Ethan headed back out to his car, unloading the final two bags which included ingredients for a fresh salad and a vinaigrette dressing, as well as breakfast items, bread, lunchmeats, and cheese.
“Go ahead and relax,” Ethan said, searching the kitchen drawers for tongs and hot pads. “Take a bath or something—I mean, no! Not what I meant. I’m sorry. And I meant to tell you that I brought home some extra locks for your upstairs doors, okay?”
His face had actually turned red, and now Allie was amused.
“I’m going to change out of my work clothes. Unless you need help reading the directions on how to press the buttons on the grill.” Allie gave him her poker face and he laughed.
“Okay, smartie. I got it.”
At the door, Allie turned back, watching Ethan run the sink water to clean the lobster tails. She said, “Maybe we can take down the sheet over the kitchen table while we eat.”
“It’ll be easier to pass the salt and pepper,” he agreed.
Allie headed upstairs, knowing she couldn’t stay angry forever. And Ethan had apologized nicely. She had needed to hear another apology after the scare last night.
But a sincere, heartfelt apology was something she hadn’t received from Sean yet. The hurt stabbed at her chest, and Allie wondered if she could ever get over the pain he’d caused her.
Upstairs, Allie took a quick shower, changing into fresh slacks and a blue blouse. Fluffing at her hair, she realized that her eye makeup was smudged a bit. She considered fixing it, but decided she was not going to primp for Ethan Smith.
When she returned downstairs, the table was set with old-fashioned china and glass goblets.
“Real cloth napkins?” she exclaimed, impressed. “Is there a washer and dryer on the premises?”
“In the garage. Added to the house when my mother was a teenager.”
“That’s nice to know,” she said with a nod. “I already have a stack of work clothes to wash.”
“I’ll bet its hard work being in a hot truck and standing over a tub of four hundred degree oil.”
“I worked there all through my teens until I went to Toronto for university. I got used to it as a kid, but it’s harder coming back after seven years away. A lot harder on my feet. My parents are heroes.”
“You’ll get used to it again. First week is always the hardest.”
“First weeks are always the hardest—for anything,” Allie said, more to herself than Ethan, but she noticed that he looked at her quizzically, as if trying to puzzle her out.
The last thing she planned on doing was spilling her guts to Ethan about being stood up at the altar.
“So did you miss home while you were away in TO?” he asked, setting down platters of sizzling lobster and a medium rare steak drizzled in a delicious teriyaki sauce. There were even steamed veggies to go with the tossed salad. And separate salad bowls.
Was the guy actually a chef that had embezzled his boss’s secret recipes? Maybe he was on the run and masquerading as a photographer.
“No,” Allie said simply. “And no fair trying to get any past history info out of me. Not tonight, and probably not ever.”
He gave her a tenuous smile. “Aye, aye, Captain Strickland. Try some of the salad. It’s already tossed with the vinaigrette.”
“Dinner looks amazing, Ethan, thank you.” Allie cut up her lobster and then a piece of the steak and stuck them in her mouth at the same time. The tender meat practically melted on her tongue. “Oh,” Allie moaned. “This tastes amazing. Sean never would have dreamed of cooking—” She stopped herself and choked, quickly gulping at her water.
Ethan heard her, she knew he did, but he had the grace to pretend she hadn’t spoken. He was curious, alright, but Allie pretended to eat as though she hadn’t said anything either. She focused on her meal and ate the heavenly food with a hunger for real food—instead of junk food—that she hadn’t had in days.
“Speaking of the fry shack, I get my share of oil burns,” she said, covering up the quiet of the dining room. “Got one today rescuing a basket of fries while my mother took care of a customer’s complaint.”
“Where’s the burn?”
“On the side of my palm.” Allie held up her hand. “After lots of ice this afternoon it’s not bothering me too much anymore.”
“Be sure you apply Neosporin to make sure it doesn’t get infected. I have some if you need it.”
“You certainly travel well prepared.”
