by Logan Chance
She pulls out her phone and Googles all the cool things in Seattle while we eat. She’s as excited as me.
After the pizza is gone and we’ve watched Dancing With The Stars, Charla turns to my news segment before we watch the late night show, which has none other than Ethan as the guest.
“Nova, you’re so funny,” she laughs, watching me try to navigate through a mountain to find the finest huckleberries.
“Oh, that reminds me, I have a whole bag of huckleberries for you.”
My segment ends, and my stomach does this unfamiliar flip flop as I wait to see Ethan on screen.
It’s weirder now. Before, he was a stranger, someone I never even had any chance of meeting, and now he’s in my life.
And yes, he may be a little bit jerky, or a lot cocky, but underneath it all, I know there’s more. I’ve seen there’s more. Like how he stocked my kitchen cabinet for starters, he didn’t need to do that. Or fix the light on my front porch.
The late show intro music plays, and now there is a seesaw in my stomach. Like someone just jumped off the other end. Maybe it’s just the pizza. I try to act nonchalant as Ethan is called to the stage alongside his co-star, Harley Morgan.
Ethan is scrumptious in a navy suit jacket over a t-shirt, and jeans. Like ‘Hey, I don’t even need the rest of the suit.’ Harley looks alright, I guess, in her child size, strapless black dress.
They take a seat on the couch, and after some light chit chat, the host, Mikey Davis, gets to the personal stuff.
“Now word is that you two didn’t particularly get along on the set of your last movie while filming.” Mikey says.
“Is there a question in there, Mikey?” Ethan asks in that voice I love. The audience laughs.
“I guess everyone here in the audience, and the viewers at home, just want to know what’s up with you two?”
Ethan remains silent as Harley answers.
“I think it was the sexual tension,” she says.
“So, how’s that going?” Mikey jokes. “Have you relieved the tension?”
Harley is very handsy, touching Ethan’s thigh as she plays coy.
“Are they dating?” Charla asks.
“I don’t know.” I can’t hear my own answer as I rise and move into the kitchen to clear away the dinner mess. For some reason, I don’t want to hear the rest. I take all my fantasies of him and flush them down the toilet. Twice. Double flush.
Chapter 13
Ethan
That was intense. I always love doing the late show. There’s an energy with a live broadcast that can’t be equaled when taping.
After thanking Mikey, I make my way off set.
When I round the corner, on my way to my dressing room, my eyes land on the legend herself—Tara Rainwater, a Goddess in these parts.
She moves toward me with the confidence only an actress who’s received more Oscars than any of her peers can. Her eyes catch mine gawking at her, and she smiles.
And then the diva of Hollywood speaks to me,
“Ethan Hale, I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Ms. Rainwater, I’ve seen every movie you’ve ever been in. I’m a huge fan.”
She steps closer. “You’ve got quite the career ahead of you, my dear boy.”
I chuckle. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do.” She arches an elegant brow. “You have to remember to pull at the strings just enough, so they don’t choke you, and you’ll be fine.”
“I could only hope to be as successful as you.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t measure success by how many movies you star in or how much money you make. A successful life is a happy one.”
A production assistant calls for her, and I nod as she walks away.
“Wow, you met the icon,” Jared says, meeting up with me.
“Yeah, I almost wanted to ask for a picture with her, or an autograph.”
“Did you want me to bring your car around? The driver can take you home.”
I pat Jared on the shoulder. “Yeah, that works.”
“Hope you’re not doing anything that will end up in the rags,” Harley’s snarky voice says behind me.
I turn around. “That’s really none of your business.”
Her calculating eyes flash at me. “They’ve been loving your new sister.”
“Jared, call the car. I’m outta here.”
When I exit the building, cameras flash, so I stop to wave and smile for the fans.
The car pulls up, and I hop inside. I’m looking forward to returning to Pity Falls tomorrow. Being in LA these past few days has brought back the stress and headache.
