Page 49 of Writing On The Wall

Ethan’s jaw shifts to the side, like he’s formulating a plan. “Those new light fixtures get delivered?”

“Yup. And the ceiling fan for the master bedroom.”

“I picked up the faucets you chose. Looks like we’re doing fixtures today. If you have any old towels, you can put them in the bathroom.”

“Yes,sir.” I salute before making my way to the hall closet. “Stop staring at them,” I throw over my shoulder, referring to my Crocs.

When I look back, Ethan’s eyes are on my legs. “They’re nice to look at.”

Shut it down, sister.

I pull a stack of old towels out from the hallway closet, trying not to blush. “You know I have a boyfriend, right? I don’t think he’d appreciate your boldness.” My eyebrows raise with a stiff smile, but I’m snickering on the inside, because my fake boyfriend would be all too happy about Ethan showing an interest in me.

“About that,” he begins, stalking closer.

What in the heck is happening?

It’s like he’s been swapped out for his flirty twin. The real Ethan is probably on a solo trip to the forest to grunt at fluffy squirrels and chop down trees with nothing but a sharp glare.

Meanwhile, this flirty Ethan is very confusing. The way he’s standing there, looking so yummy in a bicep-hugging white tee—dang it—it threatens my resolve and my ability to keep him at a platonic distance. Who the heck wears white for a job like this anyway?

His hands graze over mine as he takes the towels from my arms. He’s standing so close that, without my heels, I have to crane my neck to meet his gray eyes, the ones that are suddenly hypnotizing and making my head feel swirly.

Stop it.

“You should break up with Toby.”

The nerve of this man! “Excuse me?” I squeak.

“I know you’re not in love with him. Break up with him.”

“Rude.You don’t know anything about my relationship with Toby.”

“Interesting that you didn’t correct my accusation thatyou’re not in love with him.” He smirks, making me want to confess the whole thing, if only to have the truth out there.

No. This man was a twerp up until a few days ago. Remain strong.

Just because he’s turned on the swagger doesn’t mean I’m entertaining whatever he thinks is happening here. I’ve worked too many late nights and need a nap. That’s what’s happening. I’m sleep deprived, and it’s messing with my brain. I’ve woven an intricate web of white lies that will become infinitely more complicated if this continues.

“Who made you the relationship analyst? Also, rule number three!” I want to stick my tongue out so badly. That’s the problem with hanging out with eight year olds—you pick up their mannerisms. But I can’t risk anything else that would make me seem younger while I’m wearing these ridiculously comfortable shoes.

“I’ll be in the master bedroom. Excuse me.” I reply with a flat smile, retreating to the safety of an Ethan-free space. Because, while I know he’d do anything to prevent me from another physical injury, it’s my heart that feels like it’s in need of protection.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

ETHAN

Sothatwent well. I watch Ivy’s sassy little saunter as she stomps down the hallway. Her cut-off jeans and Crocs make her attempt at angry walking more adorable than intimidating.

I pull out my phone to text Colton an update, since I’m following his terrible advice.

Ethan

Epic fail on talking to Ivy btw

Colton

I’m going to need details

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