God, he must think she was an idiot. But then she was talking again, without the permission of her more poised self. “I like my big oak tree in front and there’s a creek running through the backyard. But of course your landscaping is lovely. I appreciate it every day when I come home, the lush lawn and those hydrangea bushes are sure to be beautiful this summer. Not to mention…”
But then her brain caught up with her mouth, and the mentioning halted, midstream.
“Take a breath,” he suggested kindly, a hint of a smile around his lips, revealing a glimpse of strong, white teeth. “And then tell me why you’re here.”
“Oh.” As directed, she sucked in some air and hoped her embarrassed blush didn’t turn her fair skin an unbecoming shade of red. Then she lifted the pair of rubber rain boots she carried in her left hand. “One of the twins left these at my place and I wanted to be sure to return them before the big road trip.”
“Okay,” he said, then pointed at her feet. “But why are you there there?”
He meant why had she knocked on his door then scurried off the porch like a timid rabbit. But it had nothing to do with bravery. Glancing over her shoulder, she checked on Paige, asleep in her car seat, her towhead lolling. “I want to keep an eye on my daughter,” she explained. “We were at some friends earlier and were on our way home when I remembered the boots.”
Eli’s expression changed, from somewhat curious to…well, blank. “Ah,” he said, then made his way down the stairs, his long legs eating up the distance between them.
Despite an impulse to scuttle backward again, Sloane planted her sneakers on the ground and outstretched her arm. The boots dangled in the air until he took hold of them.
Her arm dropped.
“Thank you,” he said, then hesitated. “I’ll put these with the other things they’re bringing.”
“Great.” Without a real goodbye, they began to move in opposite directions. She wondered if she’d ever have a word with him again.
Her belly fluttered, peevish butterflies dodging and weaving, which she could only hope wasn’t a second sign of oncoming illness. With the weekend on the horizon and the twins unavailable to babysit—
“Wait,” Sloane said, spinning around.
Eli turned too, his foot on the lowest step. “Something else?” His expression looked wary.
“I made treats for their road trip,” she said, and jogged around the front of her car to open the passenger seat. She removed the shoebox she’d lined with foil and held it toward him with two hands, like an offering.
He lowered the boots to the step and then returned her way, accepting the container. “Treats?” he asked, raising one brow.
Sloane found the gesture fascinating. And this close she could smell him too, a lime aftershave with an added hint of chili spices. Very manly. Her daughter’s daddy had worn cologne, a too-sweet scent selected by his mother, “Rice Krispies treats. You can go ahead and have one if you’d like.”
A strange expression crossed his face, one she couldn’t interpret. Reluctance?
“Really,” she said, to encourage him. “I made a lot.” On another breath she was babbling again, a brook fed by some river of nervous reaction she had to the way he looked, the way he smelled, that amazing eyebrow. “They’re really easy. The cereal, of course, then you melt together some butter and marshmallows—”
“I know how to make Rice Krispies treats,” Eli said. “It brings back some bad memories, as a matter of fact.”
“Oh, sorry.” She felt her face blanch, which at least would neutralize the earlier redness. “Really sorry, but I—”
“Stop,” he said, holding up a hand.
Yay. She needed some sort of chatter control mechanism and that big palm seemed to do the trick.
“The memories aren’t all bad,” he said, “but I had to help Allison make what seemed to be thousands one weekend a while back. They were a donation for the drama club bake sale—drama club was her thing-of-the-moment—and we made them plain, and with chocolate chips, and with butterscotch chips, and with pieces of dried fruit, and with—well, you get the idea.”
She did, and it charmed her, to think of big brother Eli King committing himself to a weekend in the kitchen. Another rush of strange heat flashed over her skin and she made a mental note to take two pain relievers before bedtime.
“Then the dog took off with a plateful and rolled in them instead of eating the damn things. Next he ran his sticky self out to the yard where he took a dirt bath. Think about the cleanup involved.”
