mix?
Claire woke on her lumpy couch with an ache in her neck. She slept on the couch most nights her children were home because her bedroom was off the kitchen. A wall separated her from hearing if they needed her in the middle of the night.
Claire waited until Ella seemed to be doing better before loading the kids in the car and driving home. From the moment she walked into Richard's it was obvious, the three of them were in his way.
Claire stood in the middle of the living room, thinking about Eli's touch the night before. An unusual blessing that Ella had woken up sick, because if she had not, the night would have ended in Claire's bedroom, making it even more awkward at school.
She collapsed on the couch and pulled her phone out of the pocket, checking her messages. None from Eli. A girl could fantasize.
"Why bother fantasizing about kisses and phone calls that won't come?" she asked her phone.
But something had almost happened.
Instead of Eli, there was a voicemail from Ben. Well, kind of a message from Ben. "Hi, Claire. This is Tina Luce, Ben Tomlin's secretary. I am calling about your dinner plans for Saturday evening. Ben will have to cancel due to another obligation. I'll be in touch next week to reschedule. Thanks! Have a lovely day."
Claire sat, her mouth wide open. He had his secretary call to cancel their dinner plans? She did not want to go on the date, but she was still offended by the cold brush off.
A knock at the front door and she forgot about Ben. Claire leaned over the couch, peering through the blinds; a car she vaguely recognized sat in her driveway. She hefted herself off the couch.
On her porch stood Donny, the skinny, fresh-faced bagger from the store. He held two brown paper bags of groceries in his gangly arms.
"Donny?" Claire looked back and forth from the boy's face to the groceries.
"Hi, Claire." Out of breath, he struggled under the weight of the bags. "Can I set these down?"
"Um, sure," Claire said, stepping aside as Donny carried the bags in. He set them on the carpet.
"There you go," he said.
"There I go?" Claire asked. "What is this?"
"Do you know Eli Dunlan from the brewery? He said he hopes this helps today." Donny pointed at the two bags of groceries.
"We don't do grocery delivery, do we?" Claire asked, feeling as though she was in a daydream.
"No, but he gave me a really good tip," Donny said. He waved. "Bye, Claire."
Claire watched, stunned as Donny walked down the porch and climbed into his car.
"Mommy?" Ella asked, stepping into the living room. She sounded so tired and weak, her blonde hair gre
asy, her skin pale. "Is someone here?"
"Someone from the store, dropping off groceries," Claire said, still stunned from the surprise delivery. She walked over to Ella and placed the back of her hand on her forehead. "You're a lot cooler. How's your tummy?"
"Better. Can I have sick toast?" Ella asked.
"Sure, sweetie. Lay on the couch and watch cartoons. I'll make it."
Claire kissed Ella on top of her head and snuggled her daughter into the couch, wrapping the black and white afghan over Ella. Claire grasped the corners of the brown paper bags and dragged them into the kitchen.
She dropped two slices of bread into the toaster before turning her attention on the bags. Cans of chicken noodle soup with cartoon characters on them, crackers, Ginger Ale, bananas, rice, Jell-O and a six pack of Pepsi. She stared at the contents. Eli had sent them a care package.
Claire made sick toast, spreading butter and then sprinkling the cinnamon and sugar. The longer she stared at the bags of groceries, the less she noticed her aching neck.
CHAPTER NINE
Eli walked into the brewery dining room and stretched. The sun warmed his bare arms. It would have been a perfect day for the beach. It would be colder on the shoreline, even with the sun out in full force, but he would build a fire and cast out his fishing line. He would take time off. One day. Off from work. Off from school. Go lose himself somewhere. Today was not that day.
He went to work taking chairs off tables. Molly had followed him into the dining room, her yellow legal pad in hand, and hopped onto the bar counter. She scribbled across the paper. She was quiet.
"It's not too much?" Eli asked. Molly tapped the blue pen against her chin and stared blankly at him. "The groceries? I only stopped by because I needed coffee and they had these care packages for flu season..."
"I know; you told me." Molly kicked the back of the bar with the heel of her sneaker. "If I don't order flowers, that would save money, wouldn't it? And, clean up would be faster. The flowers were just to get my mom off my back, I can live without them."
Eli raised his eyebrows. "What flowers?"
"For my wedding," Molly said, in a tone insinuating Eli was not listening. He would not argue.
"Great, whatever. Why are you asking me?" Eli finished a table and moved on to another.
"I'm not, I'm thinking aloud."
"Okay, cool. But I'm not thinking aloud. About the groceries?" Eli pulled a rag out of his back pocket and wiped something sticky off the back of a chair. "It's weird, isn't it?"
"No, Eli. The only weird part is the way you're acting." Molly hopped off the counter, sliding the legal pad under the register. "If you were upstairs puking your guts out, I'd send you a care package. Friends do that for friends."
"Right." Eli leaned on the back of a chair, looking out the large window. In the distance, the waves crashed onto the beach. "And if she was more than a friend?"
Molly squealed and flung herself off the counter. Eli cringed as she ran into the dining room. "See! I knew you guys were meant to be, didn't I? Well?"
"Calm down there, Molly Matchmaker-"
"Oh, I like that name."
"We aren't..." Eli paused, not knowing what to say. What were they, if not friends? Nothing happened. Not really. "We didn't..." A hot moment. A momentary lapse in judgment. "We almost kissed. That's it."
"Just almost?" Molly sounded disappointed.
"Yes, just almost."
"Why didn't you kiss her?"
Eli had kissed Claire. Kissed her chin, her neck, the soft spot below her ear. He would have kissed every square inch of her body. "Her ex-husband called."
