Page 82 of Return To You

“What time is it?” I’d better start getting ready. “Do we have time to go for brunch before my one o’clock?”

Ethan wraps both his arms around me, he gives me a squeeze and a long, soft kiss on my neck. My insides tingle, and my legs threaten to never be able to carry me again. I run my hand over his forearm, relishing the way he holds onto me as if he never wants to let me go. I tilt my head back and welcome his lips on mine. He lifts us effortlessly and wraps me in a thick towel, drying what’s left of the drops of water. Then he grabs another towel and plops it on my head. “Show me how to do that,” he says.

“Do what?”

“Wrap your hair in a towel. I wanna do that.”

I do the top of the head twist and he helps me tuck it in. Then he turns me around and says, “What do you want for brunch?”

“Anything, as long as it’s not too far.”

“We’re having brunch here.”

I whip around to see him walk out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hips. I almost lose my train of thoughts at the sight of him, half naked, in my space, like he lives here. Storing that memory for future use. “There’s nothing in the fridge.”

“I brought eggs and bacon from Lazy’s. When I picked up your car.” Dropping the towel, he pulls on a clean pair of briefs and a T-shirt from a small backpack he definitely didn’t have yesterday. Did he stop by the farm this morning?

He definitely picked up my car, one way or another.

“Chris gave me a ride early this morning. Found your keys in your bag,” he explains. “I hope that was okay?”

Why is the idea of Ethan rummaging through my bag sexy? I’d be offended if anyone else went through my stuff. “Yeah, sure.” I unwrap my hair and pat it down, shaking the water out of my ears.

“And Chris’s girlfriend gave me a little container of her pancake batter.”

I gasp. I should really be focusing on the fact that everyone knows we spent the night together, but really—“Alex’s pancake batter? Ohmygod, it’s the best.” My mouth waters and my stomach growls.

He pulls the T-shirt over his head, then plucks his jeans from the floor. “I swung by the farm to get a change of clothes. Mom had some fresh-pressed OJ. Dad said you were probably still good on syrup, but just in case, he gave me a jug.”

Oh great. Everyone knows. I feel a little fuzzy inside, to be honest. Not even remotely embarrassed.

“You get ready.” He boops me and strolls his tight ass down the hallway. “I’ll cook you breakfast.” My belly does a happy somersault while my eyes and my ears sear this memory in my brain forever.

I slide into my standard black slacks and white blouse, do my makeup, and tie my hair in a bun. The sounds and smells coming from the kitchen are positively sinful, and my belly growls.

My small kitchen table has been moved to the deck, two chairs catty-corner looking at the view, plates and napkins and even stem glasses set. Stem glasses!

“Hi, beautiful,” Ethan says, setting a spatula next to the range, pulling me to him, his hands around my waist, his face inches from mine. His gaze is all kinds of dangerous—the good kind of dangerous. I set my lips on his, and he kisses me long and deep. Then, with a sigh, he says, “We better go sit down, or your client will never get her facial.”

And that sends tingles down to my toes and right back up to my scalp.

“Grab the coffee?” he says as he takes a platter with scrambled eggs, grated cheddar, diced tomatoes, and a plate of pancakes. “And the syrup. It’s warming in the microwave.”

He serves me a heaping plate, but I feel satiated just looking at him. At his corded forearms while he pours the coffee—“Won’t be as good as Millie’s, but eh!”—at his frown when he plops a heaping spoon of scrambled eggs on my toast—“I should have asked you if you like them runny or dry. Which is it?”—at his sudden inhale when he takes a forkful of pancake dripping in King Knoll Farm maple syrup—“Oh god. Missed that shit. M-mhm.”

His jaw flexes, his eyes open, he looks at the pancake in wonder. Takes a bite with no syrup. “Damn. Damn! That’s good stuff right there.”

“Yeah, it’s her mother’s recipe. Good, huh? Did she give you ghee to cook it in?”

He chuckles. “Got a whole list of instructions to go with it.”

We eat in silence for a beat, Damian sprawled in the sun.

“Tell me about your spa. How’d you get started?”

I wipe my mouth and take a sip of Lynn’s freshly pressed OJ. “When I came back to Emerald Creek, I started working at the resort spa. I’d been doing facials and nails and stuff for a while before that. I already had some certifications and training, and I got a few more while working there. The job at the spa was okay until it wasn’t anymore. Too much drama. At that point, I had a steady stream of clients, and a lot of them were encouraging me to open my own place. It was a little scary, but I got with Emma, and she helped me with a business plan and finding financing.”

"Who’s Emma?”

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