Far From Over

23. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

KINSLEY

“ W hy are you here?” I ask Jay once I push past the flurry of confused emotions that tangle in my stomach.

I shouldn’t like being kissed by Ethan, but he’s good. Too good.

“I should be asking you the same thing,” Jay replies with a sneer.

“I live here,” I say, finally snapping out of my kiss-induced trance.

“You’re no longer in Charleston?”

“Even if I lived in Charleston, you know I’m from Hope Island. You have no ties here, so what’s the deal?” My voice raises more than a few octaves.

Ethan runs his hand up and down my back in slow, soothing circles, but there’s no calming me. I’m a hot mess of anger.

“I wouldn’t say they have no ties.” The man he walked in with stands and introduces himself. Will, the man I came to find, is apparently Jay’s cousin. How the hell did I not know Jay had family here?

“I invited them down to discuss a business venture. You heard about Fletcher’s Farm going on the market, right?” He looks back and forth between Ethan and me and then Jay, as if he didn’t catch the memo that small talk between two former lovers is socially unacceptable. “Warehouse Solutions put in a bid for the property, thanks to Jay. If all goes well, he’ll take over corporate finances.”

I zero in on Jay, who’s standing smugly with his arm around Chasity’s waist, as hot rage ignites inside me. Warehouse Solutions? Jay? The woman who appeared at the farm the other day was from the same organization.

Fuck. Jay knows. He’s always known about Maggie and her farm.

“You asshole,” I snap, lunging. “You knew about Maggie’s Farm. You knew I wanted it.”

Ethan grabs me by the waist and pulls me backward before I can claw at my asshole ex. He tries to hold me steady, but I’m a tornado of emotions. I grab at Jay, and I might even kick, though I’m too far to make any skin-to-skin contact with anyone other than Ethan.

Chasity takes a step back, her face twisted in horror as I flail about. I don’t blame her. She’s never once seen me lose control like this, and right now, I probably look like I should be locked up.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Jay says when I finally settle down. He tilts his head and then addresses Ethan, as if this has been his plan the entire time. “She’s always been a bit crazy, so strap in for a bumpy ride.”

What he doesn’t plan for is Ethan’s reaction. It takes one blink, and Jay is pinned against the wall that separates the bar from the rest of the restaurant.

A few people jump away and scream.

Ethan presses his forearm into Jay’s neck. “You’re going to apologize to the beautiful woman, and then you’re going to take her,” he points to Chasity, “and your cousin somewhere else. Somewhere outside Hope Island. If I see you again, I’ll arrest you myself.”

“Fuck you,” Jay spits out, not the least bit concerned. “You have no idea who you’re messing with.”

Logan comes running around the corner, his eyes wide.

Carter jumps over the bar and stands next to Logan. “No, man. You don’t know who you’re messing with.”

“You can’t do this. I have a right to be here.” Jay scowls.

“Actually, you don’t,” Logan chimes in. “We have a right to refuse service to any asshole we want. You might want to get out of here before my brother and I press charges for harassment and then Ethan here has to arrest you.”

“Harassment? He’s the one who has his hands on me. Camera footage will show he’s the aggressor.”

“Funny, because the way I see it, those cameras aren’t working. But my sister over there seems to have caught everything else on her phone,” Logan continues.

“Say you’re sorry,” Ethan commands, his words slow and rough.

“I’m sorry,” Jay sputters, his face red. “Is that what you want to hear?” he asks me through slitted eyes. “I’m sorry I called you crazy.”

“Much better.” Ethan pulls away but quickly grips Jay’s arm and hauls him to the doors.

As I watch them exit, Jill taps me on the shoulder and hands me my glass of wine. “Have a drink. You’re going to need it after all that. And oh my, can we talk about that kiss? Holy fuck.”

I’m shaking with rage, but the reminder of that kiss helps to cool me down. I roll my eyes and shake my head dismissively, but even I don’t believe myself when she fans her face with a napkin. That kiss was pretty damn epic.

By the time Ethan comes back, I’ve almost finished with my wine.

He pulls me into his large frame and hugs me tight. “I got you,” he whispers. The heat from his breath skates across the shell of my ear, sending a shiver down my back.

I slip my arms around his waist and bury my head in his chest, soaking in his warmth. I know it’s wrong, but it feels so right, so I let myself enjoy the moment.

“You were gone awhile. Everything okay?” I ask.

