by Susan Hatler
A prime piece of property at the edge of town had had been purchased a number of years ago by The Courant Foundation, with the intent to build an amphitheater for the festival. All the preliminary development work had been completed, including environmental analysis and plan approval. However, when an opportunity to build a larger stage in the park arose, the Board dropped the plans for the smaller amphitheater. The lot had sat vacant for ten years.
Sadie grinned. “I remember the summer before we girls started high school. Chessie, Lia, and I were having a great time swimming in the lake, eating bad camp food, learning camp songs, and riding horses along the trails. That is, until you, Theo, and Jack showed up.”
Ethan twisted his coffee mug in his hands, a smile toying at his lips. “We got you girls kicked out of the camp, didn’t we?”
“Yes, you did alright. Just about pulverized my mom on the spot when she heard I’d been caught naked in the woods.”
He laughed. “Here we’d snuck out into the woods hoping to meet up with some of the hot college-aged camp counselors and instead we found our sisters skinny-dipping. I still can’t believe you three were buck naked in the creek.”
Sadie snorted. “Well, I can’t believe you three stole our clothes. When we snuck back into camp in our birthday suits, you’d have thought we’d unleashed the hounds from hell the way the camp matron carried on. She actually told our parents we were depraved!”
Ethan ruffled her hair. “Nah, you weren’t depraved. Not then, at any rate.”
A warm ache began to spread, initiating in her chest and working languorously down her limbs. Enough discussion of nudity and depravity, or she’d start envisioning Ethan naked and on the carpet below her.
“It could be possible,” she murmured, staring at the documents in front of her.
“I’ve already talked to Jack about reopening the plans for the amphitheater. He says they’d just need to get an environmental team out there to see if the site meets current standards. He has a company on retainer that could get us a report in a week.”
Sadie pursed her lips. “How could we afford the construction costs? Wasn’t the amphitheater going to be fairly expensive to build?”
“Here’s the great part.” Ethan’s face lit up with an enthusiastic smile. “Jack said his company would donate their time if the Courant Foundation pays for supplies. That would cut the cost in half, which makes it a reasonable plan.” Ethan swept his hand across the page to point at a line item. “Jack’s crew has a tight window to do this in, but he thinks his team can get it completed before the fall rains hit,” he continued.
Sadie smiled wide, tapping the edge of the folder against the tip of her nose. “You know what? I think you’re going to get your dream after all.”
Ethan grabbed her in a bear hug, crushing her and the proposal to his chest.
His sudden nearness sent a jolt into her heart. Tingles started again, shooting their way from her womb to her heart.
“It’s not about my dream—it’s about the dreams of those kids who haven’t had anyone to believe in them before.” He pulled out of the hug and placed his fingertips at her brow, softly traced a ringlet down its cascading path. “I think you really are an angel.”
“Complete with halo?” she joked.
Ethan smiled. “You look beautiful in a halo.”
Beautiful. Her heart skipped a beat. He’d called her beautiful again. And she’d believed him, again.
Why was it so easy to believe Ethan when he called her beautiful?
“Alright, flatterer. Get back to work and let me read this proposal of yours.” She tried to force a nonchalant tone in her voice the same way she tried to force the flow of longing back down into her belly. Time to focus on work. But how could she when her heart was leaping about her chest like a hyperactive puppy?
***
The evening air hung warm and thick as Sadie walked down the sidewalk to the Goldpan Pub, the local bar and only place where decent ribs could be found in all of Meadowview. She loved this time of year, this time of day, when the summer’s setting sun dipped below the tree-rimmed horizon and the air began to cool down. She only had a block to go, and found herself enjoying her solitude.
She felt a tug of guilt, realizing she’d been due to meet Ethan and Jack twenty minutes ago. Her day had been long, with twelve hours spent at the office, barely stopping to eating yogurt at her desk in lieu of lunch. Ethan’s proposal had riveted her.
