by Olivia Miles
For God’s sake, he was her best friend!
Her very cute, very unsuitable best friend, she thought, eyeing him. Yes, in a perfect world, he might have been the ideal man for her—if he wasn’t shagging half of Chicago.
She fished through her bag again and found a banana. “Hungry?”
Ethan wrinkled his nose. “We’ll stop along the way for something.”
“Another stall tactic, I see.” She slid him a smile.
Ethan hesitated, his eyes firmly on the road. “Look, I should warn you—”
“Oh, that’s right. Your sister.” All at once, Claire remembered Ethan’s stories about his sister Amelia, who, at the age of thirty-four, was still struggling with the dating scene. Claire remembered a vague story about an unfortunate break-up timed just before their younger sister’s wedding last summer. No doubt things were very tense right now. “Has she . . .found someone?”
“Nope. She’s too busy holding out hope for some jerk who doesn’t deserve her.” He slid to a stop at the red light. “You two have a lot in common, now that I think about it.”
Claire dropped the banana back into the bag. “I’ll have you know I’m doing quite well lately. Quite well,” she said again, with greater emphasis. After all, she’d barely thought about Matt once today, and that was only because of the darn banana. She hated them, but Matt loved them, and she was still buying them out of habit.
There was a long pause. “Good to know you’re so much improved since the last time I saw you just seven days ago.”
“Well, a lot can happen in a week,” Claire replied, and she should know. In seven days you could go from planning your new life to having it ripped out from under you, to being single to meeting your soul mate.
My, that was optimistic of her. Yes, she must be feeling better. In no time at all, she’d make it through an entire day without wondering which part of the city Matt was living in, and what his new/old girlfriend looked like.
“So you’re telling me that since you ran into him at the jewelry store, you haven’t thought of Matt at all? Haven’t wondered where he’s living, haven’t considered a drive-by at night, when the lights are on and the curtains are still open?”
Claire firmed her mouth. Busted.
“Ah-ha!” Ethan slammed a palm on the steering wheel, his laughter loud. “See, that’s the problem, Claire. I know you too well. You can’t lie to me, you know.”
“I never try,” Claire smiled, leaning back in her seat.
The engine revved as Ethan accelerated onto the highway. “Don’t worry, Claire. By the end of this weekend, Matt will just be a thing of the past. I promise.”
***
It was half-past twelve by the time they found a place to stop for lunch: a ramshackle diner across the street from a gas station somewhere over the Wisconsin border. Claire climbed out of the car, stretching her long legs and smoothing her skirt with both hands, looking anything but impressed.
“I’m guessing you don’t bring your dates to joints like this,” she said, pursing her lips in that knowing way of hers.
“Hey, it’s this or the truck stop,” Ethan said, gesturing to their other option across the road.
“Well, it’s certainly an adventure,” Claire sighed, lifting her handbag onto her shoulder as she headed for the building.
Ethan locked the car and quickened his step to hold the door for her, releasing a blast of cold air as she passed inside.
Claire shivered and gestured to the back of the room, away from the window-box air-conditioner units. Ethan nodded his agreement, his stomach starting to knot with dread. They were just two hours from Door County now, and there was no telling how she would react to his announcement. He’d told himself that it was no big deal, he’d casually mention it in one of their usual daily phone conversations, but a week had passed since the initial invitation and now here they were, sliding into a booth with ripped vinyl, face to face with only a greasy Formica table to separate them, and his mother and sisters no doubt wringing their hands and circling the house, eager to meet Claire—his supposedly serious girlfriend.
Claire tucked a wisp of blond hair behind her ear and studied the menu. “I think I’ll have a double cheeseburger,” she announced as she closed it firmly.
Ethan grunted and looked up at her, incredulous. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I eat salads, fruit, and yogurt every day of my life. This weekend is my little break from reality. Why shouldn’t I indulge?”
Ethan shrugged. He couldn’t argue with that.