The next day, I make it back to Montana late in the evening. It feels good to be back. It’s like time runs on a different clock here, slower and more relaxed. Instead of Nova’s, Dad drops me off at the local hotel before heading over to Dahlia’s house. I check in and take the elevator to the second floor Grand Suite. It’s better this way, really, with me at a hotel and Nova at her house. Yeah, it’s definitely better this way. Especially after the latest tabloid of us when I helped her dismount. I texted Nova before my flight took off to make sure she didn’t let it get to her, and her response was ‘Already freaked out and moved on.’
Once I’m settled in my room, I flip on the television and there she is. Her late-night segment on the local news is in full swing as she laughs along with an older gray-haired man.
Together, they’re showing the viewer how to pan for gold.
She sifts through the rocks and dirt in her green pan, standing by a creek bed.
“Did you know that Montana has a lot of gold here? We’re not finding any, but many people made tons of money here back in the day,” she says to the camera.
I smile.
Her lips curve upward, and they’re the same color as a rose. They probably feel the same, silky and soft. I keep watching her show, intrigued at how much she appears to be enjoying herself.
After her segment ends, I pull out my phone and fire off a text to her.
Me: Did you find gold?
Nova: Ah, you watched my show. No, no gold but I did find a moose tooth.
Me: Well, I can come touch it and you can sell it on eBay, same as gold.
Nova: You’re so full of yourself.
Me: You know you missed me.
Nova: Barely. GUESS WHAT??!!!!
I laugh at her question marks and exclamation points.
Me: What?
Nova: I got the job in Seattle!!!!!
Me: Fucking awesome. We need to celebrate.
Nova: I’m guessing you’re back in town. Hope you’re not on my front porch step.
Me: No, got a room now that the fishing thing is over. Would you want me on your front porch?
She doesn’t respond right away, and I scan through the channels of the TV, waiting for her reply.
A whole fifteen minutes passes, and I grow a little stir crazy. I can’t sit here any longer, so I step out onto Main Street, heading in the direction of the Pity bar. The place is empty for the most part, a few locals decorating either end of the bar, and one of them is Beau, having a beer.
“Hey, man,” I say, when I slide on the stool next to him. I order a draft.
“You glad to be back?” Beau asks.
“Yeah?”
He shakes his head. “You have such a great life.”
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
“I don’t believe it.” He points his beer bottle at me to make his point. “You’re a movie star. ‘Nuff said.”
“Believe me, it has its moments.”
“I bet.” He laughs, returning his bottle to the bar.
“You can have all of that here in Montana. You’re a cop. Women love cops.”
He laughs harder this time. “I don’t know about all that.”
“I do. Who you bringing to the wedding?”
“I haven’t even thought that far.”
“Plenty of hot chicks in Pity Falls,” I say, takin
g a chug of my beer.
He shrugs. “Maybe. Honestly every girl in town is trying to get your attention,” he says, and my mind shoots to Nova.
Not every girl.
“Speak of the devil,” Beau whispers.
I spin in my chair, and my eyes crash into a set of honey brown. Nova. She’s here with that girl from the salon with the purple-tipped hair.
I do a little chin nod, and the two of them make their way over.
“Hey, you,” I say, giving Nova a little shoulder bump with mine. “Congrats on the job. We celebrating?”
“Yes, and thank you.”
She introduces me to her friend Charla, and I purchase a few celebratory drinks and we decide to head to the dart boards.
Guys against the girls. We’re going to win, just saying.
“I’ll have you know, I’m pretty good,” I tell everyone.
Nova raises a brow. “That so? Well, I’m pretty good myself.”
My eyes roam over her body, admiring her red tank and tight as hell jeans. “I’ll say.”
I can’t keep my damn eyes off her. She lifts her dart, aiming with precision, and hits the center dead on.
She peers over her shoulder with a smile. “Not much to do in Montana.”
