Chapter 25
Mark
The jet’s cabin smelled faintly of leather and brewed coffee, a rich warmth that mingled with the low hum of the engines vibrating through the plush seats. Mark shifted, the leather creaking under his weight, his fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against his knee. Across from him, Ethan sprawled out, his head tipped back against the headrest, blue eyes wide as they darted from the curved ceiling to the small window showing the asphalt runway and hangars in the distance.
“I can’t believe I’m on a private jet, Mark,” Ethan said, his voice bright with awe. “This is insane.”
Mark’s lips twitched into a tight smile, nerves buzzing under his skin. “Yeah, well, the firm likes to travel in style.” A half-truth. He’d spent every night since Monday orchestrating this—booking the jet, the hotel, the tickets—all on his own dime, not Pacific Edge’s. But Ethan didn’t need to know that. Not yet.
Ethan grinned, kicking his legs out. “I’m not complaining. This beats the hell out of my truck.”
Mark chuckled, but his chest tightened.
Can I pull this off without screwing it up?
The week had been a blur—Ethan stopping by to work on the house, their quiet moments on the couch, his head resting on Mark’s shoulder, arms brushing in a way that sent Mark’s pulse racing. Those moments had meant everything, and now here he was, trying to give Ethan something more. Something real.
He cleared his throat, forcing his voice steadily. “Are you okay with leaving Ranger behind for the weekend?”
Ethan nodded, his grin softening as he leaned back in the plush seat of the private jet, the hum of the engines warming up around them. “Yeah, I left Ranger with Alex at the K9 Training Center for his monthly refresher. He’ll be back Monday, probably sharper than me.”
Mark huffed a laugh, buckling in beside him. “Great. Now he’ll be even better at plotting my demise. That dog’s side-eye could slice steel.”
Ethan’s grin stretched wider, mischief glinting in his eyes. “Oh, trust me, you’re his favorite.”
Mark squinted at him, catching the telltale smirk. “Why do you have that stupid grin on your face? What’s going on?”
Ethan chuckled, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Hold on, you need to hear this from Alex. I told him I work for you and how Ranger’s always watching you—he’s got a story.” He tapped the screen, dialing Alex’s number switching it to the speaker as the call connected.
“Hey Ethan, checking in on him already?” Alex’s voice echoed through the cabin.
“Hey Alex, I’m with Mark and you’re on speaker, tell him what I saw at the center when I dropped Ranger off this morning.”
“Dude, not cool.” Alex laughed.
Laughing hard, Ethan replies, “Just tell him?”
Mark looked at Ethan with a quizzical look on his face.
Alex began, “Hey Mark, how’s it going man, I hear your headed up to Seattle for the weekend and taking the munchkin as a bodyguard?”
Mark shot Ethan a sidelong glance, smirking as he sized him up. “Yeah, something like that.”
“Quit stalling, Bennet,” Ethan said, grinning wider.
Alex laughed. “Alright, alright. Mark, you’re going to love this story.” he pauses, “You know how much I’m indebted to you right. How much I respect you. How amazing you are. When I pitched the PVK9 Center to Pacific Edge, you were my biggest supporter, no question.”
“Get to the good stuff,” Ethan chided.
He continued, “So, when I was ordering bite suits, sleeves, and agitation mannequins for training, I’m scrolling through the online catalog, and there’s this beefy, brown-haired mannequin with a beard. Looked a lot like you—rugged, jacked, the whole deal. I picked it out as a tribute to the guy who got us rolling.”
Mark’s head jerked back, eyes narrowing. “Wait—an agitation mannequin that looks like ‘me’?”
Ethan erupted into laughter, clutching his side as the sound bounced off the jet’s polished walls. Tears streamed down his face, and he wheezed, “Oh my God, I can’t see—Ranger’s favorite chew toy is a Mark clone!”
Mark’s jaw dropped, shock etching his features as he stared at the phone. “You’re saying Ethan’s K9—who never stops staring me down—wants to eat me alive?”
Alex’s chuckle rumbled through. “Yup. He’s got that dummy in a death grip right now—tears into it like it owes him kibble.”
Mark dragged a hand over his face, shaking his head. “Alex, please, can you deprogram this attack dog, so I don’t get mauled in my own house? I’d like my legs intact.”
Ethan doubled over again, laughter shaking his frame, and Alex joined in, mischief lacing his tone. “I’ll handle it, Mark, promise. We’ll retrain him—maybe swap it for a mannequin that looks like a beaver running back.”
“Or a husky,” Mark fired back, deadpan.
“Hey!” Ethan protested, still grinning as he wiped his eyes.
Mark’s shock finally cracked, a deep laugh breaking free. “Seriously, though—fix him. He’s already got my obituary drafted.”