“Two double-cheeseburgers,” he told the waitress when she appeared at their table, pen poised. “And a chocolate shake.”
“Two chocolate shakes,” Claire said, winking at him.
Something in him tightened at the sight of her slow, secretive smile, but he pushed it firmly into place. Claire was special. She was his friend. At least for the moment.
He pulled in a breath. Time to tell her.
“So this wedding. I should warn you—”
Claire leaned forward, shaking her head. “You don’t need to warn me, Eth. I know your sister’s a little—”
“Crazy?” he finished.
Claire laughed good-naturedly. “I wasn’t going to use that word, but okay, yes. I do now remember something about a tattoo of her ex’s name.”
On her upper arm. For all the world to see. Ethan muttered his disapproval under his breath. “Amelia is crazy. Boy crazy. Crazy. But you know all that.”
Claire tipped her head. “Then what do you need to warn me about? Oh, God, you’re not trying to set me up?” Her face turned pale as her eyes widened. “You know I hate set-ups, Ethan. Please, don’t.”
His laugh felt a little hollow. “It’s not a set-up.” Well, not exactly, he thought, running his hand through his hair in agitation.
Claire set a hand to her chest and leaned back in the booth. “Thank goodness for that. For a second there I thought you were bringing me up here on false pretenses.” She grinned at him, but he didn’t smile back. She blinked. “Ethan?”
He studied his tented hands on the table. He didn’t know why he was making such a big deal of this. It was no big deal, really. At least he didn’t think so. Claire, however . . .
“It’s just . . .You know the stories I’ve told you. What happened last year at my sister Leslie’s wedding . . .” He eyed her as their milkshakes were delivered to the table.
Claire peeled the paper back from her straw and took a long sip. “Something to do with the maid of honor, as I recall? Leslie’s best friend?”
Ethan felt his jaw twitch, just like it did every time he thought of that night. How was he to know that the girl had crushed on him for fifteen years? He’d explained to his sister that he hadn’t intended to lead her on, but from the fire in her eyes followed by the six months of silence, something told him she hadn’t believed him.
Ah, Leslie. Just another obstacle he’d have to deal with this weekend.
“Look, my family thinks I should settle down. They think I . . .well, they worry about me.” He frowned at his milkshake. “They think I’m . . .”
“A womanizer?” Claire asked pertly, one eyebrow cocked. “Sorry, I know you hate that word. Should I say . . . a Casanova?” She grinned and started to giggle.
Despite himself, Ethan managed a wry grin.“Yes, I suppose they think I’m a womanizer.”
“And this bothers you because?” Claire plucked the cherry from the top of the whipped cream and brought it to her mouth, grasping it between her teeth before finally plucking the stem free.
Ethan stared at her in silence, unable to tear his gaze away. He could do with some ice water. Where was that waitress?
“I’m not a womanizer,” he clarified, ignoring her doubtful expression. “I enjoy my single life, and I enjoy women’s company.”
Claire was just nodding her head, a funny smile playing at her lips.
“My family is worried . . .” Worried that he’d taint another
family wedding. Worried that he’d be single forever. Worried about the reasons behind it. “I’m getting tired of listening to them fret.”
“And?” Claire frowned. “I’m sorry, Ethan, I’m not following.”
He pulled in a breath. Here it went.“I told them I was bringing you—”
“Of course,” Claire interrupted. “I wouldn’t want to spring myself on them!”
God, she wasn’t making this easy. “I told them I was bringing you as my date.” There, it was out.
Claire didn’t blink for an unnatural amount of time. “You told them I was your date?” She spoke slowly, clarifying each word, her expression unreadable.
“Well, technically I told them you were my girlfriend,” he said, sliding her one of those grins that usually got him out of trouble with women, but Claire’s nostrils simply flared and her cheeks went a little pink as her eyes blazed bluer than ever.
Aw, crap. He should have known moves like that didn’t work on Claire.
She leaned into the table, lowering her voice. “You told them I’m your girlfriend. So you lied to them, and you expect me to lie to them too.”