He’d done well. Exceeded her expectations, in fact. With Jack donating his company’s time, Ethan’s entire project would come in just under the dollar amount allotted by the Board for special projects. Ethan had even garnered the support of local families, who’d promised homes for the students to stay in during their summer program. The donation of housing cut costs down considerably.
Loud laughter and music met her at the doorway, where she craned her neck to see into the darkened bar. A waving hand caught her attention, and she pushed her way through the thick crowd to a small table, overflowing with beers and the elbows of Ethan and Jack.
“Want a girly martini?” Ethan asked, his voice barely audible above the roar of the crowd.
“As girly as they get,” she replied, tossing her oversized bag on a vacant chair and her hair over her shoulders.
“Don’t let her taste for wimp drinks fool you,” Jack said to Ethan. “Our Sadie here can actually pound a beer faster than any frat boy.”
“She certainly is full of surprises,” Ethan said, adding a wink.
That wink—Sadie caught her breath. It awoke something deep in her. Something she’d worked hard to avoid all day. She struggled for a moment to regain control over her body, but she couldn’t help herself and kept her gaze glued to Ethan’s tight rear as he walked to the bar, her connection only broken by a patron who came to stand in her line of sight. Thank God for that. She needed to focus on making Ethan’s dream a reality, not fantasize about the man.
By the time Ethan returned with a round of drinks, Sadie and Jack were fully engrossed in discussing the development of the amphitheater. Eager as she was to talk to Jack about the project, it didn’t stop her from noticing that Ethan took the seat next to her instead of the empty one he’d been in before. Her heart tripped when he sat close. When his shoulder grazed hers, they locked eyes.
Regret charged through her. What made her think sleeping with Ethan would get him out of her system? Why had she thought she could get her body acclimated to his and would no longer want him? And why wasn’t he just as turned on by her as she was by him?
Lia entered the Goldpan, and Jack jumped up to offer her his chair and fetch her a drink. Ethan stood to hug his sister tight, eyes closed, a sweet smile playing about his lips.
Sadie’s heart warmed as she enjoyed seeing the close bond between brother and sister. Being home, seeing Lia almost every day made Ethan happy, Sadie knew. Ethan had made it clear that being close to Lia had been an important part in his decision to take the position of Artistic Director.
As difficult as it could be working with Ethan, Sadie knew her decision to bring him on board was sound. She needed his reputation and expertise—he needed to be close to Lia. Everything would work out. She’d get over her crush in due time. The longing, the nighttime fantasies, the strange jumps her belly did when Ethan walked in the door would fade away, and were a worthy price to pay. The success of the festival mattered more, and Ethan’s happiness mattered the most. All she had to do was wait.
Chapter Thirteen
Ethan groaned and raised a hand to block the morning light that filtered down the Meadowview Theater’s stairwell from an upper window. Jack had been right—Sadie could pound a beer faster than any frat boy. Ethan carefully placed one foot in front of the other on the steps, feeling their heavy weight, cringing with each step. If he took the stairs slowly, he figured, maybe his head wouldn’t throb. The headache flared; it had been giving him a hard time all morning, probably in reaction to the four beers he’d th
rown back at the Goldpan Pub the night before. Damn that Sadie. All sweet and angelic on the outside—all devilish and tormenting on the inside. Who knew she could hold her liquor so well? He wondered if she’d even come in today after all they’d had to drink during their beer slamming competition the night before.
He reached the top of the stairs, then Sadie’s chipper “good morning” jackhammered his brain.
“Please…don’t…talk…” He knew he sounded grumpy, but at this point, he didn’t really care.
Sadie’s laugh greeted his pain. “Poor baby. You really are a lightweight, aren’t you?”
Lightweight? Him? He could bench press 250 pounds, could run a marathon, and even had held his own in a few bar fights during college. No one could define him as a lightweight.
“Not a lightweight,” he muttered. He moved too quickly and groaned. The sound of Sadie’s laugh followed him as he headed to the coffeepot. “Twerp,” he managed to get out, only to hear her giggle again.