Alex’s tone softened, still bright with humor. “You two are a blast. Enjoy Seattle, alright? I’ll sort Ranger out—no Mark mauling’s on my watch. I must keep my reputation, and your funding intact.”
“Thanks, Alex,” Ethan said, “Say hello to Jordan for me. I’ll see you Monday.” catching his breath as he ended the call. He glanced at Mark, who was shaking his head, a reluctant grin spreading.
Mark leaned back, exhaling dramatically. “Unbelievable. Your dog’s got me tagged as public enemy number one.”
Ethan nudged him with an elbow, smirking. “You should be honored, Alex made you the VIP chew toy.”
Mark’s laugh rolled out, rich and warm, filling the cabin as the jet picked up speed. “Yeah, well, you’re lucky I like you enough to risk my life for you.”
Ethan’s grin softened, a flicker of warmth in his eyes. “Aw, my hero.”
Moving on to other calmer subjects, Mark asks, “What about your parents? Are you going to be able to relax not being there for your mom?”
“Yeah, they are going over to Lynn’s house tonight for dinner, Dad has everything covered until I get home tomorrow night.”
The jet began taxing down the runway. Mark’s stomach flipped—not from the anticipation of take-off, but from the way Ethan’s gaze lingered on him, warm and steady. He shifted again, smoothing his hands over his jeans. “So, uh, after I meet with my client for about an hour, we can go sightseeing. Sound good?”
Ethan tilted his head, curiosity flickering across his face. “Yeah, sounds great. Where am I supposed to wait while you’re off being a big-shot lawyer?”
“The firm has a suite at a hotel,” Mark said, keeping his tone casual. “You can hang there while I’m gone.”
Ethan’s brows shot up. “A suite? Damn, Pacific Edge doesn’t mess around.”
Mark smirked, dodging the implied question. “Perks of the job.”
The landing was smooth, and soon they were stepping into the crisp Seattle morning, the air sharp with the tang of salt from the nearby Sound. A car waited to whisk them to the Ritz-Carlton, and when they walked into the lobby—marble floors gleaming, chandeliers casting golden light—Ethan stopped dead, his jaw-dropping.
“Pacific Edge puts you up at the Ritz?” he said, spinning to face Mark. “Man, your lifestyle is something else.”
Mark’s smile faltered, his hand tightening around his bag’s strap. “It’s just business,” he muttered, avoiding Ethan’s eyes as he checked them in. The lie felt flimsy, and Ethan’s playful tone hinted something sharp, something Mark couldn’t quite read.
Ethan nudged him as they headed to the elevator. “What’s next? Caviar and a personal butler? I’m gonna start calling you Mr. Fancy Pants.”
Mark rolled his eyes, but heat crept up his neck. “Keep it up, and I’ll leave you here with the bellhop.”
The suite was ridiculous—sprawling, with soft gray carpet underfoot, floor-to-ceiling windows framing the Seattle skyline, and a faint musk of expensive linens hanging in the air. Ethan let out a low whistle, dropping his backpack by the door. “Okay, seriously. This is nuts. I’m half-expecting a red carpet to roll out.”
Mark set his messenger bag down, forcing a chuckle. “It’s not that big a deal.”
Ethan turned, hands on his hips, his grin teasing but his eyes narrowing slightly. “Not a big deal? Mark, this is the kind of place you bring someone to impress them. Be honest—is this really just for the firm?”
Mark froze, his pulse kicking up. Shit. He rubbed the back of his neck, scrambling for an answer. “I’ve got a client meeting,” he said, a little too quickly. “It’s convenient. That’s all.”
Ethan studied him, that playful edge softening into something quieter. “Uh-huh,” he said, not pressing further, but the doubt lingered in the air like static.
Mark led the way past a gleaming dining table, its dark wood catching the soft glow of a crystal chandelier, and down a short hall to the two bedrooms. Each was a study in luxury—king beds draped in crisp white linens, flanked by mahogany nightstands, and bathrooms clad in ivory tile. But it was the oversized jacuzzi in the master suite that stopped Ethan cold. Tucked into a corner beside a massive window, the tub was a gleaming white behemoth, big enough for four, with jets promising a soak that could melt away a week’s worth of stress. “Holy hell, Mark,” Ethan said, grinning as he ran a hand along its edge, “I’m never leaving this thing. You’ll have to drag me out kicking and screaming.” Mark chuckled, leaning against the doorframe.”
“I’ll be back in about ninety minutes.” Mark said, grabbing his messenger bag as Ethan walked with him to the main room. “Make yourself at home.”
Ethan flopped onto the plush couch, stretching out. “Oh, I will. Don’t be late, Fancy Pants.”
Mark shook his head, but as he stepped into the hall, his chest tightened. Ethan wasn’t buying it—not completely. And Mark wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up.
