“You crossed a line.”
She watched, dumbstruck, as he stripped off the clown pajama pants. Right. In. Front. Of. Her. Good God, the man was gorgeous in a pair of boxer briefs.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not sure for what, but I’m sorry I upset you.”
He yanked on his jeans. Not gently, either, other than to tuck left. When he fastened his top button, her gaze landed on the ridge of his abs, then worked their way up past the broad chest and rather impressive set of shoulders she’d admired since she’d first seen him. When he tugged his damp shirt over his head, causing all that muscle to ripple in new ways, she may have forgotten to breathe. At least until she saw his face.
“I want to help you,” he said, his voice broken. “I really do. But my family is all about me moving on, and I’m not ready.”
He made a beeline up the stairs, and she stepped back to let him pass. “Moving on from what?”
“Like I told you, your mother hasn’t cornered the market on guilt. Thanks for the water,” he said without looking back. He let himself out through the front door, leaving her bewildered.
She watched him until he was out of sight, her chest hollow at the sudden loss. It didn’t matter she’d known him less than an hour. He’d been on her side, and that warmed her head to toes. Or it had until she’d sent him almost literally running from her house.
After shutting the door against the summer heat, she picked up her phone and Googled him. The search returned a thousand hits on his name, so she switched tactics and pulled up the list of committee members for the Von Adler gala. Alice was the only Chase on that list, so Rue searched her name in tandem with Ethan’s.
The first result was Fusion Air, a family-owned HVAC business serving New York City for almost as long as conditioned air had been a thing.
The second was an obituary. She read through, her heart sinking. Ethan had lost his wife, and Rue had just claimed to be dating him. On the anniversary of his wife’s death.
What had she done?
Chapter Two
Ethan paused on the porch just long enough to yank his wet shoes onto his feet. He felt like a jerk, but Rue shouldn’t have used his name. He’d told her his mother was on the committee of the Von Adler charity. He and his brothers were always involved. Even if he never saw Rue again, there was no way news of his reemergence in the dating pool wouldn’t get back, most likely to his mother. The woman would be thrilled. Right up until he shut her down. No matter how quickly he set her straight, he knew he’d disappoint her. But he meant what he said to Rue.
He wasn’t ready.
Amy had been gone three years. Long, horrible years, but she was still so close. There were mornings he still half-expected to see her sleepy grin across rumpled sheets. The scent of her perfume lingered, forever a part of him, even though he no longer lived in the house they’d once shared, or with any of her things. The memory of her smile haunted him as much as it brought him comfort.
He looked at his arm where Rue had touched it. Still, the feeling of her soft skin against him burned. He’d been so stunned by the contact that he hadn’t realized until now how very long it had been since anyone had touched him, at least like she had. Guilt slammed into him, taking his breath.
Get a grip. It’s no different than a handshake. Only it was. Because in three years, no handshake had made him feel like that. He still carried the heat of Rue’s gaze. The utter appreciation in it. No one had looked at him like that for a long time, either—at least not that he noticed. He was poor Ethan, the widower. Almost everyone these days looked at him with pity.
Like Rue had as he’d fled.
His steps slowed when he realized he was back at the main road. He turned and stared down his old street, the world he’d once known and loved basking in the cruel sunshine. Small lawns, some brown, most green. Kids living the exuberance of summer. Heat coming off the pavement in waves. The chime of an ice cream truck in the distance. Details most people seldom noticed, but they’d been his life.
And he’d lost it. He’d lost everything. Nothing could ever change that.
Not even a bombshell brunette with a kick-ass car and the softest hands he’d ever touched.
His heart felt a little heavier than usual as he left the old neighborhood behind, but it was time. Past time.
He had music to face.
In the Chase family, Sunday afternoons meant family dinner. The tradition went back as long as Ethan could remember, back to his grandmother when she was alive. It hadn’t always made sense to him for the family to spend the week working in close quarters at Fusion Air and still feel the need to spend Sunday afternoons together, but mostly, he appreciated the downtime with them.
