The Rule-Breaker Read online

  What he wasn’t willing to overlook, however, were the letters the boy had been sending Shelby, particularly this last one. Did he know for sure that Colin was the person behind them? No, not yet. But he strongly suspected that he was. Between the childish tone of the notes and the reference to “heavy dirt,” which was something Colin had referred to after the funeral—he’d remarked upon how he hated it, hated that Micah was under there—Eli was relatively certain that Colin was the guilty party.

  Thankfully, Shelby hadn’t figured it out yet. She’d always cared for Colin and he knew that she’d be crushed to discover that the boy was angry at her for hurting his brother.

  Additionally, given that Colin hadn’t exactly been warm to him, either, over the past year and half, Eli was relatively certain he’d figured out what Micah’s little brother had seen and grimly suspected that he’d witnessed what happened between him and Shelby at the anniversary party.

  It explained the kid’s hostility all the way around.

  But before he could confront him and try to set things right, he needed proof and he suspected he’d find it on Colin’s cell phone. Getting it would be the tricky part.

  Carl joined him for a drink in the tent and cast a glance at the darkening sky. “Rain’s moving in,” he said. “If it holds for another hour, John will have the roof finished.”

  Eli winced. “It’ll be close. Those clouds are coming pretty fast.”

  Carl nodded at Colin, who was busy covering the remaining willow branches with a tarp. “I don’t know what you said to him, but it worked.”

  He chuckled. “It wasn’t anything profound, I’m afraid. I just told him to man up.”

  The older man shook his head. “Simple enough. Good advice.”

  Having spotted them in the tent, Colin finished up and joined them, which he’d done every time he’d noticed Eli talking to Carl. “What now, Dad?”

  “We need to gather the tools up before the rain sets in,” Carl told him. “But take a break first. Your mother will be disappointed if all those cookies she sent this morning aren’t gone.”

  “I’ll get one later,” he said, shooting a look at Eli, who was working on his third cookie. He turned to walk away.

  “Colin,” Eli called. “Would you mind if I use your cell phone for a minute?” He grimaced. “My battery died.”

  The boy hesitated, but then grudgingly handed his over. “Sure.”

  “Thanks,” Eli told him. “I’ll give it right back.”

  Pretending like he needed a little privacy, Eli moved to the corner of the tent and quickly pulled up Colin’s photos.

  Bingo.

  He’d taken several of him and Shelby in the tub, but thankfully the bulk of them were too fuzzy to make out. Eli deleted them, anyway. It was rude, not to mention an invasion of privacy, to take someone’s picture without their consent.

  He called Shelby, watched her answer the phone in her shop. “In Stitches,” she said. “Can I help you?”

  Eli lowered his voice. “Oh, I think you can.”

  She turned toward him and he watched her face light up with a smile. “Eli? What are you doing?”

  “We’re knocking off early because of the rain. Any chance you can leave Mavis in charge and play hooky with me?”

  “I think that can be arranged. What did you have in mind?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  Her grin widened. “You don’t know yet, do you?”

  “It’ll be great, I promise. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

  Smiling, Eli walked over and returned the phone to Colin. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

  Colin’s gaze was suspicious. “Who did you call?”

  “Shelby,” he said. “I promised her I’d go to the police department with her this afternoon. With the rain coming, I wanted to let her know I’d be finished here early.”

  He frowned. “Police department? Why?”

  Eli glanced around, pretending to confide something he was only sharing with Colin. Which he was. “She’s been getting letters from some psycho since your brother’s funeral. He’s stalking her, from the sounds of it, and that’s a class C felony.” Whether that was true or was doubtful, but it sounded good and it had the desired effect. Colin’s eyes rounded.

  “That bastard’s going down,” Eli said. “Micah would be livid. He and Shelby might have broken up before he died, but they were still close. History, you know? It’s not always good, but it doesn’t have to be, right?” He slapped the boy on the upper arm. “Keep it to yourself, okay? If your mom and dad got wind of it they’d be really upset. And they’ve got enough on their plate.”

