“So, Vada,” Millie drawls in a deeper accent than Ethan’s. She pours coffee into one of his beautiful mugs and hands it to me. “Ethan tells me you’re an author and write those romance books I like to read.”
My cheeks heat and my eyes go wide. I met this woman ten minutes ago, naked in her nephew’s bed, and now the only thing she knows about me is that I write steamy romance. Worst first impression ever.
“Actually, I told her you write smutty romance books,” Ethan corrects with a grin. “But she knew what I was talking about. Millie’s a dirty old woman, so don’t let her sweet face and southern drawl fool you,” he warns, teasing us both. “She probably even has one of those red rooms of pain in her house.”
I narrow my eyes at him, and I’m halfway certain Millie is going to slap him upside the head again, but instead, she sets a plate in front of me with the breakfast works—bacon, eggs, and toast. Ethan sits next to me and smiles as Millie works around this kitchen like she owns the place, setting out salt, pepper, butter, and jelly in the middle of the table.
“I do like those romance books. An old woman like me can use as much loving she can get, even if it’s through fiction. I love me some Danielle Steele and that E.L. James,” she laughs, pretending to fan herself. “Ethan dear, you talk about the red room of pain as if you’ve read Fifty Shades.”
He shuts up, which only causes me to burst into laughter.
“Did you really read it?” I ask, intrigued, and remember our safe word conversation from last night. He totally did.
“He likes to act like he’s some hotshot, but I’m pretty sure I saw a few copies of it floating around the studio,” Millie tells me matter-of-factly. “And, he has a Fifty Shades of Grey inspired mug, too.”
“I was capitalizing, Aunt Millie. Research. And honestly, who hasn’t read it? The FedEx guy told me he read it five times,” he tells her, talking with his mouth full.
“Ethan Booker Rochester! I know your mama taught you better manners than talking with a mouth full of food.” She scolds him like he’s twelve, and it warms my heart that she doesn’t take his shit either.
“Booker?” I arch a brow, teasingly.
“Family name,” he explains, shrugging.
“Never would’ve taken you for a romance reader,” I tease. “You seem more like the kind of guy who prefers pictures.”
Millie smiles and sips her coffee, eyeing the two of us behind her mug. “So what’s the story between you two anyway?”
I was waiting for her to ask. Actually, I’m surprised it took her this long. Curiosity fills her face, and I continue eating, focusing on my food, not really sure what to say.
“She’s renting the cottage while she finishes her manuscript. Apparently, she’s on a major deadline and came here for inspiration. I think she may have found it, Aunt Millie.” Ethan pops an eyebrow up at me, and before I can even respond to his sexual innuendo, Millie continues with her questions.
“So you’re one of Ethan’s tenants?” Millie’s trying to piece together the clues of why we were naked in bed this morning. She raises her eyebrows and waits for me to respond.
“Yes, that’s correct.” I clear my throat and speak up. “I’m from Chicago.”
“Okay,” she says, her smile not faltering a bit. “Well, you two look like you’ve hit it off pretty quick. Ethan is a good boy, though sometimes he can be…arrogant.”
“Aunt Millie! I am most certainly not,” Ethan protests as he laughs.
She playfully rolls her eyes at him. “You know, I don’t like to use those swear words because it’s not ladylike, but many people, especially those of the opposite sex, believe you are.” She looks at me, then whispers, “The ladies are always chasing him, but he’s too busy shooing them away.”
“So you’re gonna blast all my secrets to Vada, are you?” He pushes himself off the counter and pours himself more coffee. “I see how it’s going to be.”
Millie winks at me, and I can’t help but smile as she removes my empty plate. I realize I do need to get to the cottage to write. My laptop is calling me, and inspiration is basically bursting from my fingertips. I’m still smiling thinking about all the words I’m about to write. I haven’t felt this excited to work in weeks.
“I should probably get to the studio. I’ve got some things I need to take care of before lunch,” Ethan says, giving Millie a sweet kiss on her cheek.
I stand, taking that as my cue to leave. “Thank you for breakfast. I really enjoyed it. It was nice to meet you.”
“It was so nice meeting you, darling. Now, don’t you be a stranger for the rest of the week. Remember to come out every once in a while to eat and give Ethan a dose of his own medicine.” She walks over to me and opens her arms to pull me into a big hug. I’m not expecting this at all, so I awkwardly hug her back. Southerners—I seriously love their friendliness—but I’m not used to it. Before I head out, I grab my cup and refill it with coffee.
“Bye,” I say with a small wave. “Thanks again for everything.” I smile at Millie before glancing over at Ethan who’s watching me with heat in his eyes.
His dark hair stacks on his head, and I have the urge to run my fingers through it. My body knows what it had and wants more—lots more. I swallow hard, a small smile playing on my lips as I replay last night before I turn around and leave.
Walking across the cobblestone that leads to the cottage, I hold my mug with a death grip and hope Ethan’s huge cock doesn’t come after me again. Just the thought makes me laugh.
I walk into the cottage and set my coffee down next to my closed laptop. I quickly change into something more comfortable and pull all my long hair up into a messy bun. Once I’m back in my writing uniform, I settle into the chair and prepare to kick my manuscript’s ass.
