Chapter Six
Ethan could handle the hard plains of Kashmir, but a single night on his Uncle Griff’s couch had him cursing under his breath. Though his discomfort wasn’t only the wayward springs. His dick had been hard all night with nowhere to go.
Just like last night. And especially this morning.
Being near Lia made him permanently hard. He had always known she was sexy—and smart and funny and freaking adorable. He had always known he couldn’t have her. But seeing her lush curves, bared to him, fluid with motion, had flipped a switch in his brain. Touching her slick folds and feeling her shudder as she came had fundamentally changed him. His dick didn’t understand why it couldn’t be inside her. Because she’s the girlfriend of your best friend. Because there’s a code of brotherhood, of honor, and at one time that code had been all Ethan had.
Because she didn’t choose you.
That had been the reason he told himself, except now she was here. In his fucking bed.
Her hair spread over the pillow in dark glossy waves. Her hair had always reminded him of the dark chocolate she liked to eat, the kind with percentages on the package, as if the candy had been melted down and then spun into silk thread. He imagined leaning down over the bed and breathing in the bittersweet scent of her. He’d press his face into the strands and then… what?
Only Lia could make him want to lick a lock of hair. And smelling her while she was sleeping? He was so fucking gone—gone over a woman he didn’t have.
And wouldn’t have.
She wasn’t with Chris anymore, but she wasn’t with Ethan either. Not yet. Maybe not ever. He wasn’t sure he could stomach being second choice. It wasn’t a matter of stupid masculine pride. Okay, it wasn’t only a matter of stupid masculine pride.
The truth was, she’d been with Chris for a long time. She’d chosen him, day after day. For years. So what made now different? Except that Chris wanted to move to DC. Maybe that was the only reason Lia had noticed him. He had no plans to leave Texas, and he was conveniently in love with her.
No, Ethan couldn’t be with her, constantly doubting her. Doubting himself.
She moved in her sleep, resettling on what he knew was a lumpy mattress. Her arm stretched, exposing the perfect curve of her breast beneath her camisole. Her nipple pressed gently against the thin fabric. He flushed with want, from the top of his skull to the soles of his feet. Who needed firewood when your body was a furnace?
Then she made a sound, a cross between a moan and a whimper. What was she dreaming about?
God, that nipple. His fingers twitched at his side, longing to touch.
Creeper, he told himself, but he couldn’t make himself look away. Especially because the cabin had never been so freaking small. Anywhere he went, he could see her. Smell her. Feel her.
By four a.m. he gave up, unable to sleep and unable to keep watching her.
“Take care of her,” he muttered to Oreo before heading outside.
Logs were still strewn across the frozen grass. He started adding them onto the massive pile of wood beside his cabin before reconsidering. He had more than enough to get him through, even if the freeze lasted until New Years. On a whim, he loaded some onto his truck bed. Maybe someone there would need it.
The diner was aptly named The Diner and was run by a very kind, very pregnant woman named Natalie. She grinned and slid him a menu when he pulled up to the counter.
“What can I get you?”
“I’ll take two coffees and… I don’t know. What’s a good breakfast to go?”
Her eyebrows rose. “You got company?”
He grunted something that could have been a yes.
“Is your uncle back in town? I know some people who’d want to say hello.”
Shit. “No, not my uncle. Just a friend from town.”
And there was that curiosity in her gaze. He couldn’t even blame the townspeople. Not a lot changed around here, something that was both good and bad. Good because it gave them stability when Ethan knew exactly how unstable other parts of the world could be. Bad because the tendency towards prying made it hard for him to lie.
Although he hadn’t lied. He and Lia were just friends.
A sly look passed over Natalie’s face. She glanced toward the kitchen and then met his gaze. Her voice was low, husky, as if she was asking him something illicit when she said, “You like blueberries?”
“Sure, I like them well enough.”
She narrowed her eyes. Then her lips firmed. “Look, I’ll give you breakfast, but these are my terms. You can’t pay for it. And you can’t tell anyone I gave it to you.”
