Chapter 27
Ava
Tuesday, I returned to work. The phones rang nonstop, several outstanding orders waited on my desk, and I spent forty-five minutes on the phone, arguing with a supplier who wouldn’t deliver in our agreed-upon window.
My body trudged against gravity. Congestion buried my brain in thick clouds.
I would have shaved my head to be back under my blanket, even with Eli’s hands all over me.
In fact, that’s where my brain kept going.
Eli’s hands on my legs. Eli’s heat seeping across the cave of my blanket.
At noon, I pulled out my sandwich and turned on a fan, hoping to blow away my errant thoughts while I played around with my marketing plan for Hidden Meadows. Something that would bring income, even if the place wasn’t fully running yet. Maybe a rustic wedding venue? Very rustic.
When five o'clock rolled around, I just wanted my pillow. The heat of my Chevy zapped what little energy remained, so to stay alert, I called Terry.
He answered on the third ring. “Hey, hon. You checkin’ to see if I’m taking my pills?”
I frowned. “What pills?”
“Kip threatened to tell you if I didn’t take my darn blood pressure medication.”
What? “Are you okay? Did something happen?”
“It’s nothing. All us old folks take ’em.”
I let out a relieved breath. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
Was he being obtuse on purpose? “Are you taking them?”
His rumbling laugh vibrated through the phone. “Guess I am now.”
I clenched the steering wheel as I waited for him to call me out. I still owed him a visit. But he didn’t.
“So, if you weren’t calling to harp on me, what’s on yer mind?”
“Well, I’ve made some modifications to my marketing plan. And I’m exploring alternative services for income. Maybe weddings and event rentals?”
“All work … You should take a ride. Relax a little.”
“I did, actually.”
“Yeah?”
“Eli kind of forced me, but it was good.” I pulled up to a red light. “You know, it’s not work when you’re doing something you love.”
Terry hummed an objection. “There’s always something that’s gotta be done. Especially here. And not all of it’s fun. You don’t want to burn out before you even start.”
The seconds stretched as my fatigue tried to coax me into agreement. No. Tiredness was temporary. “Terry, Hidden Meadows is our dream.”
“Doesn’t stop me from worrying about you.”
“I know.”
I considered the cost of a new fifth wheel. With all the changes over the past few weeks, I knew my loan amount would be less than what Terry deserved. He should get to play in style after decades of hard work. Maybe I could wrangle Eli and August into fixing up a used trailer for him.
“Hey, Terry?”
“Yeah?”
“Take your pills.”
I was so close, yet I could feel my spirit breaking.
Everything felt contradictory. Proving to Terry that I could tackle this enormous task on my own, yet relying on the help of strangers.
Saving every penny toward a business while struggling to cover my day-to-day expenses.
Indulging in Eli’s attention, but enjoying the nostalgia of August’s company and the life it represented.
I rolled down my window to let the wind drown out my thoughts. But the evening heat only melted my confidence into a self-pity puddle. What if I couldn’t get Hidden Meadows running again? What if I invested all my time, my money, and failed?
I pulled up to Bill’s house and climbed the porch steps while uncertainty spun donuts in my head. Eli’s eyes found me the second I entered the kitchen, and without missing a beat, he opened the fridge and handed me a beer.
“I could kiss you!” I upended the bottle and chugged half its contents, fully aware his wide eyes watched me. Perhaps I should’ve been more careful with my words. “Where is everyone?”
He adjusted his hat. “Around.”
“I’m going to change.” I took my beer downstairs with me.
Business casual became a worn, wide-necked sweatshirt and a pair of loose shorts.
I didn’t care that my outfit screamed “laundry day.” I just needed something comfortable to counter the pressure building inside.
I unwound my braid and threw my hair on the top of my head with a clip.
In the bathroom mirror, a stranger stared back at me until her edges blurred.
She looked nothing like the woman from a year ago.
Her cheeks were gaunt, and a raccoon mask shaded her eyes purple. She looked older, tired.