This was not one of those occasions.
The second he walked through his parents’ front door, seven faces turned to him and stared. His oldest brother Crosby and his wife Estelle, older brother Sawyer and his fiancée Kelsie, his only younger brother Liam, and both of his parents all watched, most trying to bury smiles, while he stood in the threshold, letting in flies, as his grandma would have said.
“What?” he asked. As if he couldn’t guess.
His mother beamed. “I got a call today from Elaine Campbell.”
Campbell. Barely two hours had passed since he left Rue’s house, and already word had spread. He wasn’t entirely surprised, but he’d banked on having a chance to explain the situation to his mom before…well, this. Everyone in his family was looking at him as if…as if they were happy.
For the first time since Amy’s diagnosis, they weren’t looking at him with pity.
Ethan swallowed. Keeping his expression guarded, he asked, “And she is…?”
“She’s on the Von Adler committee with me,” his mother said. “Or rather, I with her. She fancies herself in charge of the whole thing, after of course the Von Adler family, and with her connections, one would be hard-pressed to argue. Anyway, she said you were taking her daughter to the gala. Ethan, I’m just so overjoyed.” And she was. She beamed. “Of course, I don’t think she was too thrilled about it. She seems to have had her heart set on Boyd Von Adler as son-in-law material, so I wouldn’t take it personally. Clearly, Rue means something to you if you’ve taken such a big step.”
And just like that, he had a headache. “Mom, stop. I’m afraid you were misinformed.”
Her face fell, and the confusion and sorrow left behind gutted him. “You’re not going to the gala?”
“Of course I’m going to the gala.” Alone. Like always. He paused, searching for words to explain the situation with Rue, while the light of hope filled her face again. In the silence, Ethan’s father Russell approached.
Clasping him on the shoulder, he leaned close. “I know this has nothing to do with your mother, but you’ve made her damned happy, son.” He retreated with a wink, leaving Ethan staring at his mother, who looked like she might burst.
His whole family looked that way, although to a lesser degree than his mother. Even Estelle and Kelsie, who had never met Amy, were beaming.
For once, he wasn’t the object of sorrow.
It lifted weight from his shoulders he didn’t realize he carried.
“From what I know of Rue, she seems to be such a nice person,” his mother said. “Not exactly one for the beaten path, but it’s hard to fault a girl for wanting to make her own way.”
“You’ve met her?” Crosby asked. “She exists?”
“I think she exists,” Sawyer supplied helpfully. “His shirt is on inside out.”
Ethan closed his eyes, praying Sawyer was just giving him a hard time. Because Ethan hadn’t exactly paid attention when he’d yanked on his shirt at Rue’s, nor had he been home since. He’d just walked, during which time his clothes had dried, and the plain white, tagless tee hadn’t exactly screamed this side out.
“Wow,” Liam said. “So this is serious? Have you been holding out on us?”
Ethan shot a glance toward his shoulder, where
visible seams definitively screamed inside out. Perfect. That would have been a great detail to notice before he was standing in front of his entire family. “She’s just a friend.”
“Yeah,” Sawyer said with a knowing smirk. “Like Kelsie is my friend.”
“You’ve had more friends than anyone I know,” Ethan snapped and immediately felt like a jerk. “Sorry, Kelsie.”
She gave him a warm smile. “You’re not telling me anything I haven’t said a few times myself. That said, I think he’s housebroken now.”
Liam snorted “Housebroken? Try neutered.”
“Wait a minute,” Sawyer protested. “I am absolutely, entirely intact.”
Estelle rolled her eyes as she walked past with a plate of deviled eggs. “This is such appropriate dinner talk.”
“Try living with him,” Kelsie shot back. She got up to help Estelle, muttering over her shoulder, “Talk about ruining an appetite.”
Sawyer smirked and called after her, “Are we talking about your cooking now? Because when it comes to me, you can’t seem to get enough.”
