Return To You: A Small Town, Second Chance Romance

26. Grace

twenty-six

“What time is it?” I’d better start getting ready. “Do we have time to go for brunch before my one o’clock?”

Ethan wraps both his arms around me, he gives me a squeeze and a long, soft kiss on my neck. My insides tingle, and my legs threaten to never be able to carry me again. I run my hand over his forearm, relishing the way he holds onto me as if he never wants to let me go. I tilt my head back and welcome his lips on mine. He lifts us effortlessly and wraps me in a thick towel, drying what’s left of the drops of water. Then he grabs another towel and plops it on my head. “Show me how to do that,” he says.

“Do what?”

“Wrap your hair in a towel. I wanna do that.”

I do the top of the head twist and he helps me tuck it in. Then he turns me around and says, “What do you want for brunch?”

“Anything, as long as it’s not too far.”

“We’re having brunch here.”

I whip around to see him walk out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hips. I almost lose my train of thoughts at the sight of him, half naked, in my space, like he lives here. Storing that memory for future use. “There’s nothing in the fridge.”

“I brought eggs and bacon from Lazy’s. When I picked up your car.” Dropping the towel, he pulls on a clean pair of briefs and a T-shirt from a small backpack he definitely didn’t have yesterday. Did he stop by the farm this morning?

He definitely picked up my car, one way or another.

“Chris gave me a ride early this morning. Found your keys in your bag,” he explains. “I hope that was okay?”

Why is the idea of Ethan rummaging through my bag sexy? I’d be offended if anyone else went through my stuff. “Yeah, sure.” I unwrap my hair and pat it down, shaking the water out of my ears.

“And Chris’s girlfriend gave me a little container of her pancake batter.”

I gasp. I should really be focusing on the fact that everyone knows we spent the night together, but really—“Alex’s pancake batter? Ohmygod, it’s the best.” My mouth waters and my stomach growls.

He pulls the T-shirt over his head, then plucks his jeans from the floor. “I swung by the farm to get a change of clothes. Mom had some fresh-pressed OJ. Dad said you were probably still good on syrup, but just in case, he gave me a jug.”

Oh great. Everyone knows. I feel a little fuzzy inside, to be honest. Not even remotely embarrassed.

“You get ready.” He boops me and strolls his tight ass down the hallway. “I’ll cook you breakfast.” My belly does a happy somersault while my eyes and my ears sear this memory in my brain forever.

I slide into my standard black slacks and white blouse, do my makeup, and tie my hair in a bun. The sounds and smells coming from the kitchen are positively sinful, and my belly growls.

My small kitchen table has been moved to the deck, two chairs catty-corner looking at the view, plates and napkins and even stem glasses set. Stem glasses!

“Hi, beautiful,” Ethan says, setting a spatula next to the range, pulling me to him, his hands around my waist, his face inches from mine. His gaze is all kinds of dangerous—the good kind of dangerous. I set my lips on his, and he kisses me long and deep. Then, with a sigh, he says, “We better go sit down, or your client will never get her facial.”

And that sends tingles down to my toes and right back up to my scalp.

“Grab the coffee?” he says as he takes a platter with scrambled eggs, grated cheddar, diced tomatoes, and a plate of pancakes. “And the syrup. It’s warming in the microwave.”

He serves me a heaping plate, but I feel satiated just looking at him. At his corded forearms while he pours the coffee—“Won’t be as good as Millie’s, but eh!”—at his frown when he plops a heaping spoon of scrambled eggs on my toast—“I should have asked you if you like them runny or dry. Which is it?”—at his sudden inhale when he takes a forkful of pancake dripping in King Knoll Farm maple syrup—“Oh god. Missed that shit. M-mhm.”

His jaw flexes, his eyes open, he looks at the pancake in wonder. Takes a bite with no syrup. “Damn. Damn! That’s good stuff right there.”

“Yeah, it’s her mother’s recipe. Good, huh? Did she give you ghee to cook it in?”

He chuckles. “Got a whole list of instructions to go with it.”

We eat in silence for a beat, Damian sprawled in the sun.

