by Olivia Miles
Claire shook each woman’s hand and stood back, letting the awkward silence resume.
“I must say it was quite a surprise when Ethan said he was bringing a guest. Our Ethan is just full of secrets, it seems.” His mother winked at him.
You could say that again, Claire thought.
“Ethan said you’ve been dating since Christmas!”Barbara exclaimed, and a murmur of approval went up in the group.
Claire shot Ethan a murderous glance. “Did he now?”
“Said you worked at an auction house!”
“I have some antiques in my attic you might be interested in seeing,” interrupted Hazel. “My daughter calls them junk, so I’d be quite interested to see what an expert has to say.”
“Mother.” Ellen sighed.
“There are so many antique shops in town!” Barbara said excitedly.“Ethan will take you, won’t you, Ethan?”
Ethan’s eyes were flicking from female relative to female relative, and for a moment, Claire felt a pang of sympathy for him, but only for a moment. After all, the man was lying to these poor women, creating a fictitious life they were clearly tickled over.
“Well, we should probably get settled at the hotel,” Ethan began, but his mother barely gave him a glance.
“Pshaw. No son of mine is going to stay in a hotel, not when we have so much room! Now, Leslie and Nick are staying in the house, and Amelia, of course,” Barbara added somewhat darkly.“I figured you two would like a little space, so I went ahead and made up the guest cottage for you. There are fresh linens on the bed and towels in the cupboard next to the tub.” She beamed at Claire, whose pulse skipped with panic.
The bed? As in, only one?
“Oh, but we can’t impose,” she tried, hearing the strain in her voice.
Barbara took the empty glass from Claire’s hand and splashed more lemonade into it.“Nonsense! It’s not every day my son brings a girlfriend home, and I must admit, we’re all quite eager to get to know you a little better.” She winked at Ethan, who seemed to be radiating tension Claire had never witnessed in him before.
“Now don’t go scaring her away,” Ethan warned.
Claire dragged her eyes to his, holding them there. Now that was rich.
“But it’s a beautiful cottage!” cried Milly, who was identifiable by her many strands of pearls and matching earrings. She was older than Barbara by several years, it seemed, and had a wild look in her eyes. “Barbara rents it out for a pretty penny nearly every week of the year. Lots of honeymooners enjoy the amenities.” She winked, and Claire felt her teeth graze into some semblance of a smile.
Ethan stepped forward. “Really, Mom. We’re fine at the hotel. We don’t want to take away the room from a paying guest.”
Claire mentally fist-pumped. An excellent point—surely his mother couldn’t argue with that.
But Barbara just handed Claire the glass of lemonade with a smile and said, “Now don’t you worry. I cancelled this weekend’s reservation the moment I heard about the wonderful Claire. Besides, you can’t have your hotel room back. To compensate for the inconvenience, I gave the couple one of the rooms you’d booked at the hotel—I have connections like that. Two rooms, the front desk said.” She clucked her tongue. “They must have made a mistake.”
“Mom—” Ethan’s voice had taken on a tone of warning, but Barbara was not to be deterred.
“I’m a modern woman, Ethan. I know how the world works now. In my day people waited for marriage, but then, in my day, people weren’t still unattached in their thirties, either.”
The older women of the group all exchanged knowing looks.
“Mom, I think Claire might be comfortable—”
“Oh, settle down, Ethan, I know when to back off, you know. And Claire knows what I’m referring to. Times have changed! And I pride myself on rolling with it! Besides, something tells me Claire and I are going to get along just fine,” she said, looping her arms through Claire’s as she led them out the back door and toward their honeymoon suite.
***
Amelia was still sitting on the old wicker bench when they approached the cottage, her tattoo on full display near the straps of her tank top. She set her book aside when Ethan said hello, her gaze immediately shifting to Claire with impassive interest. Ethan steeled himself as panic set in, wondering if this was such a good idea after all, if it might have been easier to face them all alone, put up with the insinuations and the warnings and even the threats, and then go on his way, back to the city, back to his life. Back to his ways, as they called it.
