Chapter 8 #2
“Uaargh.” I did a whole-body shudder-cringe-shake and walked away from the window.
This wasn’t me. I didn’t get jealous. I had no reason to be jealous!
Ethan was single. I was single. I had two dating apps and everything!
I didn’t even know for sure if they were flirting down there—and even if they were, good for them.
“Gah.” Unable to help myself, I hurried back to the window and sucked in a breath.
For some unknown reason, I had to know how this was going to end.
On the one hand, if something happened—if I caught them exchanging numbers or…whatever, then I’d know Ethan was, well, also into bigger women. Right? Not that it mattered to me, obviously, but a girl could be curious. And then on the other hand…if they parted ways and—
“No fucking way.” I peered closer between the blinds. The woman was fucking going for it. She took a step toward him and trailed a finger up his biceps—you bitch—and Ethan glanced down at her hand.
He smirked and lifted his stare to her face again, and he replied to her. My God, what I wouldn’t give to be able to hear him.
I pushed two blinds apart with my fingers and narrowed my eyes.
The woman suddenly dropped her hand and—wait, was she pouting?
Had Ethan turned her down?
He must’ve, because she nodded, no longer looking very happy, before she offered a forced smile and walked off.
Yeah, you keep walking, girl.
I had serious problems.
“That’s fine, but I already have plans for my next line,” I said, walking out of the bathroom. “I went over things with Linda and Shauna at lunch, and we’re thinking a spring release before Easter.”
I was going to get my delicate maple leaves and spring blossoms in silver and gold.
“Oh, that’s great! I’m meeting with Linda tomorrow when she lands, so she can fill me in,” Jocelyn answered. “And the release for the holiday collection?”
Collection was a stretch. I had seven pieces launching in a collaboration with Macy’s.
“November twenty-fifth,” I said. I tightened the towel around my chest and walked over to the bed where I kept my bags.
“Oh, by the way, could you send me a new soldering block? I’ll be getting my studio ready as soon as I get the keys in a couple of weeks, so I want to be good to go ASAP.
” There was only so much I could design at home.
“No problem. I’ll ship it first thing on Monday.”
“Thank you, honey.” I picked out my pajamas for my exciting Saturday night of ordering room service and watching movies. “Now, log out of the system and enjoy your weekend. I’m sorry things got so hectic down here today.”
To be honest, I didn’t want to think about it. Showing my face in my stores was one thing, but having two cameras in my face…? No thanks. Safe to say, my marketing team was gonna get an earful tomorrow. I hadn’t been able to say anything today since we’d been freaking live on my Instagram.
“Yes, ma’am—but for the record, we got a lot of sales online today,” Jocelyn responded. “I can’t wait for New York to beat them!”
I chuckled and shook my head. The competition going on between my stores was fun.
“On that note, are you coming here next or Chicago?” she asked.
“Probably all four, actually,” I sighed. It would be the holidays by then, an important time of the year. “New York is my flagship, though. I’ll definitely be there.”
Truth be told, I had half a mind to open a small shop in Camassia that I could run on my own. That was why I had rented a studio with a storefront.
After wrapping up my conversation with my favorite New York gal, I ordered dinner and changed into a top and pajama shorts, and I caught a glance at myself in the full-length mirror next to the hallway.
Huh.
I bit my lip.
Didn’t the shorts seem a little…loose?
I hadn’t worn these in a while.
I smiled to myself and plopped down on the bed, and I figured I could text Ethan.
Hey, Coach! Guess who just put on pajamas and noticed they’re a little big? (Ordered room service too. You’d be proud! Grilled shrimp with a salad and no dressing.)
Things felt…good. Fresh out of the shower, slightly loose pajamas, nice hotel suite, grand view on the balcony, Miami’s nightlife waking up some ten stories below, my sore feet could finally rest, and a big-big-big bed. The only thing missing was my dinner.
A flash of a man appeared in my mind, Ethan walking toward me with a towel wrapped around his hips, and I shook my head quickly and screwed my eyes shut.
Christ on a cracker!
That had to stop.
I slapped my hands to my face and groaned.
Last night, I’d spent an hour analyzing memories of Ethan Quinn’s smiles.
Smirks were supposed to be cocky, and his were too, but they were decidedly warm as well. A warm smirk. That was evidently a thing.
“Stop it,” I whispered to myself.
My phone buzzed, and I hurriedly opened the text from Ethan.
That’s fucking incredible! Good job, Natalie. Isn’t that better than hopping on a scale, to see it and feel it in your clothes?
I beamed. He was so right. He was also still typing, so I waited.
