Page 88 of Brewbies
His every muscle turned into gritty stone before he wheezed. “I’m leaving.”
“Already?” The pout turned into a sultry invitation that turned his frown into a scowl.
“Lady, I have fucked you ninety-nine-point-always-percent of the times I’ve been in this trailer, and I’m about to keep that percentage whole, so…” He jammed his finger toward the door. “I’mma wait outside, if you don’t mind.”
She snorted. “Suit yourself, but that KIRO cameraman is lingering around somewhere. Lurking all weekend.” A pair of panties sailed over his head. Pink, like her hair. Then another black scrap of lace that would cover exactly nothing.
Retreating, he placed his hand on the latch. “After Thursday, I’m a social pariah who had sex hair and a half-tucked shirt on the local news, so…what can the cameraman do to me now?” His mortification still stained his Nordic skin several shades pinker than the sun ever could.
“They’ll catch you returning to the scene of the crime, so just stay in the kitchen. I’ll only be a sec.”
“Fine. Wear ugly underwear,” he reminded her.
“I don’t own ugly underwear.”
“And I don’t fucking need to know that.”
While he waited, he unwrapped the discarded bouquet, searching in her surprisingly neat cupboards for a vase. Finding one, he filled it with water, poured in the contents of the flower food package, and then snipped off the stems diagonally. The lavender filled the room with a sweet, but not overpowering, aroma that mingled nicely with the constant undertone of coffee beans and buttery vanilla.
After giving the flowers one final floofing, he turned to check her progress.
Darby stood in the hallway, gazing at him with a look he couldn’t identify. “Where the hell did you come from, Ethan Townsend?”
“I’ve been here the whole time.”
The atmosphere in the trailer shifted as Ethan stepped back. The air was filled with her perfume, creating an intoxicating and inviting mood that was broken only by a husky whisper. “Ethan?”
He froze, eyes drawn to a single point of focus. Darby’s bed at the end of the hall. It looked far more inviting than it should have, considering he’d made it his mission to stay away from anything considered horizontal.
She moved closer, reaching out to touch his face. He didn’t flinch or move away, instead leaning into her palm as she stroked his cheek softly.
His breathing had grown shallow and fast from standing so close to her, and he could feel his heart thudding against his ribcage like an unrelenting drumbeat in this moment of heavy silence.
With a desperate move, Ethan nearly pulled the door off its hinges as he escaped into the cool kiss of the evening air.
He was grateful she didn’t balk at taking his one-handed offer to help her down the two steps, and she didn’t make like his chivalry wasn’t appreciated.
Once the night enveloped them, their easy teasing from inside stayed there, leaving them with a protracted silence neither of them seemed to know how to fill.
Should he ask about her family? Nah, she’d mentioned that before, and it seemed a sore topic.
Maybe ask about her favorite place she’d lived? Or would that sound like he still wanted her to go?
Didhe still want her to go?
Was she planning to eventually?
Were they crazy for even trying this?
“So you’ve never lived anywhere other than Townsend Harbor?” It was Darby who threw him the proverbial bone as she ran a finger across a feathered fan on display at an Asian imports booth.
“I lived on campus when I did my undergrad degree at UCLA,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Then a master’s…also in California.” Grimacing, he hoped she didn’t notice the flub.
“Not UCLA?” Of course she noticed.