After several cups of coffee, some aspirin, and few hours spent reading scripts in his office, Ethan felt back to normal. In truth, perhaps it hadn’t so much been the alcohol, but rather the sleepless night he’d spent, his mind consumed by thoughts of Sadie. The opportunity to be the artistic director for the festival gave him so much—an escape from New York, the chance to develop the Youth Theater Academy, and especially the ability to live near Lia. However, he’d underestimated the effects of his night with Sadie.
In fact, he’d underestimated Sadie.
The way she ran the festival didn’t just impress him—it boggled his mind. She flew from one task to another, making phone calls, writing reports, conferring with board members, all with an energy he couldn’t possibly match. Ethan could see her determination to make the festival a success, to make her parents proud of her. And she did it all with the sexiest body he’d ever seen.
He’d taken to keeping a rubber band around his wrist, snapping it each time he caught himself checking out Sadie’s breasts. Or rear. Or calves, or thighs, or back, or gorgeous halo of hair, for that matter. Memories of their night together flashed through his mind on a continuous loop: Sadie naked, underneath him, reaching her hips up to meet his, the swell of her breasts under his hands, her hair fanned out to frame her face. He couldn’t seem to block the images…but then, he didn’t really want to, either.
For a brief moment last night, Ethan had considered kissing her goodnight after walking her home. She’d been leaning against her front door, saying something cute and sarcastic, and he’d found himself bending close, his lips willing his brain to kiss her. It was all he could do to say goodnight and walk away.
He’d walked home, wondering if there could be any way they could make love again, any way the night could be repeated. As many times as he tossed the idea around in his head, however, he knew the answer. He couldn’t risk her falling in love with him, couldn’t risk her getting hurt. He needed the festival and the festival needed him—she needed him. Without an artistic director it would sink, and sink big. And if it ever did sink, Sadie would sink with it.
There would be no repeat of that one fantastic night.
“Lunch?” Sadie popped her head around the glass partition, surprising him.
Ethan looked at her and blinked. Today she was wearing tight white pants and some kind of a see-through white lace top over an electric blue tank top. With her hair in messy curls around her face, she looked sexier than hell. Sadie… Her name echoed in his mind. He shook his head in an attempt to disengage.
“Um, Ethan? Food?”
He blew out a breath. He needed to work on a news release about the upcoming productions. As much as he’d love to ogle Sadie’s cleavage over lunch, he’d better stay in and work. “Too busy. Could you maybe bring me back a sandwich?”
“Sure,” she said. “Jack’s stopping by in a bit with the amphitheater plans. Why don’t I bring lunch back for the three of us?”
Boobs with lunch after all, Ethan thought with a smile, then gave himself a mental swat for allowing his mind to drift yet again.
By the time Jack arrived, Sadie had arranged sandwiches, fruit salad, and iced tea on the antique buffet.
“Where are the cookies?” Ethan asked, grabbing a sandwich with one hand and an iced tea with another.
“Ungrateful beast.” Sadie’s lips pressed together and she faked a swat on his rear. He loved getting her riled up—she looked adorable, almost like how she did as a kid.
“Oh, I’m grateful, really I am. I just like cookies.”
This time she did swat him on the rear. Not quite how he wanted her hand on his rump, but he’d take it.
After going over the project for almost an hour, Jack gave Sadie a quick hug and walked to the door. On his way out, Jack handed Ethan a large cardboard cylinder containing a set of new blueprints. Sadie cleared off the conference table and motioned to him to lay the prints out.
Ethan reached inside. When he pulled out the bundle of papers, the toxic scent of freshly printed blueprints wafted out of the container, finding its way up to his face and inside his lungs.
He froze.
That smell—that horrible, fucking awful smell.
“What’s wrong?” Sadie’s concerned voice sounded through a dense roar in his head.
His gaze glued to the plans, he could still see out of the corner of his eye when Sadie moved toward him. He needed to shake himself out of this, but felt immobile, frozen, like a sheet of ice.
“Ethan.” Sadie rubbed a small circle on his back.
