Page 53 of Pucking my Enemy Boss

“And modeling was that thing?”

“Yep. Totally different world. And it worked. Nothing says rebellion like avoiding a kitchen entirely.”

Ethan chuckles, shaking his head. “So, you became a model because you couldn’t cook?”

“That’s the short version, yeah.”

His laughter fills the kitchen, a sound so rare it almost feels like I’ve caught a glimpse of something secret. “We make a great pair, then. You can’t cook, and I couldn’t either—until David fixed that.” He grabs his coffee mug, taking a sip like this is all just part of his morning routine. “I’m still not as good as he was, I just picked up what I could after, well...” His voice trails off, and for a moment, the mood shifts.Heavy. Thick.

There it is. That weight he carries, always lurking just beneath the surface. I want to reach out, say something to make it better, but what do you say?

Instead, I take a bite. “Well, David must’ve been a better teacher than my folks. They sure did their best.”

His lips twitch, like he’s fighting a smile. “He left me cookbooks. Didn’t want me to burn the kitchen down.”

“Wise man.” I offer a small smile, hoping it softens the moment. “I doubt those books will be much help to me though.”

A warmth settles between us, and I feel like I’m peeling back another layer of the Ethan Carter mystery. He’s letting me in. Slowly, carefully, but he’s letting me in. Our words flow easily, the teasing light, but there’s something deeper simmering underneath.

He moves to sit across from me, setting his phone down on the table with a sigh. “You know, I probably owe Lauren a thank you.”

“For what?”

“For bringing you here to stay with me.” His eyes meet mine, something soft behind the usual guarded expression. “You’ve been good for me.”

The words catch me off guard, my heart doing a little flip in my chest. It’s not like Ethan to get all emotional, so hearing him say that feels ... big.

“Well, I guess we should thank Jake, too, then,” I say with a grin. “If it weren’t for him being a total tool, I never would’ve left L.A.”

Ethan’s face hardens at the mention of Jake, his jaw tightening. “Don’t give him any credit. That guy doesn’t deserve it.”

There’s a possessive edge in his voice, and it sends a shiver down my spine. He really, really doesn’t like Jake. And honestly? I’m not mad about it.

“Hey, it’s fine,” I say, reaching across the table to touch his hand. “Jake’s in the past. I’ve got something much better now.”

His gaze softens, but before he can say anything, his phone buzzes, cutting through the moment. He glances at the screen, frowning. “Sorry. I’ve got to go.”

“Already?” Disappointment sinks in as I watch him grab his keys. “I thought we’d have more time this morning.”

He leans down, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. “I know. I’ve got something important to take care of. But I’ll be back later tonight.”

“Promise?”

He smirks. “Promise. And I’ve got plans for you later, so don’t be late.”

Another kiss—this one longer, lingering—and then he’s out the door, leaving the smell of pancakes and the warmth of his presence behind.

There’ssomething about a good breakfast that puts a spring in your step, and after the last couple of days with Ethan, it’s like I’ve got a sugar rush on top of it. Walking to Mia’s café seems like the best way to burn off all this energy before sitting down with Lauren for some much needed friend time. Plus, who wouldn’t want to stretch their legs on a crisp Chicago morning?

The city feels alive today, all bustling sidewalks and bright skies. It’s one of those perfect days where everything just seems to click. Maybe it’s the leftover thrill of what’s happening with Ethan—or maybe it’s the fact that the past few days have felt like turning a corner with him. He’s opened up more than I ever expected, and I’m seeing sides of him that I didn’t even know existed.

By the time Mia’s café comes into view, my phone is buzzing in my pocket. The name on the screen makes me groan—Mom. Of course, she’d call now. Right as I’m about to meet Lauren.

Answering the call, I wave to Lauren through the window and mouth, “It’s Mom,” as I sit down at the table. Lauren raises an eyebrow, leaning in as if to listen.

“Hey, Mom,” I say, bracing for whatever whirlwind she’s about to unleash. “How are you doing?”

“Holly, darling!” Her voice is way too cheerful. “Your father and I are still in San Sebastian. It’s gorgeous here. I’ve been working on new recipes, tanning on the beach, and trying out a few ... positions.”

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