His voice is so soft and calming that I almost don’t register it when he tells me he canceled Will’s engagement.

Lifting my head, I blink, confused. “You what?”

Ethan gives me a quizzical expression. “You wanted me to cancel his engagement, right?”

“Yes, but…I mean…how?”

He shrugs. “I figured the best way to do it was to pull off the bandage, kind of like the way Ramon told me.”

“And you’re still walking and talking,” I laugh. “Are you sure you have all your teeth?” I press my hands to his face and pull down his jaw to inspect.

“It wasn’t so bad.” He smiles. “Will was actually pretty cool once Jay left. He even apologized for the confrontation and thanked me for being so honest.”

I drop my hands to his chest and shake my head in disbelief.

“Come on,” he says, “let’s finish our drinks and then let’s get out of here.”

Not long after, as we’re preparing to leave, I hand back Jill’s gorgeous diamond engagement ring. “Thank you.”

With a nod, she gives me a small smile. “It looks better on you than it does me.”

There’s a sadness in her voice that catches my attention, but I’m feeling warm and toasty on the inside, so I don’t press for details. Wine is my feel-good drink, which might not be the best thing for me right now. I’m feeling so good that my lady parts are finding it difficult to behave around Ethan.

It’s still early, and like yesterday, I’m not ready for the night to end so soon. “Head to Maggie’s house,” I tell him when we get into his truck.

We ride in comfortable silence with the windows rolled down. The air is cool, but it feels incredible on my overheated skin.

Every few minutes, Ethan steals a glance at me. I make no effort to hide my smile, which surprises both of us, I think.

After we pull into the dark driveway and park the truck, Ethan pulls a bottle of wine from the back seat. “This is what you were drinking earlier, right?”

“Yes,” I say almost too eagerly. “Sorry.” I wince at the sound of my voice. “Yes. There’s nothing to drink here, so that’s perfect.”

Once inside, Ethan turns on the lights. “Wow,” he says, looking everywhere but at me, which I’m thankful for, because one more stolen glance, and I might need a new pair of panties. “You did all this?” He makes his way into the living room and stops a few feet from the fireplace, wearing a confused frown as he scans the space.

“I locked Arthur up in the other room.”

Ethan chuckles.

As he stands there, I give in to the temptation to really study him. The outline of his muscles through his tight T-shirt, his trim waist, and his very round, very tight ass. I try to envision what it looks like beneath his jeans. And then I imagine what he’d look like hovering over me. The two of us tangled together. The very thought of it makes my insides twist with desire.

Finally, as if reading my mind, he turns around to face me. His eyes are pools of darkness. He studies me with the same intensity that flows through me. As the seconds tick on and neither of us moves, a small curve forms at his lips. He takes the first step, and I let him. But as soon as his left foot touches the floor, my heart flips with a sudden nervousness I don’t expect.

I try to look away while I still have a little willpower left, but it’s damn near impossible. Instead, I take a step backward. I can’t do this. We can’t do this.

He stops and puts both hands up. “I’m sorry,” he says, though his expression is the opposite of apologetic. “I’ll stay over here, on this side of the room.” He imbues humor into his tone, trying to shift the mood, but there’s little he can do to slow my heart rate.

“That’s a good idea,” I exhale.

He stares at me for a beat before asking, “Why is that?”

“Why is what?”

A sexy grumble escapes his lips. “Why is it a good idea that I stay on this side of the room?”

I bite one side of my lower lip. I’m a pretty blunt person. Especially when it comes to men, so I give him the truth. “Because I don’t trust myself.”

His expression remains neutral, as if he’s unsurprised by my answer. “Do you want me to leave?” he asks, his voice dripping with a need as strong as my own.

I draw a finger up to my mouth and drag it over the bottom ridge, contemplating the right words. Hell no, I don’t want you to leave. Absolutely not. Words are clearly not my friend right now, so I shake my head, hoping that will be enough of an answer.

He hums. “Since I can’t cross the line, how about you go find glasses for that?” He nods at the bottle in my hand.

I linger a few more seconds, assessing him, before I finally turn away. When I duck into the kitchen, I release a heavy breath. Hol-y fuck-ing shit. What am I doing? I can’t be out there giving him the impression that I want to jump his bones. Wait. Do I want to jump his bones?

I pull out my phone and type out a text to my sister, but I delete it quickly. I already know what Tessa’s response will be. She’ll tell me not to overthink any of this and just have fun.