He eyed the loose white powder coating her apron. “Blueberries means what I think it does, right? Like, the fruit.”
She snorted. “No, it’s not just fruit. It’s a highly addictive substance known as pie.”
He grinned. “It’s eight o’clock in the morning.”
That earned him a finger point. “And for that, you’re not getting any.”
She shook her head—apparently he had a lot to learn—before going back to the kitchen. He couldn’t help smiling while he waited. Couldn’t help nodding at the curious strangers on stools. The town made him feel like Lia did, as if ordinary things were fun and interesting, as if the colors were brighter and the air crisper.
Lia. How long until she left him? And how could he make her stay?
Soon enough she’d be back in Austin, where college kids wore their sarcasm like armor. With the hipsters and the lobbyists and all the other people like Chris. Ethan had felt like there’d been a troll under every bridge, asking questions he couldn’t answer. Who was he? What did he want?
But Dearling didn’t feel like a bridge. It didn’t even feel like a road. It felt home.
“Hail this afternoon,” said an older guy from two stools down.
Ethan tried to remember his name. Mr. Winterman? Appropriate, really, for both weather and the man’s snowy crop of hair. “That’s what I heard.”
Mr. Winterman nodded toward the back, where the diner owner had gone. “She’ll give you enough to get through the night, in case the roads ice over.”
Shit. The thought of Lia driving on icy roads made his gut clench.
Natalie returned with a large paper bag. She cast furtive glances at the other customers before handing it over. “Remember, this didn’t happen.”
He accepted the heavy bag with bemusement. “How much is in here?”
“Hail this afternoon,” she said, as if that explained everything. And he supposed it did. Icy roads meant he might not be able to get back in town until tomorrow. This would tide him over. He’d told Lia last night he wasn’t up for a relationship with her—or what would surely be amazing sex. But then again, he wasn’t sure he could let her go.
When Ethan started to pull out his wallet, Natalie shook her head. “We had a deal.”
“Not for this much food,” he protested.
“It’s on the house,” she said firmly. Then her expression turned hopeful. “It’s the least I can do for our new deputy.”
He coughed and looked around, hoping no one had heard. Not only was Mr. Winterman in hearing range, but he didn’t look the least surprised. It appeared news travelled fast—even when it couldn’t be called news yet.
He’d gotten the job offer from Joe Peterson, the town’s sheriff. He liked Joe. Straight talker, hard worker. Dedicated to his town. But how could he put down roots here, hundreds of miles away from where Lia lived and worked and loved to be? The job had seemed like a boon, the glimpse of a lighthouse in a storm. But Lia was his anchor. She always had been.
“I’ll think about it. By the way, you know anyone who needs firewood? I’ve got extra in my truck.”
She beamed. “See? Already looking out for us. I’m sure I can find some families who could use it. Leave it on the side of the diner.”
He picked up the bag and little cardboard cupholder with two coffees. “Will do. And thanks for breakfast.”
“Sure thing. Oh and Ethan?”
“Yeah?”
She winked. “Enjoy.”
Why did he get the impression she wasn’t just talking about blueberries? God, he hoped there was actually food in here. He was starving, and more importantly, he had no desire to feed Lia beef jerky from his pantry for breakfast.
Though feeding her anything at all would be pretty sexy. Even jerky. But especially blueberry pie. He remembered the twinkle in Natalie’s eye and realized the town of Dearling may be hardcore in more than just their work ethic.
He wanted to show Lia the town. Hell, he wanted to show Lia off, in the town. To tell them she was his, that she was staying. But first he’d have to apologize to her for being an idiot last night… and all the years before. She may have stayed with Chris all that time, but Ethan had never given her a reason not to.
* * *
Lia woke up with a hard knot in her stomach—a combination of dread and relief. Last night had been awkward and frustrating, and strangely enough, seriously arousing. An unlikely combination. Or maybe not so unlikely considering Ethan was involved. That was him rolled into one scruffy, scowling, sexy as hell package.
