Pattering feet rushed down the hall and toward the main garage before Derrick appeared. Ethan released me but kept one arm around my waist. “What is it, bud?” he asked Derrick.
“The cartoons are over,” he said, marching to stand directly between us.
I smiled down at him. “What do you want to do?” I asked.
He shrugged and clung to Ethan. The boy needed a male figure in his life desperately—enough that he clung to all the decent men around him. My boy needed a father figure, even if it wasn’t his actual father. I looked between them and bit my lip. “One date,” I told Ethan.
He whipped his head around and looked at me. “Really?”
I nodded and tried to tell myself that I did it solely so that Derrick would have a father figure. If it was for Derrick, I was in no way betraying Bruce. For Derrick, Bruce would have done anything, and I would do the same.
Chapter Six
“When I said we could go on a date, this isn’t exactly what I meant,” Ethan chastised as we walked into the nearest home improvement store.
“Do you have something against shopping?” I asked.
He chuckled. “I guess not.” I grabbed a large cart, and Ethan immediately took it from my hands. “I really don’t care what you pick out for my house. I’m sure it will look good,” he added.
I bumped into him like we used to do as teenagers. “It will. But I have to woo you to get this contract, remember?” I teased.
We scanned the appliances and light fixtures as I price checked everything I needed with the budget on my list. The budge was less than half of what I was used to working with, so I knew I’d need to buy cheaper products and do all the woodwork myself. It was something I preferred anyways. I could easily build products that were exactly what I wanted rather than buying products that were a close second to my preferences.
We approached the lumber and I smiled. “We’d better get to loading. I need about a dozen two by fours and a few one by eights,” I said, pointing at the stacks.
Ethan looked surprised. “You build your own stuff?” he asked. He grabbed one end of a board while I helped him with the other.
“I built most of the wooden furniture in the pictures I showed you. It’s messy, but it’s worth it.”
“You built all of that?” he asked again.
“Should I be offended that you doubt me?” I asked, brushing my hands over an especially splintered piece of wood.
Ethan stood aside as I situated the cart so the wood would all fit effortlessly. “I’m impressed.”
I smiled sweetly at him and place both hands on my hips. “Do I have the job, then?”
He snorted. “That’s still to be determined.”
“It was worth a shot.” I knew that in the short-term rental properties, my woodwork expertise would give me massive bonus points, but for the apartments—the ones that didn’t come furnished—I’d need to demonstrate fundamental design skills. It was a tough business, but I was going to come out on top. For my son, I would work my ass off until I got where I needed to be.
As we scanned the kitchen wall tiles, I took notes on the prices for the basic tiles as Ethan scanned the most expensive end. “I like some of the ones over here,” he told me.
I winced as I looked at the tiles he was indicating. “Those are double the budget. And finding something to match the green specks inside would be hell. You don’t want neon green kitchen walls, do you?” I asked.
Ethan rubbed his stubble. “I didn’t think about that.” I knew with his property business, he had more than enough money, and he could buy whatever he wanted. With my business, though, I had to prove a point.
“Plus, I have cheaper and more interesting ideas on backsplashes. We need to spend most of the budget in other departments,” I told him.
“What else are you going to do to my house?” he asked.
I smirked and bounced in front of the cart, guiding it away from the wall tiles. “I thought you said that you trusted my decisions.”
Ethan sighed and followed me into the lighting section. That was where most of the damage would be done. It was impossible to do lighting by hand, so many of the lighting purchases would take a huge majority of the budget. That was followed by small details like faucets, wall décor, and outlet covers. I knew I’d hit the budget right on the head if I followed my plan, but it would be time consuming.
I eyed a small, elegant ceiling light with a fan. It was modern, but small and cheap enough that it would work in any room. I glanced at Ethan, who looked at other, much more expensive options. Maybe bringing him was a poor decision. Seeing what he could have was something that I didn’t allow most of my clients. Once it was finished, would he compare it back to a light fixture that he liked more? Would it ruin the effect of my hard work?