They ate in silence for awhile and then the phone rang.
Allie looked up, startled. “You had the house phone connected?”
“It was never disconnected,” Ethan said. “Probably somebody local calling. Nobody around here has my mobile number.”
He answered it, turning his back to the window to look into the rear yard. Was that a hint that he didn’t want Allie to listen in to the phone call, or merely a casual appraisal of the state of the garden?
It quickly became apparent who was calling. Allie stared at the back of his shirt, pretending to continue eating her dinner. Why would Mayor Jefferies be calling Ethan Smith? He was merely a town resident recently returned after at least a decade away . . . somewhere. Now that she thought about it, Allie wasn’t sure exactly where Ethan had been living, or where he’d been working for the past decade himself.
“A meeting this coming Monday?” Ethan said into the receiver. “I can make that. What time?”
He listened for another few moments, but Allie couldn’t hear what the mayor was saying, even though she stopped chewing so she could hear more clearly.
“Pictures are going well,” Ethan added. “Yes, sir. See you next week. Thank you.”
He hung up the phone and caught Allie watching him. She bent over her food and stuck her fork into the last bite of her steak.
“I see you there,” Ethan told her knowingly.
“I’m innocent,” she protested. “See, I’m eating,” she added with a mouth full. After swallowing, she said. “If your phone conversations are meant to be private take them in another room.”
“Thanks for the advice,” he said, pointedly looking at the telephone attached to the wall. It was a 1980s version, of course, with a curling cord. Meaning he couldn’t go into another room, unless he pulled half the wall with him.
“That was an incredible dinner,” Allie said, taking her empty plate to the sink. “Thank you. I’ll wash up since you cooked.”
“You don’t have to, but thanks. Hey, if you don’t mind, I’m going to head out to do a few sunset shots.”
“Knock yourself out.” Allie said, glancing over her shoulder as he left the kitchen. “I know time is of the essence when taking pictures during sunset,” she called out, but Ethan didn’t respond. A second later the front door closed.
She and Ethan Smith were both keeping secrets. But she didn’t owe him anything and she supposed that he didn’t owe her his life story either.
Even so, the sheets and rope in the living room was going to stay up—and her room barricaded each night until she knew exactly what Ethan Smith was up to.
Chapter 10
Several more days passed and the truce was still in place, although Ethan kept hinting at taking down the rope and sheets in the downstairs rooms. He’d reach up and wrap his fists around the rope lines and hang there with sad puppy-dog eyes, teasing Allie unmercifully.
He also came and went at odd hours. Allie assumed that meant he was taking advantage of the various shades of light and shadow for photography. But honestly, how many shots of the second largest covered bridge can you take before your magazine readers were sick of them?
She grew more and more suspicious, especially after the phone call from Mayor Jefferies so Allie decided to follow the incognito Mr. Smith on Monday morning when he left for his meeting with the mayor, although he never said that’s where he was going.
Sure enough, she spotted him entering the city offices before heading to the Fry Truck. It was a busy tourist day. Summer
was in full swing by now and the weather was perfect. Tourists trampled the scenery and left their trash all over the grass every three hours. Despite several trash bins conveniently located.
Later that night, Ethan didn’t breathe a word about his meeting, despite a hundred hints from Allie. He merely looked at her with indulgence as if she was an annoying child.
“One day,” she vowed getting ready for bed that night. “I will learn what you’re hiding.”
One day an Asian tourist missed the bus because he’d climbed up on top of the bridge to take pictures. When he spotted the bus roaring up the sloping road out of town, he scrambled down, but was too late.
This meant that he pestered every single business along the river, asking questions about when the next bus would arrive, and if there be room on it for him. He also wanted to know where the mayor’s office was located.
Allie told him, “Get in line for that one, buddy.”
“There’s a line to make an appointment with the mayor?”
Allie gave him a wan smile. “It was a metaphoric statement. You can hang out at some of the shops along Main to pass the time.”
He nodded vigorously. “I will do that. I’m tired of eating fries.”