She grinned at him. “Probably like washing up a toddler who’s smeared herself with ice cream before vigorous play in the sandbox.”
He’d started to smile too, then it died as he glanced over her shoulder toward her car. “Sloane,” he said, his voice going quiet. “You should probably be getting your daughter to bed.”
“You’re right.” Paige needed to go down in her own bed for the night and Sloane required eight hours also, to clear her muddled brain. Because sometime during the last bit of conversation, Eli King had drawn closer to her and she’d noticed, besides his delicious man-smell, the undeniable attractiveness of the sinewy, muscled length of him. Worse, for the tiniest of seconds, she’d imagined what it might be like to lean into his strength.
Which proved she had to be verging on unwell. When she’d become Paige’s mom she’d vowed to never depend upon anyone but herself.
“Good night, Eli,” she said, with a short nod.
“Goodbye, Sloane,” he answered. They turned away from each other.
“Wait,” a new voice called out.
Sloane’s spine snapped straight and her head turned to see Molly King running down the porch steps, wearing floppy flannel pants and an oversized T-shirt. Eli looked at his sister, a puzzled expression on his face.
“Mol?” he asked.
“Perfect,” she cried, “to catch you two together.”
Her brother frowned. “You didn’t ‘catch’ us at anything, Molly. Sloane brought over rain boots and Rice Krispies treats.” He handed his sister the box.
“Cool,” she said, tucking them under one arm. Then she tucked her other hand in her brother’s elbow and towed him toward where Sloane stood, preparing to slip into the driver’s seat. “I don’t believe you two have formally met.”
“We’ve been talking—”
“Sloane Clarke, Eli King. Eli King, Sloane Clarke,” Molly said.
Eli’s expression signaled patience stretching thin. “Okay, Mol, introductions are done and it’s late. We all need to get inside to our respective homes.”
“As soon as I tell Sloane that we’re counting on her.”
“Um, what?” Sloane asked.
“She lives right across the street,” the girl said, addressing her brother.
“I got that.”
Molly turned to Sloane. “It won’t be any inconvenience at all,” she declared. “But we’ll feel better for it, all four of us.”
Eli sucked in a long breath. “Mol, what are you talking about?”
She wagged her finger at him. “Don’t think we don’t know about your plans for the next two weeks, Elijah Henry King.”
In the light glowing from the windows and the outdoor fixtures set strategically around the King front yard, Sloane could see a flag of color splashing each of Eli’s cheekbones. Hmm.
She rocked back on her heels, allowing herself a moment to enjoy his discomfiture. Did that make her a bad person? “What are these plans of your brother’s you’re talking about, Molly?” she asked.
Eli shot her a quick glance and she barely managed to suppress her smirk. Handsome, sexy man, home alone without the constricting presence of four younger sisters, two of them teenagers? It didn’t take a leap of understanding to figure he was planning on turning the family home into a temporary den of iniquity. She smiled at him, sweetness and light. “Or maybe I should be asking you, Eli. Should I be worried about witnessing—”
“Nothing lik
e you’re imagining,” Eli said abruptly, his brows slamming together.
He feared her speculating in front of his little sister, which made Sloane want to laugh. “I only intended to ask if you were planning on hosting poker nights past eleven,” she said innocently.
His disgruntled look made her swallow another giggle. When was the last time she’d had this much fun?
“You know about poker night?” he asked.
“It’s not poker night we sisters are worried about,” Molly said, so Sloane didn’t have to explain how she’d soaked up any and every detail the King sisters dropped about their brother. “It’s whether…” The girl sent Eli a significant look.
He tensed. “Whether what?”
“Whether you’re going to take proper care of yourself while we’re gone,” Molly answered. “It can’t be all pizza all the time, Eli. And showers. You mustn’t forget showers.”
His expression signaled outrage. “When haven’t I showered?” he demanded.
