Page 13 of Love Unavoidable
Chapter 3
Sadie
For reasons I can’t really figure out, I’m kind of giving Ethan a hard time. I know I am doing it, yet I am not doing anything to stop it. He does not seem to mind, at least not yet anyway. I will admit, I am feeling reckless tonight. Between the bourbon, Aaron showing up, my parents not talking to me, and having to watch how crazy happy and in love Cole and Lexie are, it’s safe to say I have zero fucks to give.
The bartender sets a bourbon on the rocks in front of me and a beer in front of Ethan. He turns our stools so we are facing one another with his knees bracketing my thighs. He’s strong, that much is obvious even just looking at him, never mind that I had my hands all over his chest and arms. His arms are huge. I can feel strength radiate from his legs as well.
“What’s your story, Ethan?” The question pops out of my mouth before I have a chance to stop it. He takes a sip of his beer before responding. His eyes never leaving mine.
“My story, huh? Well, I work for the San Soloman Fire Department. My best friend, Brad, over there is my partner.” He points toward the dance floor, where I see one of the guys he’d been talking to earlier dancing with one of the maids of honor.
“So, you’re a firefighter?” I say, even though I knew that from Mavis already.
“I am a paramedic and I fight fires.” He takes a long pull on his beer, studying me, as though waiting for my response. He looks almost defensive.
“Cool,” I say. Lame response, I know. But I don’t want to say too much more until I can decipher the look on his face.
His chin dips down to his chest as his head moves back, he blinks his eyes hard and studies me.
“Cool?” His tone questioning.
I don’t answer, but instead hold his gaze, my face impassive, then take a sip of my drink and lick my lips. His eyes move to study my lips. My breath catches and my legs push outward against his, like I want to spread them for him. I mean, I do want to spread my legs for him, but not here at the bar with my entire family surrounding us. Maybe there’s a supply closet somewhere we can hide in.
Whoa, where did that thought come from?
I look away from the beautiful surfer god and grab my glass to take a much larger sip, suddenly wanting to fan my face. I need to dial this back a notch. Or twelve.
“Why do you say cool like that? All question-like.”
He shrugs. “Just not a typical response, I suppose. Usually women start to fawn all over us the minute they hear that. You know, the whole firefighter fantasy thing.”
I swear he puffs out his chest when he says that last part. I have to suppress my laugh. “Firefighter fantasy thing? I’m not familiar, tell me more.” I lean forward slightly, showing off my cleavage. I am only being partially sarcastic with my words. Well, if partial sarcasm is even possible.
“Badge bunnies, they get a hero worship complex, and they get off fu . . . uh, on sleeping with firefighters. E, here, attracts them like flies.” Another voice enters our conversation. I turn to see the guy he called Brad settle in next to us at the bar.
Damn, he is good looking too.
“You can say fuck,” I tell him smiling. I can see where Brad and Ethan together, especially running into burning buildings saving old people and puppies, would totally have women chasing after them like crazy.
“I like her,” he says to Ethan.
Ethan sighs. “Sadie, this is Brad. Brad, this is Sadie. Who I never would have introduced you to if you weren’t already crazy in love with Kat.”
“That I am, my friend. That I am,” Brad says, clapping Ethan on the shoulder. “Speaking of, I am here to get the love of my life a tequila shot, and her BFF a pretend one.” He motions to the bartender, places his order, then turns back toward me. “Sadie, have you met the girls yet?”
“The . . .? No, I don’t believe I have,” I say to Brad, and then to Ethan, “Do I want to meet the girls?”
Ethan nods. “They are a force to be reckoned with. You will fit right in.”
Brad gathers his shots. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Ethan stands and then helps me down from my barstool. Somehow, I manage to trip over my own feet doing so. Ethan catches me before I literally fall on my face.
“Now I’m calling you Grace for a whole different reason,” he teases.
“I never do that,” I protest. “I am a dancer for god’s sake. I’m not clutzy.”
He nods, but it’s a sarcastic nod, I can tell. He somehow takes both of our drinks in one hand and places the other at the small of my back. The heat of his palm searing through the flimsy satin of my dress.
