Ethan
Leigh Loveday
Copyright © 2020 by Leigh Loveday
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter One
Ethan
It’s a beautiful day. The sun is beating down so hard the tarmac looks hazy, and the coastal road into Brookshore is clear of traffic, allowing me to open up the throttle on my brand new car and feel the wind through my cropped hair.
The car is an Aston Martin Vanquish Volante and it set me back over three hundred thousand dollars. That’s a lot of money to spend on a car. If I’m honest, it’s more money than I ever thought I’d have a decade ago, before a friend advised me to invest in crypto. I got out at just the right time and the rest is history. Every financial worry I ever had evaporated overnight and now I can drive around in a car that would make James Bond seethe with envy and spend my time doing pretty much whatever I like.
I round the last long, shallow bend before the town, Living on a Prayer playing at full blast, and zoom past a pulled-over beater car. I notice the girl as I pass, bent down, ass in the air, denim skirt, curvy legs, cute little canvas sneakers on her feet. I chalk it up as a little bonus on an already awesome day, and carry on. It’s not until the Brookshore sign is in sight that I feel a pang of guilt for not stopping to offer help. My mother’s been gone five years already, and I still hear her voice in moments like this. Ethan James Everett you better pull your butt over and offer that poor girl some assistance. I sigh, swerve closer to the roadside, and spin the car around.
“Everything alright, miss?” I ask, rolling to a halt on the opposite side of the road from her and flicking the stereo into silence.
I obviously didn’t get a good enough look as I was driving past. She stands up and her figure is knockout. All curves and slopes in all the right places. Her thighs are so thick I can almost feel them in my hands.
And then she turns around and spins my world with her.
She has the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, a tiny little button nose, and blond hair that tumbles over her shoulder and settles softly in delicate waves and curls. She’s a little red in the cheeks and breathless from the exertion of whatever she was doing. Sexy as anything. I’m suddenly glad of the mirrored aviators covering my eyes, because I sure as hell can’t drag them away from her perfect curves.
“Oh, hey,” she says. “Just a flat.”
Her voice is like dripping honey through fucking cream. Soft and delicate, and she looks half bashful and she stretches out a perfectly curved leg and knocks the toe of her sneaker against a tire. I’ve been so wrapped up in drinking her in, I didn’t even notice the state of the tire until now. Flat is an understatement. The rubber is completely torn and the wheel rim is dented on one side. I’m irrationally annoyed at how dangerous it would have been for her to be driving while that happened.
“It’s, uh… kinda ripped?” she says, half a question, half a statement.
She looks to be in her early to mid twenties. I’m closer to forty. Too old for her, some might say, but there’s something stirring inside me. It feels like some primordial beast has been coiled within me, waiting my entire life for this woman to cross my path, and now it’s awoken from slumber and it’s on the hunt. I’m on the hunt.
“No kidding,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual as I open the door and climb out of my car, pushing the door behind me.
Kate
I knew this piece of crap beater car wouldn’t hold out long enough for me to pick up my new piece of crap beater car! I’m crouched on the side of the road, pulling at pieces of rubber and poking at bits of exposed metal I’m sure are not supposed to be exposed, when I hear the voice from behind me.
I don’t know much about cars, but the one the guy is sitting in is definitely not a beater. It probably cost more than any house I’ll ever own will cost. If I ever own a house. Whatever job description I claim, be it aspiring mural artist or diner waitress, the pay is the same.
I don’t take much notice of the man in the car at first. I’m too mortified by my current situation and the fact that a random stranger has obviously judged me too incompetent to change a tire. The fact that he’s right is neither here nor there. But when he gets out of his car and stands up, drawing up from the low seat of the sports car to his full height, I nearly go weak at the knees.
He’s a full foot taller than me, at least, and his broad shoulders fill out a white linen shirt that has sleeves rolled up to the elbows. What is it about rolled sleeves on a man? And this man’s thick, muscular forearms are doing nothing but helping. His shirt is casually untucked over loose blue jeans and he’s wearing brown leather sneakers with a white sole that set the whole thing off really well.
My breath hitches as he moves closer to me. He pauses in front of me and looks down. I see my own reflection in his aviators, curvy, flustered, and I feel silly for thinking that a man like him would look twice at a girl like me. Until he takes them off and I don’t feel anything but a sudden lurch, right down low in my belly.
His face is chiseled perfection, chocolate brown eyes and a strong nose set over a jaw that looks like it was carved by angels to serve as an example of pure masculinity. His smile nearly bowls me over, and I can feel my cheeks flushing even more. Thank heavens he’s taken the aviators off and I don’t have to look at myself! This man is an adonis. There’s no way he’d ever look at me twice, but a girl can daydream.
When he’s done pinning me under his gaze, he moves to the tire and gets down on one knee. He runs his big, manly hands smoothly around the bent rim of my wheel, gives the flapping rubber a tug, and leans back to look along the road, where I now notice there are little pieces of my shredded tire scattered about.
