“Well, color me intrigued. What all does this entail?”

“Right now? I was the top finisher in the primary, and the final election is in November. My lead was pretty strong, but I still need to keep campaigning. Make more signs. I have a few months to prepare for a community Q & A,” he said, pushing the door open. “This is the house.” He swept his hand in a broad gesture across the living space. It was open, and neat, very different from his brother’s place, which had an air of sad neglect about it, every bit of dust and dirt a fingerprint of grief. Eli’s home had no fingerprints at all. Which, in and of itself, she found fascinating.

“Wow. Connor should hire you,” she said.

“Because I’m not at all busy,” he said. “I mean, obviously I’m not. I’m here getting water for you and letting you use my shower.”

“Because you care for the members of the community,” she said. “Which I am, at this moment, grateful for. Much more so than that time you cared for the community by handcuffing me and putting me in the back of your patrol car.”

“That seems to come up a lot.”

“It’s our cute meet, meet cute, whatever they call it. It’s part of our story,” she said, watching the tension between his brows intensify with each word. There was no doubt, she disturbed him. And he was growing even more disturbed having her in his house.

“Right. So, the bathroom is upstairs. Feel free to take as long as you need in the shower. I’ll get the water ready for you to take back.”

She cleared her throat, annoyed with herself for finding sincerity so hard. She was a basket case. Why anyone took her advice on anything was a mystery to her, particularly when she acted like this. “Thank you. Honestly. I know that I’ve sort of crashed into your life sans finesse here, and I appreciate you...well, I’m glad you haven’t found a reason to arrest me again and I’m very grateful for the chance to shower.”

He nodded slowly. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m going to go and...shower now.” And she was going to hope that she could do it without thinking too much about his proximity. Or without thinking about him at all. Yes, not thinking about Eli Garrett at all—in the shower or out—would be the ideal thing.

If only she could manage it.

CHAPTER FIVE

ELI GRITTED HIS TEETH and hunched his shoulders, trying to ignore the sound of the running water. Trying to ignore any and all thoughts of Sadie in the shower.

It was hard, no pun intended, because there hadn’t been a woman in his house, in his shower, in...possibly ever. It had been so long since he’d had an actual relationship, he couldn’t remember. Longer still since a relationship had mattered, since every actual girlfriend he’d had sort of faded into the distant past like a soft hazy dream.

The kind he had no desire to revisit. Because girlfriends were a whole level of responsibility he didn’t want or need. At this point, with Kate still unsettled and Connor deep in his grief, Eli couldn’t fathom taking on much more.

Which is why it’s obviously the best time to increase your workload.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, before dropping his hands back to his sides and stalking to the fridge. He was going to drink a beer. And he wasn’t even going to bother to go back for the poker game. They’d all do fine without him.

He pulled a cold bottle out from the back and popped the top off with the magnet opener he kept stuck to the freezer.

Yeah, it was a terrible time to take on more. Connor needed help on the ranch, and he always would. It was their legacy, and Eli had to take part in it. Then there was the emotional aspect of dealing with his family.

On top of that, Sadie being in residence was adding another layer to his to-do list that he did not need. Because for all Connor said he was going to handle it, here Eli was, freaking handling it.

Not a huge surprise and not much he could do about it, either. Five years. Five years of Sadie and foibles that would undoubtedly be similar in nature to this. Sometimes he wondered if he’d been an ax murderer in a past life and he was destined to spend this one atoning.

But then he remembered reincarnation was bullshit and took another drink of his beer.

And reincarnation was not the only thing that was bullshit. That there was a naked, wet woman in his house whom he could not and would not touch was also bullshit.

He’d had a permanent frown etched into his face since Sadie had shown up. He didn’t even feel like trying to fix his attitude. It was just one more thing to add to his list of things to worry about. One more thing that he had to add to an increasing, unwieldy pile of Things For Eli to Manage.

Things he knew without a doubt wouldn’t get taken care of if he didn’t do it. Because that was life. It was his life.

Which he was normally not so bitter about. But something about the addition of a woman whom he wasn’t allowed to touch, a woman he shouldn’t even want to touch, naked in his house was like jamming an injured thumb into the center of a lemon. Grabbing two empty gallon jugs from under the sink, he began to fill them for the woman he was trying not to picture naked.

He heard soft footsteps on the stairs and turned to see bare feet come into view. Bare feet with shocking pink nails. Followed by baggy black pants and a very soft-looking shirt, molded to breasts that he should not stare at—but did anyway—and then the rest of Sadie appeared.

Her blond hair was wet and piled on top of her head, tendrils falling down the sides of her face, her cheeks flushed from the hot water. Her makeup was gone. Lashes that had looked dark and heavy were now spiky and pale.

She looked damp and warm and he had no business wondering about her body temperature, or her level of dryness.

“Thank you,” she said, her feet hitting the floor. She walked to the kitchen counter and slung her bag, and her shoes, onto the granite surface. “I feel more like a human and less like a mole person, so that’s always good.” She was smiling now, effortless, friendly.

As if she hadn’t been pissy and sulky with him only a few minutes ago. As if they had no history between them whatsoever.

Fine, it didn’t matter to him. She was just a problem to check off his list. He was not going to waste time overthinking her. He didn’t have the time to waste.

“Shoes,” he said, the muscles in his back tensing from his belt line to his shoulders.

“What?”

“Take your shoes off my counter, please.”

“Sorry,” she said, pulling them from the surface that would now have to be disinfected.

“Yep,” he said. “I’ll grab your jugs for you.”

Her blue eyes rounded. “Oh, really?”

“What?”

“You’re going to...grab my jugs for me... I don’t... You’ve had sex before, right?”

Heat assaulted him, starting in his face and burning a line straight down his chest to his cock. “Yes. What does that have to do with anything?”

“You seem to be operating on a frequency wherein sexual innuendo doesn’t exist.”

Jugs. Suddenly an image of him putting his hands over her breasts and, well...grabbing them...flashed through his mind. “Because I’m not a fourteen-year-old boy,” he shot back. “And I don’t call women’s breasts jugs.” He said the last part through gritted teeth, trying to figure out how in the hell he’d gotten into a conversation about breasts with the woman whose breasts had been tormenting him from the moment she’d crashed back into town like a blonde tornado.

“Well, that’s mature of you. I don’t typically call them jugs, either. I prefer ‘the girls’ or ‘sweater bunnies,’ but even I went there.”

He about choked on the sip of beer he was trying to take. “Don’t you have work to do back at your place?”

“Nothing pressing,” she said.

He gritted his teeth. “Do you want a beer?” He didn’t want her to stay for a beer. Why was he so compulsively appropriate? Especially when she was standing there talking about sweater bunnies.

“Thank you,” she said, “that would be good.”

He laughed, even though he found nothing about any of this funny, and turned back to the fridge, tugging another bottle out, and opening it before sliding it across the counter toward her.