Page 33 of Whisked Away
But the Alex I am now, walking the quiet streets of Magnolia Cove beside Ethan, isn’t so sure. This place, these people—they’ve awakened something within me. A longing for a life filled with more than bylines and deadlines. For a life that might have a story I can actually sink into for once.
Ethan seems equally lost in thought, his face lifted to the sky as if he’s searching for answers in the cloud-covered stars. I wonder what secrets and hopes he hides behind those deep, blue eyes. I wonder if I’ll ever be satisfied not knowing the answer.
One minute, I’m studying Ethan, his sharp jawline and thick lips, and the next, I’m gasping. Rain heaves from the sky as though someone turned a bucket over. There’s no gentle sprinkle as a warning. It’s cool and cloudy one minute, pouring the next.
Ethan lets out a laugh, the sound rich even over the patter of rain. It breaks away my bad feelings, sending them rushing toward the gutters with the storm.
“Come on,” he says, grabbing my hand. “Run!”
Laughing, we dash for it, our feet splashing through quickly forming puddles. Cool rain splatters my skin and soaks through my clothes in seconds. But Ethan’s hand is warm in mine, and I find I don’t mind the impromptu shower.
By the time we reach the shelter of the B&B’s porch, we’re both soaked to the skin. Ethan’s t-shirt is plastered against his muscular chest in a way that leaves no room for imagination. Waves crash in the distance, louder now, and salt hangs in the air, mingling with the fresh, earthy scent of rain. Magnolia Cove is quiet, shrouded in the storm’s peacefulness.
Ethan looks down at me, raindrops clinging to his eyelashes. His lips part, but he doesn’t speak. My heart thunders. He’s beautiful. Not just handsome, but beautiful in a way that makes my chest ache.
Before I can overthink it, I close the distance between us.
I tilt my face up so our breaths mingle and grip his rain-damp arm. Ethan tenses, his eyes widen, and he seems like he might pull away. A decision flickers across his expression, then he exhales softly, leans down, and closes the remaining space between us.
For a moment, there’s no rainstorm, no beach, no bed & breakfast, or return tickets. There’s only the warmth of Ethan’s mouth, the gentle pressure of his hand on my waist, the rhythmic slide of his thumb over my hip bone. I can taste the rain on his lips, feel the heat of his skin through his damp shirt.
When we break apart, I’m dizzy, breathless. Ethan’s not looking at me but out toward the sky again, his brow furrowed. My heart quits its ridiculous dancing and sinks as an icy feeling of doubt creeps in. Paired with my soaked clothing, it leaves me shivering. Maybe Ethan regrets the kiss. Maybe I’ve read the energy between us completely wrong.
“I know you’re about to leave,” he says, his voice husky, “but before you do, I’d love to show you a part of the town you haven’t seen yet.”
His gaze flicks back to me, and he shoves his hands into his pockets. There’s a nervous energy radiating from him, about what, I’m not sure.
Once again, I should say no. We’re two different people from two different worlds. As much as I want to daydream, my real life is in a city over five hundred miles from here. I should go inside, pack my bags, and leave this town and its secrets behind. But looking at Ethan, at the hope in his eyes, at the way the porch light gleams in the raindrops that dust his curls, I find I can’t. Screw it. Just this once, I’m letting myself want. Letting myself have something I want for once.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I’d love to.”
Ethan’s lips—the firm but soft ones that were just pressed against mine—break into a grin. His voice, though, is still gravelly, like he’s struggling to speak. “There’s the monthly farmer’s market tomorrow. the Whisk closes and runs a booth. It’s Zoe’s turn to manage it, which means she’ll spend half the day flirting with Mia and the other half handing out ‘free samples’ that are full-sized.” His smile turns fond. “I’d love to show you around if you’re interested.”
I know I shouldn’t. I have a deadline, an article to write, a life to get back to in New York. Standing here, rain-soaked and happier than I’ve been in years, I realize I don’t want to go back. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“I’d love to,” I say before I can let logic win out. The dimples that appear in Ethan’s cheeks when he smiles make it all feel worth it.
He leans in and presses a soft kiss to my cheek. “Goodnight, Alex.”
“Goodnight, Ethan,” I whisper.
As I watch him walk away, his tall form disappearing intothe mist, I realize I’m in trouble. I came here to write a simple article, uncover a few secrets, and move on with my life.
Instead, I’m discovering things I didn’t know I was looking for. A place that feels like forever with its quaint streets and friendly faces. People who feel like the family Missy and I don’t have. And Ethan. A man who makes me believe in magic.
I huff a breath and go inside, prepared to fight with the internet to reroute my travel plans again.
Ethan
Asking Alex to stay was a mistake. I shove my hands into my pockets as people spill past me. The Magnolia Cove Farmer’s Market is always a riot of color and smells, like the best parts of a county fair distilled into a few picturesque streets. One of the great things about a small town is how everyone comes together for everything. This is, by far, not our most interesting event, yet I invited Alex here as a desperate plea for her to stay.
But right now, I’m just waiting. Waiting for her.
“Stay longer,” I’d whispered to her in the bakery’s afternoon dim. I’d meant to ask her to stay and help with Jas, but maybe I also meant more. Which is stupid, because if she knew the truth about me—if the council would even let her find out my truth—she’d run from here and never look back.
Mrs. Delehay walks up, her Pomeranian on a leash tiptoeing beside her. I always forget the creature can actually walk on its own during the rare times she lets it down. She winks and pats my shoulder. “I have the perfect dessert idea picked out for Bridge club this week, dear.”
“Read it in one of your magazines?” I’m pretty certain we subscribe to several of the same ones now.