Not to say I wasn’t curious about my weight and measurements, but I wanted to hold on for a while longer.
If I weighed myself today and noticed I’d only lost five or six pounds, I wouldn’t be able to logic my way out of that defeat.
Even though I knew very well that muscle weighed more than fat and so on.
I’m having shrimp for dinner too. With roasted brussels sprouts. But I’m at home with nothing to do. You’re in Miami. Shouldn’t you be out trying a nice restaurant? Pajamas at eight PM on a Saturday…
Oh, please! If only he knew how I’d struggled today. Goodness, I’d been on my feet since seven this morning.
My fingers flew across the keyboard.
First of all, yes, it feels good to see the weight loss in the mirror. Second of all, my feet are killing me! I wish I could have someone come up and rub them LOL. Third of all, nothing tops a night in with room service and PJs. :P
What I didn’t ask was why he didn’t have a date…
I released a breath.
What was happening? Was I developing some insane crush on my conceited yet super kind PT? How pathetic!
Oh God.
I went rigid where I sat, and I stared wide-eyed at nothing. I was one of those women he’d told me about. All those clients and members who’d flirted with him over the years? I was one of them. Fucking hell.
My phone buzzed again, and I dropped my gaze.
Ms. Nolan, I’m your PT. Please keep your foot fetish to yourself. This is entirely inappropriate.
I exhaled a laugh and slapped a hand against my face again.
Did he have to be so funny?
Two quiet knocks on the door alerted me to the arrival of my dinner, so I scrambled out of bed and scurried over to the door. While a polite server wheeled in a cart, I grabbed my purse to tip him. But the only thing I could think about was what to text Ethan. I wanted to keep the banter going.
“Thank you so much.” I handed over a five-dollar bill, eager to get back to bed. Where my phone was waiting.
“Thank you, ma’am. Enjoy.”
The moment the door closed, I locked it and pushed the food cart to my bed, and I lifted the lid off the bowl. Damn, that looked good. Baby greens and loads of grilled shrimp. Some bread too—don’t mind if I do. I’d been good all day. If I skipped the butter…
“Grrr.” I hesitated and eyed my phone.
Oh, fuck it.
I called Ethan. Knowing full well it wasn’t part of our deal.
He picked up pretty fast, though. “Good evening, foot fetishist.”
I smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Hi. Are you busy? I have a quick question.”
“Am I busy?” he chuckled. “Tell me what the coolest response is. I’m watching shrimp defrost, or I’m cleaning my kitchen?”
“Oh, they’re both badass,” I replied soberly. “Especially on a Saturday night. Or afternoon, in your case.”
He laughed under his breath. “In my defense, I didn’t crawl into bed until five this morning. My sister pushed the envelope for what can be considered a midnight workout.”
I scrunched my nose, confused. “You lost me. Your sister was at the gym, or…?”
“Yeah, I join her way past my bedtime once a week because she doesn’t do well with working out in the day around people.”
Ohhh—and his sisters were autistic, I remembered him telling me.
“But she usually shows up around eleven PM,” he went on. “Last night, she asked if we could meet up at two AM instead, and I guess she’s been carrying around a lot of frustrations, because she was at it for almost three hours. The last hour, I dozed off on a treadmill.”
“Aww,” I chuckled. “And I’m guessing she can’t be there on her own?”
“Eh, she probably could, but I wouldn’t be comfortable knowing she’s there alone.”
Easy to love…
I suppressed a sigh and pinched an olive from my salad, and I popped it into my mouth. “You’re all kinds of sweet, aren’t you?”
“It’s family.”
I could practically hear a shrug in his voice.
“So, what was your question?” he asked.
Oh, right. I looked at the cart. “How do you say no to bread that’s served on the side so prettily?”
He chuckled. “Let me guess. You’re standing there looking at your food, and you’re debating whether you’ve earned the bread, if you’re going to pour some dressing on your salad after all, and if you can use just half the butter packet.”
Jesus. This wasn’t his first rodeo.
“You’re totally wrong—I’m sitting down,” I deadpanned.
He chuckled again.
“I was gonna skip the butter, though,” I added. “And they didn’t give me the dressing I specifically said I didn’t want. If I had, maybe you’d be right about that one too.”
He hummed. “It’s natural to bargain with yourself. We do it all the time. But in the grand scheme of things, a piece of bread won’t make any difference. However, if you have a piece of bread with every meal, it’s going to rack up.”
He was right.
“Carbs are so hard,” I admitted.
“They are,” he agreed. “What have you eaten today?”