“I’m not burned out,” I told her.
I finished my beer and headed upstairs, contemplating a second. The whole gang now congregated in the kitchen: Bill, Eli, August, Nina, and Marley. I instantly longed to retreat downstairs, where the quiet could cradle me into a false sense of security. Or dig up my worst fears. It was a crapshoot.
Instead, I went for it–the second beer. Because dinner needed making.
“Mama! Mama! Guess what?” Nina stood on the dining bench, her cast sticking up like a cactus.
I met her at the table with a hug. “Did you have a good day?”
“Yeah! August tolded me a story about my daddy!” She pronounced it “oddest,” and that chipped away at some of my doubts.
“Oh yeah? Which story?”
“You putted socks on his hands! And he did a puppet show when he was sleeping!” She collapsed onto the table in a fit of giggles.
The memory unleashed a smile. He’d been on heavy painkillers for surgery on a broken collarbone. The socks prevented him from scratching his stitches. “He did. And the puppets were named Freda and Frijole.”
“Doesn’t frijole mean bean?” Marley asked.
“It does.”
Nina shook with another round of giggles, and pleasant soda bubbles fizzed in my sternum, lifting my spirits.
It was pretty funny, a drugged-up Jason singing love ballads to a sock.
“Guess I’d better start dinner. August, are you staying?
Oh, actually …” I glanced at Bill, remembering too late that this was his house.
“You’re welcome to join us,” Bill said.
August flashed a paparazzi smile. “Okay. Yes, I stay.”
“Great!” Wait. That meant I had to figure out what to cook for six people. Exhaustion crept back in as I shuffled to the refrigerator.
Eli slid up beside me and wrapped a possessive arm over my shoulders. My breath stuck as he tipped his head close to mine. “I’ll cover for you if you wanna sneak off.”
It could’ve been the beer flowing through my veins, but now I didn’t want to leave. “It’s fine.”
“Take a load off. I’ll do dinner.” When I didn’t move, he gave me a gentle shove toward the table. “Hey cowgirl, go sit.”
Cowgirl?
As if I could. My thoughts swam through a ball pit of all the ways Eli had touched me in the past few weeks.
I put my second beer on the counter, lingering.
Meanwhile, he stepped around me, obviously trying not to touch me, pulling a sleeve of hamburger patties from the freezer, dumping them on the counter.
“Dad, you wanna light up the barbecue?”
Solid shoulders shifted with easy confidence as Eli pried apart the patties.
My eyes dropped to the flex of his forearms. The subtle veins in his very dexterous hands.
I needed something to do. Beelining to the fridge, I dug through the drawers and shelves, collecting condiments.
Ketchup, mayo, mustard, onion, lettuce …
what else? I turned, arms full, only to collide with Eli’s chest.
He started confiscating vegetables and bottles, his skin brushing mine, bodies close. “So stubborn. Just tell me what you want. I’ll do it.”
“Anywhere, anytime.”
I knew that wasn’t what he meant, but when his eyes met mine, I had no doubt he understood.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Go. Sit. Or I will ban you from this kitchen.”
“You can try.” I liked Two-Beer-Ava. She didn’t give one salt lick about filters.
Eli’s eyes dropped to my mouth, and the muscle in his jaw jumped. In a voice so low, I could hardly make out the words, he said, “You want me to throw you over my shoulder?”
Unfortunately, his barbaric suggestion only made my core burn hotter. I gulped.
His normally amber eyes smoldered closer to burnt caramel. “You’re killing me, cowgirl.”
My feet wouldn’t move. The new nickname didn’t help.
Eli glanced around at the halted side conversations. All eyes were on us. “Be right back,” he told them.
He dropped the condiments on the counter and dragged me out of the kitchen.
We turned the corner into the entryway, then the entryway bathroom.
Before I could blink, his body was herding me to the wall, his palms flat against the wainscoting on either side of my head.
The door snicked shut, and suddenly, I wasn’t tired.
