The end unit he saw first had to be Jessie and Noah’s. It looked so homey and welcoming, with a bench seat holding plump pillows and a big leafy wreath on the glossy front door. He didn’t miss the little fairies or whatever decorating their tiny front yard, either.
Their neighbors also seemed settled into their units, except for the end unit he was considering. It looked like a mirror of Jessie and Noah’s, but it was lacking any sort of homey vibe. Just a porch without a wreath, mat or bench. Nothing in the yard but the same shrubs as the others on the street. The white plantation blinds were shut and the house had a sleepy look. An empty look.
Disappointment pooled in his belly, but he beat it back.
He’d had enough of the foolish dream that this time, this foster home, would be a real home. He’d never been abused, thank God, but he’d never been loved either. He’d been tolerated. Sheltered. Fed. It didn’t take much thinking for him to know why he’d never figured out how to make a home. So he never had one. He hadn’t felt this longing since he was a kid. And right now? Right now it pissed him the hell off.
Stopping the truck, he set the brake. The unit was over two thousand square feet. Three beds, two and a half baths. Open concept with a large kitchen and great room, dining area and dedicated office space. It ticked off a lot of boxes for anybody looking for a home in Cypress. The real question was, was he?
He started the engine and continued on to the Cypress Inn. It was a very nice place. It was comfortable and didn’t need anything from him to make it livable. It was pretty but impersonal, just like the women he’d bedded in the last few years. Hell, that was getting old too. He felt restless, and banging a stranger wasn’t the answer it had been in the past. Not the bartender at the tavern or the server at the sports bar had tempted him. He probably should try to figure out why, but he was a little afraid of what the answer might be.
He parked and walked around the inn toward the main lakeshore. This parcel of land, beach and woods, was private for the inn’s guests. That was a relief, since he wouldn’t have to make small talk with anyone like he would if he’d gone to the tavern with the others from the Sales Center. He could hear voices from further to the east, from the soccer field and the playground near the larger beach. Kids. Families. So not his scene.
Loosening his tie, he pulled it off and coiled it around his hand before stuffing it in his front pocket. Lifting his chin, he undid a few shirt buttons and began to roll up his sleeves. He’d take a page from Oliver and Rick tomorrow, and wear something a little softer. A little easier. Something that wouldn’t wrinkle as he drove one of the golf carts around through the hot and humid days to come.
He caught sight of one of the raised wooden walkways and made his way through the primitive-looking trees. Spanish moss dripped off the cypress and oaks here, too. Spikey plants nestled at the bases of the trees, and the ground looked boggy as he neared the lake. Then it opened up to a small deck set beneath a pergola that had an unobstructed view of the glistening lake. He heard a soft sound and turned, realizing then that he wouldn’t have the view to himself.
There, tucked into the wooden swing and clearly asleep, was Caro Richmond.
***
“Caro?” Eli asked.
Caro shifted, wondering why Eli was in her bedroom. Not that she wouldn’t like to see him in her bedroom someday…
“Hey, Cupcake.” His voice was teasing now. Cajoling.
A big hand grasped her shoulder and gave her a gentle shake. She awoke with a start, and then hissed out a breath as pins and needles danced up and down her leg. She wasn’t in her bedroom. She was out at the lake. She’d dozed off there on the swing, and her leg beneath her had fallen asleep too.
Cursing softly, she shifted and rubbed at her thigh. She looked up at Eli then, blinking as the sun bounced off of him like it did the lake.
“Eli, what are you doing here?”
“I came to do some thinking, I guess. You?”
“The same.”
Her eyes felt gritty and her throat raw. Grabbing up her diluted iced coffee, she took a long sip. She remembered then what she’d blocked out all day. What she’d come here to think about and finally give in to the cry she’d denied herself.
Eli leaned against the railing in front of her, crossing his big arms. “It doesn’t look like the thoughts were very good ones.”
Tears pricked at her eyes again. She bit her lip and set her cup back down. Swallowing her tears, she shook her head. “I fell asleep, I guess. It’s so peaceful out here.”
He nodded. “It is.”
He continued to stare at her and she slowly unfolded her leg to flex her muscles.
“My leg fell asleep, too,” she said.
“How long have you been out here?”
“Since closing up shop, I guess. Why, what time is it?”
“Almost five thirty.”
She gaped at him. “I’ve been out here two hours?”
“I suppose.” He lifted his chin toward the swing. “Can I join you?”
Nodding, she shifted over to give him some room. “How did your first day go?”
He gave her a crooked smile. “Oh no, you don’t. Why don’t you tell me what sent you out here, Cupcake? And why you were crying.”
Her hands went to her cheeks and she felt the dried and salty tracks of tears there. Chapped lips and spiky lashes finished what she was sure was a lovely picture this evening.
“It’s nothing,” she whispered.
“I don’t believe you.” He sat back, his long legs stretching out toward the railing as he pushed them gently back and forth. “But you don’t have to tell me. I’m not that guy.”
She eyed him. “What guy?”
“The guy who pries into other people’s business. Something happened today to upset you and you needed time alone. I get that.”