I guess not. Small towns are notorious for a lack of things to do, and I guess Nova knows her way around a dart board pretty well. And her friend Charla is even better. Hopefully, Beau plays just as well.
The night progresses with a few more drinks, an ass whooping game of darts, I won’t tell you who won...it’s not important, and then Nova and I end up on the dance floor.
The way her body fits against mine is intoxicating. I sniff her hair, taking in the scent of peaches and happiness. My hands drift lower down her back as she hums along with the music.
We sway to “Meant To Be” by Florida Georgia Line and some chick, and I want to pull her closer. I want to feel the curves of her body. But, what’s killing me the most are her eyes, gazing up at me like I’m the most important man in the world. And right now, I wish I was.
“I’m really happy for you,” I whisper against her ear. “Seattle will be great.”
She pushes back, her eyes meeting mine. “Thank you.”
I was supposed to behave, and she feels too damn good in my arms, so when the song ends, I let go of Nova and step away, crossing back to the bar to hang with Beau.
At the end of the night, Nova stands in the parking lot after saying goodbye to Charla.
“I’ll walk you home,” I say, not really asking for her permission. Even though this is probably the safest town in all of America, the need to protect her is fierce.
“I live like two blocks away.” She jabs her thumb in the direction of her house.
“So?”
She takes one step, and then I follow. A light breeze plays in her hair, lifting it slightly off her shoulders. It’s mesmerizing.
“What are you stopping for?” she asks when she realizes I’m no longer right next to her.
I can’t tell her I took a pitstop just to stare at her.
“I just…”
She steps closer. “Are you ok?”
God, I want to tell her so many things, like how I can’t stop staring at her, but I swallow hard instead. I nod. “I’m fine.”
We continue our lazy stroll to her house, and I walk her to the front door where it all becomes weird like a date. We stand on her porch, like two awkward teenagers.
“Thanks for walking me home.” Before I can say anything, she jumps around, frantic. “There’s something in my hair,” she squeals, her hands flying through her lustrous locks. “Something flew into my hair.”
I reach my hands into her hair, sifting through the long, blonde strands. “I don’t see anything.”
“You sure?”
My hands glide along her scalp, and I drift my fingers lower, to the back of her ear. “Pretty sure,” I husk out.
Her pink tongue dances across her lower lip, and I’m frozen in time, watching—waiting—with bated breath for the next move.
Should I kiss her?
I don’t.
Chapter 14
Nova
Ding ding motherfuckers, dinner’s ready. Obviously, I don't say that, but I sure do want to. Something has happened in the three days since Ethan walked me home; it’s like we’ve regressed back to airport Ethan. Back to not-so-nice Ethan.
I haven’t seen him, other than in my obsessive thoughts, since that night. No pop ins at the salon. No texts. No showing up at my house. And no looking at me like a hungry wolf. Because that’s how he looked at me that night. And as much as I tell myself I’m going to stay away, when I’m in his presence, I feel this attraction that overrides everything. I forget a wedding is happening and why we’re even around each other to begin with. Like tonight, Mom invited me over for a dinner party. She’s been a hot mess, so I offered to make my famous mini chicken pot pies. It’s not Ethan Hale famous, but it’s a star in my eyes. A good chunk of the town is here. And of course, the main attraction himself...Ethan.
So, I've sequestered myself in the kitchen and downed three glasses of Chardonnay in an attempt to deal with his presence. My body is nice and relaxed. And so is my mind, ‘cause it can’t quit fantasizing...
The aroma of chicken pot pie fills the house, and I slide the tray out of the oven and carefully place it in the center of the granite topped island.
Warmth radiates at my back, and I stiffen when a tattooed forearm reaches around me to pick off a golden piece of crust.
“You made this?” Ethan asks, pressing much too close to snag another piece of flaky goodness.
“Well it didn't make itself,” I reply.
“Are there peas in it? I don’t eat peas.”
