A wicked grin curved on his lips, almost blotting out the worries flying around in his head. “You can turn the lights out, if you want.”
“Never.” Her dark eyes almost glowed in the soft, orange light of the standing lamp in the corner of the room. Outside, rain splattered the window in a steady beat. “I don’t want to miss a second of this.”
“Me neither.”
Did she feel it, too? That connection. That spark. That thing that told him this could be everything.
If he wasn’t careful, he’d dig a hole he’d never escape from.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered.
Seeing Monroe be vulnerable with him…God, it was everything. Because she didn’t give out her truth easily or freely or often, as far as he had seen. But as he’d gotten to know her, peeling back her layers one by one, he’d seen the side of her that she’d shamed and hidden away. The side of her that had been hurt so badly in the past.
Guilt stabbed him in the gut. A storm cloud of doubt loomed over them—his indeterminate but inevitable departure. His newly formed trust issues.
Ethan had no idea what he was going to do about any of it. But right now, none of that seemed important. At least, not as important as showing Monroe what she meant to him. He wanted to drown in her. He wanted to love her so hard that the only option was for her to fall asleep with her body curled up next to his. He wanted to hold her and promise her that everything would be okay.
But you don’t know that. Everything may very well not be okay.
He stroked a hand up and down her back, tracing her spine with his fingertips as they kissed. Slow this time. Gentle and exploratory. Monroe slipped down and grabbed Ethan’s hand, leading him around to the other side of the couch.
They were both topless and in their jeans, and Monroe shimmied hers over her hips, letting them slide to the floor. He followed suit, both of them stripping down until there was nothing between them. Ethan pulled Monroe into his arms and lowered them to the couch, so he was sitting and she was straddling his lap.
Her arms draped over his shoulders and the back of the couch, and she looked at him with that sexy, coy smile he’d come to love seeing on her.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She rocked her hips back and forth, teasing him. Not that he needed it; he was already harder than granite.
“Doesn’t look like nothing.” He nuzzled the side of her neck, enjoying the way she always sighed when he hit her favorite spot.
Monroe reached for a blanket that was hanging over one arm of the couch and wrapped it around her like a cape. It was a little chilly in the apartment and he pulled the blanket around him, too, trapping them together inside.
“I was just thinking…” She looked down, her telltale flush creeping over her cheeks. “This has been good.”
“Good?” He raised an eyebrow. “The way you were screaming my name last time I’d say it was more than good.”
“I don’t mean the sex.” She could barely look at him. “I mean, working on things together. Having a partner in crime.”
You shouldn’t be doing this.
He was getting in too deep. She was getting in too deep.
None of this was supposed to be about helping one another improve their lives. And it certainly wasn’t supposed to be about feeling proud of it. But he would be lying through his front teeth if he denied that it felt like sunshine and the good parts of life he thought he’d lost. In fact, being with Monroe felt a whole lot like putting himself back together. Like being the Ethan he was before his life had fallen apart.
“You’re about to say something sweet,” she said with a smile.
Shit. It terrified him to think she could read him so easily. That even if he tried to hide things from her—like the softer parts of him—she could sniff them out with ease.
“I’d rather taste something sweet.” He shook the unsettling thoughts from his head and reached down between them to find her wet and ready. He toyed with her sex, drawing a sharp gasp from her. “You’re a goddess, Monroe.”
“I’m just a woman.” Her eyes fluttered shut and she rocked against his hand. “Just your average, run-of-the-mill person.”
“No, you’re not.” He said the words so harshly that her eyes snapped open and her mouth dropped open in surprise. “You’re a wonderful, full-of-potential person.”
For a moment they just sat there, staring one another down. Dammit, he knew Monroe’s confidence issues were none of his business but he wanted her to see in herself what she saw in him. He wanted her to believe she was capable of everything she’d set out to achieve before the demise of her marriage and the family fallout that had broken her heart.
“You are so much more than what you give yourself credit for,” he said, shaking his head.
Monroe looked away, but he drew her face back to his, forcing her to meet his gaze. He looked at her long and hard, wanting more than anything for her to see that he was sincere. That he…
That you what? Care? That you feel something for her?
They were dangerous thoughts. Pointless thoughts. Because he was inching closer to the truth and once he did, there’d be nothing else for him here. No more ghosts to chase, no family to find. Nothing. At some point he had to go back to Australia and pick up the pieces of his shattered life.
She rolled her hips up, encouraging him to press at the spot between her legs, seeking out her entrance. “I want you, Ethan.”
The words were like a sledgehammer to his restraint. How did she slay him like that? How did she take everything he thought he knew and snap it clean in two?
She grabbed a condom from her bedroom and brought it back, still wearing the blanket. It was huge and swept the ground around her, making her look like Little Red Riding Hood. Ethan sheathed himself and pulled her back onto his lap.
“You’re magnificent,” he told her, cradling her face with both his hands. “And you should never think otherwise.”