Crosby snorted. “Probably because she’s never satisfied.”
“I could have lived out my days without hearing any of this,” Ethan heard his mother say from across the room.
Ethan could have, too, but he was grateful the conversation had moved on from his situation with Rue, so he kept his mouth shut. But he experienced an unexpected tug. Until Crosby met Estelle, Ethan had been the only one of the brothers to ever have a serious relationship. After losing Amy, he hadn’t considered himself out of one—not enough to make him feel as if he’d missed out on anything. He knew love. He didn’t have to wonder if, or when, he’d ever experience it. Or what it was like to love someone so much that she became a part of your being. He thought, even though he’d lost Amy, that he’d been the lucky one. Lucky because he’d known her. Lucky because they’d had everything.
Now, watching Kelsie and Estelle laughing with his brothers, he just felt empty. But what really killed him was the absolute joy radiating from his mother. He realized now that he’d gotten so used to the worry etched on her face that he’d stopped noticing it, and he felt terrible taking that hope away from her. For being the reason she’d worried for so long.
Thoughtful, he stepped away from the group. Halfway down the hallway to the rear of his parents’ house, a photo of him and Amy hung. He paused there.
“I don’t reckon Boyd Von Adler is going to be thrilled with you. Your mom says he’s had his sights on Rue Campbell for a long time.” Russell spoke quietly.
Ethan hadn’t realized his father had followed him. “I can’t say I care,” he said, his gaze still on the picture. He and Amy had raked his mom’s yard that day, most of the effort undone when things had spiraled into a leaf fight. In the photo, she was laughing and tangled in his arms. Alive. “I’ve never met the guy,” he said of Boyd Von What’s-his-face, “but from what I’ve heard, he’ll be hard-pressed to earn my respect.”
After a long pause, his father said, “Your mother is just so relieved. We all are.”
“Rue and I are just friends.” Were they even that? Granted, she’d seen him in his underwear, but Sawyer had lived entire years where getting to that step didn’t require an exchange of first names. But no more. Sawyer had fallen hard.
Still, none of them had hit bottom like Ethan.
His dad clasped his shoulder. “You have to start somewhere. The point is, you’ve taken that first step.”
Ethan didn’t say much during dinner, and fortunately, he didn’t have to. The conversation went on just fine without him. That had been the case for years, he realized, and while they hadn’t exactly tiptoed around him, his silence wasn’t enough to raise eyebrows.
Leaving early, however, apparently was. When he excused himself before dessert, he didn’t miss the warning glance from his mother that kept the rest of the group in check. How long had they tiptoed around him? He pushed away the thought. “Save me a piece of pie, okay?”
“Hot date?” Liam asked.
So much for silence. “I need to catch up with someone before it gets too late.”
Crosby blinked. “It’s four o’clock.”
“Never mind that,” his mom said. “The pie will be waiting for you in the office fridge in the morning.”
Ethan nodded his thanks then slipped out, knowing full well his name would probably occupy their conversation even after everyone split and went their own ways. It had likely been that way for a while, and that possibility made him feel so very alone.
Thirty minutes later, he was standing at Rue’s door. The Mustang sat in the drive. He gave it a wide berth, lest the woman next door have her nozzle handy. Once on the porch, he hit the buzzer and stood there, feeling more than a little bit awkward after the way he’d left. He wasn’t sure if Rue even wanted to see him, but he figured he owed her an explanation.
The door swung open. Rue still wore the clingy, form-fitting dress. Not typical Sunday afternoon attire. Most of the women he knew wore yoga pants on their down time, but not this one. She managed to look utterly comfortable in clothing that couldn’t be, and she stunned without an obvious trace of makeup. Except her lips. They were too pink, too perfect to possibly be a natural shade. Her blue eyes widened. “Ethan!”
“I needed to apologize,” he said.
