Page 22 of Captivating Mr. Second Chance

She held up the chocolates. “If by plans you mean eating these and watching a true crime documentary, then yes. What about you? Going out again with…what was her name?”

He tipped his head to the side, swearing he heard a hint of jealousy in her voice. “Who?”

She put away a couple cans of soup. “The girl you went out with on your double date.”

“Gretchen.” He shook his head. “Not for me.”

She slanted her eyes to him for a moment before folding up the reusable bags and sliding them into a spot underneath the sink. “Well, you never were one for Valentine’s Day.”

He huffed a laugh as he passed her the eggs to put in the refrigerator. “No.”

“I honestly thought Madison was going to break up with you for that.”

He scrubbed his hand over his jaw, biting back a smile as he recalled how his high school girlfriend had been so mad at him because he’d told her he hadn’t planned anything special. So, the next day, he’d put a bunch of rose petals in her locker, thinking it was romantic, but by the time she’d opened it, they had all shriveled up. A waterfall of browned and wilted flower carcasses landed at her feet. They’d gotten into another argument, and Ethan had spent his Valentine’s Day at the Hargrove house, tutoring Laney in math.

“I’m more of a spoil her every day kind of guy,” he said, stepping toward Laney with the bread.

She only pursed her lips in thought, so full and pink, and he had to force his eyes up to hers, the same color blue of a summer’s day. She cleared her throat and turned to put the bread away, her back to him.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he said, leaning his hip on the counter. “I had a chat with Dean about it, and he said you might be able to help me.”

That had her peeking over her shoulder, but from his position, all he could see was the slight tilt of her lips and the tiny mole by her nose. “What’s up?”

“I want to start a nonprofit, dedicated to raising money for Huntington’s research. Dean’s going to help me set it up, but I was wondering if you’d help me figure out how to go about getting an actual fundraiser together. Throw a party or something.”

She folded her arms across her chest and spun slowly toward him, her attention on the floor. “I don’t know.”

The answer honestly surprised him. He assumed this would be right up her alley.

“I’m not sure how long I’ll be here.”

“Well, that’s okay,” he said, taking another step toward her. “I’d appreciate any help you could give me.”

She nodded, shifting her weight back and forth as she considered this. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail at the nape of her neck, but a few loose strands floated by her ears, and he had to curl his fingers into his palm to keep from toying with them.

“I don’t know,” she repeated after a while.

One more step closer to her, and he placed his hand on the counter, right next to her hip. “You don’t know?”

She lifted her gaze to his face, settling somewhere below his eyes before drifting over his shoulder. “You know I was working with Bobby, right?”

He nodded but didn’t understand what that had to do with anything.

“I could send you some resources, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to work with you on this.”

“Why?”

She met his eyes, the corner of her lip between her teeth, one slim eyebrow raised as if he should know.

“I don’t get it.”

“You’re really going to make me spell it out for you?”

He lifted his hand up. “Please.”

“Ethan.” She sighed. “You and me, we have history, and I don’t know if…”

With the way she couldn’t meet his gaze again, he thought their history wasn’t so much history. It felt very present.

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