She kissed him long and hard, and he grasped her hips, pulling her down and making her sink onto him. When it felt right, he pushed up, burying himself inside her, rewarded with her sharp gasp so close to his ear that he felt it right down to his toes. It was perfect.
He rocked back and forth, thrusting up deep each time. He lost himself in her body—in the springing curls on her head and the soft, demanding lips and her silky, freckled skin. He lost himself in her dark gaze and her wandering hands and the needy little whimpers she made as he held her tight.
“Yes, Ethan,” she moaned as her thighs clenched around his hips. He smothered her words with a kiss, driving one hand into her hair and keeping his other arm wrapped around her waist, holding them as close as possible. “I…”
His heart stuttered, not knowing whether he wanted to hear what she was going to say next or not. Not knowing whether he was strong enough to withstand it, given the ticking countdown that would soon lead him away.
“I like you a lot,” she whispered, looking him right in the eye as she touched his cheek.
“I like you a lot, too, Monroe.”
It turned out that Ethan hadn’t lost himself at all.
Because he was exactly where he wanted to be.
Chapter Seventeen
Monroe stirred sometime later—was a minute or an hour? Who knew? Heck, it could have been a week for how sleepy and relaxed she felt. Ethan was beneath her on the couch, naked and warm. She laid her head on his chest and his big arms held her in place, the blanket covering them both.
She could hear his heart beating. The steady thump lulled her into a state of bliss and contentment, and he gently stroked her back.
A thought struck her out of nowhere—this was the happiest she’d been in a very long time. Not just since she’d separated from Brendan, but for quite a while before that, too. On her long, lonely nights she’d
reflected on the past. Her marriage had been over well before she found out about the affair. She just hadn’t admitted it to herself.
“What are you thinking?” he asked. “I can hear your brain cogs turning from here.”
She smiled. “Nothin’. You turned me to mush.”
“Good. That’s how it should be.”
Monroe watched the shadows shifting on the floor beneath the window overlooking Main Street. The rain was pouring even harder now and it caused the light to shift and distort. Ethan looked utterly delicious. His blue eyes were hooded and his hair was sticking out in all directions, a reminder that they’d been a little rough and ready with one another in the best way possible.
“I found out something that might help your search,” she said.
That hazy, dreamy look on his face vanished like a magician’s trick, replaced by coiled anticipation. “Tell me.”
“Brian pulled me aside while we were in the first part of the tour, but he made me swear that we would keep it on the down low.” She searched his face. Could she trust him not to rat Brian out? “I need you to promise that you won’t break my word with him.”
“How can I promise that before I even know what you’re going to tell me?”
“Because I have to keep living here, Ethan. This is going to be my home for as long into the future as I can see.” She sucked in a breath. “And I don’t break promises.”
They stared one another down for a long moment, bodies still entwined, hearts still scarred. But eventually Ethan nodded. “Okay, I won’t tell anyone.”
“Brian thinks that if there’s any evidence left of the letters they’ll be with Lottie May.”
“Lottie?” Ethan blinked. “Really?”
She told him the story about the removal of Matthew’s mother’s personal effects after her passing, and how Lottie turned up begging Brian not to trash the sentimental items.
“She did indicate that they were friends.” Ethan rubbed a hand over his face, like he was trying to wake himself up. “She cornered me after I’d visited the funeral home, wanting to know why I was poking around in things. She said she hoped Matthew Brewer, at least this one, wasn’t my father, and that she blamed him for his mother’s death.”
“But he died before his mother.” Monroe shook her head.
“I think she meant more that his mother died of a broken heart.”
“Oh.” Monroe let some memories roll around in her head. “Brian said she was crying and I don’t think anyone has ever seen Lottie cry. Not even that one time that she slipped and broke her arm in three places.”
A strange expression crossed over Ethan’s face. “I’ve seen her cry.”
“When?”
“She was looking over something in her office and I went to see if she was okay. She snapped at me, like I thought she would, but…” His eyes flicked back and forth like he was running a memory on loop in his head. “She was reading a letter, I think. She shoved it in her office drawer when she saw me standing there.”
“I guess no matter how tough someone seems on the outside, we all have our own personal heartaches.”
“Like you,” he said softly, his fingers toying with a curly strand of her hair. “You have a tough shell, but on the inside you’re like a big old bundle of fairy floss.”
“I am not!” Then she laughed. “What’s fairy floss?”
“How can you protest without even knowing what I’m saying?” he chided.
“I get the context from your tone.”
“Fairy Floss is that sticky pink stuff they serve at carnivals and amusement parks. I think you call it something else?” He screwed his nose up while he was thinking. “Cotton Candy.”
“You call it Fairy Floss in Australia? That’s adorable.” She laughed, but then she narrowed her eyes. “And I am not Fairy Floss or Cotton Candy or any other sweet, soft thing on the inside. Just because I let you in my pants doesn’t mean you get to psychoanalyze me.”
