The Complete Irreparable Boxed Set: Irreparable #1-2

by Sam Mariano

“Hey, you made it.”

  “Yeah, sorry,” he said, picking up the pace as he approached her.

  She wasn’t sure how to greet him, but she vibrated with nervous energy, so she went in for a half-ass hug. “It’s okay.” Then she went to the door, pulling it open and gesturing for him to go inside.

  “Oh, thank you,” he said, quickly ducking inside.

  He glanced around the little café once they were inside while Willow scanned the room for an empty booth. Without thought, she grabbed his arm and led him over to the only one that was still open.

  “I love booths,” she stated, smiling as she slid into her side.

  “They’re much more spacious,” he agreed, sliding into his.

  “I’m glad you decided to come,” she told him brightly. “I wasn’t sure you were on board last night.”

  He glanced down at the table, offering a vague grimace. “Yeah, sorry. I wasn’t having a great night.”

  “I thought so, but I wasn’t sure if I was reading more into it than I should.”

  “Nah… I wasn’t fit for conversation; I figured it’d be better to stop responding than be an asshole to you.”

  Nodding slightly, she asked, “Were you mad at me?”

  “No, not at you.”

  The waitress approached with menus before she could continue the conversation, so they each took one and ordered drinks, then thanked the waitress as she walked away, pony tail bouncing.

  Willow opened her menu and perused it, but she stole glances at Ethan when she could without him noticing.

  “Well, I hope you’re in a better mood today,” she told him.

  “Markedly. At least, so far,” he offered, smiling a little and glancing over his menu at her.

  Stupidly, that little look made her heart skip.

  Feeling her face warm, she turned her own attention back to the menu.

  A moment later Ethan’s phone went off and he picked it up, sliding his finger across the screen and reading what appeared to be a text. Willow kept her eyes on her menu, not wanting to be nosey… but also sort of wanting to be nosey.

  “Everything okay?” she asked, vaguely.

  His eyebrows lifted as if in surprise, then he nodded. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I was ordering some books for Alison before I left and I had to double-check she didn’t have them first.”

  “Aw, that’s nice. Does she like to read?”

  He nodded his head, returning his focus to the menu, and Willow wondered if that was weird—should she not ask questions about his kids? She’d obviously never been involved with anyone who had kids before.

  Then she remembered they weren’t involved, they were just friends, and she was being overly analytical.

  Which irritated her, since normally she was never like that about guys.

  She liked him too much—always had. It was damned irritating.

  Ethan glanced up and caught her scowling at her open menu. She glanced up when she heard him expel a soft breath of laughter.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You’re studying that very intently. Or you’re disgusted? I can’t tell which.”

  “Well… it’s a very serious situation.”

  “Is it?” he asked, a hint of hesitation crossing his features.

  Nodding solemnly, Willow said, “I could get the turkey club with French fries, but the chicken wrap sounds kind of amazing, and I have it on good authority that the homefries here are delicious.”

  “Ah.” His expression cleared as he nodded. “That is pretty serious.”

  “You can see my dilemma,” she replied solemnly.

  “If you make the wrong choice, there will be dire consequences.”

  “Exactly.”

  They shared a smile before the waitress came over, interrupting the brief moment to take their orders.

  ---

  “This is the saddest creature I’ve ever seen.”

  Willow laughed as Ethan unlocked the door to his apartment and pushed it open, allowing her inside first.

  Her fingers moved over the deformed creature’s back. “You’re crazy; he’s adorable. You should name him.”

  “He doesn’t even deserve a name; he’s an embarrassment.”

  “Quit being mean,” she said, snatching his hippopotamus sculpture and holding him closer as if protectively, lightly petting it. “It’s not his fault he’s different.”

  “He’s awful. Look at your mice, they’re like something out of a children’s book. My hippo looks like something out of a child’s nightmare.”

  “I’m going to call him Harry,” Willow decided. “Unless you want to name him something else.”

