by Jill Shalvis
“If I found a sibling,” he went on quietly, “I’d move heaven and earth to keep them in my life.”
She sighed. “I’m going to tell her.”
“Before she runs off on you because she doesn’t know she has ties here? Come on, Kins, she deserves to know.”
“I get that. Eli’s been all over my case as well. I’m . . . working my way up to it.”
“I call bullshit on that. When you want something, you make it happen. Which means you just plain don’t want to make this happen. But for the life of me, I don’t get why.”
“Hey,” she said. “Eli’s the one who brought her home like a lost puppy. I was fine not having her in my life.”
“Now you’re actually lying right to my face.” He stood and turned to walk away. He had other things to do, she got that. They overworked everyone here because they were so understaffed. “Seriously?” she said to his back. “I thought you’d be on my side.”
“Maybe I only side with people who let me spend the night.”
Ah. Their age-old argument. She narrowed her eyes. “What about people who give you all the orgasms?”
“You know what? Don’t bring me into this. We’re just friends with benefits minus the friends part. I’m just the good-time guy for you, remember?” And when she just stared at him, he shook his head and vanished.
She was still brooding when Eli walked in a few minutes later. “See you’ve managed to piss off the un-boyfriend.”
“Don’t you start.” She let her head fall back so she could stare up at the ceiling. There was a divot in the far-left ceiling tile, and for longer than she could remember, she’d wondered how it’d gotten there. Had someone levitated? Or thrown their annoying-as-shit nurse? Or their so-called un-boyfriend, perhaps?
“It’s been days and you still haven’t talked to her,” Eli said.
She turned her head and slid him a look. “What, are you and Deck a gang now?”
Eli didn’t let her derail the conversation. “Why haven’t you told her?”
“I don’t know, Eli, why haven’t you told her that you’ve got a hard-on for her?”
“Stop,” he said quietly.
“Stop what?”
“You always try to shove people away when you’re frustrated.”
“And yet it rarely works, because here you still are,” she said wearily.
He ran a hand down her arm. “Go to sleep, Kinsey. You look exhausted.”
“You look exhausted,” she muttered, knowing she sounded like a three-year-old, but she was so tired of her life being beyond her own control that she couldn’t stop herself.
When she opened her eyes, she realized by the daylight slanting into the room that a few hours had gone by. She’d actually slept, no bad dreams about dying and floating in gray matter for the rest of eternity—she wasn’t sure what she believed about the afterlife, though she was one hundred percent certain she’d find out far before she wanted to—no waking up to a panic attack and not being able to put her finger on which of her problems had caused it. No shakiness, no urge to throw up.
“What are you smiling about?”
She realized Eli was still sitting there next to her. “I like napping,” she said. “It’s like being dead without the commitment.”
He didn’t smile. He always smiled at her commentary, so she now lost her grin. “What?”
“Tell her.”
She sighed. “You do realize that when I do, she’s going to get mad at both of us and leave, right? Then who will you moon after?”
Eli stood up and then bent low to brush a kiss to her cheek. “You’re so brave, Kinsey. Don’t run from this, one of the really great things to happen to you.” And then he was gone.
BEING WITH KINDERGARTENERS all day every day was teaching Brynn a lot. Such as the importance of tightening the lids on all the paint bottles when they put them away, so that the next day, when they shook them, they didn’t spray the entire room. Or how five-year-olds felt every emotion loudly and publicly.
And that patience was nothing more than an illusion.
Or a delusion.
She’d also learned that no matter how careful she was, by the end of the day she’d be covered in at least some of that paint and food, and a whole bunch of disturbing other things, making her a walking, talking germ vestibule.
But mostly she’d learned . . . she loved teaching little kids.
They looked at the world differently. They were marveled by everything, curious, happy . . . honest.
It was the end of her first week back in Wildstone and still early morning. She went downstairs to the kitchen to grab the breakfast and lunch she’d made herself ahead of time so she could sleep an extra ten minutes—yes, she’d finally gone grocery shopping—and found the entire gang.