“Well. We’re not going to be able to fix that, miss,” he says, his voice low and smooth. He gets to his feet and brushes the road dust from his knee. “You did well not to lose control completely if you ask me.” He nods down the road a little to a sign that says a town called Brookshore is ten miles away. “I can drive you into town, if you like. I know a mechanic.”
“Oh. You live there?” I ask, eyeing the tire again. I don’t think he’s blowing smoke. It really does look FUBAR, as my dad would say. And I can’t kid myself that I don’t feel a sudden thrill at the prospect of getting into that beautiful sports car across the road with this beautiful man before me.
“Mmmhmm. My whole life,” he says, nodding. “And I’m not an axe murderer,” he adds, as though it’s a handy little bonus rather than a basic necessity.
“Well I hadn’t thought you might be, but now I’m not so sure,” I laugh, and he smiles again. Little creases at the corners of his eyes suggest he smiles a lot, and I involuntarily imagine him running his hands over my body the way he ran them over that wheel rim.
“It’s a new car, anyway,” he says, nodding across to the stunning sports car. “I wouldn’t want to get blood on the seats.”
Coming out of anyone else’s mouth it might sound cheesy or creepy, but the grin on his face makes me laugh again, and somehow I have a feeling, an instinct, that this man would never hurt me.
“Alright,” I agree, grabbing my purse and locking up my car. “I guess It’ll have to be towed, huh?”
“Looks like it to me,” says the man. “Ethan, by the way.”
; “Kate,” I say, and I realise there’s a tingle running up my spine from the spot where he’s touching me as he guides me across the road with a hand gently on the small of my back. He opens the door and waits while I get in, then closes it behind me.
“Buckle up, Kate,” he says, and even though he’s smiling, his voice is authoritative. I get the feeling that we won’t be moving an inch until I am safely strapped into this car, so I pull the belt across my curvy body and clip it into place.
Chapter Two
Ethan
The little roll of excitement I feel at the fact that she’s sitting in my car is almost juvenile, which sort of balances out the very brief moment where I wonder if kidnap is an acceptable basis for starting a relationship, if you know it’s the right girl. You think a judge would accept that? Sorry, Your Honor, but I just knew she was the one, you know? Maybe not.
I can barely stop my gaze wandering to her legs as I spin my car around and head back toward Brookshore.
“So, Kate,” I start, and I pause for a moment, enjoying the feeling of her name lingering on my tongue again. “Were you just passing through Brookshore, or stopping in town?”
“Oh, no,” she says. “I bought a new c—” she pauses, and when I glance at her I can see her cheeks flushing. “I bought a new beater car,” she says, and I notice her legs shifting uncomfortably, like she’s expecting me to judge her for not having a car worth a quarter million. “I was on my way to pick it up when the tire blew out.”
“That’s cool. What is it? The new one?” I’m trying to put her at ease a bit, and it’s no easy task when every fiber of my body is telling me to drive straight home and drag her inside. Ask and answer questions later. The way she looked at me when I got out at the roadside, I’m pretty sure she’d go for it.
“Oh,” she says. I clock half a bashful smile when I glance over. She shakes her head. “Just a little Fiat 500. I thought it was cute and I’ve been saving for a… while.”
Her pause makes me glance at her, an unspoken question raising my brow, but when she doesn’t respond, I drop it. We’re inside the town anyway, and just outside the auto repair shop that belongs to Lucas, one of my fellow investors who made it big and stuck around to do what he loves.
“Wait here,” I tell her, as I get out of my car. “I’ll see if he’s around.” There’s an edge of authority to my voice that I’m not used to hearing, but I want her to do as I say so that I can fix her problems. All her problems, I realise, as I enter the darkness of the auto shop and take off my aviators again, letting my eyes adjust to the dimness.
“Yo, Ethan,” says Jimmy, one of Lucas’ apprentices. “Oh, dude. You’re not having trouble with the Aston already?”
I laugh and shake my head. “Nah. Here for a friend. Lucas about?”
Jimmy cranes his neck and looks out at Kate sitting in my car. I look over my shoulder and see that she’s relaxing there in the sun, her arm draped along the top of the door, her fingers tapping the bodywork in time to the music.
“Just a friend, huh?” he asks, and I can feel every sinew in my body sizzle with jealousy, knowing exactly where he’s going with this. “She single?”
“No,” I say, shortly. “Lucas about?”
“Alright, alright,” says Jimmy, wearing a shit-eating grin and holding his hands up in surrender. “He’s in the office. Go on up.”
“Thanks man,” I say, shortly, and head for the stairs.
Lucas is sitting at his desk eating a sandwich and swigging on water.
“Who knew we’d dine like such kings after making our millions, huh?” I ask.
He gets to his feet immediately, the corners of his eyes creased with a smile. He wipes off his mouth and comes over, slapping my upper arm and swallowing.
“Man, don’t see you in here often these days. Someone break your saw?”
“Something like that,” I say. “Listen. I need to ask a favor.”
“Anything,” he says, shrugging like it’s a done deal.
“Alright. There’s a girl in my car. Kate. The tire on her beater has blown out just on the east side of town.”
