Page 12 of Claiming My Nemesis

The silence between us stretched on for too long, neither of us quite sure what to say next. I felt a pang of frustration at my own guardedness, wishing I could just let myself enjoy the gesture without overanalyzing it. But old habits die hard, and my mind was already racing with what-ifs and maybes.

Then, almost impulsively, I blurted out, “Would you like to come over for dinner?”

The invitation hung in the air between us, surprising even me. I hadn’t planned on saying it—it had slipped out, a reflexive response to the conflicting emotions swirling inside me. But now that the words were out, I couldn’t take them back.

Ethan blinked, clearly taken aback. But then his smile returned, a little wider, a little more genuine. “I’d like that,” hesaid, his tone warm and sincere. “I’ll stop and get some wine before heading over.”

I nodded, trying to ignore the flutter in my chest. “Okay, then. Let’s do it.”

As I climbed into my car, my mind was confused. What was I doing? I’d just invited a guy I barely knew back to my place—again. And there was no denying that Ethan was stirring up feelings I wasn’t sure I was ready to face. There was something about him, his mysterious charm, that had me hooked. The attraction between us was undeniable, making me curious to uncover the layers beneath his smooth exterior.

Driving home, a thousand thoughts bubbled in my mind. This could be amazing, or it could end up breaking me all over again. But despite the uncertainty, I couldn’t shake the excitement about what might unfold between us.

I decided on a simple pasta dish with a salad—not too fancy, just enough to make it feel like a real meal. As I chopped vegetables, trying to focus, I couldn’t ignore the nerves swirling in my stomach. The flowers he brought were sweet, but something about Ethan kept me on edge.

A knock at the door startled me out of my thoughts. Wiping my hands on a towel, I took a deep breath and opened it. And there he was, standing on my porch, flashing that confident smile that never failed to make my heart skip a beat.

“Hi,” I greeted, trying to sound casual.

“Hey,” Ethan replied, his eyes scanning my face for a moment before flicking to the kitchen behind me. “It’s starting to smell good in there.”

“It’s just pasta,” I said with a shrug, stepping aside to let him in. “Nothing fancy.”

He walked past me into the house, his presence immediately filling the space. “Need any help?” he asked, turning to face me as I closed the door.

I hesitated, unsure whether to accept his offer. But the genuine look in his eyes won me over. “Sure,” I said, leading him into the kitchen. “You can chop the garlic.”

Ethan rolled up his sleeves, revealing those muscular forearms that had caught my attention before, and got to work. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as I returned to my own task. He moved with an ease and confidence that took me by surprise. Most guys I knew couldn’t even boil water, let alone chop garlic like a pro.

“You’ve done this before,” I said, more of a statement than a question.

He glanced up at me with a grin. “Maybe a few times. I’m no gourmet chef, but I know my way around a kitchen.”

“That’s more than I can say for most people,” I replied, unable to hide my amusement.

As we worked side by side, the initial strain between us began to ease. There was something strangely comforting about the rhythm we fell into as if we’d done this a hundred times before. It was unexpected, this sense of familiarity, but I couldn’t deny how natural it felt.

As we continued cooking, Ethan suggested a few tweaks to the recipe—adding a splash of the white wine he had brought to the sauce and tossing in some fresh herbs. They were small changes, but they made a world of difference. The simple dish I’d planned was transformed into something that smelled and tasted incredible, and I found myself impressed, not just by his cooking skills but by how easily he’d slipped into this role.

“You’ve got some talent,” I said, trying to keep the surprise out of my voice. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Ethan shrugged, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’ve picked up a few things here and there. Let’s just say I’ve had some good teachers.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that. He was full of surprises, this man who seemed so at home in a small-town auto shop but could also hold his own in a kitchen. It was just another layer to the enigma that was Ethan, and I found myself growing more curious by the minute.

The conversation flowed more easily now, the earlier edginess giving way to a comfortable camaraderie. We shared stories—nothing too deep, but enough to start building a connection. He told me about his love for vintage cars, and I shared how much I enjoyed seeing the kids’ faces light up when they learned something new. I even laughed at his jokes, something I hadn’t done with a man in a long time.

Dinner was ready before I knew it, and we sat down at the small table in my kitchen. As we ate, the chemistry between us was undeniable. Our gazes met across the table, our conversation flowed effortlessly, and there were those subtle, almost accidental touches that sent a spark through me each time.

Trying to keep things light, I asked, "So, where are you from, Ethan?"

He paused for a split second, just long enough for me to notice, before answering, "Dallas, actually. But I got tired of the big city and wanted a fresh start in a small town."

I studied him for a moment, sensing something beneath the surface. Was he telling the whole truth? I pushed the thought aside, reminding myself not to be overly suspicious.

"How are you liking Cedar Cove so far?" I continued, keeping my tone casual.

"It's different," he admitted, "but I like it. The slower pace, the community—it's a nice change." Ethan leaned forward slightly, his gaze softening. “What about you? Did you grow up here?”

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