They’d all shared a few dinners, and had spent a couple of evenings together, one playing a vicious game of Pictionary on the porch, which had ended with Kinsey throwing her pad of paper at Max; the other, they’d all sat on the beach watching the sunset.
Since that first night, Max had been a perfect gentleman. Kinsey had been . . . muted, but pretty much her usual sarcastic self. And Eli . . . well, if anything, the days had only ramped up the tension between the two of them. A sexual tension, one she had absolutely no idea what to do with. And since nothing had happened, she could only assume he didn’t either. Except . . . that didn’t feel right. Eli wasn’t an unsure man. He was confident, capable, and strong-willed. If he wanted her, there was a reason he was holding back.
She wasn’t sure what to make of that.
Now Max stood at the coffee maker in nothing but board shorts, pushing buttons on the machine and swearing. Kinsey was eating a piece of toast and speaking in a professional work voice into her phone, dressed to perfection as always in a suit dress and strappy heels that Brynn would die for—if she had a shoe budget. Which she did not.
Eli stood in front of the opened fridge in a suit, orange juice in one hand, a tie fisted in the other. She’d seen him in everyday clothes and she’d seen him in nothing. And now she’d seen him in a suit, so she felt uniquely qualified to say he always looked good.
He didn’t move or speak, just cut his eyes to her.
Max looked up from the coffee machine and laughed. “Dilemma, bro?”
Brynn felt confused until Kinsey, who’d finished her call, looked over. “Whenever you see him standing blankly in front of the fridge like that, he’s dealing with low blood sugar. It dulls his thought processes and slows him down. I’m pretty sure he was just about to drink right out of the OJ bottle for a quick sugar fix, but now that you’re here, he can’t. His manners have kicked in.”
“Wait,” Brynn said. “So it’s okay to drink from the container if I’m not looking?”
Kinsey snorted. “No one ever told you that you had normal roommates. With two of them being of the male species, you had to know the odds were stacked against you.”
“Yeah, we’re the not-normal ones,” Max muttered as Eli put the OJ back on the fridge shelf.
“Don’t hold yourself back on my account,” Brynn said. “I don’t drink OJ.”
He pulled the OJ off the shelf and tipped his head back for a long drink. She watched him swallow, thinking it should be illegal for a guy to look that good in everything. And nothing. “It’s going to be hard to go scuba diving in that, isn’t it?” she asked.
He grinned at her. He was the first guy to actually like her smart-ass side. “I’ve got to testify in court today on a case about a gas leak into the marina by a service station.”
“Our local expert,” Max said proudly.
“Don’t be impressed,” Eli told Brynn. “I’m just the only one in my department who owns a suit.”
Kinsey gave a rare laugh. “And don’t be impressed by that either. He can’t tie his own tie. So . . . settle a bet for us. You haven’t unpacked your duffel bag. Why?”
Brynn’s heart skipped a beat. She’d assumed no one had notice
d. “It’s only been a few days.”
“A week, but yeah, exactly,” Kinsey muttered oddly to both Max and Eli. Then to Brynn, she said, “Also, where’s all your other stuff?”
Her pulse kicked into gear at the thought of her secret shame. Her palms began to sweat, but with some hard-won effort, she left her expression dialed to neutral. “How do you know I even have other things? Maybe I just live light.”
“Doubtful, since you used to come to summer camp with two huge suitcases filled to the brim.”
“Things change.” Brynn’s hands went onto her hips and she looked around. “Do we have a problem?”
“We’ve got a bet,” Kinsey said. “There’s twenty bucks on the line and I want it.”
Brynn looked at Eli.
“Not me,” he said, and eyed the others, looking pissed off. “Leave her alone.”
Max lifted his hands. “Hey, I just thought it’d be an easy twenty bucks.”
