by Zoe York
His brother, looking relaxed and athletic—no doubt just in from an after-work run—was waiting for Ethan to react. He was happily and newly married to the woman he’d fallen for in college over a decade ago, and from what Ethan had heard, having the best sex of his life. In other words, Devon was the last man Ethan wanted to hear from as he dealt with frustrating levels of unsatisfied desire as he continued through the worst dry spell of his life.
“Shut up,” he said, turning back to his computer and typing a line of code before checking it in a preview application, to make it look like he was actually working.
His fingers halted over the keyboard. Wait one second. He swiveled back to his brother.
“What did you say?”
“There you are,” Devon said cheerfully. “Thought you hadn’t heard me.” He threw himself into the armchair Ethan kept in his office for reading and lounging. The way his brother contorted his spine to sag into the plush chair, legs slung over the side, made Ethan wince.
“Who said that?”
What if it was Lily?
Or one of the town gossips? If so, it was unfair for Lily to have to deal with it. But how could he stop the wagging tongues other than to prove them all wrong by sending Lily out into the world barely able to walk from the best orgasm of her life? No, make that orgasms.
Why did the very thought of that make him want to grin?
Devon shrugged, picking up a stress ball Ethan used for strength building, giving it a squeeze. “Everyone says she married you for the restaurant.” He was watching Ethan as though he expected him to explode.
Instead, Ethan turned back to his computer, staring blankly at the screen once again. He’d been kidding himself that he could pretend to be man enough for someone like Lily. Everyone could see it was an uneven match borne out of something besides love.
“She deserves better,” he muttered, trying to shift his mind back to the website he was building.
Although maybe bad gossip would help everyone love her all the more—a woman who not only had to put up with his grumpiness, but was subjected to poor sex on top of it.
On top…
No, no time for visions of what that might be like. Glorious. Fabulous. Completely gratifying.
He heard his brother’s feet hit the floor and turned to see him sitting forward. “Whoa. What?” Devon asked in a hushed voice.
“It doesn’t matter. She’s not going to stay.” And she sure wasn’t going to see his messed-up body, laced with scars. Too many surgeries, tentatively piecing together a man that had barely survived. She was the kind of woman who probably wouldn’t mind, but it was a moot point, anyway.
“What are you talking about? You’ve been married for less than a month. You can’t break up.”
Ethan froze, realizing that his mental thoughts had somehow become verbal. “Never mind. I’m just moody. This site I’m working on is kicking my balls with steel-toed boots.”
“You can’t be a used wad of toilet paper with her,” Devon scolded. “It’s a charming challenge at first—trying to make you smile—but it’s gonna wear. Even on her. She likes warm hugs and you’re basically an icicle.”
“Devon, we’re okay.”
And in a lot of ways, they were. She was a fantastic cook and he left the table feeling good each morning, and not just because he wasn’t eating a heavy, greasy meal off the grill. It was because…
It didn’t matter. He was going to get attached and miss her when she left, which meant it was best to maintain the status quo. Be a grump, be alone. Let her be a lovable, happy person charming the world.
“She’s always had a crush on you.” Devon was bouncing the stress ball against the wall with a thud, thud, thud. “I would have thought that would lead to killer sex. When Olivia and I got back together, man…chafing became a problem, if you know what I mean.”
Ethan curled his lip. He really didn’t need to hear about how awesome their sex life was while he was living with Miss Sex Appeal and couldn’t touch her.
And the rumors. How had they started?
He was fairly confident he didn’t want to know.
“How is Olivia?” Ethan asked, trying to get his mind off his own wife.
“Pregnant.”
“What?” He spun to face his grinning brother. “Congratulations.”
Devon beamed at him, but then a twinge of worry made his grin fade slightly. Ethan had only recently learned a few of the couple’s secrets from their college days and knew the reason for his brother’s concern with the pregnancy.
“How’s she feeling?”
“Morning sickness hasn’t been fun. I keep telling her to get her sister to come down and stay a bit.”
“Not a bad idea for her to take it easy. But isn’t her sister a debutante or something?” He couldn’t see someone like that holding the hair back for her pregnant sister while she battled morning sickness. Then again, some things you couldn’t hire out.
Devon chuckled. “She falls under ‘or something.’ But she always cheers up Olivia. She is spunky in her own rule-following way.”
They sat quietly for a moment.
“So you two are really okay?” Devon asked, bringing the conversation back around to Ethan’s marriage.
“Yeah, just…you know. A lot to process with it all happening so quick.”
“Well, I think you two are great together.” He stood up. “Just don’t be yourself and it’ll all work out.”
“Myself?” Ethan felt the sting of anger.
“A grumpy donkey who pushes everyone away, believing you’re too crippled to be likable. She thinks the world of you.”
He watched Devon, trying to gauge how much truth was in his words.
“Try catching her looking at you, Ethan. She’s got it bad.” His brother laughed. “And you and those dopey eyes, like you’re the nerd drooling after the prom queen. Oh, it’s too funny. You guys are married.” He let out another laugh, moving toward the doorway, then lowered his voice. “If you want to make her happy in bed, women really like it when you—”
Ethan lunged at him, shoving his brother from his office, slamming the door. Devon laughed on the other side, calling loudly, “The new town librarian ordered The Joy of Sex! She’s a sexy beast and has everyone all fired up. Maybe she has some tips for you. Or at least a manual on how to use your body to please a woman.”
