Page 12 of Keeping Ava

“Don’t lie.” My face heats up, and he smirks a bit. “Share with the class.”

“Just thinking about the mess you made. How dirty you are?” Something flashes in his eyes; they darken a bit at my words, and my blush deepens. “I meant your shirt. You have stains...not that you’re dirty, as in…sexually.”

He chuckles. I’m becoming flustered, and he knows it. “You don’t say.”

“Christ...” I throw my hands up, almost knocking him in the chin “...I’m talking about the room. Not you. It’s filthy in here.”

“Quit while you’re ahead.”

“I’m done now.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean back, ignoring his stare. Once more I take in the grimy surfaces around me while ignoring his presence. And it’s while I look around the room that a few things become clear: my luggage and Weston are missing.

“Your bags are near the entrance, and the ranger had to go. Something about his wife.”

“How did you know what I’m thinking?”

“Not that hard when you whisper those thoughts aloud.” Eli is a bit smug, and I do something that’s completely out of my norm. I flick his forehead, and hard. Hard enough that he jumps back a bit and narrows his eyes at me.

There’s a split second between my hit and the reaction where I see that he wants to retaliate, but before he can, I jump down from the countertop and walk around him. The space between us is something I need.

To think. To clear the fog he creates.

“Where are your cleaning supplies and mop?” I ask while surveying the room once more. More glass crunches beneath my feet as I walk around him toward his fridge. It’s even worse over here and the food is drying, becoming gunky against the stainless steel of the appliances.

“I’ll clean up after you leave the kitchen.”

“No.”

“No?” He sounds as though he finds my response amusing.

“That’s right...I said no.” Turning around, I face him with a hand on my hip. His lips quirk up into a full grin. “What do you find so amusing, Ford?”

At the mention of his last name, his eyes darken a bit and I unconsciously lick my lips. “Stubborn little thing, aren’t you?”

“Not at all.”

“I find that hard to believe.” He takes a step forward.

“Quit changing the subject.” Matching his, I take a back, and then another. Eli advances and his eyes are predatory, something that should send me running, and yet, I don’t. It’s thrilling. He’s taken away my fear and replaced it with a feeling of euphoria that’s confusing and, even more worrisome, welcomed.

I can’t. Shouldn’t. Moreover, I want it. His attention.

“You’re not cleaning this, Ava. Go to the living room and wait for me.”

“I’ll get this tidied faster than you,” I say a bit breathlessly. Then, because life needs to remind me of just how wrong this is, I take two steps back, bumping into the counter area beside the fridge.

A mistake that puts a halt to our flirtation—this moment—as a glass tips over, rolling onto the floor beside my feet where it shatters into a million pieces.

My reaction is to scream and jump. To think the worst.

Elijah is across the room and has me in his arms before I can blink. Cuddling me to his chest, his lips press against my forehead. “It’s just a glass. Nothing happened.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” he growls low, hugging me closer. Comforting me. “You could break everything in here and I wouldn’t care. Do you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Did you get hurt?” Not that he waits for my reply; the man kneels at my feet, looking for any visible cuts.

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