A warm body heaved a sigh against her back, blowing damp air across her neck. A paw pressed hard against her spine, likely leaving a bruise. And making her smile too. That was another reason she needed to leave.
It would be way too easy to get comfortable around here, even when it was clear she wasn’t really welcome.
Oreo snorted, and a spray of dog snot hit her cheek.
“Lovely.” She sat up on her elbows and squinted into the bright cabin. No sign of Ethan.
His truck was missing from the gravel driveway. Where had he gone?
Didn’t matter. Maybe it was for the best. This way she could squint into the crystalline morning with no one to see her bedhead. She could run barefoot over the crunchy grass to grab her cosmetics bag. Her cosmetic bag, which was inside the overnight bag—she rolled her eyes at her own optimism.
She’d wanted to spend the night… with Ethan. Not lying on Ethan’s bed, awake, knowing he was lying awake on the lumpy futon not eight feet away.
And maybe it was for the best that she could drive away from the tiny, rustic cabin without having to say goodbye. Now she understood why Ethan had bolted that night. The prospect of a morning after made her stomach turn over.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she told Oreo’s mournful stare. He seemed to know what her hurried wash up in the bathroom meant. It was like the walk of shame. Only, her shame wasn’t because of the sex. They hadn’t had sex, but the scorching kiss and over-too-fast full body contact had been nothing short of blissful.
Her shame came from what happened after. The painful knowledge in his eyes that he’d been second best, like some kind of secret. It had felt like she was cheating all over again, even though she was firmly single now. It was too soon for Ethan. Too soon for her.
She couldn’t settle in with a new guy. Couldn’t be the sidekick all over again. Even if Ethan didn’t see her that way, it’s all she would be. It was all she could be, until she’d built a life for herself, without the crutch of Chris or Ethan to lean on.
She searched for a pen and paper to leave a note. Sorry I tried to have sex with you against your better judgment. Going back to Austin so I can feel like crap. Oh, and by the way, I’ll probably masturbate to the memory of your tongue in my mouth and your hands on my hips.
Or maybe she’d write something less humiliating but far more painful. I’m sorry. Goodbye.
Have a nice life.
It hurt so damn much to leave him like this. What if she never saw him again? Or what if she did see him again but he refused to speak to her? It came as a relief then, when she finally did find a pen and paper. Because Ethan had already used them to scrawl a note for her.
Getting breakfast. – E
Short and to the point. She couldn’t help but smile, despite her lingering sense of dread. It was almost enough to make her stay. She imagined him walking into an empty cabin with a box of donuts. Imagined the flicker of confusion in his eyes. The disappointment. Assuming he was disappointed. Oh God, would he be disappointed if she was gone—or relieved?
That way lay madness.
Because even if he was disappointed, he’d made it clear he wasn’t ready for them to be more than friends. Just… why did he have to be so thoughtful? And hot, with his abs and his lopsided smile? Driving up yesterday, he’d looked like a lumberjack. A shirtless one…
Why did he have to be everything she wanted?
She glanced at the sky through the window. Clear. A blue so pale it was almost white. There was no reason to wait any longer. She’d just been stalling, anyway. Hoping he’d make it back before she left.
She didn’t leave the present she’d gotten for him.
She didn’t leave a note.
She ignored Oreo’s doleful eyes and drove toward Austin—and kept driving, even when the sky turned dark. It started to rain. And then the rain turned to ice. And the ice grew large, banging on the top of her car, probably leaving dents. The hard sleet slowed her car down, the low visibility, until she was almost at a crawl. It took three times as long to get home.
When she got there, the signal caught up to her phone. A flurry of missed calls and texts dinged at the same time.
Why’d you leave?
At least tell me you’re okay.
Goddammit.
The last one had made her smile, just a little. She could picture him standing there, frustrated, saying that word, while Oreo pranced around his legs. She clutched the phone in both hands, wondering whether to call or text.
In the end, she typed, I’m okay.
Which was about as final as she could be. He got the message. He didn’t call again.