5. Ethan
CHAPTER 5
Ethan
Tuesday cannot come fast enough. When Bridget asked if I could cook, I realized that we’d never talked about what we do for a living. And she has no idea that I’m a sous chef at Mangia Bene. Actually, I have no idea what she does.
I want to know everything there is to know about Bridget. Ever since our night together, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. Her crystal-blue eyes. That electricity that hummed between us every time we touched. The way she gave up control of her pleasure to me. I don’t think that’s something she does with anyone.
Our date is in about thirty minutes, and I’m putting the finishing touches on our meal at the restaurant. Since I’m off tonight and it’s not busy, Alyx let me in. Mangia Bene has three sous chefs, and Alyx and I are two of them. We work for two of the best head chefs in the world, Alyx’s moms. While most restaurants would only have one head chef and one sous chef, Mina and Dre work well together and created their restaurant to allow all of us a better work-life balance. Any of the five of us can run a dinner service, allowing everyone flexibility with our schedules. It’s been an incredible training ground that’s allowed me to experiment with my culinary skills.
“Smells good, bro. So you finally convinced Bridget to see you again?” Alyx asks.
“I did, actually. Sorry to cook and run, but I need to plate this and head over there.”
“No worries. I can clean your station and then prep for service tonight.” Alyx starts moving around me, stacking up pans and carrying them to the dishwasher.
“Thanks, I owe you,” I shout at his retreating back as I pack up the last of the meal I created. “Oh, and tell Mina to take the wine out of my next check,” I say, holding up the bottle for him to see.
Bridget lives just a few blocks from the restaurant, which was a pleasant surprise to learn the other night. I’m knocking on her door when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I juggle the bags to retrieve my phone.
Bridget
I can’t do tonight.
Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I knock harder on the door. “Bridget, open up!” The distinct noise of her moving around her apartment is obvious as I stand in her hallway.
“Why are you so early? It’s only four-thirty,” she calls through the door.
“I’d love to tell you if you open the door.”
“I can’t. Let’s reschedule.”
“We can do that, but I still have food for you. If you open the door, I can set it up and then take off, if you want.”
The door cracks open, and I see one gorgeous blue eye emerge under the chain in the door. “I’m not prepared for company. I’m not wearing makeup, nor am I dressed. I can’t, I’m sorry.”
She’s flustered, and I can tell something is wrong. “I really don’t care what you’re wearing, and I meant what I said. I can drop this food and go, but please let me in. Unless you want your neighbors to hear our conversation?” I flash her a smile. The door closes, and I hear her mutter something about a dimple while she fumbles with the chain before it opens again, and I step inside.
Standing behind the door, she gestures to her right. “Kitchen’s over there.”
She’s in black sweats and a cream-colored tank top. It must have a built-in bra because her puckered nipples are peeking through the fabric, taunting me. I’m honestly not sure why she’s worried about no makeup when we’ve showered together and I already know she looks great without it. “Hey, sweetheart, you look beautiful,” I whisper before giving her a quick peck on the cheek.
I walk over to the kitchen and begin unpacking the bags as she closes the door and saunters over.
“Look, I’m not feeling well, and I…did you get food from Mangia Bene? I thought you said you were cooking. That’s cheating.” She reaches for the bag and pulls out one of the containers. “Ugh, this smells so good. How did you know it’s my favorite restaurant? They make this tortellini dish with brown butter and sage that’s to die for. It’s not on the normal menu, so I have to call and ask for the specials to see when they have it.”
“Sorry about that. It’s my signature dish, and we only offer it when I’m leading service.”
The look on her face is priceless. Her eyes are huge, and her mouth is hanging open in shock. “Are you telling me that you’re a chef at my favorite restaurant and you’re responsible for my favorite meal?”
“It appears so.” I smile as I pull the tortellini out of the bag and place it in front of her. “You can’t tell me this doesn’t mean something.”
Her eyebrows furrow. “It’s just a coincidence. It’s not a big deal…” she starts before grabbing her abdomen and wincing.