“We don’t want you to begin a bad habit,” Molly explained. She put the box of treats on the top of Sloane’s car so she could jam her fists on her hips. “Let’s talk about shaving. That you’ve been known to forget, admit it. But you have to remember to use your razor at least every other day, otherwise you scare off the customers at the nursery. Can you promise to do that?”
“No,” Eli said, clearly unwilling to take orders from his little sister.
“I thought so.” Molly sighed. “That’s why Sloane’s going to promise to keep tabs on you.”
“Huh?” Sloane looked at the girl. “What?”
“Once a day. Twice would be better, if you can manage it. Just show up at the door, give him a holler, and make sure he’s doing the right things.”
Eli was glaring at his sister, clearly murder on his mind. Sloane had to swallow more laughter. The man obviously wasn’t interested in having a comportment monitor sicced on him.
“Sure, Molly,” she said, managing to keep a straight face. “I’d be happy to keep tabs on your big brother’s behavior.” Glancing at Eli, she could see he didn’t find anything about this even remotely humorous, which only tickled her funny bone more.
“Really,” she said, addressing him now with overt enthusiasm. “It’s no problem. Happy to help.”
“Awesome sauce!” Molly crowed, clapping her hands. Then she grabbed one of Eli’s and one of Sloane’s. “Shake on it,” she said, and pressed their palms together.
Rocking Sloane’s world.
Her heart slammed against her ribs, then a flash bang of sensation sparked from the place they touched, shooting up her arm. Her fingers spasmed, closing over Eli’s, and his did the same.
Politeness on his side? She didn’t know, because she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Or breathe. After a moment she managed to yank her hand free, but she kept her eyes downcast as she rushed to slip behind the wheel. With the car started, she rolled down the window and, trying to keep up appearances, called out a faux cheery good night.
Eli didn’t bother replying, but Molly smiled big. “Don’t forget your promise,” she called out, grabbing the Rice Krispies from the car roof.
Sloane waved, but didn’t speak, the promise she’d made a tiny blip on her worry radar. Looming large was the fact that she’d figured out the cause of all her physical responses tonight—the heat, the belly flutters, the muddled state of mind. It wasn’t an illness in the health sense of the word.
It was something else altogether, that went a long way to explaining all the times she’d caught herself stealing glances at Eli King since she moved into her little house four months ago. All the times she’d ferreted away the nuggets of info about the man his sisters had dropped. That reaction to the simple touch of his hand on hers confirmed it.
She had a thing for him.
A ridiculous, nonsensical, inconvenient thing.
Maybe even dangerous.
With the upcoming visit from Paige’s grandparents in the offing—a visit that would take all her powers of patience and self-control—this was no time to be distracted.
Particularly not by a knee-buckling crush on the man across the street.
Chapter 2
Eli checked the old clock mounted on the wall of his office, noting it read five o’clock. Time to go. Sure, the nursery stayed open until dusk, but he’d been chained to his office chair since six a.m., arriving after seeing off his four sisters. Thinking of them, he glanced at his phone to ensure he hadn’t missed a text.
Nothing since they’d given him a snarky rundown of their lunch selections.
It was going to be more than nice to get home and start his weekend—no, two weeks without younger sibling-attitude in his face.
He was still staring at his phone when his assistant Marie came to stand in the doorway, wearing her work uniform of jeans and a King Nursery T-shirt. At sixty, she looked hardly a day past forty, with her gray-less hair layered around her face, a smile curving her lips and reaching to crinkle her brown eyes at the corners. “You’re going to miss them. Admit it.”
He took a last check of his cell, then shoved it in his back pocket. “Miss who?”
She gave him a long-suffering look, which she was thoroughly entitled to, as she’d worked for his dad and then Eli, putting up and helping him cope with the inevitable pains of taking over as boss of the family business when he was eighteen, grieving but determined. “Your sisters, of course.”