"He can't even take care of his kids when they're sick." Molly made a strangling motion in the air. "That guy drives me nuts. Rachel and I almost threw a party when she kicked him out for good."
"What's the story there?" Eli grabbed full salt and pepper shakers from the counter, setting them out at the tables. He should ask Claire, but each time they spoke about her ex, she changed the subject.
Molly pulled out a chair and sat down. "The day Claire moved back to town still married to him... Well, everyone assumed they would've gotten divorced while they were gone."
"Yeah?"
"The Air Force was supposed to be a new beginning for them, but he screwed a chick from her office while they were stationed in North Dakota. They came back while Claire was pregnant with their... second kid? Maybe their first? Either way, she was pregnant and fighting to save her marriage. But Robert's one of those guys who think men need to spread their seed and whatnot. So gross. After she inherited the cabin they split for good."
He could not imagine having someone like Claire and cheating on her. "What an asshole."
"Yeah, no kidding. I guess that's another thing you guys have in common. After the whole Bridget thing."
Eli snorted. "Yeah, we're both in the other people suck club."
Molly studied Eli. "But, no, the care package isn't weird. It's great you like her. And if you send something for her kids, that's a huge step. I told her you were a great guy."
Eli set the last shaker set down. "Huge step?"
"Yeah. You guys are getting romantic, and you're showing her you want to help her take care of her kids. I'm sure she wouldn't mess around with a guy who wasn't up for the responsibility."
"Uh huh." The word responsibility beat against Eli's skull like a drum solo.
"Okay, so back to the flowers," Molly said, but Eli's head was somewhere else.
Huge step? Responsibility? He imagined making Claire's day easier. Make her smile. He was not ready to move in and take care of her kids. He only wanted to ease her stress. Kiss her again. Okay, more than kiss her.
But responsibility?
On his way to Brakesfield Thursday afternoon, Eli stopped by Gas and Go to fill up and grab a cheap cup of coffee. He had not slept well since his conversation with Molly the other afternoon. His head was in a battle against his heart. Each side made good points.
Eli put the paper cup under the coffee drip, filling it almost to the top. As he clicked the thin lid into place, he heard it - Ben's voice.
It momentarily rose, before fading to a murmur. Ben argued quietly with Jones, the gas station's owner.
The office door stood ajar, only a few feet from Eli. He stepped closer until their words became clear.
"I don't care what you do; get me the money by Monday," Ben said.
"I can't just pull money out like that. Someone'll notice," Jones said.
"Well then, we'll make the store an official sponsor of my campaign."
"How can I-"
"We'll work something out," Ben said. "Call my office and my secretary will set you up with the paperwork."
"I can't afford to do that." Jones coughed, the way only men who smoked most of their life could.
"You forget; I have documentation going back fifteen years." Ben's voice raised. "Unless you want to lose everything, and I'm not just talking about the store-"
"Please, no, they're just kids." Eli's body tensed at the word kids.
Ben was not above threatening kids; Eli should have known that. Claire's kids. Kids Eli would not put in harm's way. Internal struggle over.
"You'll figure it out. One way or the other."
The door opened and Ben stepped out, almost bumping into Eli. Eli gripped his cup, the lid popping off and coffee sloshing over the side, burning his fingers. He set the cup down on top of the ATM. Jones stood in the office, his white hair mussed and wrinkled hands covering his face.
A snake-like smile spread over Ben's face. "Eli."
"Ben." Eli squashed his temper down inside of him. He stuffed his burned fingertips into his jeans pocket.
Ben grabbed Eli's coffee and walked towards the front door. He stopped by the bulletin board, adjusting a sign reading, 'Tomlin for Mayor', before stepping out of the gas station.
Eli stepped into the office, shutting the door behind him. "You okay, man?"
Jones lowered his ha
nds, and stared back at Eli with glistening eyes. Yellow where they should be white. "He threatened my grandchildren."
Ben came to the garage after Eli's father's funeral with threats back then. "What do you need, Jones?"
"I don't want you getting involved Eli; your father worked hard to get you out of the business before he died," Jones said, shaking his head, a defeated expression on his face. "You don't got a pot to piss in since the garage went under."
"I'm doing okay, Jones," Eli said, pulling the computer chair out from the desk for Jones to sit.
Eli was doing better than okay. But if it became public knowledge, Ben would come sniffing around Eli for money. Ben had the blackmail to drag Eli back under again.
"Eli, I can't pull it together. Not in time."
"How much did he ask for, Jones?"
"Twenty-thousand."
Eli sighed and sat down on the solid wood desk, knocking into an ashtray. "That's a lot of fucking money."
"Language, Eli!" Jones coughed again.
"You're the only drug dealer I know who says 'language' like grandmother," Eli said, reaching into his breast pocket for a pack of gum. He quit smoking years ago, spearmint gum now his go-to in situations where he would rather a cigarette. "I guess you are sixty."
"Sixty-eight. Former drug dealer. Just like your father. Former."
"Yeah, but Dad's only former because he's dead." Ben might have had leverage over Eli's father near the end of his life, but the beginning had been full of choices. And he chose the garage and business with Ben.
"Your father made a plan before the heart attack. He was gonna get out," Jones said, rubbing his forehead. Eli nodded, he had heard the old man's story before. "It's not an overnight process, Eli. You're lucky you got out from under your father's shadow as fast as you did."
"It still follows me around," Eli said. He would not allow something to happen to Claire and her children. "Come on. Let me see your books, Jones. We'll figure something out."
CHAPTER TEN