“Are you okay?” I move over to her, unsure of what she needs but feeling distraught over the pain flashing across her face.
After several deep breaths, she straightens. “It’s nothing, I’m just not feeling well.”
“Where does it hurt? You’re holding your abdomen. Could it be appendicitis?”
“It’s not appendicitis. I’m fine.” Her hand moves from her abdomen to her lower back before my brain fills in the blanks.
“Have you taken anything for the pain? Where’s your heating pad? Point me in the direction of what you need, and I’ll take care of it. Go sit on the couch.”
The little huffing noises she’s making are cute. I move toward the cupboards, about to look for painkillers, before she relents with a huge sigh. “Aleve is in the cabinet next to the fridge, and my heating pad is on my bed. How did you?—”
“I have five sisters.” She walks down the hall while I grab the Aleve and get her a glass of water. After I finish plating the food, I carry it into the living room and set it down on the table with the water and pills. She disappeared into her bedroom, so I knock before entering. I don’t see her inside. But I spot the heating pad, grab it, and head back to the living room. There’s an outlet near her pile of blankets, and I plug it in and turn it on as she enters the room.
“Were you trying to cancel our date because you got your period?”
Her cheeks redden. “Ugh, this is so embarrassing.”
I walk over and grab her hand. “Sweetheart, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I grew up in a house with six women, and not all of their cycles synced up. It was always someone’s time of the month, and I’m a protective older brother. I got good at helping take care of everyone. Aleve and water are next to your food, and I plugged the heating pad in so it should be warmed up soon.”
She looks down at the table, and I swear I see disappointment cross her delicate features. It guts me, and I’d do anything to prevent that look. “I’ll stay if you want. Or I can come back another day. It’s up to you.” I let go of her hand and glide my hands up her arms. Don’t look at her nipples. Fuck, it’s so hard not to when they’re right there, begging to be touched.
“Are you avoiding looking at my breasts?” She laughs, and the sound is music to my ears.
“What gave it away?”
“The way your eyes keep darting around. You keep looking at me in the face, then your eyes drift down, and then all around the room like you’re avoiding something. Can’t say I blame you when this top leaves little to the imagination.” She shifts and crosses her arms over her chest.
Message received. I drop my hands, shoving them in my pockets. “Sorry, I’ll put away the rest of the food and get out of your hair.”
I quickly cross toward the kitchen when the sound of her voice freezes me in my tracks.
“Actually…” she trails off as I slowly turn to stare at her.
“Actually, what?” I cross my arms to mirror her position, feeling cocky.
“Nothing.”
“Nuh-uh. I’m going to need to hear you say it.”
“Jesus, you’re infuriating,” she huffs. “Yukinst,” she mumbles with her chin down toward her chest, eyes on the floor.
“I’m sorry, what was that? I didn’t quite catch it.”
“You can stay,” she says clearly, rolling her eyes while kicking at nothing on the floor with her toe.
“I can what?” I ask as I carefully cross over to her.
“Stay!” she shouts. “Jesus.”
My arms reach out, grabbing her and pulling her into me. I can’t touch her fast enough. Can’t get her close enough. “That’s what I thought you said.” I breathe into her, our lips millimeters apart. Our eyes lock, and it feels like hundreds of words pass between us, paragraphs and essays full of declarations. “Sweetheart, I?—”
Before I can finish, her lips crash into mine, frantic and full of bite. She tastes like vanilla and desperation, moving against me with fervor. We’re licking, biting, and sucking as she pulls on my lower lip while wrapping her arms around my waist. I’m not even trying to hide my hard-on as I thrust it into her pelvis. Her lips pull away, but my hand around the back of her head keeps her face close as I kiss my way along her jaw and down her neck.
“I can’t. My period,” she moans but doesn’t pull away.
“Sweetheart, you’re wrong if you think a little blood will scare me away,” I whisper between kissing and sucking on her neck.
“It’s not just… I… oh shit, that feels so good… I can’t,” she whines while I kiss her before abruptly pushing me away.