Brynn felt irritated, but she knew that was her shame at what she’d allowed to happen to her. Didn’t stop her from saying, “Maybe I have lots of stuff. Maybe I just haven’t fully decided on you guys, that’s all.”
“Aha! I win!” Max held out his hand, palm up, to Kinsey. “Pay up.”
“No way,” Kinsey said, and looked at Brynn. “And hey, we’re a delight.”
Eli laughed, and the weird tension was defused. Brynn even laughed too, but that was because Eli’s laugh was contagious.
“Look, it’s no big mystery,” she said. Such a fib. “I’ve just been busy this week. My driver’s license needed renewing, and my moms had stuff they needed me to do, and the teacher I’m subbing for didn’t leave me a lesson plan, which means I’m creating a curriculum as I go, and it’s taking a lot of time.”
Max wiggled his fingers at Kinsey, who sighed and grabbed her purse off the counter.
“Hey,” Brynn said.
They all looked at her.
“I want in on the next bet.”
Eli grinned like he was proud of her, flashing a dimple and everything. And she might be a strong, independent woman—or at least she was working on it—which meant she didn’t need his or anyone’s approval, but it also didn’t mean it couldn’t feel good to get it.
“You need to get going,” Kinsey reminded Eli.
They all looked at the tie crumpled in his hand.
“Shit,” he said. “I’d rather get stung by a jellyfish again than wear this.”
“Pretty please try to tie it on again,” Kinsey said. “That was a fun show to watch.”
Brynn set down her things and took the tie. Going up on her tiptoes to get it around his neck, she dropped the ends of the tie to lift his shirt collar. When her fingers touched his throat and encountered warm skin, she went still and forgot to breathe.
He was watching her from all of two inches away, and it was . . . shockingly arousing. Enough to fog her glasses. He hadn’t shaved and his scruff scraped at her knuckles, and also at a few other body parts that were thankfully hidden away. She had to take off her fogged glasses, but somehow she still managed to button the top two buttons of his shirt and then work on the tie, keeping her eyes studiously on her own fingers and what she was doing, all while incredibly aware of the way she could feel his warm breath against her temple. They were toe to toe, and nearly chest to chest. If she so much as breathed deeply, there’d be contact.
Please let there be contact, her body whispered to her brain.
Her brain, clearly not on the same no-decision moratorium, approved, and she took a deep breath, her breasts leading the way, gently bumping into him.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
His hands went to her hips and he shook his head, maybe meaning no need for the apology. She felt drunk from inhaling his clean, sexy scent, all of which somehow made the moment even more memorable than that long-ago kiss they still hadn’t talked about.
“There,” she croaked, finally finishing the knot on the tie, giving it a pat.
Eli’s eyes held hers and warmed. And then Kinsey of course had to ruin it.
“Jesus,” she said. “Get a room.”
Chapter 11
From thirteen-year-old Brynn’s summer camp journal:
Dear Moms,
This year’s veggie is carrots and they’re candied, so the good news is that I’m going to live. The bad news is that I’m ONCE AGAIN in the same cabin as Kinsey. They say it’s coincidence, but I know it’s because I can’t see at night and she’s always sick, and they put us together so only one counselor has to miss the fun nighttime stuff.
AND IT GETS WORSE!
There’s this cute guy named Sam, and he asked me to sit next to him at dinner. I did my hair in that cute braid you guys taught me. But then he didn’t even show up. So rude! I went back to the cabin and guess what? Kinsey was there, all pissy too.
Turns out, he told us both he’d sit with us, and then didn’t show for either of us! She was crying. I wasn’t.
Okay, I was.
I hate boys.
And before you ask, Kinsey told me I wasn’t Sam’s type, she was, so I still hate her too. I’d say come get me, but I know you’re in Santa Barbara taking that art class, so just send food.
