If You Must Know (Potomac Point #1)(92)

He snorted affectionately. “The way your mind jumps around fascinates me.”

“Wish I could claim high-level connections taking place up here.” I tapped my skull. “The truth is that I pretty much blab every thought that crosses my mind at the exact moment it does so.”

He chuckled. “Let’s start dinner.”

“Hold up, mister. When you extended this invitation, you didn’t tell me I had to work for my meal.” I theatrically grabbed my chest, teasing him some more. “Now you’re making waves in our little friendship pool.”

“Can you manage a salad?”

“I’m not sure. It’s taken me almost thirty years to get my sister to let me try . . .” Then I stopped, momentarily distracted. Amanda had probably finished up her appointment with Kevin and the FBI by now. I was eager to learn about that, but when she’d left, she’d thought she wouldn’t return until after dinner, so right now I’d give the sweet man who was about to cook for me my attention. “But you be the judge.”

He seasoned the steaks with garlic salt, pepper, and a dash of Worcestershire sauce, while I chopped a carrot. Thank God he didn’t hover or get fussy about salad construction like my family did. After handing me another beer, Eli asked me to follow him to his tiny but magical backyard.

Six-foot-tall arborvitae formed a wall that hemmed in its flagstone patio, and beds of Virginia bluebell carpeted half the remaining green space. An ivy-covered pergola surrounded a teakwood table set for two. Only one thing was missing. “Got any good music we can listen to out here?”

“I recently bought some great old albums, but then lost them . . .” With a smile he tossed the steaks on the grill. “Of course I have music, Erin. The bookcases in the living room are loaded with LPs. Go pick what you want.”

The idea of fondling his albums felt a lot like foreplay. That might be crazy talk, but my body still flushed as if he’d cupped my boobs. “Any preference?”

“Nope.”

Mo stayed outside with Eli while I went to investigate the collection. He hadn’t been kidding. A few hundred records, organized by genre (with a decided preference for country), gave me plenty of options. My bluesy mood required the likes of Stevie Ray Vaughan’s Texas Flood.

Before returning to the backyard, I stopped to check my phone to see if there was any word from Amanda. Instead I saw a rare voice mail notice from my mother. I almost put the phone down, but something made me listen.

“Erin, it’s Amanda. I’m on my way to the hospital with Mom because I’m having contractions. I don’t know yet if it’s serious, but when you get this message, please call.”

Crap!

I tried Amanda’s phone first, but when it went to voice mail, I called my mother.

“Hello.” Mom sounded anxious.

“Mom, it’s me. Are Amanda and Willa okay?”

Eli walked into the kitchen and smiled at the album on the counter, then froze when he noticed my worried face.

“It’s Braxton-Hicks—from dehydration—but it’ll be okay as long as Amanda rests and drinks more water.” Mom paused. “We’re waiting for the IV bag to empty but should be home in about an hour.”

“Can I talk to her?”

“Sure.”

“Hey.” Amanda sounded tired.

“I just got your message. I’m sorry I’m not there.”

“Mom said you’re with Eli.”

Eli could probably hear my sister, so I cut short any embarrassing questions she might ask. “Mm-hmm. Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“No, don’t come now. We’ll be leaving soon. But if you wouldn’t mind coming home early, I’d like to discuss the FBI problem.”

Nobody wants to hear “FBI” and “problem” in the same sentence, and it had to be bad if that was a bigger concern than why she was in a hospital bed.

“I can come now.”

“No, really. Enjoy your dinner first. I don’t want to ruin your whole night.”

I wouldn’t be able to enjoy dinner now, but I didn’t want to stress her out. Eli crossed his arms, patiently waiting.

“Okay. I’ll be home in forty-five minutes.” I shot Eli an apologetic grimace.

“Thank you. Please give Eli my apologies.”

“Don’t worry about that. Relax and keep drinking water.” I rubbed the new knot in the back of my neck. “See you soon.”

After we hung up, I looked at Eli. “I’m so sorry to eat and run. My sister’s in the hospital with Braxton-Hicks contractions . . . I don’t even know what that means.”

“False labor.” His voice tightened, and some color drained from his face.

A boneheaded move—bringing up a pregnancy-related crisis to a man who’d lost his wife and child in one. Clearly my path to circumspection would be long and winding.

“She’s kind of shaken up and asked me to come home early.” I almost mentioned the FBI, too, but something made me hesitate.

“I understand. You can take your steak to go.”

“She won’t be home for at least forty-five minutes, so let’s make the most of the time we’ve still got.” I smiled, but whatever fun we’d been having had ended for the night. My thoughts split in two, and Eli looked like his had, too.