Dirty Sweet Cowboy

“Why wouldn’t I mean it?” she asks me .

“Oh, I don’t know.” I roll my eyes. “Maybe I’m being too rash? Just packing up and leaving with Ethan Mercer? Mysterious billionaire? Who my whole family hates with the fiery passion of a thousand suns ?”

“Now that’s uptight Ava talking again,” she reminds me, stabbing the air with her pointy fingernail at me. “You don’t need to be listening to her for a few months, okay? Just do it. Take a chance for once in your life .”

She pushes herself out of the chair, coming toward me with her arms out for a hug. After our embrace, she makes a point of zipping my luggage closed and dragging it off the desk to hand it to me, then practically shoving me out the door .

Ethan is standing by the elevator when I arrive, a knowing smirk on his beautiful, full lips .

“That didn’t take too long,” he smiles appreciatively .

I feel his eyes slide over me, dancing over every curve like it’s his fingers. I suppress a shudder and try to smile, swallowing hard .

“Were you waiting for me this whole time ?”

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to change your mind,” he smirks, thumbing the down button. “Did you tell your parents not to expect you for a little while ?”

“Oh, yeah. I should do that,” I mumble, digging my phone out of my purse. I get on the elevator without looking, concentrating on the email I need to send. After what seems like a long time, I finally decide on a simple message .

Subject: Exciting opportunity !

Hi Mom and Dad, I found an unbelievable internship at Century

Group. I’m so lucky, I’m the only one who got the job! I need to be out of town for at least a few weeks doing training. They want me to start right away. Love you! I’ll write soon .

Ava

It doesn’t seem like enough, but it’s going to have to do. Does it sound natural? Does it in any way imply that I’m alone in an elevator with Ethan Mercer at this very moment ?

It’s hard for me to tell. My heart is pounding so loudly in my ears I can barely string a thought together .

“Is that it?” he asks me when the little whoosh sound effect indicates that I’ve sent the email out .

“I guess so,” I smile, unable to do much else. Something about being around him makes me want to smile all the time. Helplessly, giddily. I feel sort of stupid and bubbly. Not stupid in a bad way, just dumbfounded. Looking at him seems to wipe all the thoughts out of my brain .

He reaches over, picking up my suitcase from where it’s leaning in front of me. When the elevator door opens, everyone turns around to look. Ethan slides a pair sunglasses over his face. Mine are still in my purse. As he begins to stride across the hotel foyer, he can shade his eyes from everyone, but I can’t. I see all of their stares, everyone. They all see me with him. The can see us cutting across the foyer for the second time, leaving the conference early. I’m sure at least a few people have a strong suspicion about what’s going on .

That makes me feel ridiculously powerful. Is that wrong ?

On the ride to the airport, he keeps his distance, but not too distant. Friendly. He’s in that sweet spot of proximity, where he is someone I’ve known for a very long time. He’s not crawling all over me like some kind of frat boy, and not pushing himself away like the stranger I expected him to be .

His knee is only an inch away from my knee, close enough I can feel the heat. He meets my eyes as he talks, describing how he went into the Marines, then left the service and returned home. When he got back, he found himself somewhat less irritable about his family and their semi-legal financial dealings since he’d seen the world, seen what life is really about as he put it. Their disagreements had gotten much smaller once he’d experienced the confusion and intense emotions of war .

As he talks he drifts off that topic, and onto another one about technology and financing, almost seeming to be playing me a lullaby with his voice. Consoling me, calming me. Luring me into feeling at ease, when really, I have every reason not to feel that way .

Remembering that, I suddenly get anxious again. His bright eyes immediately cloud over and his hand drops to my knee, lightly drumming with his fingertips. He knows; he can tell. As soon as he touches me, my concern evaporates again and I’m completely focused on that one connection, that electric spark between us. The tips of his fingers are so alive, they practically crackle .

We drive through a series of winding roads, coming out into a wide strip close to a private airfield. He drives us right up to one of those round-roofed hangars where a sleek, angular jet is parked in front with several people in orange jumpsuits scurrying around the bottom .

“Okay, here we are,” he smiles. Then he leans forward, his face close to mine. I stare into his bright eyes, ready to connect to him again, feeling a sort of willingness surge through me .

“You still trust me?” he whispers, his breath dancing between my lips, landing on my tongue .

“I think I do,” I confess .

“We’re going to have a wonderful time,” he says encouragingly. “A fantastic time. I swear it .”

I sort of want to giggle at the fairytale quality of “I swear it.” But I realize he means it. He’s making an absolute promise .