“It’s okay,” I breathe out as she backs away from me. “We can just eat and talk, but I’m going to need a minute before I sit with you.” She looks at the bulge in my pants and laughs. Fucking laughs .
Once back in the kitchen, I make myself a plate of food while I wait for my erection to calm down. Opening a drawer in her kitchen island, I find the bottle opener on the first try and grab the bottle of wine. Turning, I open a cabinet, and the wine glasses are exactly where I’d expect them to be.
Bridget has a suspicious look on her face. “Um, how do you know where everything is in my kitchen?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure, but everything is exactly where I’d put it. Great minds think alike?”
“It’s kind of creepy.”
“Or it’s another sign that there’s something here worth exploring.” I flash her another grin, and she rolls her eyes. “Keep rolling your eyes, and I’ll spank that ass so hard it’ll take your mind off those period cramps.” Her eyes meet mine, and I don’t see annoyance or disgust there. There’s only longing and desire as a small blush creeps across her cheeks. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“You keep talking like you’re going to see me again after tonight,” she says with a hint of challenge in her tone.
“I do know where you live. And I make your favorite meal. Don’t think this is going to be over after tonight,” I say cheekily.
“So Mangia Bene, huh? Are you the head chef there?” Deflecting is her MO, so I’m not surprised by the sudden change of topic.
“I’m a sous chef along with Alyx and his sister Nyomi. You remember him from the other night, right?” She nods, and I continue. “His moms own the restaurant and are the head chefs.”
“Dre and Mina are Alyx’s moms?” she asks with a look of surprise on her face. “What a small world.”
“I’m surprised we haven’t met before.”
“I mostly do takeout after work. I don’t dine in a lot.” So she’s a workaholic. Makes sense. She’s probably poured herself into her career since she clearly views relationships as distractions. “But I’ve met Dre and Mina several times when I pick up my food. Dre is so sweet, and Mina is hilarious.”
“Please don’t say she’s told you the pickle story.” I groan, dropping my head into my hands.
“She hasn’t, but now I must hear it. Tell me, pup.”
“Oh no. No, no, no. I’m not telling you that story.” Fuck, I’ll never live it down if she hears it. “Anyway, you know what I do and know way too much about my place of employment, apparently. Tell me more about you and what you do.”
“It’s your turn to deflect, eh? I’ll bite. I’m the CFO for a supplement brand, and right now, I’m in the middle of a major acquisition.”
“So, numbers are literally your job?” Of course she loves numbers. It’s all making sense now. Everything in her life has a place. She craves order, structure, control. Totally left-brained, driven by logic and data.
Realizing she’s probably not going to give me any more details, I relent, and we eat in silence for several minutes. “How is it?” I ask, gesturing to the almost empty plate in front of her.
“Delicious,” she groans between mouthfuls. Seeing her satisfaction while eating my food does something to me. My cock twitches in my jeans as my eyes focus on the way her throat bobs as she swallows another bite. I’ve enjoyed cooking since my Nonna taught me, and I thrive on the sense of purpose it gives me. But there is something innately sexy about this woman enjoying my creation.
Her phone buzzes on the couch, and a look of concern falls over her face as she gets up. “Sorry, I need to take this.” She walks over to the kitchen, and I try not to listen to her conversation, but I hear bits and pieces as I finish my meal.
“You did?... What does that mean?... Can you spell that?... When do I need to… Oh, that’s soon… Okay… Yeah, I can make that work. I need to move some things around…”
When she hangs up, the silence in the room is deafening. “How much of that did you hear?” she asks with a tremble in her voice.
It takes a few strides to reach her and I pull her into my arms. I’m not sure what she was discussing on the call, but given the shift in her demeanor, it wasn’t good news. “I heard parts, but I promise to only remember the parts you want to share with me,” I assure her while kissing her hairline.
“Fuck.” I squeeze her tighter and stroke my hand up and down her spine. The tension in her muscles slowly relaxes as she blows out several deep breaths. “You have the worst timing. Or I do. Or my doctor does. Ugh, why did I say that? It’s like I can’t shut up around you.”
