Change of Heart (Edilean 9)

But then he looked across the street. Pretty little Melissa was talking to a woman with a baby in a stroller. A bit of wind ran through the oak tree and a couple of leaves fell down. No, he didn’t want to go to Iceland—or for that matter, to Paris or London. He didn’t want to sit at a table full of men in uniforms as they made decisions about the future of the universe.

Right now all he wanted was to take a pretty girl out to dinner and know that he could ask her out on a second date. “I’ll fix it. She won’t leave,” he said, then clicked off his phone.

When Chelsea awoke, she lay still. She’d been dreaming about her last fight with Rodrigo. For weeks she’d suspected that there was someone else in his life, but he hadn’t had the courage to say so. But then, she’d thought she’d found something more in her life.

It took her a moment to come back to the present, then she looked around. The big deep porch was lovely and she wondered where . . . “he” was. Based on their talk, she was no longer sure who the man was.

But she liked him. He had a quiet sense of humor and he’d made her feel so good that she’d fallen asleep. Some date you are! she thought, laughing at herself.

She got up and opened the screen door. “Jeff? Are you in here?” When there was no answer, she looked around. Everything in the house was old and faded and worn—and cozy, she thought. It was very different from the places she’d lived in for the last few years. Everything had been new and modern, all of it painted white. In her crowd, to be truly sophisticated meant no color was allowed anywhere.

Chelsea went through the house, looking about, then returned to the living room—and there was Eli. Or was it Jeff? Whoever he was, he was just as she remembered him. Thin, serious, without humor.

In the grocery store he’d been wearing a smile, but he wasn’t now. He was shorter than she was and as thin as a jockey. And he was scowling with such anger that Chelsea took a step back.

&nb

sp; “Why did you stop writing me?” he asked in a low voice that was mostly a growl. “We were friends but you walked away from that. Do you have any idea how much you hurt me?”

He took a step toward her. “Did you think that having a brain makes me incapable of feelings?”

“I didn’t mean . . .” Chelsea began, but tears were coming to her.

“You didn’t mean to tear my heart from me? Do you know what you’ve done to my life? Because of you, I work all the time. The way you treated me made me feel that I’m not good enough for any woman. I—”

Neither of them saw Eli enter the room. He stood there in shock for a moment, then crossed the room in three strides. With a twist of his body, he pulled back his right arm and let it fly. His fist connected so hard with Jeff’s head that the smaller man flew backward and landed on the floor. Like some gladiator of old, Eli stood over him, straddling his body. “You don’t talk to her like that.”

Jeff put his hand to the side of his face and tried to flex his jaw. Pain was shooting up through his face. “You’re fired,” he managed to say. “Get out.”

“Good, because I quit.”

Eli grabbed Chelsea’s hand and went to the front door. He pushed it open so hard that it slammed against the exterior wall. He went down the stairs, still holding on to Chelsea, and stalked to her car.

Dropping her hand, he opened the car door but then leaned against the vehicle. His face was flushed from anger and she could see that he was trying to calm himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve never hit anyone outside a ring.” He pushed away from the car. “I have to see if he’s all right. I have to apologize.”

“Like hell you will,” Chelsea said, then pushed on Eli until he was in the seat. She slammed the door and hurried around to the driver’s side and put the key in the ignition.

“I have to—” Eli began but broke off when Chelsea sped away so fast he fell back against the seat.

She drove out of Edilean and stopped at a roadside tavern. It was still early and there were only a few cars there. “How about some tequila?”

“Actually, I could use something to drink.” He was rubbing the knuckles of his hand, and he looked very upset.

Turning away, she smiled. She liked that he’d come to her defense, but she also liked that he felt bad about hitting someone. Sort of hero meets your best girlfriend.

Inside, they took a seat at a booth and ordered their drinks. Rock ’n’ roll was playing on the jukebox.

“So Jeff, what do you do besides beat up nerdy guys who tell the truth?” Chelsea asked over the noise of the music and the people who were beginning to fill the tavern.

He didn’t answer her question. “I didn’t like hearing what he said.”

“But that’s Eli. The way he said that was the exact tone of him. It was like he was a tape recorder and playing back what had run through his head a million times.”

He sat there for a moment, thinking about what she’d said. “Unfortunately, I think you’re right. You want to dance?”

“I’d love to!” She got up and he put his arms around her. Their bodies fit together well, and his movements were well timed to the music—and seductive. “So why hasn’t some woman snatched you up?” she asked.