Page 36 of Not in Love

“This is going to hurt,” Harkness said, suddenly serious, “but Eli played for St. Cloud.”

“Huskies.” Sommers shook his head. “I’m a Fighting Hawk myself.”

Eli nodded thoughtfully. “Sir, I think this conversation is over.”

Sommers laughed again, delighted. “Tell you what, son, hockey sticks and golf clubs ain’t that different. How about this Sunday I teach you a few moves?”

Eli’s tongue roamed the inside of his cheek as he pretended to consider it. “Can’t be seen walkin’ away from a fight with a Hawk, can I?”

“Damn well you can’t.”

It was the kind of easy interaction that had me feeling superfluous and out of place, like I’d accidentally wandered into the men’s locker room. Same old boys’ club, now in Technicolor. Beside me, Florence was forgotten. I’d never even existed.

“Conor, I need to introduce you to my wife. I told you we stayed at your father’s resort when we went to Ireland, right? We had dinner with him and his wife a couple of times.”

“Oh, if she had two dinners with Da, I absolutely need to give her my deepest apologies.”

It didn’t sound like a joke to me, but Sommers chortled. Florence emanated gory, murderous energy. “Florence, you haven’t met my better half, either, have you?”

“Not yet, no,” she said sweetly. Ready to snap.

“Come on, then, or I’ll be in the doghouse. I was just telling her about Kline the other day . . .”

They drifted away while Sommers rambled on, unaware of the strife in his unlikely trio, and after an everlasting, stretching moment, it was just the two of us.

Eli and me. Alone in a room full of people.

The charcoal three-piece suit fit him aggressively well, and not just because of the tailoring. There was something about the straight line of his nose, the curl in his hair, the slant of his brow, that matched and enhanced this kind of attire. Somehow, he was as comfortable in this environment as he’d been in my lab.

I simply did not understand this man.

He stepped closer, eyes looking right into mine. “Well,” he said, in his deep, calm voice, and I didn’t reply, because—what was there to say?

Well.

Did you go to college on an athletic scholarship?

I wish I’d never messaged you on that damn app.

Dressed this way, you look different. Less like my Eli, and more like the kind of person who—

My Eli. What the hell was I thinking?

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

He sighed. A waiter stopped to offer us glasses of . . . something. Eli took one, held it out to me, and then drank it in a single swig when I shook my head. “Same thing you and your boss are doing.”

Schmoozing a Kline board member. Fantastic. “Did you know we’d be here?”

His mouth twitched. “Despite your impression of me, I don’t know everything.” His eyes slid down my body, following the shimmery flares in the green fabric. They seemed to remember themselves halfway through, and abruptly skittered back to my face.

We couldn’t just stay here, in the middle of a crowded room. Staring in silence. “Are you really going to play golf with him?” I asked.

“Probably. Unless the Virgin Mary appears to Florence in a fever dream and orders her to turn over the documents we need.”

“I believe she’s an atheist.”

“Golf it is, then. Or do you want to talk her into it?”

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