  Colin nodded, seemingly distracted. “Right. Yeah. I won’t say anything.”

  No, he didn’t think he would. Eli snagged another cookie on his way out of the tent and popped it into his mouth, fighting a smile. He’d let Colin stew on that for a little while, then they’d have a good old-fashioned “come to Jesus” discussion about why it was wrong to send horrible letters to women in general, and Shelby in particular.

  In the meantime, he had a date to plan.

  13

  “THIS WAS A STROKE OF GENIUS,” Shelby said, as she curled into Eli’s side, the pleasant aftermath of release still tingling through her. “And to think that only an hour ago you didn’t have a plan.”

  She sensed his smile. “I’m good at improvising.”

  “You’re good at everything,” she said, pressing a kiss against his chest. She snuggled deeper against him, listening to the rain pound the metal roof of the old fire tower and watching it come down in a steady sheet over the edges. Treetops loomed around them on all sides, giving the impression of their own treehouse retreat, one that was romantic and away from prying eyes. Eli had packed blankets, pillows, a basket of beer and left over chocolate chip cookies, courtesy of Sally.

  A thought struck and she propped up on her elbow to look at him. “You know what just occurred to me?”

  His lips twitched and he turned his head to look at her, his eyes golden and sated. “What?” he asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

  She smiled. “Technically, this was our first date.”

  A hint of pleasure warmed his gaze. “It was, wasn’t it?”

  Shelby manufactured a concerned frown. “I guess that makes me easy, doesn’t it?”

  Eli’s chuckle moved through her and he slung an arm over his forehead. “There’s absolutely nothing easy about you, Shelby,” he said. “You are wonderfully complicated, an eternal puzzle. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

  “Wow,” she breathed, her toes curling as happiness spread through her. “An insightful compliment and I didn’t have to wind you up to get it out of you. We’re making progress.”

  “Am I going to get a reward?”

  “Didn’t you just get one?”

  “Not for the insightful compliment,” he said. “You just wanted me.”

  She playfully pinched him. “Hey.”

  “I wanted you, too,” he said. “So we’re even.” He turned to look at her, searched her gaze then slid a finger along her cheek. “Thanks for letting me read your letter,” he said. “I...I needed to hear some of what Micah told you.”

  Shelby had silently handed it over last night after they’d made love for the second or third time—she’d lost count—then had quietly left him alone with it. She’d found it folded up, lying on her dresser when she’d returned to her room and they hadn’t spoken about it...until now.

  She swallowed. “I’m glad that it helped.”

  He looked away, staring at a place on the raw-beamed ceiling. “My dad hanged himself when I was eleven,” he said, his voice strangely toneless. “I found him, too.”

  Shelby sucked in a silent breath, horror bolting through her. “Eli...”

  “That thing you said, about Micah trusting me enough. I hadn’t been able to look at it like that and—” His arm tightened around her. “Thank you.”

  Rather than
risk answering and interrupt him, Shelby merely squeezed him back and waited, hoping he’d reveal more. There were so many questions she wanted answered, but she wouldn’t pry, not when she knew it would cause him pain.

  “I still don’t know why my Dad did it,” he continued. “He didn’t leave a letter, didn’t seem to have any problems, none that I can remember, anyway. It had been a day like any other. He came in from work, ate dinner, watched the news and then helped me with my homework. I was learning fractions,” he said, his smile faint. “And then, when we were done, he said he needed to check on something in the barn and, if he wasn’t back before Andy Griffith came on, I was to come and get him.” He stopped stroking her arm. “It was so I’d be the one to find him, not my mother, and so I wouldn’t have to walk out there after dark.”

  Jesus. Tears pricked the backs of her lids and her throat stung. What a horrible, horrible thing to do to a kid. How damned selfish.

