Ethan

by Leigh Loveday

  I realise with a pang of near-panic that she thinks this is it. We’ll go into the hotel, she’ll get her room, and then she’ll never see me again. I can’t let that happen. I can’t. I feel like I’ve spent my whole life waiting for her to walk into it, and if I let her walk back out again just like that I may die.

  “Oh, you’re not getting rid of me that easy, Kate,” I say, looking down at her. I bring her to a stop just outside the hotel entrance, turning her to face me. I place my hands on her upper arms and it just feels completely right, like they’ve always belonged there.

  “You’re having dinner with me,” I say, pushing a soft lock of hair out of her face. I wouldn’t usually be so forward, but like I said, it’s not a matter of casual choice. I can’t let her go. Her cheeks are flushed and she bites her bottom lip, and the sight of her being so bashful almost sends me into overdrive.

  “I… I am?” she asks.

  I don’t know how I manage to stop myself dragging her into the hotel and up to a room, but I do. I have to. I don’t want this to begin with an hour-long hotel bill. Not when I feel like it’s going to be a lifelong deal.

  “You are.”

  “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  The fact that she agreed makes my cock twitch—as does the image of her naked that springs to mind when she says she has nothing to wear.

  “Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out. Let’s head in.”

  Inside, the hotel lobby is small, cool and quaint. It’s a family-run place, and the sound of the door opening sets off a bell that brings a middle-aged, homely-looking lady out from the back to the reception desk.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Bardot?” she asks, reading from the screen in front of her and then looking up at us hopefully. The fact that she mistakes us for a couple even with the age gap makes me grin, and I put my arm around Kate’s shoulder.

  “No, ma’am,” I say. “We’re looking for a room for just the lady here.”

  “Just a single,” says Kate. “Anything really.”

  “Oh, darlin’,” says the woman, with a look of genuine concern. “You’ve not a hope in darnation of finding a room tonight. It’s the annual cookie competition tomorrow; the whole town is packed out. And probably every town for a few hours’ drive, too.”

  “Damn,” I say. “I forgot about that.”

  “Cookie competition?” says Kate.

  “Yeah. Happens every year,” I tell her. I thank the receptionist and she gives us an apologetic nod and returns to her room. “People come from all over to bring their cookie recipes. It’s sort of a big deal in the culinary world. But I guess that doesn’t help you any, huh?” I ask, watching her features arrange themselves into an increasingly forlorn expression.

  “What am I going to do?” she asks. She looks like she might be on the verge of tears. I can see them glistening on her lower lashes and I can’t help but pull her into my arms and hold her against me.

  “First things first,” I say, decisively. “We’re going to get you a cold drink and some lunch and you can take it from there. Weigh your options. Alright?”

  She seems glued to me for a moment, and the warmth of her body seeps into me. I adore the feeling of her against me, warm and soft and curvy. Eventually, she nods her head, and I take her hand, looping my fingers between hers, and lead her out to the street and around to the right, toward the best diner in town.

  Kate

  Oh my god, oh my god, ohmygod. I can’t even think while we walk down the street, hand in hand, fingers linked. How the hell did this happen? And why is the feeling of his strong, hard fingers linked between my own so… sexual? How did the simple act of holding hands become such a panty-wetting event, and how the heck did I end up holding hands with this admittedly gorgeous stranger?

  “I hope you’re ready for the best club sandwich you’ve ever tasted in your life,” he says, and squeezes my hand a little harder as we turn into a diner on the corner. I feel a bit goofy as I grin up at him, but everything about the moment feels right. A couple of hours ago, I was kneeling on the side of the road wondering what the hell I was going to do, and now I’m here, hand in hand with an adonis, being taken for lunch.

  “You’re pretty sure of yourself,” I tease him. “I’ve eaten some pretty excellent club sandwiches in my twenty-four years, you know.”