Tipping my head back, I stare at the ceiling and count backward from ten. I’m not here for fun. I’m here because I want company, and Ethan is good company. That’s it. I’ll pour us each a small glass of wine. We’ll engage in a little small talk. And then…

“Hey, is there any firewood outside?”

My breath catches. Firewood. He wants to turn on the fireplace. Of course he would want to start a fire. This is Ethan. Sweet, romantic Ethan.

“There’s a stack on the porch. Around the corner,” I call out to him.

The heavy door swings open, the sound followed by the sharp creak of the screen door. When they’re both closed, I quickly pour our wine into two red Solo cups because that’s all I can find in the cabinets.

Get it together, Kinzie. This is Ethan . All I have to do is shift the mood. I can literally talk about anything. My mom. Cancer. My inability to have babies. Any and all of those topics will ice my libido.

The door bangs shut again.

I give myself a few more seconds of peace before going out there, and as I pick up the cups and head for the living room, I repeat the word hysterectomy over and over again in my head.

Ethan and I spend the next hour going through the last few boxes in the living room, emptying each one, only to find more miniature caricatures and figurines. He sits on the couch while I remain on the floor. We talk and laugh. He listens to me rant about Warehouse Solutions and my fear that they’ll tear the house down. He asks what I would do if I found the paperwork.

Because I’m another glass deep, I let the wine talk and tell him about my dream of returning it to its original glory. A place that brings joy and happiness to the people of Hope Island.

“What does that look like to you?” he asks.

“Mmm.” I close my eyes and picture what it was like before Ezra got sick. “A tree farm. Local organic produce. Plants and flowers and a small petting zoo. And hands-on woodcutting classes.” The last part is new. The only person Ezra ever taught was me, but I want to pass on his passion to another generation of craftsmen and artists like he did to me.

When I open my eyes, I expect Ethan to laugh, just as Jay did when I made the mistake of opening up about my dream. It’s a far-fetched idea, I get it. But Ethan doesn’t laugh. Instead, he gives me a bright smile, as though it’s the best damn idea he’s ever heard of.

“I bet business would be good,” he says, his tone genuine.

My heart skips a beat. “I think so too. Look at this place. There’s no other place like it.” I stand, pressing my bare feet into the worn rug, and shuffle to the fireplace and run my hand along the oak beam. “I’d modernize it a little, but I’d keep the history.”

“Did you see this?” Ethan asks, drawing my attention back to him. He’s holding a small book in his right hand.

I move toward him, squinting at the unfamiliar item.

“It’s an old photo album. I found it tucked between Arthur’s ancestors.” He hands it to me and then scoots over, making room for me on the couch next to him.

I sit and draw back the cover of the small worn brown album. The first page has six black and white photos tucked behind a yellowish film. “That’s Ezra and Maggie,” I say.

Ethan leans in and points to the image on the bottom row, where the two of them are standing side by side. “Is that this house?” he asks, pointing to the house in the background.

“Yes,” I say, hit with a surge of emotion. I turn the page, and there, in another photo, are Maggie and Ezra again. They’re in the same spot on the front porch, but this time, the entire house is in the frame. Ezra, dressed in a suit, stands next to Maggie, holding her at the waist. She’s in a white dress that’s fitted to her body and ends right above her ankle. The picture is grainy, but there’s no denying that this is a wedding picture.

“Fletcher’s Farm,” Ethan says, dragging his finger across the page and reading the sign hanging above the front door.

“That sign is hanging out by the road now. Maggie told me it hung above the doorway until a heavy storm knocked it down.”

I flip through each page, seeing the farm the way Maggie must have seen it when she was younger. “This,” I say, running my hand across one of the pages, “is what I always envisioned when Maggie told me stories, but I had no idea how beautiful it really was.”

Ethan slips his hand to the edge of the last page and begins to turn it but stops before I can see anything. He chuckles softly.

Nose scrunched in confusion, I regard him. When our eyes meet, he laughs harder.

“What?” I ask, instinctively bringing a hand up, worried I have something on my face.

Ethan keeps sneaking peeks at the last page, so I push his hand away and turn the page myself.

When I see the picture, my mouth falls open, and my entire body immediately convulses into a fit of hysterics. A snort escapes my nose, and I double over in laughter.

Ethan is laughing so hard I think he might actually cry.

Right there, on the last page of the album, with a picture dedicated all to himself, is Arthur. King of the Squirrels.