Love Starts with Elle(78)

Or take the letter back inside and let it ride on the window’s ledge for a few more weeks.

Coward. Just read it.

“Heath? You here?”

Heath lifted his head, listening.

“Heath?” A knocked echoed across the yard.

“Out by the creek.”

A dark-suited man rounded the side of the cottage. Rock? What in the world? Heath slipped the letter into the pocket of his shorts, laughing as the man practically disrobed in the yard. Coat dangling off his fingers, tie undone, shirt opened with the tail out. “It was a nice sixty-two when I left the city. What is it, a hundred here?”

“Eighties. What are you doing here? Come inside, cool off.” Heath lead Rock to the kitchen and popped open a couple of cold Cokes.

“Bless you, my boy.” Rock gulped down half the can. When he came up for air, a burp slipped through his teeth. “Pardon me, but that hit the spot.”

Heath sat in the chair opposite his old boss and friend. It was good to see him. “So, you didn’t come all the way down here to share a Coke with me and shoot the bull, did you?”

“You e-mailed me about the book being rejected, so I thought, Strike while the iron is hot, Calloway. Booked the earliest flight down.”

“Taking advantage of a man when he’s weak?”

Rock toasted Heath with his Coke. “Whatever it takes. The fight’s getting pretty nasty up there. Old school versus the new, arguing over administering the PPP.”

“The old PPP.” Profits per partner. He’d earned more than his share over the years.

“I need you.” Rock’s message never changed. “They’re turning my law practice into a competitive, bottom-line machine. First thing in the morning breakout meeting? Money, profits, billable hours. When I started the firm, I wanted to practice law. And so did everyone working for me. Now it’s about making money through the law.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m coming back in September.”

“Make it a ‘for sure’ and I’ll be a happy man. Doc has Olivia Hancock slotted to take your partnership if you don’t return.” Rock downed the last of his Coke. “A man works his whole life for something he believes in, makes a bad choice, and a couple of snot-nosed Harvard guys change everything.”

“See, there’s where you went wrong, Rock. Harvard grads.”

Heath glanced at his watch. “I need to pick up Tracey-Love. Want to ride along and grab some dinner after?”

“Did you notice airlines don’t serve squat for food anymore?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Grabbing his keys, he ushered Rock out the back door and set Ava’s letter back on the windowsill.



Out back on the deck of Luther’s Rare and Well Done, five o’clock was still bright and warm.

From where Elle sat with Jeremiah, she could see the right half of Waterfront Park, the sparkling Beaufort river, and the sleeping boats docked at the marina.

“This job was tailor made for me, Elle.” Jeremiah poured a tiny bit of dressing over his salad. “The staff is great; we click and flow, share common ideas and goals.”

“I’m glad, Jer. I can hear it in your voice when you call. So, did you find a new apartment?”

“Yeah, I did, but”—he took a slow stab at his salad—“I’d rather wait for you this time. Our marriage license is still valid, and Pastor O’Neal could marry us tonight if we wanted.” He caught her eye, communicating passionate things unsaid.

If he’d made the suggestion last night when he pulled into the cottage driveway and met her at the studio, she would’ve said yes. The futon had provided an inviting, soft place to say “hey” and continue to get reacquainted.

For the few weeks he’d been back in her life, Jeremiah had eased off the idea of marriage until last night when he whispered, “I love you, Elle. I want you.”

Since stepping down from ministry, Jeremiah’s passions burned hotter, more fierce. Last night Elle was the one who challenged the journey of his kisses along her neck and down the edge of her top.

Right? Wrong? Everything in her wanted to respond.

“Elle, what do you think?” Jeremiah bit the salad off the tip of his fork.

“I don’t know, Jeremiah. It sounds exciting, but—” She stirred her salad. His confidence and excitement intoxicated her, but this new insistence on marriage made her bristle.

While she took months to pray and wade through her disappointments, Jeremiah had moved forward with rocket speed and intensity. Elle felt sluglike and dull compared to him.

He wiped the edge of his lips with his napkin. “Can’t talk you into a quick wedding yet?”

“If we do this, Jer, we’re doing it right. We disappointed a lot of people last time.” Mostly me.

“All the more reason not to make a big fuss this go around. Get married quietly, hold a reception later. Save us and your parents the expense—”

“Miss Elle.” A fuzzy little blonde head crashed against her lap.

“Tracey-Love, where’d you come from?” Elle wrapped the girl in her arms, kissing her forehead.

“M-my daddy.” Tracey-Love pointed back at Heath, a very serious tone in her voice, as if Miss Elle should know better.

“Yes, you did.” Elle glanced up at Heath, turning Tracey-Love around, pulling her crooked ponytail free. “What are y’all doing?”