Love you,
Brynn
THE NEXT MORNING Brynn showered, dressed, and then sat on her bed, taking care of a little business on her phone. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d told Eli she’d had a bunch of odd jobs in college. One of them had been working the front desk at a funeral parlor. It’d been a little macabre for her, but she’d made enough money to keep her in peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Plus she’d gained a good friend in one of her coworkers. She’d texted Jenny the day after she’d learned about Eli’s grandma and how the poor woman’s remains were stuck in limbo. It’d hurt to hear the story, so she could only imagine how badly Eli hurt.
Jenny had finally gotten back to her with the information Brynn hoped could help her fix the problem. Thanking her via text, she then made the phone call she needed to make, and hoped it would work. Then she headed into the kitchen, and found the usual crowd—plus one. Eli, Max, Kinsey, Deck, and . . . little five-year-old Toby from her class.
They were all watching while Toby gave a demonstration of his shoe-tying skills—something she’d taught him in class yesterday. He was squatted low over his foot, dark head bent, tongue in the space where his two front teeth had been, as he concentrated, whispering the steps she’d taught him beneath his breath—“Bunny ears, bunny ears, jumped into the hole”—his fingers moving with awkward slowness.
A painful two full minutes later, Toby finally tightened his lopsided bow and jumped up. “See? I did it!”
“Nice going, little man,” Deck said, and scooped up Toby into his beefy arms. He was wearing gym shorts and a T-shirt, both revealing a lot of his body art. “You’ve had a full morning. A gym workout and a new skill.” He mouthed a “thanks” to Brynn and then turned to Kinsey. “Ready, babe?”
Kinsey sighed and grabbed her bag. “I told you Eli could have driven me today. You and the cutie pie didn’t have to swing by and get me.”
“We wanted to,” Deck said, looking at Kinsey with the same amount of love and affection as when he looked at his son.
“See you at school, Ms. Turner!” Toby yelled, and then the three of them were gone.
“I’m hitting the shower,” Max said.
And then it was just her and Eli. His hair still wet from his shower, he was in another suit, looking far too good for her mental health. His expression was unreadable, but warming at the sight of her.
And something within her did the same. Whenever she was with him, she felt the odd and opposing emotions of safety and . . . danger.
“Morning,” he said.
Just one word, and yet it felt like a lot more.
She smiled, moved to the fridge, and eyed the contents. Mini sat at Eli’s feet, mirroring his stance while also staring intently into the fridge.
Hi
s tie was draped uselessly around his neck, and since wondering what was happening between them wasn’t getting her anywhere, she closed the gap. Shut the fridge. Lifting her hands to the tie, she accidentally locked eyes with him and then couldn’t tear herself away. His hands came up to her waist, every bit as heated as his gaze as he squeezed and . . . tickled her.
The squeal was utterly involuntary, and she was laughing when she shoved his hands away and knotted his tie, at the last minute snugging it up to his throat tighter than necessary.
“Feeling playful?” he asked, voice low and husky.
Well, she was most definitely feeling something. And to prove it, she tightened the tie a little bit more. “Maybe,” she murmured. “You?”
He stepped into her, and she found herself back against the fridge, held there by a hundred and eighty pounds of outrageously sexy male, both of her arms imprisoned between their bodies, her hands still holding on to his tie.
Not his hands though. They were free, and he slid them up her arms and playfully encircled her neck, his thumbs gently gliding over the hollow of her throat. “Maybe ‘playful’ isn’t the right word.”
“No?” she asked a little breathlessly. “What is?”
He smiled a very naughty smile, and she was grateful he was holding her up.
“Brynn?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do all week.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“First, a question.”
Her heart had already started pounding, but now it skipped a beat. “Okay.”
“I want to kiss you.”
She stared at his mouth. “That’s not a question.”
Those warm, callused hands of his slowly cupped her jaw now, and the pad of a work-roughened thumb rasped over her lower lip. “May I?”
She felt a smile curve her lips. Because that’s exactly how she’d asked him once upon a time when she’d wanted her first kiss. “I’m getting déjà vu,” she said.
He smiled. “So you do remember.”