Out of Focus #SYTYCW15 Top10 Finalist! [COMPLETED]

13| Scoring Goals

Eva planted the mop at her side and blew the uneven edge of bangs out of her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Ignoring her question, he leaned casually against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest. "Got a call," he said after a stretch. "A panicked cry for help, so I came straight over." He strolled in, reached for the mop. "Here," he said. "Let me take over."

"I can manage on my own."

"Didn't say you couldn't." His eyes slid down. Tiny feet with coral tipped toes met tapered ankles and shapely calves of a woman who kept the rest of herself in shape with morning runs and evening Yoga. Interesting, he thought, to see that for someone who clearly didn't care enough to put a comb through her hair, would paint her nails.

And not her hands, but her toes. A part of her body usually hidden from plain sight inside ratty shoes. Not sure what it all meant, Marshall tucked away the little detail.

Moving closer his long fingers curled around the wooden handle, just below hers. "Many hands make light work, after all."

He'd tied his hair back, Eva noted. Shaved off his scruff of beard, so his face was unobstructed. Blatantly exposed. And handsome as hell. A little snarl of lust curled in her belly, hummed and purred. She resented it. Hated it. But her body continued to hum and purr, nonetheless. Because he was so close, so warm, Eva let go of the mop and took three large steps back.

"Oh, Marshall, thank heavens," Lottie exclaimed from beyond them.
"We could use some muscle." Arms laden with old, faded towels, she passed a couple to Eva. While Marshall soaked up water and suds, both she and Lottie worked around the kitchen from the edges in towards the center, rolling towels and water, ringing out the excess on the porch.

It was tedious work, but with the three of them on hand, they'd managed to clear up the worst of the mess shy of ten minutes.

"Stan says he can be here within the hour," Harold announced, freshly changed into dry slacks and t-shirt tucked in at the waist, running a towel over his head of sandy hair. "I'll stay behind to see to him."

"Good. Okay." Lottie spun full circle, her mind a mess. "Okay. Right. I've got the cooler packed. The fold out chairs in the hall," those eyes leapt to Eva, "Oh honey, go on ahead. Marshall's here, I can catch a ride over with him, can't I, dear?"

"Course."

"Yeah, sure." Thankful to have a reason to escape, Eva was happy to make her goodbyes.

Wrangling girls back into the car, leaving the puppies to enjoy the fenced yard, Eva made it to Dallington's soccer field with five minutes to spare. Every second of which she had to squeeze down to the last nano helping Payton into her kit.

Finished lacing her cleats, Eva pulled Payton's soccer jersey over her head, adjusting the blue and gold shirt over her skinny frame.

"There," she said, smiling up at her daughter. "How's my little soccer star?"

Payton's face beamed bright with excitement as she thrust up two thumbs.

"Good. That's what I want to see. Remember, pace yourself, okay? Eye on the ball and do your best, baby. Win or lose, you're a champ."

Payton nodded again. A lock of dark honey hair fell into her eyes.

"How are your cleats? Are the laces too tight?" Eva asked while tucking that stray wisp behind her ear.

Payton shook a rigorous no and over her shoulder, Eva watched as Ethan approached. His face quietly composed and serious as always. Even though she'd come to know him, like and respect him, because he was the island's sheriff, her stomach always twisted and did a little anxious dance when he was around.