“Eyes over here,” I chastised. “Budget, remember?”
Ethan made his way toward me as a soft female laugh whispered through the air and caught our attention. I smiled at the stranger as she walked up to us. “I remember how hard it was keeping him focused during home renovations,” the woman teased. She was the definition of tall, blonde, and beautiful. With fake eye lashes and a face full of makeup, she laughed at her own joke.
I smiled politely as Ethan looked down at her, straight faced. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” I asked.
“Oh, silly me. Ethan probably hasn’t mentioned me.” She rested her hand on his arm, reached past him, and extended her hand to me. Her fingers were professionally manicured, and the watch on her wrist matched the black, white, and gold romper she wore. “I’m Taylor,” she said.
I shook her hand with a firm grip that she mimicked. “He hasn’t. I’m Elena,” I told her. Something about the interaction felt weird and forced. Ethan was clearly uncomfortable as he straightened his shirt and pulled his shorts a millimeter lower to cover the remnants of the scar that peaked out below them.
She gasped and straightened with a smile. “The Elena who moved away for a while? I heard so much about you when we were together,” she cooed, turning to look at Ethan. “Speaking of our relationship, I was thinking maybe we could get coffee and talk sometime.”
It all clicked into place.
She was the ex-girlfriend who made him feel inadequate after the fire—the one who left him because he was burned. She was the monster who took his self-esteem and crushed it beneath her perfectly pedicured toes. I opened my mouth to start a verbal battle that would surely end up with her on the floor when Ethan spoke. “What do you want to talk about?” he asked.
I was speechless. Was he considering? “I haven’t talked to you since the day I left. I just, like, feel like we didn’t end on good terms,” she said.
“Good terms?” I found myself mumbling. She sent me a side eyed glance before looking at Ethan again. I never thought I could feel so much hatred.
“We didn’t end on good terms,” Ethan said gently. “I’m happy where I am in life right now, so I’ll pass on the coffee date.”
I was partially satisfied that he turned her down, but did he have to be so generous about it? I clenched my teeth shut. She flushed and chuckled breathily. “I’m sorry, this isn’t a good time. I’ll try to catch up with you later,” she said politely. The girl had the audacity to look at me again and smile as if she held something over me. “It was nice meeting you.”
She turned and walked away as I silently fumed. Who did she think she was? I glared at Ethan. “I think we should leave,” I told him. I had what I truly needed, and I had ideas for everything else. “Now.”
He nodded. I turned and strutted toward the counter. If I saw her face one more time, there would be no nice words exchanged. In fact, I was confident that she would have a black eye by the end of the encounter. I was not a fighter. I was not confrontational, but when somebody hurt someone who meant something to me, I was an entirely different person.
We checked out and I paid with my business card. Ethan argued, but I explained to him how my billing was done,
and that he would ultimately be paying the agreed bill.
When the wood was loaded into Ethan’s truck, I climbed in the passenger’s seat and turned to him. “After what she did to you, how could you be so nice to her?” I asked.
His brows furrowed as he looked at me. “How do you know what she did to me?” he asked. His face loosened as he realized. “Sylvia?”
I nodded but continued. “How could you let someone treat you that way and be civil to them?”
“Are you jealous?” I knew his words were said to deflect my questioning, but I still considered his accusation. Jealous wasn’t necessarily the right word to use, but I was hurt that there was somebody else who could lay claim to him. What did that mean for me?
“No,” I said. I couldn’t tell if it sounded truthful or not. “Why would you be so kind to her? Seriously, Ethan.”
He looked at his lap. “I can’t be rude to a woman. It’s how I was raised, and no matter what, I can’t hurt one. And Taylor… she was there for me for a long time,” he told me.
I shook my head. “Being there for a long time doesn’t justify leaving when things get a little difficult,” I shouted.
