Sporting (Unleashed Romance #3) - Kylie Gilmore Page 0,3

told me he’d miss me. I thanked him, and he left just as quickly as he arrived. At the time I was surprised but thought it was a nice gesture.

My phone rings. I turn on the nightstand lamp and lean over to check the screen. It’s a local number, but I don’t know who. Eli? I flush hot, my heart pounding for no reason at all. Just because I felt the tiniest bit of lust one time doesn’t mean I can’t talk to the man. It’s just Eli.

I let it go to voicemail.

After a few moments, I hear the notification and pick my phone up. A text pops up.

Hey, it’s Eli. I got your number from Sydney. Let me know your insurance info. I’m taking the car into the shop as soon as I can get an appointment. Here’s my info.

There’s an image attached of his insurance card. It’s nothing personal, but my heart won’t stop racing. Why does texting feel so intimate suddenly? Is it because I’m in bed?

I unplug the phone, prop myself up on the pillows against the headboard, and consider what to text back. Sorry I missed your call and ruined your new car? Long time no see? He’s never visited my shop, and I’ve been there for a year. It almost seems like he’s been avoiding me. Everyone I know stopped by within the first month.

I’ll just call. This is so not a big deal. I click on his text, and the phone icon pops up. See? Easy. My finger hovers over the button. Just press it. Adrenaline fires through me. I press the button anyway.

“Jenna,” Eli says brusquely in his deep authoritative cop voice.

I hang up.

Crap. I set the phone back on the nightstand and stare at it. Maybe I should just turn it off. I can call him back tomorrow and say we got disconnected because my phone died.

The phone rings, and I grab for it, accidentally knocking it to the floor. I scoop the phone up and jab it a few times, so eager to recover from my earlier hang-up that I manage to hang up on him again. Dammit. Now it looks like I’m avoiding him. I’ve known Eli practically my whole life. Well, there was a big gap there from when I left for college and didn’t come back until last summer. The gap where he morphed into a gorgeous swaggering man. Exactly my type.

Everyone’s type, right? This doesn’t have to turn into a big thing.

I perch on the edge of the mattress and stare at my phone. I really don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight. I’m a very rational person normally. Steady as they go, that’s me.

I can’t believe I hung up on him twice.

I press the button to return his call, my hand not entirely steady. As soon as he answers, I blurt, “Hi, Eli, sorry I accidentally hung up on you.” Twice.

“Insurance and registration,” he orders.

“Uh, just a moment.” In my rush to get my purse from the floor, I bang my hand so hard on the nightstand that the pain makes my other hand drop the phone on the floor. Again. I slap a hand over my eyes, mortified that I can’t get through a simple conversation with the man. I drop to the floor and scoop the phone up. At least it landed on the rug both times.

I take a deep breath before attempting conversation. “Sorry.” That’s all I can manage to get out.

“Are you okay?”

I’m not so sure anymore.

2

“Just tired,” I lie. I’m completely wired, buzzing with adrenaline.

“Okay, I only need the insurance. I’m so used to saying insurance and registration from pulling people over, it just popped out. Actually, I say license and registration. Never mind.”

I laugh, and it comes out breathy. “Sorry about our little fender bender.”

His voice turns stern. “More like a collision. My car is brand new. It’ll never be the same.”

I nearly say a ding to his car was bound to happen sooner or later but refrain. Maybe Eli never gets in fender benders. It’s not my first. “I really am sorry. It certainly wasn’t intentional.” I flip through my wallet and realize I don’t have the card. “My insurance card is in my car. I’ll take a picture of it and send it to you.”

Silence.

“Eli?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Spaced for a minute there. I should have filed a police report on the accident, but it’s not too late to file. I can do it tomorrow.”

“But it was so