Craving Cinderella: My Curvy Valentine

"Sure, sure," she replies, waving her hand, distracted. I often used to joke with her that she wouldn’t notice if a meteor hit this playground, she’s so focused on her kids – and honestly, I’m right. Because Ethan Parker is the human equivalent of a meteor. And he’s standing there, looking at me as though he might just recognize me, too.

"I’m sorry to bug you," I blurt out to him as I approach.

Wait, am I talking too loud? Or too quiet? He smiles as I get closer. God, his smile is perfect – white teeth, his green eyes lighting up against his tan skin. And the more I take in his smile, the more I relax.

"Are you Ethan Parker?" I ask.

He chuckles, eyes me for a moment, and then nods. "Yeah, I am," he replies, then leans in to whisper, "Just don’t say it too loud. I’m undercover."

"What are you doing here?" I ask, finding that I’m shifting a little closer to him, even though I have no good reason to.

"I’m dropping off some treats that my niece and I made for the class Valentine’s party," he explains, holding up the boxes that he has in his arms. "Tallie Thoms...?”

"Oh, she’s in my class!” I say, forcing myself not to grin like a fool, probably more excited about this information than I have ever been in my life.

It’s like a fairytale, seeing the man who has filled so many of your dreams… fantasies… in the flesh. And god, how does he smell so good? Like pine and orange and cloves, all mixed up together.

Maybe that’s just what Hollywood stars smell like. Either way, I like it. Like him.

"Well, then, if I was to give these to you, you’d know where to take them?" he asks as he hands the boxes to me.

Tallie’s his niece? I’ve met her parents, and neither of them mentioned being related to someone like Ethan Parker. Though maybe they want to keep things on the down-low. Maybe they don’t want the whole world to know that they’ve got one of the biggest stars on the planet in the family.

"Yes, I would," I reply. We stand there, staring at one another. I keep waiting for him to make his excuses and then leave, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he leans on the gate, not taking his eyes off me. He has this cool calmness about him, oozing off him in waves, and I wonder how he manages it. If he’s always been this confident. It’s wildly attractive, and my own insecurities fade. How could I question anything about myself when his eyes are locked on mine?

"Must be hard wrangling that many sugar-hyped kids at once," he remarks.

I nod. "It can be, but I love it," I reply. "Especially when they bring in treats to share."

"Tallie’s been telling me how much she’s been looking forward to this the last few days," he chuckles fondly. It’s hard to believe that little Tallie Thoms could really have spent any time talking up an event that I planned to someone like him.

But some of the shock begins to wear off as he stands in front of me. He’s here, just like the rest of us. Maybe I can figure out a way to wrap my head around it.

"If you could use a hand, just let me know," he remarks, and I giggle and shake my head.

Giggle? Since when do I giggle? I’m going to start twirling my hair around my finger if I’m not careful...

"I think I’m good," I reply. I’m not sure if I could handle being in close contact with him for so long without losing my mind a little bit.

"Anything you say," he replies, and then he tips his head to the side, keeping his eyes on me the whole time. I know that the bell is going to ring soon and I am going to have no choice but to go inside and get back to work, and this strange little interlude is going to be over. But there’s something about the way that he’s looking at me that’s making it hard to think about anything other than how much I want this to go on a little longer.

Before he turns away, he gives me a half smile, the one that has graced so many magazine covers. "You have plans for Valentine’s?" he asks.

I shake my head. "Unless you count the party," I offer in return, and he laughs.

He’s got a nice laugh, full, open. Like he’s got nothing to hide. He pauses again, and then flicks his gaze up at me.

"How about I take you out tomorrow night?" he suggests.

I swear, I have to keep my jaw from hitting the floor right then and there. I’m sorry, did he just... did he just ask me out? I’ve trained myself never to curse when I’m this close to the kids, but I feel like it’s on the tip of my tongue right now.