She’d already stepped back, inviting him in even as she argued with him. “No, you don’t. I shouldn’t have dropped your name, especially after you said you knew of the charity and your mother was involved. Especially when…” She chewed on her lower lip, dragging his attention right back to trouble. Although looking in her eyes didn’t help much, either. “I didn’t think,” she said. “I mean, I couldn’t have known, but I didn’t have any right. And I’m so sorry for the…circumstances.”
The reference, while not unexpected, was like a punch to the gut. He was a man. A man who had lost someone, yes, but that wasn’t all he was, and he was sick of being pigeonholed by one tragedy—the very one everyone encouraged him to get over. How the hell did they expect him to do that when it was they who insisted on defining him by that loss?
And apparently they weren’t the only ones.
“What do you mean, circumstances?” He fought to keep his tone cordial. It wasn’t Rue’s fault, and he knew it, but the frustrations bubbled up anyway. He didn’t want her pity.
“Losing your wife,” she said quietly. “And today, of all days—I Googled you after you left. Had I realized, I never would have used your name, not that I had a right to do it in the first place.”
He ignored the deep pang that came with her acknowledging the date. Most people didn’t. “Actually, I’m glad you did.”
“You are?” She stared incredulously, though her tone was tinged with relief.
He hesitated. His intentions were good, but the step suddenly felt huge.
All the more reason to take it.
“I think we can help each other out,” he said.
Curiosity flickered in her eyes. She gestured for him to come in and sit, her gaze acutely on him as she closed the door and followed him to the sofa. “Do tell.”
He settled back against the cushions, then changed his mind and leaned forward, his elbows propped on his knees. The inside of her house, he noted, was as Spartan as the outside. Neat, clean, and more like a hotel room than a place anyone lived. The only thing she seemed to have in abundance was iced coffee.
But he hadn’t come back to ask why she had two cases of bottled Starbucks in her fridge. This was about him. And Amy. And… You can do this.
Hell yeah, he could. Because this would make his life easier, and he was all for that.
“You need a date,” he said, “and I need my family to think I’m dating someone. Not long term or anything.”
She snort-laughed. It was ridiculously adorable. “No problem there,” she said. “I’ll be on a plane in three weeks.”
His brow lifted. “Permanently?” This migh
t be easier than he thought.
“Permanently on the plane?” Her face lit and her eyes danced, and he was struck by how pretty she was. And how stupid he sounded. “No,” she said, “but I’m leaving the city. I’m up for a photography internship, and if I don’t get that, I have a contingency plan. Either way I’m gone. But for what it’s worth, no one would believe I dated anyone longer than that anyway.”
“Why not?” He couldn’t imagine her being single for long. Not with a smile like that.
She sighed. “Every guy I’ve dated has proven to be a jerk once the novelty wears off. I mean, it has to be me, or it wouldn’t always happen to me, but some things just aren’t cool.”
“Such as?” He’d been afraid to ask, but how could anyone not ask?
“Pilfering cash. Selling my underwear. Driving my car.” Her eyes narrowed. “No one drives my car.”
He stopped short of asking how many people were allowed to kick her car. Because what the hell? “Did you say someone sold your underwear?”
“There’s an entire industry,” she said dryly. “There’s an app.”
“Yeah, so I’m guessing you don’t need to take the blame for the demise of that particular relationship.” God, he knew he was in New York, but an app? He cleared his throat. “So, what, you’ve never been in anything long term?”
She shook her head. “My average relationship, though I loathe to call them that, has been four weeks or less. I did have one last longer. He was great.”
He blinked, almost afraid to ask. “So what happened?”
“He was a model with aspirations of becoming an A-lister. Apparently he thought he had to uphold a certain image to close the gap, and long story short, I found out I was his beard.”
“His what?” He’d lived in New York City his entire life, but after a few minutes with this woman, he felt like he’d been living under a rock.
She shrugged. “He was gay, and I was supposed to make it look like he wasn’t. He was an awesome boyfriend, though. Probably still is to that guy he was seeing the whole time he was with me.”
The Three-Week Arrangement (Chase Brothers) Page 3