  The server comes along and offers to seat us, and Ethan keeps a hold of my hand all the way to the booth she shows us to. I manage by some miracle not to make a snatch for his hand when he finally releases our fingers and holds out an arm to guide me into the booth. He takes a seat opposite me and we both pick up our menus.

  “Twenty-four, huh?” he says, without lifting his eyes from it.

  The butterflies that had been doing somersaults in my tummy are suddenly stilled, and then they all drop as one to the pit of it. This is where the silliness ends, I guess, and I nod.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m forty next year.”

  I stare at him, unsure if he’s expecting me to respond to that. Is he testing if I care? Because I do not care. At all. I want him to hold my hand again, all the way back to his car and then all the way back to his house and drag me all the way to his bed. If anything the fact that he’s mature and so obviously has his shit together is a turn on.

  “Can I take your order?” asks the server, saving me from the need to respond.

  I frown at the menu, which I’ve completely failed to even look at, I’ve been so busy looking at Ethan, and purse my lips.

  “We’ll both have the club,” says Ethan. “Fries and side salads. And water. Thanks.”

  I’m not entirely sure how I feel about him ordering for me, intellectually, but physically I can feel the butterflies take flight again in my belly, and I find myself smiling at him.

  “Listen, Kate,” he says, once the server is gone. “I wish you’d agree to stay with me. I want to make sure you’re safe.”

  I stare at him, then swallow, and muster every ounce of willpower I have to respond.

  “It’s not that I’m not grateful. It’s just… I only just met you. And spending the night in a stranger’s house, I…”

  “You wouldn’t usually do that. I know, Kate, I can tell. And I’m not going to pretend you’re not the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on in my life. But I have a spare room with its own bathroom, the door locks from the inside, and I won’t bother you. It’s exactly what I said. I want to be sure you’re safe.”

  I stare at him, chewing nervously on my bottom lip again. My hand is resting on the middle of the table and he slides his over to take it. Those electrified tingles shoot up my arm and down my spine again, and my resolve withers like a cut flower.

  Don’t get me wrong, there have been boys. But… boys. Not men. Not like Ethan. Everything about him screams to the deepest, carnal parts of me and makes me want to throw caution to the wind and give him everything.

  With a lurch of my stomach, I realise he’s pushed up a bit from his seat and he’s leaning over. He’s leaning toward me, looking at my mouth. I’m looking at his mouth, noticing how soft his lips are, anticipating the way they’ll feel. He’s going to kiss me. He’s going to kiss me and I’m going to kiss him back, and angels will weep at the perfection…

  “Two clubs, fries, salad, water,” says a bored voice, stopping Ethan short just as my lips part slightly.

  Chapter Four

  Ethan

  “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, when the server interrupts what was going to be my first kiss with the last woman I’d ever need. I sit back in my chair, frustrated, jaw clenched, wishing the worst things on the poor server.

  It could be worse though, right? I’m sitting here with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen having lunch.

  “Okay,” says Kate. I look up, give a little frown. I’m not sure what she means for a moment, and then I catch on and raise a brow.

  “Okay what?” I ask, determined to make her say it out loud and make it
real.

  “Okay I will take you up on the offer to stay at your house tonight. Thank you.” She gives me a bashful little smile and tucks into her sandwich.

  I grin. I guess the thought of how frustrated I’ll be with her sleeping just down the hall hasn’t sunk in yet. She even chews in the most adorable way I’ve ever seen.

  We eat and chat, and there’s never an awkward silence or a dull moment. I feel like I’ve known her for years.

  She tells me she’s a waitress, and she seems to relax a little when I tell her that my mother was a waitress, too. She tells me she’s also an aspiring mural artist, but refuses to show me any of her work.

  “Tell you what,” I say, washing down my sandwich with a swig of water. “If I show you mine, you have to show me yours. Tonight. I’ll show you what I make, you show me what you make. Deal?”

  “What do you make?” she asks, a laugh lilting through her words. God, she's adorable.

  “Furniture,” I say. “I’m a carpenter.”

