One in a Million by Abby Gaines

and loose with something as important to Eli as his career. That reporter didn’t get to heap all the blame on Eli for the discord at Double S Racing.
    She glanced at his profile as they shook hands along the reception line. She could tell he was also still mad that she’d called him on the lack of intimacy, of loyalty, in his life. No one else would guess at his hostility, not with his mouth curved in that affable smile, and him holding her hand with every evidence of relaxation. But she saw it in the tension of his facial muscles.
    It was a shame he couldn’t understand that she related far better to the glimpse she’d had of his loneliness than she did to his charming, disheveled Greek god persona. It made him…ordinary.
    When they got past the receiving line, the first person they ran into was Gil, talking with a couple of other team owners. At least that meant he couldn’t snub them without generating a ton of gossip.
    Eli took the initiative. “Evening, Gil.”
    â€œHello, Eli, Jen,” Gil said, a bite to his tone.
    To Jen’s surprise, Eli tugged her closer.
    â€œHi, Gil,” she said, with a nip of her own. And was surprised again, when Eli’s lips twitched.
    â€œYou look delightful,” Gil complimented her, with the distant Charleston charm he did so well.
    â€œThanks,” Jen replied. “Eli is so wonderfully thoughtful that he arranged for Cara Stallworth to take me shopping for a dress.”
    Gil’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Thoughtful indeed.”
    She couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic, so she squeezed Eli’s fingers in case he needed reassurance.
    They moved on, crossing the enormous room.
    â€œI don’t need you defending me to Gil,” Eli muttered, close to her ear. “Or to anyone.”
    â€œYou bring out my protective instincts,” she said.
    He gaped. “What?”
    â€œYou heard.” She tried her own variation of his smirk, and was gratified to see it annoyed him. How could she ever have found him intimidating?
    â€œAre you going to stop talking that crap,” he demanded, “or do I have to walk away?”
    They’d reached the table occupied by some of the clients of the charity they were there to help. People who’d suffered all kinds of injuries, many of them still visible, eager now to meet Eli. They didn’t need him distracted by his anger with her.
    â€œYou don’t need to walk away,” she said. “I will.”
    She left him glaring after her and went to talk to Cara and her husband, Jeb, who was so crazy about his new wife, it was almost painful to watch.
    Jen kept an eye on Eli, who’d sloughed off his annoyance with her to chat to the accident victims. Even from here, she could see he was entirely natural with them, unfazed by physical incapacity, scarring or even mental disability. Shewondered if meeting these people made him think about his parents’ fatal accident.
    Bart Branch, one of the few NASCAR drivers she recognized, asked Jen to dance. He was pleasant company, so they danced through several songs. After Bart returned her to the Stallworths, she had no shortage of dance partners.
    But the whole time she was aware of Eli. How could someone so shallow, so willing to walk out of a relationship or a job at the first sign of discomfort, see beyond the damaged surface into the hearts of the people he was still engrossed in conversation with?
    Because that’s what he wants someone to do for him.
    Could that be true? Could this man who specialized in superficial relationships, want someone to look deeper, despite his protestations to the contrary? He’d insisted their relationship was a sham, but he knew she took life seriously. Was he subconsciously seeking something real?
    When the song finished, Jen excused herself from her partner and went over to Eli.
    â€œDance with me?” she asked.
    â€œI doubt you have any energy left, after