The Rule-Breaker. Rhonda Nelson

      3

      WELL, THAT SURE AS HELL could have gone better, Eli thought, watching Shelby and her pig, of all damned things, walk back toward her shop. So much for thinking he was ready to face her again, that he could look at her and not want her with every damned fiber of his being.

      His best friend’s “It Girl.”

      Talk about breaking a rule. He mentally snorted. Somehow he didn’t think that was the kind of rule Micah had been referring to.

      “Only Shelby,” Carl remarked, following Eli’s gaze. He shook his head. “Everybody else looks at that pig and sees a pork roast. She looks at it and sees a pet.”

      Eli felt his lips twitch. “I have to admit it’s the best dressed pig I’ve ever seen,” he conceded. Actually, it was the only dressed pig he’d ever seen outside a story book—the Three Little Pigs had been one of his favorites as a child—but it was the truth all the same. And it wasn’t enough that she had to dress the pig—she had to make sure their outfits were color-coordinated, as well. The yellow skirt and matching bow on Dixie’s head perfectly matched the flowers on Shelby’s dress.

      And naturally, because she’d made it herself, that dress showcased the very best her body had to offer. Beautiful lush breasts, a tiny waist—one that he could easily span with both hands, an unbelievable turn-on—and especially generous hips. She in no way resembled the starved praying mantislike figures that were so popular on the covers of today’s fashion magazines. She was toned but curvy, her shape reminiscent of a 1950’s pin-up model. Completely, utterly feminine.

      But more than how she looked, it was the way she moved that never failed to captivate him. There was something so innately graceful about the way her body went about the everyday ordinary things. The tilt of her chin as she listened to someone, the easy slide of her ripe lips into a smile, the rhythmic swing of her hips as she walked. The fabric hung like air in that sweet spot high enough on her thighs to be sexy, but not so low to be inappropriate and it fluttered with an exaggerated little pop with every step that she took.

      Mesmerizing.

      And a quick glance around the square concluded that he wasn’t the only man who’d noticed. Irrationally, that made him want to roar and break things, preferably a few jaws. It was ridiculous the way she affected him, the way he’d wanted to feast his gaze on her, catalogue every little detail about her face the instant he’d seen her again. Every mole and freckle, every dip and hollow, every eyelash around those amazing green eyes. Eyes that were so clear a green they put him in mind of a piece of stained glass he’d one seen in a store window. And the hesitancy and vulnerability he saw lurking in that remarkable gaze? Awful...especially knowing there was nothing he could do to remove it. Much as it pained him, he had to stay away from her.

      He’d failed Micah by not getting him the help he needed sooner—he could not fail him in this, too.

      Shelby Monroe, no matter how tempting, was off-limits.

      He felt Carl’s gaze—one that was shrewd as well as kind—and gave himself a little shake. “You were going to show me those plans?”

      “Are you sure you want to get started?” he asked. “I figured you’d want to go to the cabin and get settled in.”

      Rather than impose and stay at the house—where the only available room had been Micah’s—Carl and Sally had offered to put him up at the family cabin out on Holly Lake, for which he was eternally thankful. Aside from not wanting to disturb the shrine that had no doubt become Micah’s room, he and Micah had always stayed at the cabin together when he’d come in for a visit. A lot of laughter and beer had passed their lips out on that front porch overlooking the water. While it was going to be odd to be there without Micah, he knew he’d be much more comfortable there...and so would Sally and Carl.

      Eli shook his head. “No, sir. I came ready to work. I’ll go out there when we finish up for the day. It’ll give me a chance to settle in and shower before coming back for dinner.”

      “If you’re sure,” Carl said, a question in his voice.

      “I’m sure.”

      The older man nodded. “All right, then. Let’s take a look at the plans.” They walked over to what Eli imagined was command center, where a tent, a couple of tables and a few chairs had been set up. Coolers of cold drinks and various platters of snacks—Sally’s work, he knew—sat on one, and a printout of the drawing as well as what looked like the volunteer schedule lay on the other.

      A thought struck. “Where’s Colin?” Eli asked. He’d expected Micah’s little brother to be on-site throughout the entire project. Despite the differences in their ages, the two Holland boys had been exceptionally close and Colin, he knew, had hero-worshiped Micah.

      Carl hesitated. “Probably off with some of his friends,” he said. “I thought he’d want to help out with this, but he didn’t have a lot to say when I asked him to come down here with me this morning. Said he’d already made plans.”

      Eli frowned, mildly surprised. “How’s he holding up?”

      “Not good,” Carl confessed, lowering his voice. “In fact, I was hoping that maybe you could talk to him. He’s always looked up to you, kind of sees you as an extension of his brother.”

      Eli didn’t know about that, but now that he thought about it, he was surprised that Colin hadn’t been around this morning, if for no other reason than to see him. They’d always gotten along well and had a good rapport. Eli had no illusions of taking Micah’s place, but he’d kept in touch with Colin since Micah’s death, hoping to build a better relationship with the boy. He’d made that promise to Micah years ago, long before the disaster in Mosul. In return, Micah had promised to oversee the care of his mother should anything happen to him.

      “I’ll certainly try,” Eli told him.

      Carl nodded, relief relaxing the tension around his eyes. “Thanks, Eli. We’d really appreciate it.”

      That settled, Eli bent forward and inspected the design.

      It was not at all what he’d expected.

      “Wow,” he murmured, stunned.

      “It’s something, isn’t it?” Carl asked, seemingly equally proud and pleased. “That’s why I asked Shelby to put it together. Most everyone knows she can sew like nobody’s business, but not many people realize that, had she not followed in her grandmother’s footsteps, she would have pursued a career in architecture.”

      He whistled low and continued to marvel at the design. “I’m not so sure she didn’t miss her calling.” He looked up at Carl. “This is amazing.”

      Carl beamed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Not your typical town square gazebo, that’s for sure.”

      No, it certainly wasn’t. Rather than the quaint white shape with lots of fancy fretwork and gingerbread trim, Shelby’s design more resembled something from one of Tolkien’s novels, but more modern. Shaped like an octagon with a steep-pitched shingled roof complete with a weather vane, the plan called for natural material left in its raw shape.

      Taking inspiration from the town’s namesake, Shelby had incorporated lots of corkscrew willow branches in place of spindles, giving it a fanciful flair. Old gas lamps inside and out would provide ample lighting, and a fire pit, surrounded by a fountain, would take center stage. A row of wooden benches lined the inside walls, giving plenty of seating and recessed, glassless windows added additional character.

      “We’re going with a concrete floor, so it’ll be easier to clean and maintain,” Carl told him. “But we’re going to stain it and stamp it with willow leaves so it’ll look more like a forest floor.”

      Eli merely shook his head, almost at a loss for words. “It’s incredible.”

      “Micah would have loved it,” Carl remarked, a palpable ache in his voice.