Page 66 of Pick-Up
“Positive,” I say, softened by his concern. “Just tired.” I lean back against the sofa and sigh to put some distance between us. I will stay strong. Glasses be damned.
“And you’re still liking working with Charlie?”
“Charlie? Totally. He’s amazing!”
“Amazing,” Ethan repeats.
“Why?”
“No reason.” Ethan shrugs. “Charlie is great.”
“Yup,” I agree, widening my eyes. Ethan is being weird, so I make it weirder. “He said you also think I’mgreat.”
Ethan’s cheeks flush. He looks caught. For once, I am not the one off-balance. He shakes his head and shrugs simultaneously. “I mean, whatever. You know. I mean… your work is good.”
“Don’t you meangreat?”
What is more fun than making this man uncomfortable? My new favorite hobby.
“Yeah. Fine. Great.”
I can’t help myself, I nudge his foot with my own. “So, you just meant my work?”
He looks up, catches my eye. Smirks. “Well, I didn’t mean your cotton candy.”
We eye each other for a beat. For self-preservation, why didn’t I sit farther away?
Ethan clears his throat, resets. I think for my benefit. He is also trying to behave. “You didn’t want to grab dinner with the others?”
“I need to call my kids.”
“Ah. Me too. Soon.” Ethan closes his laptop and stands up, stretching. I catch a glimpse of his abs, which will haunt my loins for eternity. “I think I’m going to grab a beer. Do you want one? Or a glass of wine… if Stephanie left any?”
“I think she killed the bottle.”
“I meant if she left any in the whole resort.”
That makes me laugh. Which makes me relax. Which makes me realize how tense I was today during the shoot.
“I’ll take a beer,” I say. “Sure. Thank you.”
I lay out cork coasters, and he returns with the drinks, something local called Turk’s Head with colorful labels. It all feels very domestic.
“To Stephanie leaving us some wine next time,” he toasts.
“To Stephanie getting a good interview and then never having to talk to Martin again!” I say.
Ethan shakes his head like,That guy. We swig in tandem.
“There was one minor snafu today,” I admit, once I’ve swallowed my sip. The beer tastes cool and fresh.
“Yeah? What happened?” He props his bare feet up on a nearby ottoman.
Goddammit. The man even has nice feet.
One of the glass doors is propped open and, between the gentle wind and the subtle coconut scent they pump through the vents here, I feel for a moment like I’m on vacation. With Ethan. Which kick-starts butterflies in my stomach.
“Peter and I thought the video was looking a bit… flat,” I stumble, “but I think we found a solution.”