“Oh, you want me to take a look?” he asks, moving to the window and looking down at where my car is parked.
“No. Well, yeah,” I say, nodding. “Sort of. It’s a Toyota Sienna, 2010. Bent wheel. It would just be really convenient for me if you didn’t have the part until tomorrow.”
Lucas looks back at me and smirks. “You sly old dog,” he says, and glances down to the car again. He knows me, though. He knows I don’t just pick up anyone and take them home. It’s not my style, and he’s a good enough friend to do me a solid without asking questions. “Consider it done.”
I breathe out a sigh and nod to him in thanks, and explain what’s happened as we head down to the street.
Kate
“Hey there, you must be Miss Kate,” says a kind voice, interrupting my head-bopping to Ethan’s radio.
Only slightly mortified by the fact that I’ve been caught dancing, I look up to another handsome face. An hour ago I might have been charmed by it, but now that I’ve met Ethan, everything but him seems a bit less shiny, somehow.
“I’m Lucas, the owner of this fine establishment.”
He opens the door for me, and Ethan swoops in and holds out his hand, which I take to get out of the car. I have to hand it to them—they’re quite the double act.
“Do you have a spare wheel in your trunk?” Ethan asks, and he seems to be on edge waiting for the answer, and to somehow calm a little when I shake my head.
“No. It didn’t have one when I bought it from a friend and I knew I wouldn’t be keeping the car for long so I didn’t bother to buy another.” I wince. “Seemed like a smart idea at the time.”
“Don’t beat yourself up,” says Lucas, and Ethan takes my arm gently in his huge hand and squeezes it. I’d love to say the warmth of his hand is comforting, but it’s not. Sparks fire through every synapse in my body as though he’s made of pure electricity, and I feel my undercarriage clench. Holy hell what was that?
“Uh, what?” I ask, realizing that Lucas said something else that I completely missed. I can feel my cheeks turning pink.
“I won’t be able to get the wheel ‘til day after tomorrow,” he says, presumably for the second time. “And even at that, it’s going to cost a pretty penny. Ethan tells me you’re on your way to buy another?”
I glance up to Ethan, who is watching me intently, and bite my bottom lip. If I pay for a tire for this beater, I’m not going to be able to afford the car I’m on my way to buy. I’ll just have to turn it around and go right back home. The Toyota is about ready for scrap, but what else am I going to do?
“You could stay with me tonight,” Ethan says, and I feel my brows shoot up as I glance to Lucas.
“It’s alright. He’s not a serial killer,” Lucas says.
“Told ya!” says Ethan, grinning, and I can’t help but laugh despite the stress. It feels good.
“So I keep getting told,” I say. “And I’m grateful for the offer, but I… maybe you could just show me to a motel or something? Is there one in town?”
“Let me take your keys, miss,” says Lucas, “I’ll go tow your car and then you and Ethan can figure things out.”
He holds out his hand and I dig into my pocket for my keys, and drop them unceremoniously into it. He gives a nod to Ethan and says he’ll see us both tomorrow before he heads back into the auto shop.
I stand there in silence for a moment beside Ethan, remembering the feeling of his fingers on my skin and wishing they were still there. I almost jump out of my skin when he speaks.
“He’s a good mechanic,” he says. “He’ll get you sorted out.” He nods to his own car, a devilish smile on his face. “Hop back in and we’ll see about getting you a motel room, since you won’t accept my hospitality.”
The fact that he’s smiling tells me he’s not that offended, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I realize it would have
really bothered me if it had.
“Well, it’s not because you’re a serial killer,” I say, “because you’re obviously not.”
“Obviously,” he says, and this time, he closes the door and leans into the car after me, pulling the seatbelt across my body. He smells of musky, masculine aftershave, and as he goes to push the seatbelt into place, his forearm brushes over my ample breast and my breath hitches audibly.
I know that he’s heard it, instantly, because he freezes and turns his head slowly to look down at me. I only glance up briefly, and I can only just see his eyes through the aviators, but there’s a look in his eyes that is unmistakable. Lust.
Don’t be silly, Kate, I tell myself. A man like him wouldn’t look at you that way. He probably just thinks you’re some dumb, poor kid who can’t even sort herself out a reliable car.
“Sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t sound it. He lingers a moment longer, then goes around to the driver’s side.
Chapter Three
Ethan
I must look ridiculous, walking around my car after strapping Kate into it. I’m walking like a clown, trying to hide a raging boner from the world, and then, after I’ve sat down, from her. I feel like a teenage boy with no control, but her tits are so soft. The more time I spend with this girl, the more I feel like I just have to have her.
I’m silent all the way from the auto shop to the hotel, which isn’t a great accomplishment considering that it takes less than three minutes. What is an accomplishment is that I manage to think of enough gross, unsexy things to get rid of my boner so that I don’t have to cross the street with it leading the charge.
“Thanks,” she says, as I help her out of the car and hold out my arm. She loops hers through it. “For everything, I mean. Stopping at the roadside and taking me to Lucas’ shop. It’s really kind of you.”
Ethan Page 1
