The Wrong Kind of Love
“I knew you’d like each other,” Jake says, smiling at Ava.
Ava rolls her eyes. “Jake thinks I need more girlfriends. He seems to think all work and no play makes Ava a dull girl.”
“You should hang out with me and Teagan sometime,” Nic says. “If you can handle slightly inappropriate conversation and Teagan’s general lack of boundaries, that is.”
“Sounds perfect.” She grins, and she and Jake move to the other end of the bar.
I smile at Nic. I like the idea of her hanging out with Ava and Teagan. I like the idea of anything that roots her to Jackson Harbor. To me.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Nic asks me.
“I’m still waiting for you to tell me how you want to spend your birthday.”
She studies me for a beat. “What happened to boss and employee, no blurred lines?”
I stifle a grimace. When I said that, I was trying to deliver a message to myself, not to her. Shrugging, I say, “You’re off the clock. Not my employee again until”—I make a show of looking at my watch—“six p.m. tomorrow, I believe.”
“You’re serious?”
“If you don’t want to go out with me, just tell me.”
“I didn’t say that. I just don’t want you to think I expect you to entertain me.”
“No, it’s cool. I mean, I’d understand if you’d rather spend your evening doing something more stimulating . . .” I look down at my beer before flashing my gaze back up to meet hers. “I would completely understand if you were more interested, say, in a nice, private bath.”
Nicole
My jaw drops. Ethan’s face is so damn serious. “You didn’t just go there.” His lips quirk, and my cheeks are so hot that I’m pretty sure they’re cherry red. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Sorry. Was I supposed to pretend that didn’t happen?”
“You were supposed to forget it happened.”
He leans forward so his mouth is by my ear. “Nic, there are some things I won’t ever forget, and the image of you in my tub with your hand between your legs is high on the list.”
A thrill shoots through me. What happened to the broody employer who insisted we keep our relationship professional? The man who was horrified he’d hooked up with the girl he’d hired to be his nanny?
I swallow hard. “I’m still pretty mortified I did that.”
His gaze drops to my mouth. “Which part mortifies you? The part where you were touching yourself in my tub, or the part where you got off because I was watching?”
“Both,” I whisper. My cheeks are still hot, but I’m not mortified now, not with the way he’s looking at me. I’m turned on, and that’s one hell of a welcome change after how I’ve been feeling. Today was tough, with the call from my mom and then my attempted conversation with my sister.
But in this moment, none of that matters. It’s just me and Ethan and his dark eyes telling me he means every word he’s saying. I squeeze my thighs together and focus on that feeling.
“I’m starving,” I say. Right now, with the way Ethan’s looking at me and the words he’s whispering in my ear, if we stay here, we’ll end up locked in Jake’s restroom again. “Maybe we could start with dinner?”
“Perfect.” He leads me to the door, and we grab our coats off the rack.
“Don’t go to Howell’s!” Jake calls from behind the bar. “His IPA tastes like a pine tree pissed in a barrel. That man has no appreciation for the fine art of brewing.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I call back.
“And be easy on my brother,” he says, his tone gentler. “He’s a little rusty, but I’m sure with enough patience, he can loosen up.”
Next to me, Ethan grunts then whispers, “I promise I’m not nearly as rusty as he says.”
I grin at Jake. “Understood.”
“Do you mind walking?” Ethan asks when we’re outside.
I shiver as the cold wind hits my cheeks, but shake my head. “A walk would be good.”
“There’s a great steakhouse a couple of blocks over. I’ve known the chef since grade school, and she owes me a favor. I bet she’ll give us a table even if they’re booked for the night.”
“You don’t have to call in favors for me.”
“Maybe I want to. Maybe I’m realizing I only get you for a short time and I want to make the most of it. And maybe I’m hungry.” The way he rakes his eyes over me when he says hungry makes that warmth blossom in my belly. Oh, yeah. I’m hungry too.
He leads me to a restaurant on Lakeshore Drive. It’s the kind of place with white linen tablecloths and candles on the tables. We’re given a table in the back corner of the restaurant, and Ethan orders us a bottle of red wine. I don’t usually like dry reds, but this wine is so smooth and delicious that I think I’ve been having the wrong kind. In addition to my personal rule about not using alcohol as a crutch, I can’t drink much because of the medication I take, but I sip on the glass he pours me and let myself enjoy the way it heats my chest and the zip it sends through my blood.