  “Call him whatever you want,” Ethan replied, shaking his head. “Hell, you can keep the damn thing. I don’t know how I would even explain what it is to anyone who saw it.”

  Willow grinned. “Fine, I will. Poor little Harry, he deserves someone to love him.”

  Ethan shook his head, sparing her a half-amused glance. “You need to work on your standards.”

  Her jaw fell open and her eyes widened, but she couldn’t fight the amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth. “That’s mean. I’ll have you know, I have reasonably high standards.”

  Ethan shot her a playful look of disbelief. Willow narrowed her eyes in response and took a seat on his couch.

  Ethan dropped his keys on the counter and came in to sit down next to her. His hibernating laptop was open on his coffee table, and he sat forward, bringing the screen back to life to type in his password.

  “You’re buying art supplies right now, aren’t you?” she joked.

  “I am.”

  “I knew it. You were complaining too much, clearly overcompensating. When you make the next Pietà, I want some credit.”

  “I don’t know what that is, but okay.”

  “Michelangelo? Your humanities professor is so fired.”

  “He’s probably dead by now; he was really old when I was in college.”

  She assumed, based on their conversation at lunch, that the orange children’s book on the screen was one of the ones he was ordering for his daughter. She didn’t want to butt in, but she also remembered reading that book series as a kid, so she couldn’t seem to help herself.

  “Are those the books Alison likes?”

  He glanced back at her, as if surprised that she could see the laptop sitting right in front of her. “Yeah. She’s got some of them, but she’s almost finished with the last one now.”

  “Good choice. That author has another series, if I’m not mistaken—about a haunted school or something? I think I remember those being similar.”

  He paused, then looked at her. “Remember, as in you read them yourself?”

  “When I was a kid, yes.” Her response was measured and pointed. “It’s not a new series; those books have been out for like 20 years. Maybe more.”

  He turned his attention back to the screen, clicking on the author’s name. “Did you read these mermaid ones? These look newer.”

  “I’m not that young, Ethan. I’m pretty sure I’ve graduated chapter books.” Leaning forward, she looked at the screen, then lightly smacked him on the arm. “That came out two years ago. Obviously I haven’t read it.” She told him to go back a screen. “Do you have a list of what numbers she has?”

  “No, I just sent titles. She said she doesn’t have the dragon ones or the ninja one.”

  Willow nodded. “Well, I would ask for a list of what numbers she has, then mark down the ones you’re buying, that way if she wants more you don’t have to ask again. I read the phantom one to a seven year old I babysat a couple years back, she really enjoyed that one.”

  Since she pushed her way in, they spent the next several minutes book shopping for Ethan’s daughter. It thrilled Willow in a weird way, being included—even if she shouldn’t be so invested, since Ethan wasn’t hers, and even if he was, she was certain his kids wouldn’t exactly love her.

  After he placed his book order, he closed
the window, but there was another one open, a Word document with some kind of recipe on it. Ethan checked the time—it was nearly seven at that point—and asked, “Do you mind if I go put water on for pasta?”

  “No, of course not, don’t mind me. Are you making dinner?”

  “No, some macaroni salad. It’s for my kid’s party tomorrow.”

  “Oh,” she said, standing when he did, even though she wasn’t sure why. “Um, the baby?”

  He nodded, making his way into the kitchen.

  Since she wasn’t sure what else to do, Willow put the little hippo down on the coffee table and joined him in the kitchen. “Do you want some help?”

  “Nah, that’s okay. The water will take a bit, anyway.”

  “Yeah, but it’s macaroni salad; you have other stuff to do while the noodles are cooking. Did you hard boil the eggs already? Do you have a food processor?”

  Ethan frowned. “I should go get the recipe. I have to confess, I’ve never made this before.”

  Willow flashed him a smile, going to his sink and washing her hands. “Okay, you do that.”

