Page 37 of Bad Situation

Ellie was right. It’s been a really long time since I’ve thought about sleeping with anyone and even longer since I’ve carried through on the act itself.

My mind was only on one thing all the way home from the ranch when it should’ve been on my hearing tomorrow, or on the acquisition of Birmingham Refining that’s still happening despite my personal legal issues, or everything else I need to deal with. Hell, I should’ve at least been thinking about Cam’s wedding that’s less than a week away.

But all I thought about was Eli and how it felt when he left me yesterday.

Maybe I should be worried—tread lightly when it comes to him. He is, after all, a special agent for the FBI whose team is trying to make a case against me for insider trading.

But he’s proven more than once that I can trust him. Even more, that I should trust him.

When I swing the door open, a smoky aroma of brisket, and who knows what else, fills the air. Once again, he’s standing there holding what is probably too much food and another six pack of beer.

I look up and find him tense and a little frowny. “Just in case this becomes a regular thing, you can skip the beer. I always have beer.”

He moves in without a word, invitation, or even a smile, heading straight to my kitchen.

I shut and lock the door behind him, watching as he again makes himself comfortable in my condo. The air around him is tense and I’m not sure what to make of it.

This was not what I was expecting.

I decide to give him a wide berth and, instead of helping, take a seat at my island across from where he’s banging around in my cabinets.

Again, with the food.

He starts opening to-go containers and, I was right, he brought brisket. But he also brought smoked turkey, burnt ends, and enough ribs to feed him and his buddies while taking in a football game with some left over. Potato salad, slaw, and macaroni and cheese round out his smorgasbord.

I decide now is as good a time to break into his grumpy silence. “Hi, yourself.”

His dark eyes angle to me as he starts to pile two plates heaping with food.

I hate to break it to him, but I tell him the truth anyway. “I know you didn’t ask but, despite growing up on a ranch, I don’t eat much meat.”

He pauses and frowns as if I just told him the sky was pink.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I defend myself. “My sister doesn’t eat any meat, so I’m not that bad.”

He goes back to piling two plates, which I hope are both for him because there’s no way I’m eating that much food as he mutters his first words. “You ate meat the other night.”

“I had chicken the other night. I should say that I don’t eat much red meat.”

He hitches a shoulder and flops an extra mountain of mac and cheese on my plate, as if that’s the way to make up for the buffet of meat he brought. Not that I’m complaining. I might not eat red meat, but I love carbs.

He slides me the mountain of food and pops open a beer, setting it on the marble in front of me with a bang. Since he hasn’t asked for help, I let him open and shut five drawers until he finds silverware and napkins. When he’s finally settled next to me, digging into his pile of brisket covered in spicy sauce, I turn away from my food and face him. “I hardly know you, so I really don’t know what all this means.”

He swallows. “What what means?”

“Your mood. I’m scheduled in federal court tomorrow and you’re the salty one.”

He drops his fork before turning. Taking my hands in both of his, he levels his grumpy eyes on me. “I’ve got some shit going on at work. Shit I can’t talk about and shit I don’t know what I’m going to do about, but shit I also can’t ignore. I’ve seen a lot but, with this, I need to tread lightly.”

Hmm.

He goes on. “I don’t like treading lightly.”

“Let me guess, you’re a guns-a-blazing kind of guy?”

“Guns-a-blazing is easy,” he explains and gives my hands a squeeze as he pulls me closer. We’re inches apart and his rugged features are as intense as the darkest night. When he goes on, I feel his breath across my skin. “It’s romancing a bad situation I don’t enjoy.”

I hate that my insides twist even though this shouldn’t surprise me and I force myself to steady my voice. “You’re not into romance?”

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