Allie grimaced at his less than tactful nature and waved him along while she and her mother chopped more potatoes.
Once the bridge area was clean again, Heartland Cove became a pristine historical site once more, as if it remained untouched and unsoiled year-round with no effort.
* * *
Two days later, Marla showed up with news about Ethan Smith. “Since I have more freedom than you do—”
“You think?” Allie asked, feeling cooped up and antsy with nervous energy. It was getting claustrophobic being in the fry shack day in and day out.
“Do you want me to keep sleuthing on Ethan or not?”
Allie glanced to the other end of the truck where her parents were fixing the cash register. She stuck a crispy fry in her mouth to test the doneness.
Marla grabbed a fry for herself; added salt, and then leaned over the counter, keeping one eye on Mr. and Mrs. Strickland so they didn’t overhear their conversation.
Allie put her elbows down and leaned in, too.
“Here’s the scoop,” Marla said conspiratorially. “Young Dude, Mayor Jefferies, is definitely meeting with contractors and state officials about the highway. He thinks it’s going to bring in logging and other revenue. Of course, that revenue won’t come to the citizens of Heartland Cove, only the logging companies—and him with kickbacks from his logging friends.”
“And Ethan?”
“He met with them this past Monday. That is a fact. His name was on the meeting minutes. I have a friend at city hall,” she confessed with a wink. “But Ethan is up to something else, too.”
“What could be worse?”
“I don’t know if it’s worse, but I followed him into the forest on the other side of town and saw him hard at work gutting the interior of an old, abandoned house.”
Allie jerked upright, smacking her head against the customer service window. “Ouch!” She rubbed her scalp. “Why would he be doing that? He’s got his grandmother’s house. And he’s not a construction contractor—he’s a friggin’ photographer.”
“The mystery deepens.” Marla lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I’m only the messenger. And a pretty good spy, I think.”
“You’re the best. Thank you.” Allie chewed on her lip. The truth was disturbing. “How could Ethan be a traitor to his hometown?”
“Money, of course. Like every other land developer. Why is Mayor Jefferies a traitor?”
“Good point. But why would Ethan be renovating some old house if he doesn’t intent do live here and doesn’t care that Heartland is left to become a ghost town?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Marla said.
The sound of the four o’clock tourist bus coming down the hill razed the air like crickets buzzing. Still about a mile away, but getting closer. A sound Allie had learned to listen for since she was a kid.
“What are you going to do?” Marla asked.
Allie shrugged. “Ethan and I are like two cats circling each other. Eating dinner together, having benign chats about our work days, but nothing personal at all. That’s because Ethan Smith is some kind of undercover agent for Mayor Jefferies—I just know it. Cashing in on Heartland Cove. I need to hate him despite the heavenly food he cooks.”
“I had no idea you’d sell your soul for filet mignon and chocolate mousse, girl.”
“I’m cheap that way,” Allie said, grinning. Her smile faded as she grew thoughtful. “I’m going to have to take a walk on the wild side one of these days and see what I can see,” Allie said nonchalantly, but with perfect meaning.
“Be careful,” Marla warned. “It may be some super secret project of Ethan’s. Don’t approach him. He could get angry if he finds out you’ve outed him as a government spy.”
Allie pursed her lips. She couldn’t picture Ethan becoming volatile. He was so mild-mannered at home. Funny and charming with a sense of humor. Being a big tease was his M.O, just like her older brother, Jake. And those brown eyes were getting to her more and more, too. But maybe Ethan Smith was just a talented actor, luring her in just to throw her off the scent.
Several more days passed, and, without any spoken agreement, Allie and Ethan had settled into a routine. Ethan did the cooking and Allie the washing up.
His meals were heavenly and varied. She could get used to gourmet meals, and took up running in the mornings before heading to work. All those calories late at night were taking a toll on her waistline.