He was looking at her so openly, not pushing or demanding a thing from her. She felt she had to at least set a little bit of the record straight.
“It doesn’t have anything to do with today, Eli. It’s something that happened three years ago.” She sucked in a breath. “Three years ago today, actually.”
He gave her a slow nod. “And it’s something that you don’t want to talk about.”
“No, I don’t.” She rubbed her cheeks and sniffled. “Don’t take it personally. I’ve never talked about it with anyone.”
He appeared thoughtful, his brows drawn together over his eyes. “Sounds serious.”
“It is. It…was.”
Turning, he came closer to her. “If you ever do want to talk about it, I’m sure your guy then. I know how to keep a secret.”
“Really?” She felt a smile curve her lips. “I thought you were an open book.”
“Ah, I’m open all right. That doesn’t mean I can’t keep somebody else’s secret.”
“I guess.” She looked him over again, and breathed in some of his fresh spice scent. “This is a very strange conversation, Eli.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, and I feel like I’m missing something.”
“I missed something today.”
He was staring at her now, those crystal-sugar blue eyes of his doing twisty things to her insides.
“What?” she breathed.
He leaned closer. “You.”
She pulled back. “Another line?”
“No line, Cupcake. I’m dead serious.” He stroked a finger over her cheek, down the side of her neck and just under the collar of her T-shirt. “All day long I’ve been wanting a taste of what I had before.”
She licked her lips and saw that he watched her mouth now. Oh, their kiss. “What was that?”
He brought his mouth close to her throat and breathed in before his lips teased her skin. “I craved another taste of those amazing brownies.”
She gasped and then laughed. “Eli!”
He pulled back a bit and grinned at her. “That kiss yesterday was pretty sweet too, though.”
She put her
hands on his shoulders and shook her head. “Mmm, I could use some sweet right now.”
He growled softly and brought that teasing mouth to hers. His kiss was deep from the start, his lips fitting so perfectly to hers as his tongue slipped inside her mouth. Her sorrow forgotten for at least this moment, she pressed herself against him as he held her closer.
“Caro, you smell so good.” His face was in the hollow of her throat now, that slight stubble of his just rough enough on her skin. “I want to taste you all over.”
Ooh, this man. It had been so long since she’d been with a guy, she nearly melted at his words. One or two bad bedroom romps following one or two bad dates was the sum and total of her sexual life for the last three years. Eli wouldn’t be like that, though. Clearly the guy knew everything he was doing to her. From his big hands on her butt to his tongue dancing over the pulse at the side of her neck.
“Come back to the inn with me,” he said on a breath.
Her pulse raced at his words. She was so tempted. Tempted to wipe out the darkness of this day with some of his brightness. She’d only known him a couple of days, though. She wasn’t built for one-night stands, which her romantic history proved.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
He turned, pressing against her so she could feel his whole body. He was hard everywhere, especially where she supposed it counted most. “Why not?”
Why not? Then it hit her. Reality, like a cold jump into the lake.
“You live at the inn, Eli.” She dropped little kisses on his strong throat as she tried to find the strength to actually stop kissing him. “It would be all over town if I jumped into bed with you.”
“So?”
“So?” She pulled back at last, tilted her head. “So? I’m just not—”
“That kind of girl?” he cut in with a wink.
“That’s not what I was going to say. I’m just not ready for the stories to start again.”
He bit that full lower lip of his. “Are you saying you have a past?”
“Not like whatever you’re thinking.”
He cupped her face and kissed her, tenderly this time. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Cupcake. But know this. We’re going to get together, baby. But I’m also not the guy to rush you.”
She reached up and grasped his wrists in her hands, feeling his strength and wishing she could lean on him. For passion, sure. But for support.
“Thanks, Eli.”
He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs before releasing her. “I saw an alligator today. Out on the eco-tour with Ty Walsh.”
“Was it a big one?”
“Big enough, if you ask me. I’m a city boy, remember.”
She nodded and gave a shiver. “Well, I’m not an outdoorsy girl so I’m with you there.”
“Have you ever seen one?”
“You can’t live in Cypress Corners and not see one. I even held one once.”
His eyes widened. “Why?”
The horror on his face was almost laughable. “A guy from the gator place up in Orlando came out and had baby ones to hold. Their snouts were taped closed.”
“That’s better, I guess. What did that feel like? Holding a gator?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Like holding a hot purse.”
He laughed. “I’ll bet. So how about a pizza?”
Her stomach growled and she smiled. “I could eat.”
“Apparently you could.” Taking her hand in his, he tugged her to her feet. “Then let’s leave all these deep thoughts and confessions here at the lake and go grab a pie at the tavern.”
“Sounds good.”
Chapter 8
Eli sat back, staring at the rental listing yet again. It was four o’clock Wednesday afternoon, and the Sales Center was quiet. Jessie worked at the Cypress Institute on Wednesdays and she was still across the street. Oliver was taking her tours while Bree covered the reception desk.
“What’s got your panties in a twist?”
He smiled as Oliver sat himself down in Bree’s chair at the desk next to Eli’s. “No panties, Oliver.”
Oliver’s perfect brows arched over his wide blue eyes. “Going commando?”