  “Nice car, for a carpenter,” she says. Astute, too.

  “Long story. Maybe I’ll tell you one day.”

  “Well, we only have one day,” she says, and for a moment she looks as gutted as I feel about the fact.

  “So let’s make the most of it,” I suggest, seizing the opportunity now that she’s given me an in. “There’s a cookie market that's probably open for another little while. All the competitors from tomorrow, and some of the non-qualifiers, selling their wares. What do you say? Everyone loves cookies.”

  Which is true, but it also gives me time this afternoon to spend with her, maybe hold her hand again, maybe lean in uninterrupted this time for a kiss. She’s so sweet and kind, and she has this killer curvy body, and my dick’s been like a yoyo since we first met. Up, down, up, down.

  But it’s not just that. It’s my emotions. I never believed in love at first sight, but now mere hours after meeting Kate, I can’t deny it exists. It’s happening to me. Who am I kidding? It’s happened to me. I’m done. It’s all or nothing with her, and I need to find a way to show her.

  “Everyone loves cookies,” she agrees, smiling. She has a dimple on just one cheek.

  Once I’ve paid, we head out into the cookie market for a while. It takes me barely any time to catch her hand in mine, and when she curls her small fingers between mine, I can barely contain myself. I stop and turn to her, middle of the street, pedestrian traffic moving every direction.

  She’s looking up at me, big blue eyes, her lips slightly parted, her pupils flared. I lift my hand to the side of her neck, where her skin feels like silk and her hair softly tickles the back of my hand. She smells like flowers and springtime, and when my lips finally, hungrily devour her, she tastes like the rest of my life.

  Kate

  He doesn’t kiss me so much as possess me. His one hand is on my jaw, the other splayed on my back, and he pulls me in and probes my mouth with his tongue. As possessive as the kiss feels, it’s gentle and probing. More than mere lust.

  “Take me to your place.” The words are out of my mouth, an urgent whisper beside his ear, before I even know what I’m saying. I feel him tense, and he takes me hand and pulls me back through the crowd, practically shouldering people out of the way in his rush.

  My pulse is running a million miles a minute as I drop into the Aston. Truth is, I don’t go home with guys on the first date. Or even the fourth. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing but I know it feels right. Ethan closes the door behind me and gets into the driver’s seat in silence.

  “Kate,” he says, and I can hear strain in his voice. He reaches over with one hand as we wind our way through picturesque roads—Brookshore really is a beautiful place— and clasps my hand in his. “This is crazy. It’s crazy fast. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, but I’m not interested in a one-off fling with you. You know what I mean?”

  My heart does some sort of backflip behind my sternum and I swallow, hard. Is he saying what I think he’s saying? Is he feeling everything I’m feeling, for real?

  “So have dinner with me,” he says. “Let me show you how I’ll treat you. Stay with me tomorrow, too. And if you’re not all in by then, you can be on your way. Because one afternoon with you, one night with you… baby, I can already tell it’ll never be enough.”

  My core clenches when he calls me “baby”, and I can barely breathe. I can’t believe it’s real. This man, so unbelievably hot, my knight in shining Aston who picked me up from the side of the road, is really into me? Me? Curvy little Kate from the Midwest?

  “Okay,” I squeak out. I almost think he didn’t hear me, what with the roof being down, until he squeezes my hand and grins at the road ahead.

  Speaking of the road, where the hell are we? I look around and it’s all nature and trees and meadows. We pass a small lake and take a right into a long, winding driveway lined with tall evergreen trees, and then the driveway opens up and my jaw nearly hits the floor.

  The wide courtyard is nothing compared to the mansion behind it. And it’s beautiful, like it was modeled on some sort of English country house.

  “You live here?” I ask, unable to believe my eyes.

  The car pulls up, sliding a little on the gravel, and Ethan grins over at me. “Told ya I have a spare room.”

  “Holy smokes!”