After a breath-taking meal of Beef Bourguignon and steamed asparagus with hollandaise sauce, Allie pushed back from the table and declared, “I think your photographer persona is a sham. You’re actually a trained chef from New York City and running from the Sicilian mob because you stole somebody’s recipe box.”
“You have a wild imagination, Allie Strickland.”
“Prove me wrong,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. “Show me your photographs. I haven’t seen a single one. Surely they’re downloaded on your laptop. I’m a good Photoshop editor. I could help you as a way to pay you back for all these expensive groceries.”
“I refuse any compensation. I cook because I like to come home to a good meal after a day tramping around the world.”
“No fair that you get to be outside in this glorious summer weather. That must be how you keep so trim. I’m jealous.”
Allie’d had plenty of time to study his athletic build while he was cooking. Tonight, he’d been doing a few sexy dance moves to the old-fashioned radio perched in the windowsill. She’d had to finally leave the room because watching him made her emotionally and physically crazy.
Ethan shrugged. “You’re probably right.”
Allie rinsed the dishes and started up the dishwasher. “Shall we retire to the drawing room, Mr. Cook?”
Ethan shook his head at the mocking names she called him. “Cooks are never allowed in the main rooms of the house.”
“We’re making an exception this evening.” Allie tucked her feet underneath her and scrunched an embroidered pillow under her cheek while she stretched out along the length of sofa. “So, can I sneak a peek at your pictures? If you’re a world renowned photographer, surely you’d want to show them off.”
“I’m hardly world renowned. If I’m a famous photographer then you’re a World Master at French Fries.”
“Hey, I resent that! I am a World Master of French Fries. And I have the greasy shirts and aprons to prove it.”
Ethan laughed just as a knock came at the front door and her sister, Erin poked her head around the doorjamb.
“Hey, Allie, can I borrow your dress with the—” she slammed the door, staring between Ethan who was lounging on one of the armchairs while her older sister kicked back on one of the couches.
A blue sheet wavered between them as they t
alked.
Erin quickly backed up. “Have I interrupted something kinky?”
Allie quickly sat up. “Of course not, where is your mind, Erin—in the gutter?”
Her sixteen-year-old sister stuck out her hip. “Who hangs sheets from their chandeliers?”
Ethan jumped up to introduce himself. “It was a pure scientific experiment on not making eye contact when in deep philosophical discussion. I’m Ethan Smith, nice to meet you, Erin.”
Her eyes narrowed, glancing between him and Allie. Without a word, she moved quickly in and out of the downstairs rooms, from the kitchen to the small side sitting room to the rear guest suite—where Ethan’s belongings were clearly unpacked and comfortably at home. Underwear on the floor, shaving gear on the bathroom counter, and body wash in the shower.
She marched back into the front room. Her eyes bugged out of her head. “You’re living with this guy, Allie?”
“No!” Allie protested, then gulped it down with a squeak.
Erin went full steam ahead. “I don’t even know this dude, and you’ve got him living here! And you’re like, lying here on the couch, all casual and sexy.”
“Hardly—” Allie began, but Erin kept talking.
“And what about Sean your husband?”
“Husband?” Ethan choked out. He spun around, almost falling into the open fireplace as if she’d knocked him over. “You’re married? What the heck is going on?”
“Nothing is going on!” Allie burst out. “Be quiet, Erin.”
“But where’s Sean?” Erin asked again.
“I have no idea, little sister” she hissed. “And why don’t you shut up already!”
“If Sean knew you were living with this dude he’d punch this guy’s lights out. I had no idea my big sister was a hussy. Two weeks after the wedding and you move in with a stranger. Mom and Dad are going to throw a fit.”
“I’m going to throw a fit if you don’t shut it, Erin!” Allie took a step toward her, ready to slap her palm over her little sister’s mouth.
“Two weeks after the wedding?” Ethan said. “Wow. I can see why you didn’t want to talk about your personal life, but I don’t intend to get ripped into shreds by your husband. Sean, whatever his name is.”
The Neighbor's Secret (A Secret Billionaire Romance #1) Page 8