“So this is the woman we’ve heard all about,” Amelia remarked, standing to smooth her long cotton skirt and extend a hand to Claire. “She seems normal,” she accused, lifting an eyebrow at him.
Ethan balled a hand into a fist, but he could see Claire swallowing her laughter from his periphery. “And how are you, Amelia? Will I be meeting your wedding date this evening?”
As soon as the words came out, he regretted them. Amelia’s eyes narrowed on him, and all at once she was grabbing her book, and making a big, clumsy show of leaving.
“Nice,” Claire whispered, shaking her head at him in disapproval.
“Amelia!” Ethan called out at his older sister, who was scrambling barefoot up the stone steps to the back patio, her shoulders squared in fury. “Amelia, come on. I didn’t mean to upset you!” But it was no use. She was sliding open the sunroom door without a glance back.
Well, great. He hadn’t been home even fifteen minutes and already he was in trouble with at least one member of the family, when all he’d wanted for the weekend was to avoid it.
“She’s on edge,” his mother said. “We’re all doing our best to tiptoe around her. I strongly suggest you do the same, Ethan. Between you and me, I think it’s hard on her that you have . . .Claire.”
Claire turned around and gave Ethan a hooded look.
Great. So now he was in trouble with at least two women on this stretch of property.
Ethan shoved his hands into his pockets and stared out at the lake. He couldn’t help it; this place always put him in a bad mood. It made him out of sorts, irritable and agitated. He was on edge, saying things he shouldn’t say.
He looked down at his shoes. Four more days. He could do it.
They hovered outside the cottage door while his mother showed off her new window boxes, and Ethan ground on his teeth, his gaze lingering on the sunroom doors of the main house, where no doubt Amelia was already regaling the rest of the group with his insensitive behavior.
But what about their insensitive behavior, he thought, feeling anger heat his blood. What about their little comments, their silent judgment, their sharp remarks?
God knew it was hard enough coming back here without their commentary.
He pulled in a breath and studied the back of Claire’s head as she obediently leaned in to smell one of the daylilies. Her blond hair glistened in the sun, and his mother slid him a smile so approving, for a brief moment Ethan felt a twinge of guilt for lying to her.
But then he remembered the reason behind it. Thought of the reaction he’d received. The opinions they held.
The one he was hell-bent on changing this weekend.
“Well now, you probably want to freshen up and change before dinner,” Barbara was saying as she unlocked the door and let them pass. Ethan saw the panic in Claire’s eyes before he even felt it himself.
The room was smaller than he’d remembered. It was hardly a cottage at all, but more of a bedroom with an en suite bathroom and a kitchenette in one corner. French doors led to a small patio that housed two Adirondack chairs and a side table, but otherwise, the accommodations lent no other seating area. The bed was covered in a simple white duvet, queen-sized, as luck would have it, and Claire’s eyes never strayed from it.
“I see you painted the walls,” Ethan remarked, desperate to break the silence. Last time he was in here, they’d been a light green. But then, that was a long time ago, he supp
osed. Last summer he’d stayed in the main house. He couldn’t recall his visit before then, he realized with a start.
His mother swept a hand over the dresser. “Grey blue. Reminds me of the fog rolling in on a summer evening. I added new throw pillows, as you can see.”
Eventually, Claire blinked and murmured, “Beautiful. It’s just beautiful. Is this the, uh, only cottage you have on the premises?”
“Oh, yes. It was an old boathouse before we converted it. See the rafters? Ethan used to climb those when he was little.” Barbara chuckled and shook her head fondly at Ethan. “This boy always had a way of making trouble, but then, I suppose you know that already, Claire.” She raised an eyebrow, and Claire shot him a look of naked amusement.
“So yes, just this one small cottage, but renters love it, and I hope you will, too. It’s quiet down here, secluded, and don’t you worry, I won’t be knocking on the door to bug you two.”