He looked up at me, and when I made eye contact with his gentle brown eyes, I realized something that he’d never say to me, though I knew we were both aware of it. I was guilty of leaving the same way Taylor was. When my career became impossible without moving, I left. I left our budding relationship behind without a second thought. I may not have left him broken and scarred, but I left when the going got rough.
Neither of us said a word as we looked at each other. I nodded and faced forward in my seat. “Promise me you won’t meet her,” I asked him.
He nodded and put the truck in gear. “I promise.”
The entire ride back to his house, I considered what I was doing with him. Was I dragging him along to once again leave when it was most convenient for me? I stood by my theory that two damaged people couldn’t make a healthy relationship, but what if we worked through our problems? I glanced at Ethan from the corner of my eye. Neither his single-handed driving nor the straight look on his face was extraordinary, but it struck a chord within me.
I’d avoided men for so long out of respect for Bruce, but at some point, I needed to move on.
Chapter Seven
Contrary to my initial assumptions, Ethan was far from inexperienced with power tools. The skies were overcast, and rain was quickly approaching and likely to continue constantly for the next week. In a hurry, I set up my sander and power saw in Ethan’s front yard. Rather than staying away and doing his own thing, he insisted on helping in whatever way he could. I took measurements of what I needed and marked where each piece of wood was to be cut. Ethan didn’t ask questions as he made the proper cuts and sanded each piece of wood.
I labeled each piece of wood with the measurements and their pile number, so as he did the cutting, I stained it a rich, dark brown. We were nearly done when the sound of pouring rain became a wave of chaos on the roof. I jumped to my feet as the power saw shut off.
I rushed to the front door and met Ethan. He was drenched. “Oh my gosh,” I laughed, covering my mouth. “Did you get the saw in the garage before it started raining?”
He scowled. “If it weren’t for the damn saw, I wouldn’t be soaked.”
I led him back into the room and showed him how to properly stain the boards. That was a skill he hadn’t previously picked up. When he went to put the stain on, he gobbed it onto the board so thick that it dripped onto the tarp beneath our work area.
By the time we were almost finished staining the boards, Ethan was dry from the rain, but covered in the stain from head-to-toe. He had a small streak above his left eyebrow and on the right of his chin. Seeing him in a way other than perfect made my heart skip a beat. He slouched as he painted his last board with full concentration. I looked at him for minutes before he finally looked up. “What are you looking at, Lena?” he asked.
“You’re a disaster,” I told him, pointing to his face. I sat on an overturned bucket, facing him. “You have stain everywhere.”
He squinted his eyes and stood slowly, predatorily. “You do, too,” he argued, stepping slowly in my direction.
“No, I…” I realized why he was being so predatory when he wiped his stained brush across my left cheek. I jumped up with my mouth agape and stared at him in shock. “You didn’t,” I gasped.
All traces of anger dissipated when a sincere, unrelenting smile lit his face. I’d seen him smile politely, and out of kindness, but this was the smile I had known and loved. This smile was the reason I’d have done anything for him. “What are you going to do about it?” he asked, stepping away from me.
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re done for,” I promised.
I grabbed my brush and without hesitation, threw it. The brush itself hit him directly in the middle of the chest, but the stain splattered his entire face. It fell to the ground and I stood defenseless. It felt like slow motion as Ethan looked at what I did and back at me. I could hardly contain my smile. He bent at the knees and dipped his entire hand in the stain before standing. “I think you’re the one who is done for.”
“Shit.” I turned and sprinted toward his kitchen island where I knew I could get away. He chased fervently, but I had enough of a head start that I stood on one side and he stood on the other scowling at me. “We can call it truce,” I proposed. He ran one way and I mimicked, keeping a fair distance away from him.
“There are no truces in war.”
I cringed as the stain dripped on his light hardwood floors. “These are stains that you won’t be able to clean up,” I said.
