Mrs.Wilberforce had started talking before it was completely quiet. “...that damn scooter of his with a lawn mower motor or something. I think he can do fifteen miles an hour on that thing.”
It was illegal as all hell, but Eli frankly thought he’d be tempted to soup up his scooter, too, if the day came when he couldn’t get around easily on two legs.
He’d be obliged to give that guy a ticket, if he could catch him.
And he had a feeling the old guy wouldn’t go down easy.
He sighed. The gang here at Heavenly Shores was as much of a handful as the gang down at the Plugged Nickel.
“I don’t know how he can stand the sound of that thing,” he said.
“He turns his hearing aid off,” said Mrs.Wilberforce.
“Well, you have my advice, Mrs.Wilberforce, with regards to your rhododendrons. Let’s hope we resolve it peacefully. Always good to see you. I should be getting on my...”
A tall, slim woman with long, streaky honey-gold hair was walking toward them, an overnight bag slung over her shoulder, worry and amusement and affection all over her face. She was definitely out of context here at Heavenly Shores. Quite possibly she was a mirage. Given how tired he was, it wouldn’t surprise him.
“Grandma, why are you talking to the handsome police officer in your curlers? Did you pull off a heist again?”
And Mrs.Wilberforce pulled the willowy beauty into a hug and a both-cheeks kiss.
“Oh, Eli. This is my granddaughter, Bethany. She’s in town working on that television show they’re filming nearby. She’ll be staying with me.”
The wind caught and tossed Bethany’s mane of streaky gold and brown and she swept it out of her face with a musical laugh.
Eli had learned to be a little leery of girls whose names ended with an “any” sound. Melanie and Tiffany and Brittany and the like. He’d dated a few in high school and they were all as astonishingly high maintenance and as temperamental as the rust-bucket Fiero he’d bought dirt cheap in high school and that he and Jonah had tinkered with over many a summer weekend.
“Eli Barlow isn’t married, either, Bethany,” Mrs.Wilberforce continued. “And he’s thesheriff, too.”
Oh, for God’s sake. And now he deplored that willingness to say anything at all. Surely occasional circumspection was less dangerous than, say, skipping a blood pressure pill.
“Deputy sheriff,” he clarified, modestly.
“In charge ofallthe deputies around here! All of them. And he was on the news. OnTV,” Mrs.Wilberforce clarified, as if being on TV were all the credentials someone needed. “He’s a hero!”
Bethany gave a short laugh and sparkled ruefully up at Eli. “I’m so sorry. It’s how my grandmother classifies the world—married or not married.” But her words were all warm affection. “I’ve been hired as a freelance makeup artist onThe Rush. Have to make those guys looks authentically dirty.”
That was a flirtatious line if Eli had ever heard one.
And it had been a while since he’d heard one.
He took the hand she extended. Her nails had those neat little square white tips and it was very soft and probably lotioned and scented. She had that natural yet thoroughly groomed look which annoyed a guy when he had to live with it because it took forever to achieve but which he generally admired when he saw the end result.
He was certain the fingertips of her left hand were just as soft as the ones on the right, not callused.
In an instant he was under that tree again, and Glory’s eyes were soft and amazed, and her fingers combed up his neck as he went in for a deeper kiss.
He hadn’t known Glory had any surrender in her at all until her body softened to fit his, as if she was a missing piece of him.
Eli suddenly envied the ability to turn things on and off, the way the guy on the scooter had switched off his hearing aid. Things like his feelings and his libido and his memory. He’d only use them when it was safe.
He let go of Bethany’s hand, freshly reminded of how very much he enjoyed touching women. And of last night’s resolve to move on.
“I just want you to be as happy as I was, Bethany, sweetie.” Mrs.Wilberforce was regarding this meeting with proud satisfaction and a little glimmer of hope.
“Gramps was one of a kind.” Bethany slung an arm around her grandmother and gave her a half hug.
“Bet Eli could give him a run for his money.”