Eli laughed out loud. “That’s for me to know, and don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”
Oliver shrugged. “Hey, I have my own guy. I got so tired of wasting my fantasy life on you straight guys. It’s like you’re coming out of the woodwork around here.”
“How did the tour go?”
“It was fine. Jessie was set to tour two older couples but only one showed.”
Eli’s ears perked up and his mind sharpened. “Older couples?”
“Yeah. The spry, healthy type. They wanted info on the Active Adult community but we don’t have any to give.”
“Not yet, anyway.”
Oliver straightened. “Do you know something, Eli?”
Eli gave a deliberate shake of his head. “Not me. I just started here.”
“But you’re from Chapman. You worked for the man himself, Bill the Great and Powerful.”
“Really, Oliver?” Eli quirked a brow at him. “A Wizard of Oz reference?”
“Hey, if the curtain fits.” Oliver jumped up again and peered at Eli’s computer screen. “Still looking at that listing?”
“I think it would be a good move.”
“You don’t sound that excited about it.”
“It’s another rental.”
“Another?”
Eli cleared his face and put on one of his go-to expressions of ease. “I just meant that my apartment in Boston is a rental.”
Oliver stared at him for a long minute, but Eli wouldn’t try to guess what he was looking for. He suspected this guy might appear light and easy, a lot like he himself pretended to be, but there was more there. Hell, as a gay man he had to have issues and concerns that Eli couldn’t begin to imagine. He could appreciate them, though. Every guy was entitled to his own past, and to keep it to himself.
“I think you should take it,” Oliver finally said.
“Yeah?”
“I know the homeowner. Moved out of state a few months ago and it doesn’t look like he’s coming back.”
“And he’s not going to sell, right?”
“Not now. Would you? Property values are only going up in our little hamlet.”
“You live here too, then?”
“I do. Bought my own two-bedroom over on the backside of the townhouse village last year.”
Pride was in Oliver’s voice and Eli nodded. “Nice.”
Oliver crossed his arms and struck a thoughtful pose. “Now I have to decide if Todd should move in or not.”
“What’s holding you back?”
“Todd isn’t as…meticulous as I am.”
“A little touch of OCD, Oliver?”
“I’m neat, Eli. Neat as a pin.”
“And as prickly?”
Oliver laughed. “That’s what Todd says!”
“Then I think you should definitely take the next step.”
“The next step? Hmm. Maybe I will.” Oliver pointed at Eli’s computer. “How about you?”
Eli shrugged, eager to end this conversation. He was afraid that if he kept talking with Oliver he’d admit that he wanted to take the next step for the first time in his memory. Yeah, it was just renting a place, but it was here in Cypress Corners.
Oliver pulled out his phone and gave a dramatic gasp. “Gotta go spell Bree on the front desk!”
Eli waved absently as Oliver hurried out of the sales room. He felt like he was at a crossroads, and that was never a comfortable place for him in the past. Every time he showed up in another foster home, his ratty hand-me-down backpack holding a few clothes and not much else, he’d felt a mix of hope and worry. He’d never lasted anywhere very long. It was never anything he’d done. He’d made sure of that, with his mood and behavior. There always seemed to be some outside force taking away the dream of a forever place.
Not to be too maudlin, which was never his style, but something would inevitably happen to bring any current living situation to an end.
Maybe it was a divorce, which split up his foster parents. Or an upswing in their financial circumstances, which led to lessening the draw on their time once a foster parent could afford to cut a kid loose. There was even the time when a single foster mom met and married a guy who didn’t like the idea of having a kid underfoot. Almost fifteen years in the system had left him counting his lucky stars, though. He’d never been in an abusive situation, and the kids he’d had to chill with in group homes now and then hadn’t been so bad. He wasn’t going to attend any foster family reunions any time soon, but he knew he was a lucky bastard.
Bastard. He was, and an orphan too. His parents had been teens, he’d been told. His father, or the kid his mother claimed had been his father, had cut and run before Eli was born. His mother had tried to raise him on her own. He had hazy memories of hugs and kisses, but not much else. She’d been a street kid, apparently. Maybe a former foster kid as well. No one had claimed Eli when she’d died of pneumonia that winter when he’d been three. Not his mother’s family, wherever they might be. Not his possible father, who had been nowhere to be found.
They’d tried to find anyone in his family, or so he’d been told right before he’d aged out of the system. How hard they’d looked, he couldn’t be sure. It hadn’t mattered at that point, anyway. He was cut loose. He’d landed on his feet though, hadn’t he?
“Sure as hell did,” he muttered.
He glanced out the windows along one side of the sales room. It was bright and sunny out there, and way too nice a day to get nostalgic.
“Just do it, Eli,” Jessie said as she breezed into the sales room. “You know you want to.”
He found a smile for his possible neighbor. “I do?”
“You need a place. You have to get out of the inn.”
“What’s wrong with the inn, exactly?”
“Nothing. And the private beach is very nice. But man cannot live on cinnamon rolls alone.”
He laughed now. “All right. I guess I need to get a place with a kitchen.”
“You can cook?”
“I can cook enough, Jessie.”
Dreaming Eli Page 7