Instead of answering, Eli stood and began a half-hearted attempt at straightening the papers on the battered metal desk that had been his father’s, and his father’s before him. Everything about the office was nearly the same as the way his dad had left it, though there were fewer wholesale catalogs cluttering the space than he remembered as a kid.
He shut down his computer. These days, most of his ordering was done online.
His gaze went to the clock again, a promotional piece from a seed company having long since left the marketplace. The yellowed plastic case and the colorful face decorated with dancing cornstalks were too familiar to replace. And hey, it still worked.
“Five,” Eli said to Marie. “Time for us both to clear out. Doug’s in charge of shutting down for the night.” There was a caretaker who lived on the nursery’s property full-time as well, so the list of closing tasks for the last staff member was a short one. “Grab your purse and make for your Friday night happy-hour meet up with your husband.”
“I will. Russ said he’s running a little late, though.” She waved a manila folder. “I’m just reminding you of that field trip we have scheduled for next week. The liability paperwork was just now emailed from the elementary school’s extended care program.”
“Right.” With Easter coming late this year, so was spring vacation. The program’s administrator had proposed to Eli an enrichment visit for the younger kids out on break. “I modified the schedule to include a couple of extra bodies to help out that day.”
“I’ll make sure there’s strawberries and apple juice for a snack,” Marie said.
“Great idea.” Eli felt for his keys. Before him lay a Friday night devoid of plans besides as many beers as he decided to consume and whatever television caught his attention. No need to set a good example by limiting his intake or opting for educational entertainment—his sisters watched enough of that reality crap, so he usually tried modeling better choices.
Jeez, he thought, in sudden realization. What a dull life he’d been leading.
“Oh,” Marie said, as she swung around. “Sophie Daggett’s here to see you.”
Eli nearly groaned, lamenting the delay to his I’m-free Friday, but almost before that thought was completed, Sophie herself hurried in, looking more chipper than she had in the two months since Hart Sawyer’s fiancée had died of an aneurism.
The tragedy had affected their entire group of friends—the poker buddies and the circle surrounding them—and Sophie’s usual bounce had gone missing. But now she was smiling, and recallin
g the likely reason for her visit, he decided he should be smiling too.
So he did, gesturing for her to take one of his visitor chairs and dropping back into the seat behind his desk. “Soph,” he said. “Looking good.”
She was petite and blonde—not the same corn-silk shade of that woman from last night, the one he’d dismissed from his mind the moment she’d reversed out of his driveway. Sophie’s hair was a honey blonde and she tucked it behind her ears as she sat.
“I’ve found you three great women,” she said in a loud voice.
“Shh!” Jeez. He glanced over her shoulder, toward his office door. “Do you want the whole nursery to know you’re playing matchmaker?”
“I’m not ashamed,” she said. “Neither should you be. You’re a busy man who’s afraid to join an online dating service. How else are you going to meet people?”
His gaze darted toward the door again. “I’m not afraid.”
“Oh, come on, I know you shake in your boots thinking Nora or Allison might stumble across your profile.”
Eli suppressed his shudder at the thought. “Do those services have a way of preventing that?” he demanded. “And if so, how trustworthy might their safeguards be?”
Sophie waved away his concern. “It doesn’t matter. I volunteered and you let me take on the job. I’ve even arranged the dates for you. All three women are quite interested.”
God, he hoped Sophie hadn’t promised white lace and wedding rings. “They know I’m still raising Lynnie and Molly and—”
“They know everything,” Sophie said, waving her hand again.
He decided against enquiring further. Though he hadn’t told his friend’s younger sister that he was primarily looking to get laid during the next two weeks, when she’d offered to scout around for him, he’d agreed. He wasn’t expecting every date to end in bed, anyway. As long as Sophie hadn’t advertised him as in the market for marriage, he was willing to make a new acquaintance or two, free of naked expectations. So the three dates sounded good.
NO LIMIT (7-Stud Club Book 2) Page 2