Page 51 of Accidentally Yours
What just happened?
“We should stay here for a bit,” Ethan said after a beat, like he hadn’t just almost devoured her. “Make sure no one else followed.”
“Yeah.” Her voice came out quieter than she intended, barely audible above her hammering pulse. Breaking out of her stupor, Paige wrapped her arms around herself like that might hold the pieces together. Because this wasn’t just about a kiss. It was about the man standing in front of her. The wit and smarts behind his soulful eyes. The flashes of vulnerability that came with each touch. The space he made for her, where she felt safe.
She wanted that . . . for herself. She wanted that . . . for certain.
But as those thoughts settled with her, something sharp lodged in her chest. Was she feeling a connection he wasn’t? Because here and now—this was just for them. No cameras. No audience. And he’d pulled away.
He could’ve kissed her. If he wanted to.
Maybe I read him all wrong. Maybe . . .
“I was afraid of this,” Ethan murmured, breaking the silence.
She blinked, stunned. “Of . . . this?” She motioned vaguely between them, her heart already bracing for the answer.
His eyes darkened, and she instantly regretted saying anything. Why had she done that? Why did she always speak before she thought about her words?
“I—” He looked away, jaw flexing. “I meant, I was afraid the hunt would get out of control. That the wrong people would try to track down the necklace.”
“Oh.” Her mouth went dry. She nodded once, fast, like she could shake off the weight of her own stupidity.Of course. That’s what he meant. Not this. Not us.
“I don’t want to put you in danger,” he added, his gaze meeting hers again. “Ever.”
Her breath caught. His tone was serious. Protective. But it wasn’t the answer she wanted.
Ethan leaned in. Not touching. Just looking. His hand was still braced beside her head, like a tether keeping him close, and she arched toward him.
“Maybe we should lie low for a few days,” he said slowly, voice low, and it sucked the wind from her sails. “Until the attention dies down.”
Paige’s pulse stumbled. She deflated. “Take a break?” she asked, wanting anything but that.
He nodded. “From the library and the clue hunt. Just for a few days.” He gave a tight smile. “Might help the writing, too.”
Help the writing? How would that help? And what about us?Paige wanted to blurt her questions. Instead, she offered a quiet, “Sure.”
Ethan shifted back. The space between them widened and filled with an echoing silence. Paige dipped her gaze and instantly slipped out of the nook, disappointment settling in her stomach. Maybe she’d fallen for a story she’d made up in her head. Had she gotten lost in the idea of happily-ever-after? Because those only seemed to happen—for her—in her writing.
Chapter Seventeen
Theblinkingcursormockedher. Paige glared at the half-empty Google Doc, then down at the scribbled outline in her notebook. Then back at the screen. Everything was taunting her. She let out a frustrated breath and tossed her head back against the couch cushion, catching Alice’s attention from across the living room.
“Maybe it’s time to close the laptop,” Alice suggested, looking up from the knitting project in her lap. Tux yawned from his spot on the back of the recliner and gave a meow like he agreed. “I think I’ve heard more moaning and groaning out of you in the past hour than typing.”
“I’m stuck,” Paige admitted, dragging a hand down her face. On the TV,Pretty Womanwas wrapping up, with Richard Gere facing his fears and scaling the fire escape. Paige had been rewriting the same three paragraphs since the opening credits.
“Writer’s block?” Alice asked. The clicking of her needles started again.
Paige sighed. “More like writer’s drought.”
Alice hummed her sympathy. “Tried all the usual tricks?”
“Mostly.” Paige shrugged a shoulder. “Took a walk. Read a few chapters from favorite books. I tried writing on the train and even at that ridiculous coffee shop with the Yacht Rock playlist and the permanently sticky floors.”
“And still nothing?”
“Nothing.” Paige closed her laptop. It felt like a brick resting on her thighs. She was supposed to be writing a chapter filled with romantic tension and vulnerability, but couldn’t summon either. The only thing she’d been able to complete in the past few days was the bonus chapter for Kaylor, about why she’d killed off Hans. And that had somehow triggered even more angst and frustration for her, because it was a stark reminder of the last time she let a man get in her head and mess with her creative process.