Ethan shifted uneasily on his feet, summing up the space on the floor. Thanks to a wide chest of drawers and two generous end tables, there was very little space in the room, certainly not enough to camp out on for a few nights.
He glanced at Claire again, imagining she was making the same calculation.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” his mother finally said. “Dinner is at six at Patricia’s. Casual, on the beach, if the weather holds up.” She crossed her fingers. “I know everyone is looking very forward to it,” she added with emphasis, casting Ethan a meaningful glance.
“I’ll just go get the luggage,” Ethan said quickly, hoping to follow on his mother’s tread, but Claire just smiled and said sweetly, “No, stay for a minute. The luggage can wait.” Her gaze held his with such fury, that he knew he had no choice but to oblige.
He waited until his mother had closed the door behind her and was a safe distance back to the main house before turning back to her. “Look, I can explain.”
Claire folded her arms across her chest and tipped her head. “Explain what exactly? The fact that we’ve supposedly been dating since Christmas? Or that I’m expected to carry on lying to all these nice women? Or maybe you’d just like to explain where exactly you’ll be sleeping tonight, because we sure as hell aren’t sharing this bed.”
He frowned. “Why not? It’s not like I’m going to cop a feel.” He grinned, hoping to lighten the mood, but she was having none of it.
She sighed and dropped onto the bed. “Look, why don’t we just tell them the truth? That you and I are good friends, that you brought me along as your date, that I’ll keep you in line and make sure you don’t disappear with the bride or anything between now and Saturday night.”
“The bride is my cousin,” he reminded her calmly.
“Fine, then the maid of honor.” She tossed up her hands. “I thought we’d stay at a hotel. In separate rooms. That we’d casually see your family for a few minutes at the rehearsal dinner and the reception. Then we’d disappear into the crowd. But this?” She shook her head. “I can’t do this, Ethan. I can’t lie to these people. And I don’t see how you can either.”
“It’s a white lie,” he reminded her. “Besides, you have no trouble lying to your family.”
Her cheeks turned red. “That’s only temporary!”
“So is this!”
Claire clamped her mouth together, her breath was hard. “I plan to tell Hailey about losing my job when I need to. Until then . . .why worry her?”
“And I don’t want to worry my family,” Ethan said.“You saw the way they talked to me. Even the way they were with you. Imagine what I’d be hearing if you weren’t with me? If they didn’t think I’d changed my ways?” He gave her a long look, watching her waver. “I’m not doing this to hurt anyone. And if it makes you feel better, I’ll sleep in the bathtub.”
She laughed at this, and a glimpse of the old Claire, the girl he knew, the girl he loved, reappeared before his eyes.
He swallowed hard. Took one step backward toward the door. Right. Time to get the luggage.
He gulped in a big breath of the clean country air and hurried his way to the car, feeling the eyes of his extended female relationships on him through the back kitchen window. He didn’t stop until he got to the car, sheltered by the side of the house where the windows were shielded by overgrown shrubs, and closed his eyes, pushing out the sights and the sounds and the memories that seemed to hit him everywhere he turned. He avoided this place for a reason, but not for the one Claire knew. His mother and sisters and nosy aunts, he could handle. But the feelings he had when he was here, the reminders of happiness, of loss . . . That he couldn’t handle.
And that was why he needed Claire to stick with the plan. To keep him in line. To keep him from doing something far more stupid than having a fling with a member of the wedding party.
He opened his eyes, popped the trunk, and pulled out the luggage, cursing under his breath when he felt the weight of Claire’s suitcase. Four days, and she may as well be taking a two-week trip abroad. Women, he thought, locking the doors, even though there was no around for a mile and he doubted they’d try to steal his radio.
Even though he’d grown up without a father, even though some claimed he was somewhat of an expert when it came to the other gender, the truth of the matter was that he didn’t know the first thing about them.
