Back to lights.
He finished his coffee and deposited the cup in his cart. He was debating between “twinkle” and “steady glow,” when a voice came from behind him.
“Oh my God. I don’t believe this. My ex just walked in.”
Eli turned automatically.
That low voice hissed, “No! Don’t look!”
A man stepped up beside him, taller than Eli, maybe in his mid-thirties, a tool belt slung low on his hips, his short dark hair peppered with sawdust. His eyes were blue-gray, almost the color of a storm, sharp and a little panicked.
His warm, calloused, slightly trembling hand caught Eli’s.
“Please,” the stranger whispered. “Just hold my hand?”
Eli blinked. “What?”What the hell is going on?It had all the markings of a prank.
“Just for a couple of minutes, max. I swear. He’s standing over there by the paint samples.”
He blinked again. “Paint samples?”
The stranger nodded urgently. “With someone new. It’s—look, it’s a long story, and I don’t have time to explain. Please?” The pleading note in his voice tugged at Eli’s heart.
Three thoughts flashed through his mind in rapid succession.
This is insane.
God, his hand feels good.
Why am I so terrible at saying no to people in distress?
Eli went with his gut and squeezed back. He took a breath.
“Okay, you’ve got two minutes. Maybe three if this gets me out of choosing between soft white and daylight bulbs.”
The man exhaled as if he’d just finished a marathon. “You’re a saint.”
Eli shrugged. “My sister might argue otherwise.” The guy’s hand was warm, but not overly so.
They stood there, side by side, pretending to compare light fixtures while the stranger brushed his thumb over Eli’s knuckles, probably by accident, but Eli’s pulse didn’t get that memo.
“So,” he murmured, scanning the shelves. “Is he really over there?”
“Oh, absolutely,” the man said gravely. “It’s tragic, really. I’m sure he’s telling his new guy how emotionally unavailable I was while simultaneously wearing a scarf that doesn’t match.”
Eli bit back a smile. “He sounds like a monster.”
“The worst,” the man agreed. “I barely escaped with my flannel.”
Eli dared a glance at him. Up close, he had laugh lines that hinted at a habit of smiling. There was a smudge of sawdust near his temple. He looked like the kind of person who could fix a wobbly chair in a heartbeat.
Then he looked again. There was something familiar about the guy.
Who was still holding his hand.
A laugh tumbled from Eli’s lips before he could stop it. “This is ridiculous.”
“Entirely,” the man said. He grinned. “But you’re committing beautifully.”