Well, when she put it like that…
“We’re doing them a favor, Claire,” Ethan protested, feeling his conviction grow. It was true, he knew, thinking of how overjoyed his mother was when he mentioned his nonexistent relationship.
He closed his eyes for a second. It’s for the best, he told himself. It was really the only way.
Claire clucked her tongue and pulled back from the table. “More like you’re using me to cover your butt. What are you, five years old? Afraid of getting in trouble?” She slurped at her milkshake, her eyebrows pinched.
Ethan pushed his own drink away. “It wasn’t like I concocted a scheme behind your back. I thought if you were there we could hang out, that it would be just like usual, and yes, that my mother would be forced to keep her unsolicited advice to herself if a guest was present. But then I told her I was bringing you and, well, she jumped to conclusions.”
“Conclusions you didn’t correct,” Claire said sternly.
Ethan held up his palms. “She was so excited, and I hated to upset her. I figured . . .what harm is it? We’ll go up, have a pleasant time, and when the time is right, I can say we broke up.”
Claire held up a finger. “You can say that I broke up with you.”
Ethan gave her a hard look. “You’re kidding, right?” But her eyes flashed and those nostrils flared again, and so he said, “Okay. You broke up with me. We’ll say it didn’t work out. She won’t be surprised,” he muttered.
Claire sighed, and the table fell silent as the waitress slid their plates across the table. There was one ketchup bottle on the table and they reached for it at the same time. Ethan pulled away; a small gesture, but the least he could do.
“You have more fries than me,” Claire sniffed, gesturing to his plate.
“You want to switch?”
Claire gave a small smile and Ethan felt his shoulders relax. He was used to women being mad at him, screaming, shouting, crying accusations. But something about Claire being upset with him felt different. Wrong, and scary.
He stiffened. He’d be best to remember that.
“I booked us two rooms at the hotel,” he assured her. “I even asked for lake views. I’ll see if I can upgrade you to a suite.” He sounded desperate, but hell, he was desperate. Desperate to get his family off his back, desperate to go for a few days in his hometown without being reminded of the reasons that kept him away.
Claire salted her fries. “I suppose it’s not that big of a deal,” she said, “other than the fact that we’re lying to your entire family.”
“We’re protecting them,” he insisted.
“You’re protecting yourself,” she snorted. She cut her burger down the middle, even though he’d already gripped his in two hands. “I suppose it’s too late to turn back now, though. You have impeccable timing, Ethan.” She lifted an eyebrow, her lips pursed, but there was a sheen of amusement in her gaze that told him he had her.
“I owe you, Claire,” he grinned, sinking his teeth into his burger as his appetite returned.
Claire locked his gaze. “Yes. You do. Big time. But you have to promise me one thing before I agree to this.”
Ethan struggled to swallow his food. He should have known. Claire was stubborn and hard-headed. Traits he usually loved about her. “What’s that?”
“No funny business.”
His pulse kicked as he laughed and picked up a few fries, but her warning was a good one, and one that he should heed. Claire was the closest thing to a real relationship he’d had in . . .well, years. He’d felt the sting of loss before, and he’d be damned if he felt it again.
And Claire, however perfect and pretty and funny and sweet she may be, was the last person in the world he could ever get involved with.
“No funny business,” he said firmly. Definitely, no funny business. Ever.
Chapter Four
As soon as they turned into the lakeside town of Grey Harbor, Claire knew that Ethan hadn’t done his hometown justice. The streets were lined with quaint shops and iron benches, and flowers seemed to burst from planters on every corner. As the street turned residential, Claire smiled at quaint homes tucked behind white picket fences.
The Parker home wasn’t too far from town, set serenely at the base of a gravel paved driveway that seemed to lead straight to the waterfront. Overgrown hydrangeas hedged by a stone path led up to the large, cedar-sided Victorian home, where a boxwood wreath hung proudly on the freshly painted blue front door.