And maybe that’s why he was still single. Asking his best friend to pose as his girlfriend.
Because he couldn’t find one on his own. And when he did—when he had . . .Well, no use thinking about that.
Claire was collecting towels from the linen chest when Ethan reentered the cottage.
“You don’t have to sleep in the bathtub,” she said, giving him a faint smile. “But there will be a roll of towels separating our bodies.” She held up a pointer finger, locking his eyes. “I swear to God, one move, one finger crosses those towels, and the wrath of your sisters will pale in comparison to what you’ll see from me.”
He nodded and set the bags down in the corner.
“Four days, Eth. I mean it. And next time you talk to your mom, you tell her we’ve broken up, got it?”
He nodded. He got it. It was the kind of conversation he had a lot of experience with, unfortunately.
Chapter Five
Claire took her clothes and toiletries into the en suite bathroom and firmly locked the door behind her. Her heart was pounding, and she wasn’t sure why. Normally she felt comfortable with Ethan, more comfortable than she did with Hailey half the time. She could say anything, do anything, didn’t have to monitor herself around him, didn’t have to watch her words or worry if she had food in her teeth or laughed too loud at a joke that wasn’t all that funny.
But something about being here, out of the city, trapped in this tiny boathouse, made her start to feel prickly and weird, as if something was shifting between them, a heightened awareness she didn’t exactly like.
She checked the knob, just to be sure it was indeed locked, and then stripped out of her clothes before turning the taps to the shower. It was a pretty bathroom, light and airy, with a skylight above the tub. She laughed as she closed the glass door to the shower, imagining Ethan curled up in there, with his pillow and blanket. With his six-foot athletic frame, it would no doubt be a tight squeeze. She supposed it was sweet of him to offer, but then that was Ethan. Thoughtful. Dependable. Readable. There was no mystery with Ethan. No pretense, no façade. She knew him inside out.
So why did she suddenly feel a flutter of nerves at the thought of him being on the other side of that door?
She hurried to shampoo her hair and rinse the day off her skin. Ever so hospitable, Barbara had left a stack of towels within arm’s reach. Claire took the top one from the pile and wrapped herself with it, jumping when she heard the knock at the door.
“You decent?”
“What?” Her cheeks flared. “No! I’m not!” Panic caused her voice to screech, and even though she knew she had locked the door, she eyed the handle in horror, wait
ing for it to turn, for Ethan to walk in and see her . . .well, not decent.
“Well, hurry up! If we’re late I’ll never hear the end of it!”
Claire rolled her eyes as she towel-dried her hair. It was a warm evening, and there would be plenty of time for it to dry on its own before they went to the clam bake at Ethan’s aunt’s house. According to him, it was just a short walk down the beach. Claire set a hand to her stomach as fresh nerves pumped. More friends and families to fool. More lies to tell.
She slipped on the pale blue sundress she’d brought for the occasion and added a touch of makeup. She rarely wore much, especially in the summertime. Ethan said it was a casual affair, and, hoping that was the case, she wedged her toes into a pair of espadrilles and unlocked the bedroom door.
Ethan was lying on the bed—in the middle of the bed—when she opened it, the steam from the shower filling the small room.
“I see you forgot my rule about staying on your side,” she observed, raising an eyebrow.
He had the nerve to look confused. “It’s not bedtime yet. Besides, I needed to rest if I’m going to make it through this shindig tonight.”
“Gee, I’m really looking forward to it now,” Claire said, laughing slightly under her breath as she walked to her side of the bed and folded her dirty clothes into a bag in her suitcase.
“Oh, you’ll have a great time,” Ethan said with confidence.
“And why won’t you?” she asked, looking up at him.
His mouth quirked into a lazy grin. “Easy. They’re my family, not yours.”
Ethan took more than half an hour to primp in the bathroom—nearly twice as long as it had taken Claire, who had shaved her legs and washed and conditioned her shoulder-length hair. And applied makeup.
