“You don’t know everything I do.”
“No, but I know everything you don’t do. We live too close to keep secrets.”
“Fine. I brushed up against the barn.”
“Giving it a hug because you were so happy to see it?” Connor asked.
“Okay, you caught me,” Eli said, keeping his tone dry. “I found two women mud-wrestling just outside town and when I went to make sure they had a permit for it, they couldn’t keep their hands off me.”
“Now I believe you hugging a barn before I believe that.”
“Well, pick one. Because they’re the only two stories you’re going to get. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and start organizing this disaster of a party, because frankly, I just didn’t have enough to do.”
“You know you don’t have to do everything, Eli. There’s a certain freedom in just giving the world the middle finger.”
“Yeah, but since you do it so expertly, someone has to get in there and care.” Eli turned and walked out the front door, feeling like a total ass.
Grab a woman who hates you and kiss her? Big fat check next to that box. Insult your grieving brother? Check.
He was on a roll today. There was no denying it.
He sort of wished the mud-wrestling story was true. That would have been fun at least. There was nothing fun about what had passed between him and Sadie. Hot, yes. But not fun. And certainly nothing he could strut around feeling proud of.
When she’d pulled away from him...appalled wasn’t a strong enough word for the look on her face. She’d looked completely horrified that they’d touched. And he’d just wanted to grab her again. And kiss her more.
What the hell was wrong with him?
When he had...affairs, relationships...whatever you wanted to call them, he was careful about his selection. He found women out of town. He found women who weren’t needy or close in proximity. He found women who wanted sex and some easy, occasional companionship.
With the notable exception of Brandy, the last woman he’d been seeing, they were all very casual and very nonintense. Brandy had turned out to be something of a secret badge bunny and about the time he found her naked in the back of his patrol car begging him to put her in handcuffs, he’d known that relationship had to end.
And one thing was certain—he didn’t pursue women who didn’t want him. Sex was easy. Attraction was easy. It wasn’t...whatever this was.
And now he was officially too wound up to enjoy his downtime. Now he was on the verge of an extreme hard-on that would have to go unsatisfied. And now he was officially way past rest and relaxation, he realized during his walk through the property.
What he needed to do was focus on Sadie’s event plans. Yes, that was what he needed. He needed the control. Which, when he thought about it, was probably what the kiss was about. Some unevolved part of himself was trying to seize control through sex.
It had nothing to do with reality. Or with Sadie. Or with him genuinely wanting to shove her top up and her bra down so he could get a look at her breasts.
No, that had nothing to do with it. It was the power struggle. But there was another way. He changed direction abruptly, heading toward the Catalog House as quickly as he could, determination making each step hit the ground harder than was strictly necessary.
He took the steps up the porch two at a time and then knocked on the door.
* * *
Sadie checked the reheating quiche in the oven and smiled. She’d put it in just before getting in the shower. It was looking perfect. And it had taken her only a few tries over the past few mornings.
She’d done it before, but she usually used a premade crust and she’d decided that wasn’t going to cut it at Chez Sadie once she had guests. She took her oven mitts off the cabinet door and opened the oven, pulling the quiche out and putting it on the stove top.
Yes, it looked like heaven. And she was self-satisfied to a ridiculous degree. There was something she liked about all this. Building a business from scratch. Building...quiche from scratch. It was awesome any way.
There was a sudden, impatient pounding on the door that nearly made her jump out of her skin. But almost immediately, she knew who it had to be, without even looking. Because no one else seemed to have emotions strong enough to merit knocks that were quite that intense.
Unless someone had been involved in a terrible wood-chopping accident and was knocking on her door with what remained of their arm. In which case, she should hurry and answer it.
She felt bad for hoping it was someone with a bloody stump, but it seemed oh so infinitely preferable to Eli.
“Coming!” she shouted, pinning her damp hair back and reaching for the door handle, feeling her expression contort to one of horror when she saw who was behind it. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Who did you think it was?” he asked, his dark eyes intense and far too interesting for her own good.
“I was sort of hoping it was someone who’d been gravely injured and was in need of help.”
“Sorry to tell you, it’s just me.”
“Are you in grave danger? Missing any appendages?”
“All body parts present, accounted for and attached,” he said, his tone dry.
And now all she could think of was the body part that had most certainly been present and accounted for during their kiss. And she needed to think of anything else. “Well, damn.”
He leaned in and for one moment, she had the fleeting thought that he was going to burst through that door, throw her onto the table and finish what they’d started earlier in the garden.
Which was ridiculous because she didn’t want him to do that. And because she was not the kind of person who had crazy, throw-down-on-the-table sex. Because that required a certain amount of insanity that was just not a part of her physical relationships.
She was into relationships where you kept your head on straight and had sex at the end of a nice meal. She was well-adjusted about things. She wasn’t an animal.
“I have to work for the next few days, so I don’t have time to entertain you, or help you plan your little barbecue. But the minute that I’m off for the week? You and I have some talking to do.”