I was shocked when he sprung over the countertop and slid directly in front of me. Stain smudged on the granite and I tried turning to run, but I didn’t make it a step. He caged me in his arm and lifted his stained hand to my face. I panted for breath. Was I winded, or was it his closeness? Despite the strong odor of stain, his scent—the soap I loved—mixed with it and made him irresistible.
He smiled as he lowered his finger to my cheek and drug it downward. I felt the moisture of the stain sticking to my skin, but I didn’t flinch away from his touch. Heat burned between us as the finger trailed further down my cheek and jaw. He finally settled his hand on the nape of my neck. His smile slowly dropped as he noticed my longing expression. I became hyperaware of his torso pressed into mine and the arm that wound around the small of my back. His palm on my nape left tingles as his fingers wound through the roots of my hair.
My breathing grew shallow as I hesitantly wrapped my arms around him. I wanted this to happen. In fact, this was all I had wanted since I caught him in my yard. I waited for him to bend forward and pull my lips to his, but he didn’t. He dipped his head and watched every expression as it crossed my face.
I was done waiting.
I lifted myself to my tiptoes and brushed my lips against his. I moved my hand to the back of his head and pulled it down so I could better reach. With that small gesture, he brought me closer and bent his neck to pull my mouth more firmly against him. I relaxed at the gesture, thrilled that he seemed to want the contact as much as I did.
The warmth of his lips oozed into me, and my core warmed at his gentle touch—at the caress of his hand on the nape of my neck. He did everything right, and as the rigid muscles of his stomach press into me, I knew I couldn’t ask for anything better. He swept his tongue across my lower lip, and I released a breathy gasp. Ethan shuttered, and I felt him hardening across my stomach. The moment was too perfect—too unbreakable.
“Honey, I’m home,” Garrett’s voice echoed from the front door. I froze in Ethan’s arms and he glared at the door.
“Could he have worse timing?” Ethan growled before moving both hands to my hips and gripping them tightly. “We’ll finish this later.” he kissed my forehead lightly and waltzed out of the room and toward Garrett’s voice.
I gaped as he exited, and I stood, knees still weak ben
eath me. I panted for breath and felt the heat within my core slowly evaporate as Ethan and Garrett’s voices trailed into the kitchen from the dining room. Other voices accompanied it, and I found myself walking toward them. Standing around Ethan and my mess was Benji and Garrett. The only ones missing were Scott and Nehemiah. “Do you guys travel in a pack?” I joked.
Benji nodded. “We’re just that close, bro.”
“Benji’s a dumbass. We carpool on our way in for our shifts most of the time,” Garrett said. He looked down at his watch. “We still have about forty-five minutes until we need to be there.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked. I caught myself sounding disappointed at their presence, so I smiled and pointed at the piles of wood and the disaster area Ethan and I created. “You can help me build some furniture.”
Fortunately, they both shook their head and declined. I did better when I built the furniture alone. My perfectionism ensured that I did everything as I envisioned it, and once they started helping, they would settle for good enough. “Sorry, but we’re here to talk business,” Garrett responded.
“Who’s full of shit now?” Benji mumbled. It was quickly followed by Ethan and Garrett telling him to shut up. Benji was clearly the one who took the most shit out of the group, but I could tell that everyone loved him like a brother.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just get to work while you guys talk,” I told them with a smile. Ethan looked apologetic, but I smiled.
They stood on the other end of the dining room, so it was easy to hear each word spoken. I plugged in my drill and replaced the bit. The first project I had was a custom wooden coffee table for the living room, so I situated the pieces and ensured they were all measured correctly. It was difficult to tune out the conversation, and my need to eavesdrop didn’t help matters.
I finished situating my wood and started on the lower base. I refrained from starting the drill, knowing it would mask what they were saying, so I busied myself with wiping excess stain from the boards. They were still damp, but I was on a strict, self-imposed timeline, and screwing together a few boards wouldn’t affect the staining process.
Hearts Ablaze (Courageous Hearts Series Book 2) Page 4