Here we go. “Maybe you should've mentioned that on one of your twenty trips to see if it was ready,” I respond as he steals another piece of crust. Why he's crowding me, I have no idea. But my wine fuddled brain decides to give it back to him by ever so slightly pressing my ass against his crotch. “Unless you're going to die from eating the pea, which I don't think I'll be that lucky, maybe you can pick them out.”
Obviously, my plan to rattle him backfires. I'm no match for Ethan Hale; this guy is a professional. The second my ass makes contact, things deteriorate quickly.
“Maybe you could do it for me,” he murmurs next to my ear as he sneaks another pinch of crust.
His dick presses between my ass cheeks when he gives a nudge back. He's hard. And he’s big. How do you get blessed with his looks, talent, and a big cock too? It’s suddenly very hot in this kitchen.
“I could probably do a lot of things for you,” I whisper. “Doesn't mean I will.”
“What kind of things?” His warm breath next to my ear sends a shiver racing down my spine. “Wrapping those pretty lips around my cock?”
Oh, I love the way he says cock. Dirty and gravelly and sexy. This wine was a really bad idea. Drinking makes me horny.
“Mmm,” rumbles from his throat and my nipples ache from the vibration. “You know what I want you to do?” he asks.
Fuck. His hands rest flat on the countertop caging me in as he continues grinding against my ass. It's been a long time since I've had sex and my clit is throbbing. A few dirtier words from him, and I might come right here in the kitchen.
“What?”
My eyes fall shut when he presses his lips to my neck and glides them up to bite down on my lobe.
“I want you to play a game with me.” His hands glide up my stomach to pinch my nipples. “I think it's fucking hot you're going to be my stepsister. I like the idea I'm not supposed to touch you.”
His words cause a tremor to pass through my core. No, an earthquake. Because I like that too. It's so messed up that I'm now soaked. What the hell is even going on? Before I know what's happening, my tank is lifted up and off. And I don't care, because he immediately palms my breasts and moans in my ear, bucking his hips against my ass.
> “We shouldn’t,” I say in a feeble attempt to maybe put a stop to this.
“I'm so fucking hard for you right now,” he husks against my ear. “If I don’t fuck you right now I’ll die.”
I'm so close to an orgasm, I agree...
The timer on the oven beeps obnoxiously, ending my fantasy, and I rush over to press the button. Jesus. Wow, expensive wine gives top notch fantasies. Much more detailed and realistic than the boxed stuff. I may need to snag a bottle before I leave.
“That smells delicious,” Mom says, crossing the tiled floor as I pull the pot pies out of the oven and place them on top of the stove, trying my best to calm down after getting myself worked up.
“Just needs to cool a while.” Just like me. “How’s it going?”
She reaches for plates in the cherry cabinet and places them on the island. “Everyone’s out on the deck, talking.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Honestly, I’m a little worried about Mom, which is why I haven’t mentioned more about my move to Seattle. If you don’t know her, she looks casually beautiful as always in her long seafoam summer dress and heels. But if you do know her, you’d see the tightness around her normally carefree smile and the shadows in her usually bright eyes.
She leans a hip against the island. “This wedding is turning into a thing.”
“A thing?” I take a seat.
“There was a story printed that I’m a gold digger.”
Ugh. And that reminds me exactly why I need to shutdown these fantasies.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, gently. “I’m having an affair with my soon-to-be brother, if that’s any consolation.”
She laughs a little, her put-together persona fading a bit. “What a mess, huh?”
“Who would have ever thought when you first met Patrick all this would happen?”
She nods and the tightness in her face eases a little. “Just make sure you find the right guy the first time. You’ll know when you’ve found it,” she advises, going into action and pulling out silverware.
“Is it ready yet?” Ethan asks.
I look over my shoulder to where he stands in the arched entry. I’ll never get over how good-looking he is. His white button-down shirt and black slacks look like they were tailored just for him. Which, they probably were. My sleeveless cream shift mini dress suddenly feels as if I’m wearing a parka. It’s stifling in here.