Page 14 of Fake Married to the Grumps

“I hear a tone,” I say, reaching for his arm. “Am I missing something?”

“No,” he answers but doesn’t meet my eyes.

“Come on, if we’re going to do this, the least we can do is stay honest with each other, right?”

Ethan hesitates a little bit, then he finally admits with a sigh. “Right.” He nods once, and his gaze trails from my eyes to my lips before he shakes his head.

“It’s just … I keep thinking … Wondering … You and Joe Storms? Is there something there that I should know about?”

“Something like?” When Ethan’s expression stays stony, I laugh lightly. “We talked about staying out of each other’s business, didn’t we?”

“Of course,” he answers easily. “I mean, I’m not trying to pry or anything, but if you’re seeing someone, then I think I should know about it, and likewise…Because it has to stay discreet, or else it’ll ruin our plans and…”

“Joe and I aren’t dating,” I interrupt. “It was a business lunch meeting. My parents had a contract running with his company and I had to finalize it before the merger. I still need to handle my own business before we merge, don’t I?”

His eyes search mine, slowly drawing me in like he’s trying to figure out if I’m telling the truth. Joe Storms is a mere business associate, and it’s no news that Joe and Ethan are competitors.

There are enough gossip articles in the business columns and on social media to prove the billionaires’ business rivalry, but no one has ever been able to say exactly what caused the brewing dislike that seems to be far more than a business competition.

“Okay,” Ethan finally replies, and he audibly inhales. “Good,” he adds. “Because a man like Storms is trouble.”

“And you’re not?” The teasing question slips out before I think about it, and the smirk on Ethan’s face instantly sends a spiral of tingles through my center.

“Oh, I’m trouble when I want to be,” he admits, his gaze lingering on my face one more time before he looks away.

We are silent for the rest of our walk down the beach, and when we arrive at a beach stand, I find a spot under the shade to sit while Ethan finds a table that faces the beach.

He seems lost in thought as I order a drink. “Virgin Mojito, please.” I say, stealing a glance at him to take in the light flutter of his hair under the influence of the sea’s breeze, and the smooth cream of his exposed skin, legs crossed in front of him.

He combs his fingers through his hair and suddenly looks over his shoulder in my direction, catching me right in the act of gawking at him.

I feel my face heat up and it spreads to my ears and the back of my neck.

Why does he make me feel this way after all these years?

Ethan never recognized my feelings for him, and he had dated a series of women over the years. I had tried to confess to him before, but despite our growing closer and having more personal conversations, it seemed he didn't feel the same way about me as I did about him.

We had even hung out at the movies without Tom a few times.I know more than anyone else that his reputation with the ladies is that of a full-bred player.

Different models and hot celebrities almost every week?I doubt there’s a female celebrity in Hollywood that hasn’t dated Ethan Everhart.

Okay, that’s overstretched.But his track record is enough reason for me to know that feeling anything for him is a dangerous slope.

Annoyed with myself once again, I sip down my drink quickly, order another, and try to ignore the steady beat of my heart against my ribcage.

The chilled drink doesn’t help quench my heated nerves at all, but I start relaxing after a while, and a cute guy who was at the stand begins to move closer.

I glance over my shoulder to check for Ethan when he does, and I spot him standing near the shore, his phone pressed to his ear while he’s staring at the blue ocean.

I stiffen when this stranger joins me at my table. “You’ve got pretty eyes, you know that?” he compliments in a sultry tone, a sly smile widening on his lips.

I try to shift out of his reach when he suddenly puts a hand over mine. “Why don’t I buy you a proper drink?” he asks when my glass of mojito arrives. “A mojito won’t help you relax.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” I reply, sliding my hand out from underneath him.

“Come on, sugar, don’t be shy,” the stranger coos. “You know you’ll have so much more fun.”

I ignore the man and try getting on my feet, but he clamps a hand over my wrist, speaking rapidly in Spanish to call the attention of two other guys around us.

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