Page 6 of Those Who Are Bound

Elliott

Sundaysweresacred,butnot for the reason most would assume. Elliott reserved this day for herself. These were the days, events on the property or not, that she was not to be disturbed. She liked to sleep late, make her coffee, and sit on one of her two decks while she sipped the brew, surveying the land or reading the news on her iPad. Back when it was more than herself, she’d enjoyed Sunday mornings even more, bantering back and forth with Gage.

Although G hadn’t been around for a couple of years, the Sunday morning ritual hadn’t changed. If she could help it, Sunday was her day to be an introvert. Well, more of an introvert.

Before she had moved onto the property, she’d been the controller in a chiropractor’s office, so having the peace and quiet of a Sunday had been necessary. Then she’d moved here intending to temporarily help Gage out with the business and a few other issues. The “temporary” became permanent. These days, it was more of a habit. Every day could be a Sunday if she wanted it to be; she was now her own boss.

She had her coffee late in the morning on her back deck, located off the main bedroom. She dressed for the day in a pair of black denim shorts and a white V-neck T-shirt, wearing her hiking boots. In the back of her mind, she mocked herself that they weren’t as fancy as those worn by the wolf in her driveway. She wouldn’t dissect her reason for wearing them today, because the property wasn’t that difficult to navigate. She told herself she preferred them to tennis shoes, and it was true: she was either barefoot or wearing boots. She’d already sprayed herself with bug repellent, which was a necessity for KC in the summertime, especially in the woods.

Around noon, she’d tripped lightly down her stairs, shoving her black hair up under an Air Force cap, and went into the office located in the first storage unit next to her house. She turned on the computer and spent the better part of the hour preparing paperwork for Lucy. Before heading back out, she pocketed a set of keys and grabbed a folding chair. It was almost one by the time she made her way to the main building.

Elliott glanced down the road as she approached the red door. She was both nervous and eager, and it wasn’t because her new employee was starting today, thus possibly bringing cash flow back into this place. She mentally abused herself for being the worst person on Earth for thinking about Lucy’s boyfriend.

She absolutely refused to admit the thoughts she had cozied up to last night to get to sleep. After all, she wasn’t the sort of woman to go after someone else’s man, no matter what kind of person he appeared to be.

Besides, did she really want him, knowing what she did about him?

No. No, she didn’t.

Elliott mocked herself,although…

“Stop it. Not the same thing,” she snapped out loud to herself, the image of a blond man making a fleeting appearance in her mind’s eye, the sound of her voice echoing in the large hall. Being the only person on the property, she often had conversations with herself.

The glint of sun off metal coming down the tree-lined lane told her that Lucy was on time. But she wasn’t looking at the passenger side of the four-door Jeep as it approached.

Lucy hopped out first, appearing more relaxed today than yesterday. She wore dark-blue pleated cotton shorts and a white button-down blouse with tiny embroidered flowers and white tennis shoes. She was a walking Brooks Brothers advertisement, complete with a white cotton sun visor that she had her blond hair pulled through.

Tall, dark, and handsome stepped out in pressed khaki slacks and a light blue long-sleeved button-down shirt with dark brown leather shoes; simple but devastating—it looked a little off, the dresswear. She imagined he’d rather be in climber pants and a T-shirt. Resentful for no reason whatsoever, Elliott wryly imagined that he would make a tank top and boxer shorts look good, then mentally smacked herself for the brief daydream.

“Knock it off,” she muttered to herself. “He’s a total cad.” Moving to the red door, she opened it as they approached. Elliott looked at him first even though he was behind Lucy. But she wrenched her gaze away, ignoring the crackle of electricity, and said inanely, “You came back.”

Lucy gushed, “As if I wouldn’t!”

Elliott stepped back, waving them in, bemused by the woman’s zeal for the place. It wasn’t the only game in town as far as event space or event planning was concerned.

Lucy breezed by, looking around again with stars in her eyes as though she had gained entrance to… well, someplace more fabulous than Easy Street Events on the outskirts of Kansas City, Missouri. Jonah was right behind her. Elliott’s second glance at him had her slowly taking in a breath as she stepped back to allow him space—or her space.

She hadn’t been this close to him yesterday, and his sheer presence knocked her on her heels now. Thankfully, he was glancing around the room instead of at her. She was sure her knees would have knocked if he directed those intense greens at her in this proximity, especially when he smelled so good: spicy cologne and man. Immediately, she looked to see if he was carrying the bit of jute in his hands, but his hands were empty; she relaxed.

What the hell was the matter with her?

The door met the frame harder than she intended as she closed it behind them. She cast a look around the bright area, wondering what they saw—what he saw—before she sidled behind them to head toward the bar. “Lucy, I’ll walk you through here first, then take you out to the office. We’ll walk around the property itself last.” She’d come up on the fold-out chair she’d set up and glanced back over her shoulder at Jonah. She quipped, pointing to it. “You can wait here, mister…?”

He looked over at Lucy, the question of his identity hanging in the air. But as Lucy’s mouth opened to offer introductions, he stepped forward and held out his hand to her. “I’m Jonah. Jonah Montgomery.”

Fuck. Now she had to touch him. Elliott hoped her expression didn’t reflect how tortured she felt as she paused in her forward momentum toward the bar and met his hand. She repeated a mantra in her head:You shake a lot of hands; you shake a lot of hands. And she shook his hand, trying to go in for a quick and disinterested brush-off vibe. But his wrapped warmly around hers, soft yet firm, just the perfect amount of pressure. The surprise of his calloused touch reached down to her groin. He had the hands of someone who worked outdoors—of someone who played with rope. Oh, double fuck.

Her cheeks heated as she initially and unsuccessfully tried to reclaim her hand, saying tightly, “Elliott. But you know that.” More forcefully than she needed to, she ripped her hand away, which seemed to amuse him if she judged by his single chuckle. Resuming her path toward the bar, she rubbed her burning appendage against her thigh.

“I can’t imagine any of this would be of interest to you, and”—she raised an eyebrow as she pretended to just now notice his attire—“you aren’t dressed for it, so I think that I would be… I mean,youwould be more comfortable waiting here for us. Would you like a beer?” Nice stumble.

His grin told her he knew he made her nervous. Gah!

He asked, “What have you got?”

Relieved that she wasn’t going to have to argue him into obedience, she rattled off his options, mostly local breweries and a few European choices, and to those, she added with a derisive tone, “Bud? Bud Light?”

The grin ratcheted up to devastating as he answered, “I’ll take a Stella.”

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