  “Yeah. Took some getting used to when I moved in,” he says. He’s at my door in a flash, holding out his hand so he can help me out. I still can’t say anything, but I take his hand and let him lead me up the steps to the front door, which opens before we get to it.

  “Holy smokes!” I say again as I walk into the entrance hall. The space is huge. Dual staircases sweep up either side, and it’s all creams and marble, with warm, burnt orange accents. It’s so welcoming, I’m tempted to drop onto the chaise in the middle of the hall and kick back.

  “Carpenter, huh?” I ask, looking back at him with one raised brow. I notice that he’s staring at me like I’m a work of art and he needs to remember the details.

  “Long story,” he says. “I’ll tell you over dinner. Let me show you to your room.”

  A little while after I got to the room, a young man knocked my door and handed me a box, and now here I am, sitting on a balcony looking out over a beautiful, sunset-drenched meadow, wearing the knee-length black dress and medium-heeled pumps that Ethan bought me. The little card just had a single kiss written on it, and it was signed off with one letter “E”.

  “Stunning.” Ethan’s voice makes me jump, and brings me to my feet. He’s looking handsome, all dressed up in a dinner suit that I instantly want to get him out of.

  I’m within three strides of him, and he eats them up and leans in to kiss me, giving me a waft of his masculine aftershave, letting me feel the warmth of his body close again. Every time he touches me, it drives me wild and strikes me dumb.

  “Chef’s just finishing up,” he says. “I hope you like fish?”

  Chapter Five

  Ethan

  She is everything I imagined, hoped and dreamed I would one day find to share this huge house with me, and then some. She is charming all the way through dinner. She chats and laughs and makes me laugh, and distracts me often with the way her lips move when she’s speaking, or the way her eyes sparkle when she’s about to say something funny. And she tucks into the food my chef has prepared with enthusiasm, which is a nice change from any of the dates I’ve been on in the last decade or so.

  “So?” she says during a lull in the conversation. “You were going to tell me how a carpenter came to live in a mansion and drive an Aston.”

  I was. But it seems so unimportant now. I decide to give her the abridged version. I was a miner, a group of us got a big bonus when our team struck a new lode. A friend convinced us to invest it all in crypto and we got out at a good time.

  “They call us the Brookshore Billionaires,” I say, rolling my eyes.

  “That’s so cheesy,” she laughs. She’s amazi
ng.

  “Mmhmm. Most of us stuck around in town, built our own houses, started doing whatever we wished we’d have done if we hadn’t been born in a mining town. Lucas opened an auto shop—”

  “No way! Lucas who’s fixing my car?”

  “Yup,” I nod, and swallow down the pang of jealousy that rears its ugly head when she gets so excited about Lucas. He’s a nice guy, but this is my woman. It couldn’t be clearer to me.

  “And you always wanted to be a carpenter?”

  “Yup. I make bespoke furniture.”

  She regards me thoughtfully for a moment, and then reaches for her phone, thumbing about on the screen a while before handing it over to me.

  “Oh, wow,” I say, my brows up. “These are yours?”

  She nods. On the screen is a collection of pictures of wall murals and floor paintings, and I tap to enlarge one and start flipping through. She definitely has a unique aesthetic to her work and an eye for colour. I look up to her and she’s nervously chewing her bottom lip. I want to suck it out of her mouth so I can chew it myself.

  “They’re amazing,” I say, handing the phone back to her. She still looks bashful. It takes all the strength I have to resist dragging her back to my room, but I don’t want her to feel like I’m only interested in one thing. I need her to know that for me, she’s it. The one. And I knew it the moment I looked into her beautiful blue eyes.

  I stand up and reach out to her, and she willingly takes my hand and lets me pull her up.

  “It’s late,” I say. “I’ll walk you to your room. Here.” I take a card out of my pocket and hand it to her. “You have my number now in case you need anything. And you can send me a link to your portfolio, too. I know some people who would almost certainly want to commission you.”