  “My mother broke down and never recovered,” he said with an awful chuckle. “She’s in a facility in Georgia. I’ll go and see her before I report back to base, but she’s not going to know who I am. She hasn’t since it happened.”

  Her chest ached, it squeezed so hard. “I’m so sorry, Eli,” she said, knowing that the words were inadequate but unsure of what she could offer. “Where did you go after that?” she asked. “Who took care of you?”

  “I was in foster care until I was eighteen. Since I didn’t have—don’t have,” he corrected, “any other family.”

  Well, that explained why he never talked about his parents, explained why he spent his time on leave and holidays with the Hollands. They’d become his family. And she certainly knew how that felt, because since she’d lost Gran, they’d adopted her, as well.

  They were both orphans, welcomed into the Holland fold by virtue of Micah.

  “I miss him,” she said, her voice stretched thin with emotion. She turned her face into his chest. She didn’t have to explain who she was talking about. Eli knew.

  He hugged her tight and she felt his hand tremble against her. “I do, too.”

  A sob broke loose and she cried then. He held her, grieved with her as the rain continued to pour from the sky, almost as though weeping for their lost friend, as well.

  When the last tear fell from her cheek, she tilted her chin, found his lips and kissed him with every ounce of feeling she possessed. The desperation and desire, the fear and longing...all of it. She poured her heart out and then some.

  Don’t leave me, I love you, love me back.

  She rained kisses over his face, peppering them along his achingly familiar jaw, the corners of his mouth, the soft skin at his temples, the slope of his brow, then crawled on top of him, relishing the feel of his big, hard body beneath hers. She straddled him, then slowly lowered herself onto him, her breath wheezing out of her lungs in a low, sibilant hiss. She claimed him with every roll of her hips, every determined rock of her body.

  Mine, mine, mine...make me yours.

  How was she ever going to let him leave? Shelby thought. How was she ever going to let him go?

  * * *

  ELI BRACKETED HER wicked hips with his hands and watched as Shelby worked herself against him. Her hair hung in a long blond curtain around her shoulders, her pouty nipples sat like puffs of pinkened whipped cream on her rounded breasts and her waist was tiny, then flared into those unbelievably fantastic hips.

  She leaned back, taking him deeper, then stretched her arms over her head, let her eyes flutter shut, sank her teeth into her bottom lip—as though it was too much, the pleasure too intense to bear—and rode him hard.

  Sweet merciful hell, Eli thought, gritting his teeth. She was hot and tight, and the sleek contraction of her muscles grabbed greedily at him, hanging on to him, creating the most delicious friction between their joined bodies. Her breasts shook on her chest, absorbing the force of his thrusts, and he rose up, cradled her back and pulled one delicious nipple into his mouth.

  She cried out and rode him harder, the need for release chasing her further and further to that goal.

  “Oh, yes. Please. Right...there. Oh, dammit. I need— I want—”

  Without preamble, Eli flipped her over onto her back, spread her wider and plowed into her, hard. Desire hammered brutally through him and he passed that stark desperation onto her, plunging deeper and deeper, sating himself into her with every frantic thrust of his hips. His cock hardened further, driving him mad, as she repeatedly fisted around him. He held on to her, wrapping her close, felt her tight nipples brush against his chest with every move of their bodies.

  It was amazing how good that felt.

  How her soft, womanly body made him feel powerful, strong, indomitable.

  But she was the strong one, Eli thought, because she’d brought him to this. With a single touch, an achingly sweet kiss against his cheek, the slide of plump breasts against him, her weeping, slickened sex along his cock and then that perfect instant, when she’d greedily welcomed him into her body.

  “Come for me, Shelby,” he said, angling deep. “Let it go.”

  She did. Her mouth opened in a long, keening wail, her muscles went rigid, locking around him as her back left the blanket and she quaked, shook, as the orgasm ripped through her, dragging her to that place of sublime perfection.