She was only defensive because of how true his comment hit. Monroe was soft and squishy on the inside. Back in the day, pre-betrayal, she’d been way more soft and squishy on the outside, too. Hence, her getting hurt so badly.
“I call it like I see it,” he said, continuing to play with her hair. “It’s not a bad thing, complexity is sexy.”
“Said no man ever,” she scoffed.
“I think it’s sexy. When you meet a person, you want lots of layers to peel back and interesting things to discover. How boring would it be if you met someone and then that was it—no discovery, no learning, nothing to figure out.”
“You just like puzzles.” She laughed. “I’m pretty sure most guys want their women to be straightforward. What you see is what you get.”
“Not me,” he said resolutely. “Besides, nobody is truly one-dimensional and anyone trying to appear that way is hiding something or acting the way they think they should act.”
“And this concludes our psychoanalysis hour with Dr. Ethan Hammersmith.”
He cringed, but then shook his head as if trying to shake something off.
“What?” she asked.
“My last name. I can’t stand the sound of it now.” He offered her a weak smile and Monroe’s heart almost burst right on the spot, flooding her with empathy for this incredible man and all he’d been through. All the lies he’d been told and the secrets he’d had kept from him.
Like you’re any better. He doesn’t even know your divorce failed and that technically you’re still married.
She opened her mouth to tell him, but no words would come out. What if he branded her the same as his mother, just another woman who’d lied to him? And it was a lie, if even only by omission. At the beginning it didn’t seem to matter, because all this was meant to be fake. They owed one another nothing, had no promises beyond their arrangement.
But now…
You care about him.
She did. Deep down she knew that Ethan was special to her, that what they had wasn’t just some arrangement with benefits. That he was the kind of man who had the potential to open up and heal her battered heart, and that she could do the same for him.
But if she told him the truth now, would she even have the chance to explain herself? He’d gotten what he wanted: information. He knew that if his father grew up here, Lottie would likely be the one to have answers.
He didn’t need Monroe anymore.
“Hey?” Ethan caught her chin and tipped her face up. “You okay? You went deathly quiet for a minute there.”
“Just tired,” she said weakly. “You wore me out.”
“You sure?” There it was, an opening.
She could tell him everything now and hope that he wouldn’t walk out on her. She could hope that this fragile bond would survive her truth and that maybe there was a tiny hope Ethan might stay.
It’s a hope on a hope on a hope.
Deep down she knew the odds were stacked against them, but the thought of having him leave her now, after the night they’d shared, after the passion that had burned brightly between them, after the realization that he meant something to her…she wasn’t sure her heart could take the pain of it.
How could a heart like hers withstand another blow?
“I’m sure,” she said, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue.
Part of her knew this would come back to bite her, but she promised herself that she would tell him…just as soon as she found the right moment.
…
Ethan could not believe he was in this predicament. Moreover, he could not believe that he’d let himself feel good about helping Monroe, especially when it came at the expense of his own dignity.
But here he was, dressed as Thor and crouching down to take pictures with two little boys whose smiles were pure sunshine. Monroe was standing next to him, a tray of Thor-inspired cupcakes
in her hand. They’d changed the plan a little from her initial idea, getting some vouchers printed to hand out with the cupcakes offering people a discount if they came back and spent a certain amount, rather than rewarding them with a cupcake after having a meal.
Ethan might have been a tech guy, but working in consulting had taught him a thing or two about fostering customer relationships and the importance of a goodwill gesture. He and Monroe had put a business plan together for the Sunshine Diner, working on it over the three nights since the ghost tour. That was their routine now—during the day she worked at the diner and he continued helping Lottie at the inn and continued searching for a connection between his mother and father in Cape Cod. At night he and Monroe planned and had dinner and made love until they both collapsed in a tired heap in her bed.
He loved every second of it.
Well…except this.
“Don’t you look like a real superhero!” a woman said, eyeing him with a smile curving on her bright red lips. “Do you take pictures with adults as well as kids?”
“Sure.” He smiled good-naturedly, shooting Monroe a look out of the corner of his eye, but she was too busy trying not to laugh to offer him any sympathy.
They’d bought his costume from a shop one town over—black and gold chest plate, a red cape, wrist cuffs and, of course, a hammer. The costume was cheap and Ethan was pretty sure that it was made of 100 percent polyester, but according to Monroe it was tight in all the right places…whatever that meant.
The woman came to stand next to Ethan, handing her phone to a friend. She slid right up next to him, slipping one arm around his waist and leaning in so that her breasts squished against him.
“Say cheese,” the friend called out as she took a few photos.
“You really do look like him,” the woman said, shaking her head.
“Oh really? That’s the first time I’ve heard it,” he quipped. “Make sure you grab a cupcake and come back to the Sunshine Diner with your voucher.”
“Oh I will.” The woman giggled and went back to her friend, collecting her goodies from Monroe on the way.
Darlene poked her head out from the front door of the diner, a big smile on her face. “I have to tell you two, we have reservations for the next few weeks. Nobody ever makes a reservation!”
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