Claire and Ethan didn’t speak as they climbed the porch steps, but she was all too aware of the tightness in his jaw, the nervous thing he was doing with his hands, and the telltale change in his breathing. The man was nervous as hell, but something told her it wasn’t about this ruse. No, it was something else. Something she couldn’t put her finger on.
Despite her circumstances, she was oddly curious. Really, could his family be that bad?
“Are you going to knock?” She realized that they had been hovering on the wraparound porch for an unnatural amount of time, given that this was Ethan’s home and all.
“No, I’ll just . . .” He reached for the brass door handle at the same time the door was flung open, and there, gathered in the narrow frame, were at least six women of various heights, ages, and hair colors, ogling at Claire with naked glee.
“She’s real,” Claire heard someone hiss, and suddenly she was being enveloped in someone’s arms as a peal of joy went out, and all at once, everyone was talking over everyone else, making it impossible to decipher any clear words, but the tone was one of unmistakable excitement.
Claire finally untangled herself from the woman’s arms, only to have her hands gripped tightly. “I’m Barbara, Ethan’s mother.” Her wide hazel eyes roved Claire’s face with overt interest as a pleased smile teased her mouth. “But then you can probably see that. Everyone says he takes after me!”
It was true. She had the same dark hair, same eyes and square jaw line. Claire suddenly wondered what Ethan’s father looked like, but she knew better than to ask. It was a sore subject, and one he didn’t dwell on, and Claire understood, now more than ever. It wasn’t easy to lose a parent, regardless of your age.
“And this is Leslie, our youngest,” Barbara pushed a dark-haired girl to the front of the group. Even though they were the same age, Claire couldn’t stop herself from staring at the small baby bump, suddenly feeling like she was a child, with a long road to go before she found herself in such a position, especially now.
Unlike Ethan, Leslie’s eyes were dark and unreadable, but her smile was rueful when she lifted her gaze to her brother. “Planning on behaving yourself this weekend, Ethan?”
Ethan gave a good-natured laugh, but his cheeks looked a little ruddy, Claire thought. “I always do.”
Leslie snorted and extended her hand.
“I’ll kee
p him in line,” Claire assured her, and Leslie’s eyes lit with surprise.
“I like this one,” she said, flashing her first grin, and Claire decided on the spot that she liked Leslie too. In fact, she liked them all, even though there were so many of them, and they were still staring, and it was a little nerve-racking, really.
“Where’s Amelia?” Ethan suddenly asked.
Barbara’s expressed turned worried. “She’s . . .not feeling well. I told her not to worry. She’ll meet up with everyone later.”
Ethan passed Claire a knowing look, subtle enough to go undetected by the rest of the group, who were now ushering them through a large entranceway to the back of the house, where huge kitchen windows lent a breathtaking view of a stone patio, green grass, and blue water.
“Lemonade?” Barbara asked, already pouring two glasses and handing them out.
Claire happily accepted her own and took a sip. “This is a lovely house you have,” she admired, walking to the bay window to take in a better view. A wicker conversation set was wedged under the shade of a weeping willow, where a woman sat with her feet curled up, reading a book, and, from what Claire could tell, smoking a cigarette.
Amelia, she thought, suddenly intrigued.
“Oh, well, it’s been in the family forever. When I was little it was our summer home, but when my parents passed away, we decided to make Grey Harbor our full-time residence. Not that Ethan has noticed,” she added, giving him a pointed look.
“Life gets busy, Mom. Besides, I wasn’t exactly welcome with open arms during my last visit.” He frowned into his glass as the room fell silent.
Barbara wrung her hands nervously, and flicked her eyes from Leslie to Claire. “Now, where are my manners? Let me introduce you to everyone. You’ve met Leslie, of course, and this is Milly, my oldest sister, and Patricia, my younger sister. Her daughter Meryl is the one getting married. And this is my cousin Ellen, and her daughter Lydia, and my aunt Hazel,” she said, wrapping an arm around a frail woman wearing a thick wool cardigan, despite the warm day.