  Seconds later, he joined her there. He pushed hard and held, every muscle in his body going weak. His vision blackened around the edges and his heart pounded so hard it was a miracle it didn’t rupture against his breastbone. He sagged against her, kissed her shoulder, levered up and looked down into her painfully dear face.

  There she was, Eli thought. The exception to every rule. The woman he was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with.

  It was time to talk to Carl, Eli decided. Time to man up and let the chips fall where they may.

  Because all he wanted was to fall into her forever.

  * * *

  MAVIS PARKED HER CAR at the curb in front of Katrina’s house, opened her umbrella—rather regrettably, because she loved the rain, loved the way it felt against her skin, the sound of it, the smell of it—then calmly made the trek up the front walk to her door.

  Katrina’s unsmiling face appeared when she opened it. Evidently, she’d checked the peephole and knew who was waiting on the other side.

  “Mavis,” she said.

  Mavis closed the umbrella and shook it, then breezed past a startled Katrina into the house. Clearly—astonishingly—Katrina must have made decent money on her back, which Mavis didn’t have an opinion on one way or the other, except in how it affected Les. The smallish living room was decorated with nice furniture and decent art work—none of it to her taste, naturally, but she recognized quality when she saw it. A laptop with a small web cam attachment sat on her coffee table. Considering that Katrina was wrapped up in a pretty robe, Mavis gathered that she’d interrupted something. She turned and lifted a brow.

  “I didn’t invite you in, Mavis,” Katrina said tightly.

  “And yet that didn’t stop me.” She glanced at the laptop. “Entertaining a client through the wonder of technology?” she asked.

  Katrina’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “Don’t play coy, dear. You’re not good at it.”

  Her eyes flashed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re a piss poor liar, as well, then. In your line of work, that must be a detriment.”

  “My line of work? I’m a journalist. I don’t have to lie.”

  Mavis laughed and shook her head. “Journalist? Really? You cover weddings and the occasional traffic accident. You’re hardly a journalist. But that wasn’t the work I was talking about.”

  “I don’t have time for this, Mavis. If you’ve got a point, then get to it.”

  All right, then. She would. She leveled a look at Katrina. “Les isn’t going to run the Micah Holland story,” she said, and had the pleasure of watching the younger woman’s eyes nearly bug out of
her head, before they narrowed into angry, suspicious slits. “You’re going to quit your job at The Branches, effective immediately, and you’re not going to tell a single living soul that Les used to occasionally frequent the escort service you work for.”

  Katrina shook her head, her eyes sparking shock and derision. “I’m not, am I? And just who the hell is going to stop me?”

  Mavis lifted an unconcerned shrug. “I am,” she said.

  Katrina snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re out of your mind.”

  “Occasionally, yes,” she admitted. “But more significantly, I’m meaner than you, and if you attempt to ruin Les, then I’ll ruin you.”

  “How? By telling everyone in this backward little burg that I’m a call girl? Go ahead,” she taunted. “I couldn’t care less.”

  “Right now, maybe,” Mavis told her. “But someday you’re going to meet someone—away from this ‘backward little burg’ because no one here likes you—and you’ll convince the poor miserable sod to marry you.” Mavis strolled to a table, picked up a piece of crystal and idly inspected it. “You’ll have a big wedding, a wonderful honeymoon and then you’ll settle down, have a couple of sweet little children, join the PTA and the Junior League and do all the things that you pretend to abhor, but secretly long for. You’ll finally fit in. You’ll get comfortable, you’ll be happy—” she turned to look at her “—and that’s when I’ll tell your secret.” Mavis offered a pitying smile, watched a little of the starch leave the girl’s spine. “You see, Katrina, you’re shortsighted. Right now, you don’t have anything to lose because you don’t care about anything. You’re young and stupid. But that will change, and when it does, I’ll be waiting. And I’ll destroy you then, the same way you’re threatening to destroy Les now.” She arched a brow. “Am I making myself clear?”