Ethan didn’t need tips. He needed a willing wife. A wife who actually loved him. All of him. Even the bits she didn’t know about and likely never would.
In the guestroom, Lily looked at the single bed she slept in. Her shipping container of furniture, housewares and extra clothes had finally arrived and was currently sitting on Ethan’s front lawn. The question she was facing was how much she should bother to unpack, seeing as she’d be finding her own place in a year.
Sighing, she sat on the bed. She’d messed up with the ladies at work. Balancing the boss-friend-colleague thing was harder than she’d believed. She’d imagined them all as one big happy family that spent hours upon hours together, working, laughing, sharing. It wasn’t like that. Not yet, anyway.
She’d stayed late at work, fretting mostly, and missing supper with Ethan.
She didn’t want to talk about her sex life with staff, but she wanted to be a part of their lives, offer them a place of work that felt welcoming, enjoyable. She wanted the restaurant to be where they ran to when they had life news to share.
Maybe she could fix yesterday’s faux pas. She could cook a buffet for her staff and their families on Sunday morning before opening. She’d do all the prep and all the cleanup, making it a real treat. She dusted her hands together as though removing the mental problem, and stood up to tackle the idea of unpacking herself even further into Ethan’s life.
Her phone rang and she checked to see who it was. Her father. Take one problem off her plate and add a new one, that’s how life felt these days.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Are you the owner yet?”
/>
“It’ll be at least a year.”
“Don’t let him screw you over. You deserve this.”
“Dad, Ethan’s a good man.”
“I know, but you’re really reaching for this and our family has never had anything like this before. This feels too easy. Too good to be true.”
“It’s not.” It was definitely not too easy. “And I trust Ethan.”
“I don’t.”
“You don’t trust anyone.”
“For a good reason.”
Lily huffed in amusement. “The restaurant will be hopping in a matter of weeks, so don’t stress. I’ll send you money as soon as I can.”
“I don’t want your money. I want you in a secure job.”
“That’s what I’m working on, and I’ll send you money. You can’t keep living hand to mouth.”
Her father sighed and said, “Break the chain. Break the cycle I’m stuck in, Lillian.”
She ended the call, feeling the pressure to succeed even more than before.
She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine, then headed to the front yard, passing the small bureau she and Mandy had wrestled into the entry earlier.
Ethan was on the lawn, a keyboard tucked under his arm, staring at the storage unit.
“It’s going to kill the grass,” he grumbled.
“Grumpy bear, it’s fine. It won’t be there long. And I’m sorry I missed supper tonight.”
“It’s fine? What are you going to do with all of this?” He peered around the open doors, contemplating her packed belongings.
Lily glanced to her right, spotting the neighbors. She waved and called a greeting, making it obvious to Ethan they had eavesdroppers.
“You’re moving in?” they asked skeptically, crossing the grass.
“Of course.” She held her glass of wine against her chest, feeling wary.
“I heard you two weren’t… It’s not our business.”
Lily frowned and glanced at Ethan. His face had turned to stone and she was pretty sure she heard the keyboard’s plastic casing crack from his hands tensing around it as he struggled for control.
Uh-oh.
Was he going to go all Incredible Hulk on her? If so, she couldn’t wait for his shirt to come off. She’d bet he had an amazing chest.
“Maybe you should mind your own marriage,” he snapped, storming toward the house.
Lily hurried after him, alarmed by how wounded he seemed this evening. She knew she’d missed supper, but this felt much bigger than that.
“What was that about?” she asked as soon as the door was closed behind them.
“You should lock your unit if you’re not unpacking it. I won’t be responsible if anyone takes stuff out of it.” He lunged down the hallway, his forehead furrowed.
“Ethan, what was that comment about us?” She hurried after him, dread heavy in her gut. He was already sitting in front of his computer, his fingers punishing the keys. “Let’s go for a hike. Blackberry River was always nice. We could get out of the house, straighten our story and spend some time together—like true newlyweds.”
“I have work to do.”
“I could pack a picnic. I made those biscuits you like. We could have those with butter and cheese. Maybe some cold cuts and grapes?”
His monitor went black and he pushed himself away from his desk, turning his shoulder to her as he brushed past.
Was that a yes?
She caught up with him again in the living room, where he was sorting through the day’s mail.
“Is that a yes or a no?”
He didn’t answer, just lowered his head even farther so she couldn’t see his expression.
“Fine. That’s a no,” she guessed.
He was trying to shut her out.
Well, she wasn’t going to let it be easy. She set down her wine on the coffee table and took one end of the bureau sitting in the middle of the entryway. Maybe if he helped her unpack it would loosen his tongue. She could find out what was bothering him, as well as what the big secret was with his health.
“Can you help me with this?” she asked. “I’m going to put it in my room.”
“You’re unpacking?” he asked in obvious surprise.