When his mouth formed my name, I felt the atoms shift between us. Dizzying fantasies circled like drunk Tweety Birds. I yearned to run my hands up his arms, or maybe just hang on for dear life, but I was paralyzed by the firm line of his shoulders crowding me.
His eyes closed as his head dropped. “I can’t–I’m trying. I don’t think you realize what you do to me.”
“You’re the one who keeps touching me.”
“You want me to stop?”
I shook my head.
His nose flared when I wet my lips. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
The rise and fall of his chest mesmerized me. I pinched his shirt with my fingers. Issued a gentle tug. He yielded to the whispered gesture, his elbows bending in slow motion, closing the gap between us.
Impulses ran haywire. I couldn’t think. Didn’t want to. We could do anything in that little half bath, away from prying observations. And even if they knew? Was it so bad, Eli and I? My appetite grew for something I wouldn’t find on the dinner table.
His heart pounded a new rhythm into me, his hips muting my second thoughts. I slid my hand up his body, navel to collarbone, supple cotton dragging. What would it be like to do it directly on his skin?
His breath stuttered.
“Sorry, did that hurt?” I retracted my touch.
He shook his head. “No. Definitely doesn’t hurt.”
Warm lips brushed my cheek, and a cool palm slid along my jaw. Fingers dug into my hair. My heart hammered so hard I passively wondered if it could punch through my ribcage. Who needed a heart, anyway? Messy things that insisted on carrying more than their weight.
“I’ve been thinking about kissing you for so long,” he said, “I can’t decide where to start.”
“Are there really that many choices?”
He remained motionless for a full breath, his body pressing against mine, reverent eyes drinking me in. I snaked my arms over his shoulders to lock behind his neck. What was he waiting for? How could his mouth be so close and yet not touching? Electricity danced across my skin.
“Just kiss me, already.”
With such tension singing through our bodies, his hesitant press against my lips took me by surprise.
He held there, like a gradual submersion into an icy lake.
Acclimating. Testing the water. Except my blood pulsed like molten lava, and if he didn’t get a little more serious, I was going to erupt.
I captured his mouth with mine, dragging him deeper. He inhaled sharply, then plunged.
Soft skin met scratchy stubble. Pleasure with a hint of pain. What a great motto for life. He tasted like sunshine and iced tea. Like family horseback rides and s’mores on the back deck. Slow and sweet but a shade past innocent.
His teeth scraped across my bottom lip, and a satisfied hum vibrated through him as his fingertips dusted the skin below my shirt. Oh. My. God.
Get an extinguisher. I was about to combust.
Then, to my dismay, he pulled his mouth away, his breathing labored. “I don’t want to do this here. Come to my room later?”
The “yes!” trapezed on the tip of my tongue. This inferno needed an outlet. But sounds drifted through the wall. Kitchen sounds. Nina sounds. Sounds of responsibilities so emulsified in my makeup, I couldn’t separate them.
At my hesitation, Eli inched back, then pushed off the wall. I lost all of him at once. The enthusiasm, the heat, the hand in my hair. My heart sank as his smile faded. “Sorry. Was it too much? That was too much.”
“No! No … It’s just–” What was holding me back?
We stood there in silence, catching our breaths.
Eli removed his cap, ran a hand over his hair, and adjusted his jeans. “Ava, I really like kissing you.”
“Me too.”
He slapped his hat against his thigh. “But?”
“No ‘but.’ I wanted you to kiss me.” We hovered on a tightrope, and I was so afraid of pushing him off. “It’s okay. I’m not expecting anything long-term.”
When he stilled, the small room shrank to microscopic. A strange expression flitted across his face. He shoved his hat back on. “Maybe it’s better if we don’t.”
What? No!
“I’m sorry, Ava.” He was already reaching for the door.
“Better for whom? Eli, I–”
Instead of answering, he fled the too-small half-bath. The door clicked closed, and the frigid cleanse of disappointment splashed over me. My brain spun, trying to piece together what had just happened. But the only thing I could settle on? I should’ve skipped that second beer.