With my hand under her chin, I tilt her face so her eyes meet mine. “Maybe it’s good that I’m here. I’m not sure what’s happening, but I get the feeling you shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Bridget pulls away from me and starts frantically tapping at her phone, muttering curses under her breath. She’s rattled, and frustration mars her features. “Fuck, it’s Becka and Robert’s anniversary, and he’s surprising her with a trip, and my parents are on a Mediterranean cruise that week. Shit, and the acquisition. I have so much to do before then.”
“I can help,” I offer before I can think it through. She needs someone, and it’s a chance for me to prove that I can be what she needs. Maybe at the end of this, she’ll see how good I can be for her.
Her eyes flick up to mine, and the anger that sears me is feral like a hellcat about to unleash. Throwing my hands up between us, I try to calm her ire. “I’m happy to help. I’m not sure what’s going on, but it sounds like the people you normally lean on are occupied, and you might need someone. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Why would you do that? We fucked once, and you think you know me?” she spits out.
Hurt people hurt people. I repeat the mantra my mom ingrained in me. Something bad just happened to Bridget, and she’s taking her anger out on me.
“I’m not sure what that call was about, but I can tell that you received some upsetting news?—”
“Don’t do that. Don’t psychoanalyze me and act like you know me. You don’t know me or anything about me. I knew this was a mistake.” As she turns to leave the kitchen, I catch her hand, and she stands there for a few seconds frozen with her phone in one hand and her other captured in mine. “I can’t do this,” she says quietly. “You’re a complication I can’t afford.”
“It’s only complicated if we make it. Let me help you. Please.”
“You can’t help me. You don’t even know me. I barely know you. I’ll figure something out. I always do.”
My heart breaks at her words. How many people have let her down? How many times has she been hurt to the point where she won’t let anyone in? There’s something comforting in knowing that we have more in common than she realizes.
We stand there, half in her kitchen and half in her living room. I thread her fingers through mine and squeeze her hand a little tighter as she stands there with her back to me, refusing to let me in, refusing to let me see her.
“It was my doctor’s office,” she starts in a voice so small I almost don’t hear her. “I found out on Monday that there’s a cyst on one of my ovaries, and they ran some additional tests…” she trails off, and I let her sit in the silence, rubbing my thumb on the back of her hand to let her know that I’m still here. “It’s not cancer, but there’s a family history of the brCA-2 gene, so they want to remove the cyst and my ovary since I have a thirty percent chance of developing ovarian cancer. I can’t even believe I’m telling you this.” She pauses, and my thumb continues moving in soothing circles. “Anyway, they want to do something called a… fuck, I wrote it down.”
“You need surgery, I take it? And they want to do the procedure soon, but your emergency contacts all have conflicts?”
“They do, but I’ll figure it out.” She withdraws her hand from mine, and I feel the loss of her warmth immediately.
“I can help.”
“No, absolutely not.”
“My Nonna died of cancer last year, and I was her primary caretaker. I spent months as her nurse, so a few weeks helping you would be easy.”
It broke me seeing the strong, feisty woman I loved slowly lose that strength as she succumbed to her illness. This must be the reason the universe put Bridget in my path. I need a do-over. And I can prove to her that I can be helpful and worth her time and affection, and maybe one day her love.
“I’m not asking you to do that.”
“No, I’m offering. Are you worried I’ll have to change your diapers? Because I have experience with that too,” I joke, attempting to lighten her mood.
“Jesus,” she groans, unamused, but I see her turn slightly to hide her smile before she straightens and addresses me. “Look, you’re a nice young man?—”
“Nope, I’m going to stop you right there. You keep throwing my age at me like it’s a weapon. I’m not here begging for more dates with you because of your age or mine. I’m not here offering you help because of age.” I pull her into me before flashing her my dimple, which I’ve figured out is her kryptonite. “And my desire to fuck you has nothing to do with age. I like you as a person, not a number. Please let me do this for you.”
“That fucking dimple.” She drops her head against my chest. “I’m not saying yes. I will keep you as an option, but not if you mention diapers again.”
“Fair enough. That’s all I’m asking for.” For now.