“Tell me about your spa. How’d you get started?”

I wipe my mouth and take a sip of Lynn’s freshly pressed OJ. “When I came back to Emerald Creek, I started working at the resort spa. I’d been doing facials and nails and stuff for a while before that. I already had some certifications and training, and I got a few more while working there. The job at the spa was okay until it wasn’t anymore. Too much drama. At that point, I had a steady stream of clients, and a lot of them were encouraging me to open my own place. It was a little scary, but I got with Emma, and she helped me with a business plan and finding financing.”

”Who’s Emma?”

“Oh right. She’s not from around here, so you wouldn’t have known her. She’s our only CPA here. Most businesses use her. Strong woman. Raises her kid alone. She helped me—helped us—a lot, when Chris first came back home with baby Skye. With, you know, tips and stuff. Skye and her daughter are best friends. Lots of playdates and sleepovers. It helps.”

“So she helped you start the spa?” he says, getting me back on track.

“Right. By that time, Colton and Chris were already starting their own businesses, so I knew it could be done. We’d talk a lot about the bottom line, and seed money, you know. And Kiara too. Actually,” I pause with my fork midair, trying to remember the facts accurately. There’s so much Ethan has missed! “Actually, we met Kiara at a start-up incubator we all attended. That’s how we all became friends with her. And then she moved to Emerald Creek.”

“She moved here?”

“Yeah.” I wink at him. “Dunno if you heard, but we’re hard to resist.” I smile, but he takes a long sip of his coffee, exhaling loudly. “You okay?”

He sets his hand on mine. “Never been better.”

I wave my fork in the air. “What was that, just now?’

He shakes his head slowly, his lips tilting up a little. “Nothin’. Just… you know.”

“What?”

He nods slowly. “Feeling like I missed out on a lot of stuff.”

“Ts’okay.” I shrug. “I’m sure a lot of people who stayed here wish they could have had your career. Greener grass and all that.”

“I guess. You only really know what you had when you lose it.” His eyes mist a little when his gaze sets on me. His hand still on mine gives me a quick squeeze.

I set my fork on my plate. Take a deep breath to keep my own emotions in check. “We shouldn’t do this. This-this-this what-if. It’s gonna kill us.” Tears well up despite my bravado.

He sits up straighter in his chair. “You’re right. Tell me more about your spa. Your staff.” His voice is cheery, his smile genuine. “Claudia’s a hoot. How did you find her?”

“She’s actually my latest recruit. I got her through Chris. One of his apprentices—Isaac—his dad is a real dick. Ended up in prison. His mom was looking for a job. I needed a receptionist. So I hired her.”

“Simple as that, huh.”

“Simple as that.”

“How about the others?”

“Oh. I could write novels about the others. Never-ending drama. Lots of love. Lots to give. Okay so, Fabrizio—not his real name, but don’t tell anyone—was trained in Paris—”

“—Really? Why isn’t he Fabrice, then?”

“You can ask him that,” I laugh. “He has a perfect eye for style and our brides love him. Shanice has the magical hands of a healer. Swear to god, some women actually choke up when she gives them a facial. She has some kind of gift. I’m trying to convince her to move onto massage therapy. And then we have Hope, our longest employee—she can do anything—and finally Cheyenne, our nail artist. And when I say artist, I mean it. She’ll do your regular mani-pedis, but where she really shines is in her artistic creations.”

I stop there, or else I’ll bore him to tears. Probably already did.

“So what’s with the landlord?”

“Oh.” Between Ethan’s lovemaking and my focusing on just my staff, I’d almost forgotten about that detail. “You know, he wants to sell the building. What can I do? I have a right of first refusal, but there’s no way I can afford the house. I don’t even want to contemplate that kind of a mortgage. It’s too early for me.”

“So if he sells to someone who wants to live there, you just have to pack up and leave,” he grunts.

“Yup.” I take another sip of OJ, but I’m not fooling myself. I just don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to ruin this perfect moment.

He turns my hand in his, trailing the inside of my wrist. “What are your dreams for your spa, long term? Wherever it might end up being.”