After opening my laptop, I crack my fingers and read the last chapter I had written. Yesterday I struggled hard, and today I’m laughing at the cursor that’s mocked me for the past few months.
As soon as my fingers hit the keys, the words fly out in sentences, paragraphs, then pages. Hours pass, and I can’t seem to pull away from writing, not right now, when I’m pouring my heart and soul into the pages, but I know I need to take a break.
Considering I’ve been here for four days already, I know I need to call Nora and check on everything back home. It’s been a while since I’ve left the house for longer than a weekend.
I stand up and stretch, allowing every vertebrae in my back to pop. That’s when I realize how sore I actually am, and the only person to blame is Ethan. Pacing, trying to stretch my legs, I grab my phone and hit Nora’s number.
The line rings over and over, and before I hang up, she picks up the phone.
“Hey, Nora,” I say with a smile on my face, trying to be as friendly as possible because sometimes she can be a grump. But that’s why I love her.
She groans then chuckles. “I was napping, Vada.”
“At ten in the morning?” I know she’s giving me shit, like usual.
“When you’re retired, it’s always nap time,” she informs me. “So what can I help you with? And before you can even ask, the cat is still alive. I’ve been feeding him every day and following the psychotic instructions you left for me.”
“Have you been giving him his treats? The beef ones in the plastic container by the coffee maker,” I remind her for probably the fourth time. Oliver is particular with his treats and doesn’t really care for the seafood ones. I’m pretty sure he can sniff out artificial fish flavor from a mile away.
“Yes, but he snubs me each time I walk in and realizes it isn’t you. I’m pretty sure he hates me.” I can hear Nora opening and closing cabinets. If I close my eyes, I can imagine her pulling one of her favorite mugs with some sarcastic saying on it from the cabinet and pouring a cup of coffee. When I hear her sip loudly, I know that’s exactly what she was doing.
“He can just sense when an angry old lady walks into the room,” I reply, trying to get a laugh from her.
“Uh…” I stare out the window toward the house and images of the night flash through my memory like photographs. “Actually,” I begin, clearing my throat, “I had sex. And not just boring, old married couple missionary sex either. Really good sex.”
“What? I didn’t hear you. Old age, remember?” She snickers.
I roll my eyes and speak louder. “I had sex last night, and it was amazing.”
“If I could figure out how to use this damn iPhone, I’d tell you to text me a picture of Mr. Wonderful.”
I laugh. “He’s actually the type I stay away from, which is shocking.”
She knows exactly what type I’m talking about—that bad boy, I’ll dump-you-in-a-day type.
“Ahh,” is all she offers. Nora knows intricate details about my past relationships, why they didn’t work out, and how I’ve been unable to have a long-term relationship in years.
“It’s a no-strings attached kind of thing,” I explain, and can just imagine her shaking her head in disdain, giving me that salty look she’s known for before she breaks into a knowing smile.
“I’m sure it would have to be considering you’re due home in three days, but you’re young and beautiful. It’s about time you had a little fun. Just make sure to leave your heart at the door or on the floor, well, unless you were on the floor.” She pauses as I release a chuckle. “Anyway, you know what I mean. Just don’t get hurt, kid. You know I kinda like you like the daughter I never had.”
“Kinda? Well thanks, Nora. It’s just some adult fun. I mean, what could really happen in three days?”
She laughs. “Ask Cinderella. And just to be clear, you’re staying on deadline, right? If your agent found out you weren’t writing and was…”
“Hardy har har,” I say. “Yes, I’m on track. But speaking of, I need to get back to work. Thanks for taking care of Oliver. Kiss him for me.”
She makes a noise. “Yuck. And get cat hair all over me? No, thank you. Keep me updated, and call me if you need anything, okay?”
“Thanks, Nora. I will.” We hang up, and I immediately get back to work. I write until I’ve finished five more chapters—a new personal record that I couldn’t be prouder of. Over eight thousand words have been added to my manuscript, and if I have a few more days like this, I’ll finally be on schedule. But I’m trying not to jinx myself or creativity. I suck in a deep breath and look out the window and realize it’s almost four in the afternoon. Though I want to keep writing, I force myself to take a break because my stomach won’t stop growling, and I need to eat. Instead of scheduling an Uber and going out, I decide to shower, then sneak over to Ethan’s and raid his fridge. Surprisingly enough, I don’t feel a bit guilty about it.
12
Ethan
After holding a meeting with the interns at the studio and setting up for the live preview event I’m hosting this weekend, I decide to call it a day and head home. Admittedly, I’m anxious to see Vada again.
As soon as I walk in, I smell something coming from the kitchen. Once I walk down the hallway and round the corner, I hear sizzling food. Vada’s working around the kitchen, completely lost in her own world only wearing a tight tank top and skimpy shorts. Not making her aware of my presence, I lean against the door and cross my arms as I watch her shuffling carefree in front of the stove. I can’t help but think how different things might be between us if she didn’t live hundreds of miles away and if I didn’t have a closet of baggage.
She turns around and gasps when she sees I’ve been watching her.
“Jesus!” She presses a hand to her chest as she breathes heavily.