The client meeting was quick—a real estate developer he’d worked with before, nothing heavy, just a formality to keep his story straight. An hour and a half later, he was back, stepping into the suite to find Ethan standing by the window, gazing out at the city. He’d changed into a Huskies jersey and jeans, his blonde hair still mussed from running his hands through it.
“Oh Lord, I have to walk around this city with you wearing that thing? I should have had airport security confiscate it when we went to the airport.”
“Ha, suck it, old man, today is a good day to be a Huskie” Ethan laughed and shouted, “Go Huskies!”
“I’m seasoned. I going to go change, I’ll be right out.”
Ten minutes later Mark walks out of his bedroom.
Ethan stopped short, his breath catching. The white button-down Mark had thrown on as he exited his bedroom in the suite clung to his chest, the sleeves rolled up over his forearms, and the blue jeans hugged his thighs just right. Ethan’s eyes lit up.
“You look amazing,” Ethan said, his voice warm but tinged with that easy tease.
Mark’s mouth went dry. “Thanks,” he managed, tugging at his collar. “You look ‘good’ too, even in that monstrosity.”
Ethan laughed, crossing the room. “Woof.”
“I guess you can walk five paces ahead of me and we will be good,” Mark said, then cleared his throat. “Come on. Breakfast first.”
Pike Place Fish Market buzzed around them, the air thick with the briny tang of fresh fish and the shouts of vendors tossing salmon like footballs. They found a small café tucked near with low wooden tables, the smell of warm croissants and espresso cutting through the salt. Mark slid into a chair across from Ethan, his knee brushing the table’s edge as he settled.
Ethan took a bite of his pastry, groaning softly. “Okay, this is heaven. How’d you know I’d love this?”
Mark smirked, sipping his coffee. “Lucky guess. Plus, you talk about Bake Off a lot, so I figured you would love pastries.”
“Guilty,” Ethan said, licking butter from his thumb. “So, tell me something. What’s your favorite thing about Seattle?”
Mark leaned back, cradling his mug. “The water. The way the Sound catches the light. Reminds me of Brookings, but… bigger.” He hesitated, then added, “What about you?”
Ethan chewed thoughtfully. “The energy. It’s alive here. Makes me feel like anything could happen.” His eyes flicked to Mark’s, a spark there that made Mark’s pulse jump.
“Yeah?” Mark said, his voice quieter. “Like what?”
Ethan’s grin turned sly. “Like a first date sneaking up on me.”
Mark nearly choked on his coffee, heat flooding his face. “That obvious, huh?”
Ethan laughed, leaning forward. “Maybe a little. You’re not as smooth as you think old timer.”
The awkwardness eased, replaced by something warmer, softer. They talked—about nothing and everything, about Ethan’s wrestling days, about Mark’s first triathlon with Jessica. Each word felt like a step, tentative but sure, pulling them closer.
Back at the suite, Mark unveiled the surprise. “So, sightseeing’s off the table,” he said, tossing Ethan a Huskies cap from his bag. “We’re going to the game.”
Ethan’s jaw dropped, his eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas. “No way. You’re kidding.”
Mark smirked, nerves fading under Ethan’s excitement. “Not kidding. Suite tickets. Best seats in the house.”
Ethan lunged forward, throwing his arms around Mark in a quick, fierce hug. “You’re unreal, you know that?”
Mark froze, then relaxed, his hands settling briefly on Ethan’s back. “Figured you’d like it.”
They pulled apart, Mark’s heart hammering as Ethan adjusted the cap, grinning. “You’re full of surprises, Jensen.”
The game was electric—cheers echoing through the stadium, the Huskies dominating. Mark barely watched, his focus on Ethan—shouting at plays, laughing, alive in a way that made Mark’s chest ache. Afterward, they stumbled back to the suite, buzzed on adrenaline and each other.
Ethan kicked off his shoes, flopping onto the couch as Mark stretched out on the other side of the large sofa, the skyline glittering beyond the window. The room smelled faintly of them now—sweat, coffee, a hint of Ethan’s cologne.
“Thanks for today,” Ethan said, his voice softer now. He shifted, his hand brushing Mark’s as he sat up. “Not just the game. All of it. You… you make me feel like this could be something worth believing in.”
Mark’s breath caught, his fingers curling around Ethan’s briefly before letting go. “Yeah,” he murmured, meeting Ethan’s gaze—blue eyes warm, unguarded. “Me too.”
The air hummed between them, a quiet, charged promise. Not a kiss, not yet—just a moment, raw and real, that left them both aching for what came next.
“What time is the reservation for dinner?” Ethan asked.
“In about two hours.”
Ethan pulls out his phone and sets an alarm. Good, that gives us about forty-five minutes to nap. I’m exhausted.”
Ethan moves up into the little spoon position on the couch, and Mark adjusts his massive frame to let him get beside him. No words were spoken.