My heart stutters at his question. I love that he gets I don’t want to talk about the lease issue, at least not right now. I also love that he refuses to see that bump in the road as the end of my business. “Long term, I want the spa to expand into a sort of… holistic wellness experience. It’s still a little fuzzy in my mind, but… I don’t know. I could see early morning meditation and yoga, or maybe even sublease one room to an acupuncturist to have that seem to be in-house. Things like that. Down the road, I’d like to organize day-long retreats with a whole range of offerings. But something that would make sense to the needs of each person. Something thought-out for them.”

Ethan’s gaze roams from my eyes, to my mouth, to my throat. It’s official. “I’m boring you to tears.”

He frowns. “Not at all, quite the opposite. You want to create a Wellness Sanctuary. Addressing mental and physical needs tailored to each individual. I think it’s brilliant.”

“Thank you.” Now he’s making me blush. “But we’re only talking about me.”

“Not much to say about me,” he says, stacking his cutlery on his plate.

I down the last dregs of my coffee. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

He represses a smile. “Another time. We need to start moving if you want to make your one o’clock.”

We clear the table, then carry it back inside. Ethan follows with the chairs while I shoo Damian back in.

“How long have you lived here?” Ethan asks while he does the dishes.

I stand next to him to wipe and put away. He doesn’t ask me to stay seated, and I like that he seems to understand I need to move, and I need to put my things back where they belong. And also, I like doing that with him. It warms my heart. Another memory to keep safe for later.

“I bought the house about a year after I moved back. So what—four, five years? Something like that.”

He seems to think about things and I expect him to ask me why I chose this house. I know he noticed. What am I going to tell him when he asks? I’ll just say it was a coincidence. Total coincidence.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he says, “Did you move back… right after your divorce?”

I take a deep breath. It’s not as simple as that. “Before, actually. The divorce was final later. A few months after I moved back home.”

He keeps his eyes glued to the dishes, scrubs a plate that’s already clean. “What—what happened?”

How can I tell him? I’m not ready for this, not right now. Later. “Um… there just—there was nothing left for us to share. It…” I take a break and look at him, at his strong profile, his easy presence. “I’m not really ready to talk about it.”

“That’s okay.” He hesitates. “Was it a bad breakup?” he pushes.

“Not the way you might think. He was a good guy. A real good guy. We just… had nothing. It just fizzled out.”

I’m not ready to share with Ethan the deep loss, the wound I still carry around. But maybe, someday, we might get there. Maybe I can let him close enough to share this with him.

“Okay,” he says softly, handing me the last plate.

After I put the plate away, he pulls me into his arms and runs his hand over my back. “Is someone’s birthday coming up?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Apart from Lynn’s?”

He drops his head and laughs softly. “I’m not gonna live this down, am I? Who else knows about this?”

“Lemme see… the whole town?”

He shakes his head. “Any reason there’s a shopping bag with a cute as hell swimsuit in your car?’

“A wh—? Oh!” I frown. “How? Oh right.” He picked up my car, and I still have Cassandra’s bag in it.

He nods. “So. Swimsuit?”

“A gift from Cassandra.”

His lips graze my hair. “I like her taste. After your client, I’m thinking we should we get you in that excuse of a bikini and go for a swim.”

“Sure. I’ll just need to go grocery shopping real quick before that. And then we can go for a swim. That’d be nice.”

“And what’s that booster seat? Is that for Skye?” he asks as he lets me reluctantly out of his embrace.

“Yeah. I guess, now that Alex is back for good, they won’t need me as much. But… yeah. She has her bedroom upstairs too. With Chris’s crazy hours as a baker, she used to spend a lot of time here, so we wanted to make her comfortable.” It’s going to feel awful empty, once summer is over, Ethan is gone, and Skye doesn’t need me to take her to school anymore.

He grabs my waist and pulls me to him. “I’m sure they’ll be grateful for the babysitting.” He kisses my eyelids softly and gives me a squeeze, and I just love, love that he knows how I feel but also knows not to dwell on it.