“I’m sorry,” I say with a smile. “Not too often is there a beautiful woman in my kitchen cooking me dinner.”
Vada places a hand on her hip with a spatula between her fingers. “I wasn’t cooking dinner for you.” Her cute laugh gives her away.
Crossing the room, I peek in the skillet and see several hamburger patties. “So you’re going to eat a quadruple burger?” I raise my brows, knowing she’s full of shit. “I’d actually like to watch that. Love a woman with an appetite.”
She laughs. “Yeah, a sexual appetite.”
“Obviously. Because I’m an all-you-can-eat buffet, babe.” I look her up and down, taking my time on her curves and breasts before meeting her eyes. A smile touches her lips, and her eyebrow pops up.
“Really? How much does that cost?” She chuckles.
“Just one night.” I’m tempted to lean her against the counter and devour her for dinner, but considering the macaroni is about to boil over, I wait. After turning off the burner, she finishes up and carefully places the food on two plates.
Before sitting down, I grab her cheeks in my palms, lean in, and brush my lips against hers. Closing my eyes, I focus on her mouth as I run my fingers through her hair noticing how much she smells like vanilla and coffee. Vada melts against my touch, and for a moment I’m lost in the sweet taste of her. Grabbing her bottom lip between my teeth, I tug and suck on it before barely inching away from her mouth. I steady her as she looks at my lips with hooded eyes.
“Sorry, I’ve been thinking about doing that all damn day.”
“All right, Casanova. Let’s eat,” she whispers. “Before it gets cold, please.”
“Only because you asked nicely. Maybe you’ll end up learning some manners after all. I have to warn ya though, those damn yankees aren’t used to it,” I tease with a wink as I add mayonnaise to my bread.
We eat while making small talk, and I realize how much I need to have her, taste her again. I’m a greedy bastard, but our time is limited.
The hamburger basically melts in my mouth. I can’t remember the last time someone, other than my mom or Aunt Millie, cooked for me. It’s a nice surprise.
“Dinner is delicious, by the way. Who knew writers were decent in the kitchen, too?”
“We are a species of many talents,” she gloats.
“Well, I appreciate it. Sure beats the PB&J sandwich I was going to make.”
She flashes me a genuine smile while taking the smallest bite of macaroni and cheese.
“So did you get a lot written today?” I ask, honestly curious.
“Actually.” She clears her throat and smiles. “I did.”
“Well, that’s why you came here, right?”
“Yeah, it must be the country livin’ or something,” she says without cracking a smile, although we both know the inside joke to that.
She grins, and I can’t deny how excited I get when I see her smile.
“Glad to hear it.” I smirk. “Mac ‘n cheese, good choice.”
“I would’ve cooked veggies or something healthy as a side, but you’ve got macaroni and cheese for days, probably months,” she says, changing the subject.
“My mama likes to make sure I’m eating. Between her and Aunt Millie, I’ve got enough to feed a football team.”
“Or an army,” she adds, which causes me to chuckle. There were several dinners missed as I worked until the sun came up. I completely engulfed myself with learning and becoming better at my craft. Work became nonstop, which is why Aunt Millie continues to randomly bring me food. She was never able to have kids of her own, so she’s always treated me like a son.
My mama and her both knew I was wasting away in this house. After I lost everything that ever meant a damn to me, what was I supposed to do? This was the home Alana and I shared and the last place we were together.
Though the smell of her has faded with the
years, sometimes when I’m trying to fall asleep, I can hear her voice asking if everything is okay. Losing Alana broke me into a million different pieces that can never be put back together. Though years have passed, I’ll never be the man I used to be. Life didn’t prepare me for the day I lost my best friend, wife, and lover. Nothing could have. Where love once lived, there’s nothing but emptiness. That old saying, It’s better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all, is total bullshit.
I’m lost in my thoughts, but Vada somehow pulls me from my mind fuck memories.
“Maybe you should give those who rent the cottage a box of mac ‘n cheese as a rental warming gift?” She laughs.
“Might need to send them all home with you, because I wouldn’t be surprised if you sit at your computer eating a jar of Nutella with your finger when you have a book due,” I say, trying to finish my burger, recalling her bad eating habits when she’s on deadline.
“Ha! That’s pretty accurate actually. One time I finished an entire jar of peanut butter in a week. Kept it by my laptop, and each time I took a break, I’d eat a few spoonfuls.”
“I didn’t realize you loved nuts so much. Should’ve though.” I chuckle, which earns me a playful, much deserved eyeroll.
After we’re finished with dinner, Vada places our plates in the sink. As I stand, she looks at me over her shoulder with a smile as if she knows I’m about to claim her as mine for the night.
“I really have to finish this one chapter.” She interrupts the dirty thoughts streaming through my head.
I run my tongue along my lower lip, and her eyes follow. She’s officially under my trance. “How long do you need?”
As she glances down at my hardness, I adjust myself. My dick wants more of what it had last night, and I’m not protesting. In fact, I’m fucking dying to be back inside her.
“An hour,” she says. “Then I think I’ll need a refill of inspiration.”
Vote Then Read: Volume II Page 129