If You Must Know (Potomac Point #1)(44)

I set my chin on top of one box in order to keep them from toppling while I transferred the leash, so I couldn’t savor the electrifying brush of our fingers for near long enough. “Thanks so much. I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time.” Eli waved me off.

Boy, postage killed my margins. A large order of sugar scrubs was heavy, and I tended to underestimate the shipping costs. If I didn’t investigate better options for small businesses soon—another of the to-do items that always fell to the end of my list—Shakti Suds might die before it got off the ground.

Mary and I did our business with little joy. People like her confused the crap out of me. If you’ve got a job dealing with the public, why not smile? Make some small talk. Tell a joke. Anything to break the monotony for yourself, if not to enhance the customer experience. Good grief.

One by one, I pushed pennies across the counter to pay the bill. Admittedly, Mary’s annoyed stare only made me go slower.

The dire state of my finances should make me rejoice about moving in with my mom in two days. Ha! Lots of feelings about that swarmed my thoughts, but joy had yet to appear in the lineup. A lack of privacy ranked high on my list of concerns, but not as high as the inevitable bickering.

She always corrected every single thing I did. Like when I emptied the dishwasher to be nice, but she complained about how I put away the silverware. First of all, why buy two different sets? Second, it wasn’t like I put forks in the same tray as spoons, so who cared if the plain set got mixed together with the patterned set? Plain forks and fancy forks were still forks, for crying out loud. My dad had agreed with me, but then had given my mom a kiss before he redistributed the silverware to make her happy.

I pocketed my receipt, eager to set aside my moving-day concerns and return to Eli and Mo. When I got outside, I found them seated on the bench. Two pretty, young twentysomethings were flirting with him and Mo, but he wasn’t encouraging them. When I came up, he smiled at me. “You’re back.”

The young women shuffled off.

I sat beside Eli instead of immediately taking the leash. “Thanks so much for your help. It’s much easier to do that without Mo at my feet.”

“You’re welcome.” He squinted in the sunlight. “What were all those boxes?”

“Soaps and sugar scrubs. Remember, I offered to make you some? My products are all organic. Any scent you want.”

“Men buy that stuff?” His expression showed doubt.

“Sure!” Truth be told, most of my customers were women, but I could expand to new markets. “There are masculine scents made with sandalwood or bergamot or lemongrass—or a combination of those.”

“That sounds nice, actually.” His melancholic, kind eyes crinkled at the outer edges when he smiled. It’d be easy to get lost in those expressive teal pools.

Any other time, I’d surprise him by quickly delivering some experimental batches. But I’d promised myself that with Max gone and this move to Mom’s, I’d focus on myself more, which meant I should sit on my flirtatious impulses. “I enjoy coming up with creative ideas and playing around with different molds. I’m planning a line of chamomile soaps for my soon-to-be niece. The only holdup is waiting for my sister to tell me her name so I can order a monogrammed mold.”

A shadow passed over his eyes, hinting at that sadness I felt when we’d first met. I wondered what triggered it.

He continued stroking Mo, who looked content to remain nestled beside Eli’s thigh. Like I said, smart dog. “Is this your first niece?”

“Yes, but I have a nephew up near Baltimore.” I loved little Billy, but he didn’t live here in town. “I’m superstoked to become Aunt Erin to another kid—although that name’s so boring. My sister isn’t a fan of my chosen nickname, though.”

He smiled again—shadow erased. “What’s that?”

I made a Z with my arms as if I were doing an Egyptian dance. “Zizi-E. Much more hip, don’t you think?”

His eyes, which stared directly into mine for the first time today, lit with humor and, dare I say, attraction. Oh, man, I might be in trouble, because if he liked me, it would be hard to put on the brakes. “Definitely.”

“How about you? Are you an uncle?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’m an only child.”

I frowned on reflex. My siblings and I weren’t best buds, but I also couldn’t imagine childhood—or adulthood—without them. Not that there hadn’t been some days when being an only child had sounded pretty good. “Does that get lonely?”

“At times. It’s not all bad, though. My parents fawned on me. I never had to share their attention or resources, so I got to do things they might not have afforded if they’d had more kids.”

Might I have made that trade—all my parents’ attention and resources but no siblings? Riding lessons had been an unattainable childhood dream. I’d loved the look of those velvet helmets and riding pants. Horses too. But even through all the arguments and tattling, no horse would’ve been as good as a sister who braided my hair and a brother who drove me everywhere once he got his license.

I sometimes wished our birth orders had been different. I liked being the baby, but if Amanda had been the oldest and Kevin the middle child, he and I would’ve played well together. He didn’t scream when I brought frogs into the house, or care if I wore my favorite pajama pants to the park. But without a doubt, the worst part of being an only child in the Turner home would’ve been being the sole object of my mother’s scrutiny. Thank God Amanda gave her one daughter she could be proud of.