  “I don’t have a food processor,” he told her, hauling his laptop in and putting it down on the edge of the counter.

  “I’m a master chopper; get me a knife, I’ll take care of it. Oh, also, I need to know how big the batch is going to be so I know how many pickles to chop.”

  Instead of answering, he consulted the recipe. Willow grabbed supplies out of the fridge, but she wasn’t sure which cupboard held the spices and she didn’t want to go poking around.

  “Do you have ground mustard?” she asked.

  “I doubt it? There’s actual mustard in the fridge.”

  Nodding, she went back to the fridge, pulling the mustard out. “I always use ground mustard, but this will work.”

  “My grocery list just said mustard, I thought that’s what she meant.” Heading back over to the counter, he said, “Looks like 8 to 10 pickles.”

  Ethan got the pasta boxes out and set them on the counter while Willow chopped pickles and made small talk. Ethan grabbed the hard-boiled eggs and peeled them so he was at least contributing.

  Willow ended up taking over the production, since she also chopped up the eggs and whipped together the mixture. She didn’t even remember to consult the recipe, but it was second nature to go through the motions.

  “You look very domestic,” Ethan told her, smiling a little as he leaned against the counter, doing absolutely nothing helpful.

  “I look cuter in an apron,” she said lightly. Then she appraised the amount of pasta and the one bowl he had given her and glanced back at him. “I need two bowls. This isn’t going to fit in one unless you have a much bigger bowl.”

  “I do not,” he stated, pushing off the edge of the counter and going over to the cupboard he kept the bowls in.

  Once she transferred all the macaroni salad, she gave them another thorough stirring, then shook off the remains of the mixture into the bowls.

  “All done. Need help making anything else? Now I’m in the mood to cook.”

  He smiled at her and shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I have everything else covered.”

  Playfully narrowing her gaze, she asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Failing to appear innocent, his smile stretched a little wider. “I was just picturing you in an apron.”

  “Am I wearing anything else?” she teased.

  “A smile?”

  Willow grinned, shaking her head, but not responding.

  “I’m kidding,” he said.

  “You are not kidding, don’t even lie to me, Ethan Wilde.”

  Ethan shrugged, not looking terribly apologetic. “I can’t unsee you naked, Willow.”

  Just thinking about him seeing her naked unleashed a swarm of butterflies in her belly. Her instinct was to flirt back, but she knew flirting with Ethan wouldn’t be as innocent as casually flirting with someone else, so she needed to be more mindful.

  Even as she thought that, the words rolled right off her tongue. “Do you picture me naked often, Ethan?”

  Some of the mirth drained from his face at her flirty comeback and he advanced a step closer—unnecessary, since they were already standing fairly close to each other.

  His hand shot out, gently tracing the line of her jaw. Willow’s eyes fluttered shut, but she resisted the almost overwhelming urge to lean into his touch.

  “I can’t kiss you,” she whispered as she felt him lean closer, eyes still closed.

  “I know,” he answered quietly, huskily, his hand making its way down her neck. Dragging his fingers lightly across her collar bone, he said, “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

  Me too. She didn’t say it, since being near him was enough temptation without piling on.

  Forcing her eyes open was probably a bad idea, since his feather-light caress melted her bones, and she was sure her eyes reflected her own faithless desires. She took the softening in his own expression when he met hers as verification.

  His hands made their way back up her neck, across her jaw. By the time he was tracing her lips with his thumb, it took real effort not to rip his clothes off. The other hand had been floating, but it landed on her hip and moved down, inching closer and closer to her ass.

  “And you call me the temptress,” she said lightly.

  He smiled slightly, leaning closer until his hip was pressed firmly against hers, her hands moving of their own accord to his shoulders—God, she loved his shoulders. Her neck was next, stretching at the memory of his lips making a path, raising gooseflesh and setting her blood on fire. Just thinking about it warmed her all over, and when he leaned in, not kissing her, just nuzzling her neck as if to remind her, she heard a moan escape her throat.