“Yes,” she said, her voice wavering. She hoisted her end of the bureau. It was much heavier without Mandy on the other side. Awkward, too. “Help me?”
“It’s too big for your room.”
“Then let’s put it against that wall.” She pointed to a spot in the living room. Like most of the house, it could use a few extra pieces of furniture. It was as though Ethan hadn’t fully moved in, didn’t really live here. “Is that okay?”
“Put things wherever.” He continued shuffling through the mail. It was his third pass through the envelopes.
“Although having it in here could be an issue,” she said, pretending to think things through.
He peeked up from the mail, his eyes flicking from the bureau to the spot she’d pointed to. “Why?”
“Well…” She stepped around the antique piece, then leaned against it. “I keep my lingerie in this thing. So it means there might be times when I’d have to streak across the living room to find the items I want. You usually keep the curtains closed, right?”
The envelopes in his hand began to fold as his fist closed around them.
“You know…bras, panties and those…” Nuts. She couldn’t remember the name for the fancy lingerie that had garters—lingerie she didn’t have and likely never would, since it didn’t seem like the kind of thing you wore under jeans. She waved a hand through the air. “You know…” she lowered her voice “…all that sexy stuff.”
Ethan’s Adam’s apple bobbed twice and his voice was rough as he tossed the mail back on the table, saying, “Our sex life sucks.”
She laughed. “Paper marriages rarely include buzzing sex lives. But if you want to change that…” She eased closer, teasing him, curious how he’d react. There were sparks between them, that she knew. But why it seemed to scare him off was still a mystery.
“It’s what everyone’s saying.” He held his ground, looking up, his expression one of hurt. He covered the flash of pain quickly, layering it below anger.
“Oh.” The day’s conversations flashed though her mind. “Oh, no. The waitresses. They were… We were talking and they must have…” She involuntarily gave her husband a visual crotch check, hating herself for letting their words get under her skin, causing doubts despite how her body had responded to his. The dry thrusts, his hot kisses and grazing thumbs. How heated and entangled they’d so quickly become out on the edge of the highway, their bodies intersecting in all the right ways with just one kiss.
“You don’t deserve to be talked about like that,” Ethan said. “I think we should break up.”
“Excuse me?” She felt a flash of rage. “Oh no! No way. I’m tougher than rumors, Ethan Mattson, and so are you. You might be older than me but you do not get to decide my life. You don’t say when we’re quits just because some nosy ladies can’t mind their own business. We knew this wouldn’t be easy, but we made a commitment to each other.”
“You deserve better than this.”
“Ethan…” Lily softened her tone. “I appreciate that you’re looking out for me, but all we need to do is get our story straight and spend some time together in public. And for the record, I said I proposed.” She touched his hand, knowing her physical reassurances would be rejected. He didn’t disappoint, and pulled his hand away, putting space between them.
“I should have,” he said, his voice low. His gaze finally met hers and all she saw was pain. Layers and layers of pain and frustration and disappointment in himself.
“Talk to me, Ethan.”
He remained silent and she tapped the bureau, hoping that having something to focus on might help the conversation flow. “Let’s move this thing.”
“I can’t.”
She froze. He couldn’t get it up? Oh. Oh, no.
“What?”
Uh-oh.
“I can.” He stepped closer.
“I know. I mean I felt…” Shoot. Best to not talk right now.
“Is that what everyone thinks? Is that why they say our sex life sucks?”
“I, um…” She closed one eye, wincing. “Kinda?”
He grabbed her wrist, pulling her out into the yard. He glanced around for an audience and, finding one in their gossiping neighbors, yanked Lily close, wrapping his arms around her. She felt frightened by his urgency until she met his eyes. The fiery demand to prove himself melted as his gaze met hers, and he tenderly brushed away a lock that had fallen across her forehead. “Is it okay if I kiss you senseless, Ms. Harper?”
For a moment she wished she’d changed her last name so he’d call her Mrs. Mattson, make her feel like she belonged—to him.
“As long as you don’t try to prove to the town here on the lawn that you can get it up,” she replied nervously. “That might be taking things a bit far.”
He threw back his head, laughing so hard his chest bounced against hers. When he looked at her it was with such affection and openness she felt her heart drift closer toward forbidden territory. And maybe some answers.
“Kiss me, Ethan.”
He didn’t wait for another plea, but lowered his lips to hers, proving to all onlookers that Ethan Mattson definitely knew how to kiss, and that if they’d had a sex life, it would have been smokin’ hot.
Chapter 8
Lily curled a leg around Ethan’s. She wished he’d pick her up and carry her back to the house, put those big arms to good use and go Tarzan. Or caveman. Or any kind of man who had it bad for his wife like his kisses suggested.
She heard someone who sounded an awful lot like Ethan’s brother holler, “Get a room!”
Taking the cue, Lily broke the kiss and pulled her husband toward the house. She didn’t try to hide the way her eyelids felt heavy with desire, the way her body kept drifting back to his. Ethan stumbled, then picked up the pace, their lips colliding as they tried to get in hungry kisses while still moving toward privacy. Man, he was a good actor, and she wasn’t sure a cold shower was going to get her hormone levels back to normal once they made it inside, their convincing act no longer required.
