Page 55 of Writing On The Wall

“Careful, there’s glass everywhere.”

“I’m fine,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You broke my fall.” Then I break out into another fit of uncontrollable laughter.

“You sure you’re okay? Did you bump your head?” His brows knit with concern as he crouches close, his hands trembling as his eyes scan my body. My heart is still beating as if I’ve just hugged Jeff Goldblum. Gosh, I love that man. So classy in the weirdest way, am I right?

Maybe I did bump my head. I bring a hand up, patting my hair. Nothing feels sore.

“I don’t think so. I’m okay. But you should have known I wouldn’t react well to being snuck up on. Snuck upon?”

“I’m learning this,” he says with another scowl.

He helps me stand, and I swipe at the remnants of the soggy pizza. He doesn’t release my hand, holding it up and guiding me to safety as I tiptoe over everything. These wedges are coming in handy now, with their thick soles. I can see Ethan fighting a glower as he purses his lips, entirely unamused when his eyes track my steps. He’s being forced to appreciate the very things he detests most. It almost elicits another maniacal laugh from me, but I manage to contain my evil cackle.

I feel slightly unhinged and can only think to blame it on a serious adrenaline spike.

Ethan holds up a palm, like I’m an overexcited puppy that might jump back into the mess. “Stay there.”

I shoot him a dirty look, but he turns his back before it lands.

He gingerly picks up what he can, tossing the ruined pizza and larger shards of glass into a trash bag while I try to appear helpful. I fail. Every time my hand reaches for a piece of debris, he snatches it up with a wide eyed glare.

He turns to me once he’s swept the last bits of the glass. “I’ll mop this later. But I’m starving, and you squashed our dinner. Do you need to change before getting in the truck?”

“Oh goody. Grumpypants Ethan has returned,” I say, folding my arms. “Didn’t eat on yourdate?”

“No,” he grunts before disappearing down the hallway. That liquid fire still burns in his eyes when he returns a minute later with my lilac Crocs in hand.

My, aren’t we extra grouchy tonight…

I’m starting to wonder whether his date didn’t go so well, after all. And that thought makes my mouth curl up into an involuntary smile.

“Your death traps are covered in root beer,” he mutters before crouching in front of me. I’m perched on the arm of the sofa, stunned silent while he lifts each of my feet and shimmies off one wedge at a time. I can feel my cheeks heating when those callused fingers graze my ankles as he slips the Crocs on. Then, before I know it, he rises and stomps out the door. Why couldn’tthatmoment happen in slow motion, too? It was delicious enough that I’d like to remember it later, maybe even recall the whole exchange in vivid detail while I fall asleep. But Ethan’s heavy steps are already permeating the front porch, so it looks like I’m keeping the sticky and dusty clothes on, then.

I follow Sir Grumpylicious outside, and he silently clasps his hands around my waist and hoists me into his truck when I reach the passenger door. It really is a problem that I’m enjoying all this physical contact so much.

It must be because I’ve fallen…off that ladder, I mean.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

IVY

We drive for only two blocks before Ethan abruptly slams on the brakes and pulls over beside a public park. The blues and purples of late evening cast a magical glow across the ground, but the beauty is lost on me as my mouth turns down in confusion. When I look over to ask Ethan why we’ve stopped, I find him glowering, his jaw clenched tightly as he stares straight ahead. His chest rises with heavy breaths, and his hands grip the steering wheel like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“Are…are you okay?” I inch closer, trying to figure out if he’s having a medical emergency. “Did you get hurt?”

He finally turns his head toward me, still silent, and the tension in the air sharpens. My heart races, the adrenaline from the fall still surging through me, amplifying everything around us. The sound of my pulse fills the space, merging with the steady rhythm of Ethan’s breathing, making his truck feel like it’s echoing with the intensity of this moment.

“Ethan…What’s happening right now?”

His eyes take their time sweeping over my face, and then he’s moving closer, bringing his delicious scent with him. It’s hisusual spicy fragrance, now intermingled with the lingering sweetness of root beer. But before my thoughts can catch up, Ethan’s cupping my jaw with both hands and pressing his warm lips to mine. He backs away slightly before returning for another long kiss, except this time I involuntarily grasp at his chest, my fingers twisting into his damp T-shirt.

He pulls away from the kiss, leaning his forehead against mine, eyes closed.

Wow.That came out of nowhere. The air is still weighty, an invisible fuzziness coating our heavy breaths. It feels like he’s just released a giant slingshot after it’s been pulled back for so long. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. His lips are still so close.

“Don’t be,” I tell him, unable to stop myself from smiling.

“Right.”

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