  “Ethan…”

  “Tell me to stop and I will,” he whispered, triggering a yearning between her legs that she’d been trying to ignore.

  “We can’t do this.”

  “We aren’t doing anything,” he replied instantly.

  “That’s not true,” she murmured, but made no move to push him away. “I’m not going to sleep with you no matter how much I want to.”

  He chuckled against her neck, dropping one little kiss there but he didn’t say anything, just continued to torment her with his touch.

  Her body wasn’t on the same page as her convictions; to illustrate the point, she curled her leg around him, pulling his pelvis closer to hers. Unmitigated pleasure unfurled inside of her when the evidence of his arousal pressed up against her.

  “This is bad,” she whispered, managing to keep her hands on his shoulder, when she wanted to explore the muscles of his back again. It had been so, so long….

  “I disagree,” he informed her, moving the hand that had been on her hip up under her shirt, just enough to make her tense—it didn’t go any higher than her stomach.

  Like a bucket of ice cold water dumped over their heads, a knock on the door cut through the lusty haze.

  Ethan pulled back, a look of confusion on his face, and Willow stood there, dazed.

  Frowning, Ethan crossed the kitchen and went to the door to peer through the peephole.

  “Fuck,” he whispered, spinning on his heel and regarding her with a look she could only possibly interpret as desperate.

  Even as her stomach plummeted, she whispered, “What?”

  Ethan was panicking. His hand moved over his face, pausing on his forehead, and he looked around as if for somewhere to hide.

  Another knock at the door, that one lighter, and if she wasn’t mistaken, lower.

  His kids were outside that door. She knew it in her bones.

  Suddenly he was at her side, grasping her arm and leading her out of the kitchen, into the living room and toward the hall. “I hate to ask this…”

  “You want me to hide,” she said slowly, allowing him to lead her down the hall.

  Regret was etched all over his tense features as he hustled her down t
he hall. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to do right now. I don’t know why… They probably won’t be here long. Please? I’m so sorry.”

  Willow walked into his bedroom—not how she imagined she would end up there, to say the least—and sat down on the edge of his bed, watching as he closed the door behind him and made his way back out to greet his family.

  There was no time to prepare herself—the walls in the apartment were thin, and as soon as he opened the door, she heard his enthusiastic greeting and a burst of child-like noises that she couldn’t quite make out as they all rambled at once, and a more womanly voice tried to talk over them.

  Somehow sitting on the bed felt wrong, considering she felt about two inches tall.

  Lowering herself to the floor, she pulled her knees up close to her chest and sat in front of the bed instead, trying not to listen to the noises coming from the other room, while at the same time wanting to listen.

  Ethan hoped he didn’t look as guilty as he felt.

  Alison and Jackson were trying to talk over each other, while Caleb sat on Amanda’s hip, babbling at him and pointing.

  And Willow was hiding in his bedroom.

  After… whatever almost happened in the kitchen.

  His gaze jumped to the discarded shoes by the door—where Alison was kicking hers off—and he was thankful Willow had kept hers on.

  His heart raced as he tried to nod with casual enthusiasm while Alison told him about their day.

  Lowering her voice a little, Amanda remarked almost cautiously, “You said you wanted to see them more.”

  “Of course! I did. I do.”

  She nodded her head. “We’re not staying for long, guys, we have to get you home and ready for bed.” Then, glancing back at Ethan, she said, “Anyway, they kept talking about you, so… I thought we could stop by and say hi before bed.”

  “I’m glad you did,” he said, offering a little smile.

  Alison finally managed to get her stuffed bear out of its cardboard house. “See!” She held up her bear. “Now Snowball has a brother.”

  “That’s awesome.”

  “Or a boyfriend. I haven’t decided.”

  “Go for the brother,” Ethan advised. “Boyfriends are more trouble than they’re worth.”