Through his shirt, he could feel the warmth of her body as she moved closer, standing steady behind him. The world swam back into focus, and he sucked in a deep breath. “It’s the smell,” he managed to get out. “My father always brought home blueprints from work to review. I hate the scent.”
Sadie met his statement with silence. She stopped her movement, but kept the flat of her hand pressed against his spine. “Was he a contractor?”
“Electrician. When he could keep the work, that is. He kept getting fired for drinking on the job.”
Wrapping her arm around his waist, Sadie pressed her head against his shoulder, staring at the specs alongside him.
“How bad was it, Ethan?”
He felt his whole body stiffen at Sadie’s soft question. With a fierce movement, he swept the plans off the table, into his hand. After rolling them up, he stuffed them back in the cardboard tube and tossed it aside.
“You know that scar on the back of my leg?” The scar was impossible to miss. At least a half inch thick in places, it started at the back of his upper thigh and continued down his calf.
With Sadie still at his side, he felt, rather than saw her nod. Her hand grabbing his gave him courage to continue.
“My mom had Obsessive Compulsive Disorder—OCD. Only back then, my dad just thought she’d gone cuckoo. She’d count things, odd things like broken crayons, or would wash her hands all day long. She even started using a ruler to make sure the blinds were drawn evenly throughout the whole house. She always did compulsive things, but I think it got worse when I was about twelve. At least, that’s how old I was when I got the scar.”
He squeezed Sadie’s hand, so warm and soft in his. She stood next to him, her head leaning on his shoulder, her body curved in toward his. Her hair shone golden in the soft afternoon light that filtered through the windows. He loved how she’d been letting it go natural, with heavy ringlets framing her face.
“You don’t have to tell me, you know.”
But he did. He needed someone to open up to. Had never felt the need until now. Until Sadie. He cleared his throat, then continued. “Dad didn’t start off a raging drunk. When we were really little he could be a lot of fun. But when Mom’s illness got worse, he started drinking. Her obsessions fueled his anger, his anger fueled his drinking, and his drinking fueled his violence.”
He stopped, lost in his painful memory. He could never forgive his father for frightening his mother
, for scaring him…scarring him. “One Saturday, Mom started counting each dish as she put them away. She’d done it before, but this time she was also counting each prong on each fork, and it was really driving Dad up the wall. He’d probably had a half-bottle of scotch by then and was already three sheets to the wind. He yelled at her to stop, but she couldn’t—just couldn’t. I was in the living room, and I knew he was going to blow. It’s like that eerie feeling of calm right before a storm hits, you know?”
Sadie tipped her face up to his, her blue eyes opened wide. He knew her home life hadn’t been perfect, knew how distant her parents were and how much they expected of her, but he also knew she’d never seen violence before—at least, not like what he had experienced at the hands of his father.
“Lia was outside, in the front yard. Whenever Dad got like this, I’d first make sure Lia was safe. I could have gone outside then, too, but something made me stay. It cost me, but it could have cost my mom even more.”
Sadie interrupted him. “If this is too painful, you can stop.”
He looked down, kicked the carpet, and shrugged his shoulders. He’d opened the bag—might as well let the cat out now. “Anyway, Dad started kicking things, then throwing furniture around. I could tell Mom was getting scared. I pulled her away from the kitchen and pushed her toward the front door. I wanted to get her outside, where she could be safe. But she couldn’t make herself turn the door handle until she counted to one hundred. Dad had just broken the glass coffee table and she stood there, just inches from safety, not able to open the damned door because she hadn’t yet counted to one hundred.”
“What did you do?” Sadie whispered.
Ethan swiped a hand across his face. The look of terror on his mother’s face remained burned in his memory. Her compulsion had been so great she couldn’t save herself. “I slid my hand around hers and grabbed the door handle, turned it, then shoved her outside. I saved her from danger, but I was too late to save myself. Dad threw half the broken coffee table at Mom, but hit me. It felt like a hot stick had been dragged down my leg. It wasn’t a stick, though. It was the sharp edge of the glass, slicing me.”
