Telling him about it was what Henny would call a mistake. It had taken me months to pour enough water on those memories of my night with Ethan that I didn’t want to relive it anymore. And now I was laying them out like a feast for both of us.
Flirting. This was terrible flirting and I should be ashamed of myself.
Except I was all hot under my clothes and my blood was pounding between my legs and I couldn’t get his voice out of my head or the memory of his fingers on my thigh. This was why I wasn’t supposed to stay. This exact reason. Because it had been a drunken one-night stand and I wanted to make it more.
Give me a crumb and I would want a cake.
“Lexie!” he cried and caught up with me on the snowy sidewalk outside the diner. He stepped in close like he wanted more details but that would be such a bad idea. So I stepped back and pointed to the square. “What’s going on here?”
There were booths set up and a little stage. All the shops and restaurants around the square were hopping.
“It’s the Christmas Jamboree. At about five each night Santa sits here and kids can get pictures and artists set up tables and sell their stuff. There’s food and a bar. Games.”
“Sounds magical,” I said.
“It is, really. Would you like to see it?”
“I work at the desk until seven.”
“It’s open until ten. I’d love to take you, Lexie. You can consider it research—”
I shook my head. “We’re already blurring the lines. This is supposed to be research lunch and you’re flirting with me.”
“Well, you’re flirting right back, Lexie.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “I know. And it’s going to stop.”
“Why, though?” he asked, and I turned and walked away. In my new boots, my feet didn’t slide on the ice and I could still feel my pinky toes. “Seriously.” He caught up with me. “You’re here for three weeks. At least.”
“At least, listen to you, so optimistic about a drunk wedding.”
“Look, you decide to leave after three weeks, fine. But why not…have fun for three weeks?”
“Because you’re paying me.”
I could tell by his face he didn’t understand. And guys who’d never had to swallow their pride for a paycheck never understood.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m just…I really like you, Lexie.”
“You don’t know me.”
“Well, I’d like to.” Before I could argue with him he took my hand and tucked it in his arm. “Now,” he said. “Dixie’s Deli is actually a vegan smoothie and juice bar.”
“Really?”
“It’s pretty popular in the summer but I think she suffers in the winter.”
“Well, let’s check it out.”
Every few feet someone was waving at him or saying hello. Lots of people had questions about his campaign and a few people gave me some obvious you’re not from around here looks. The ones from women were particularly pointed. They didn’t like the hometown hero with some outside girl.
“This is Lexie Platzski,” was how he introduced me. “She’s working at the inn.”
It was weird how much I wanted to say “and we’re married.” Especially to a few of the women who kept touching his arm and giving me sideways looks. But I swallowed the words down.
We got to the smoothie place, and as he pulled open the door, I caught him looking at his watch. “Do you need to get back to work? Because I can call an Uber—”
“No, of course not,” he said, and it felt like he was just being polite, the way he was with all the people who stopped and talked to us, and I didn’t want to be lumped in with them, getting the same treatment as Mrs. Handsy-hands with all the questions about the recycling center overhaul.
“Ethan. Honestly—”
“Honestly? I don’t want to go back to work. I’m having fun and I haven’t had this kind of fun in…well, a year. So, let me have my fun, Lexie.”
Warning, my inner Henny was yelling. Warning!
But I was having fun, too, and so we walked into the smoothie store and ordered one of the owner, Bea’s, favorites, the most popular, and Ethan got his usual. Which is how we ended up standing at the counter with a shot of wheatgrass, something called the Garburator and a strawberry banana smoothie with protein powder.
“That tastes like dirt,” Ethan whispered after taking a sip of the purplish green Garburator.
I took a sip. “It’s very beet forward but I actually really like it.” I made a little note in my notebook. The strawberry banana smoothie was really good, too. Not too sweet, and nice and creamy. “This place is great.”
“You need to drink that,” Ethan said, pointing to the wheat grass. “Tastes like lawn clippings.”
“Like you’ve ever eaten lawn clippings,” I said tossing the shot back. “All right, last—”