Chapter 23
Tilda
I snatch my hand away from Ethan’s chest.
Then I drop my other hand from where I was practically clinging to his side.
His firm, muscled side.
What is wrong with me?
This man has my senses twisted in knots.
He’s manhandled me. Helped me.
Apologized.
No one has ever apologized to me. Not for calling me names.
I inhale, trying to slow my pulse as I take a step back. “Thank you.”
Ethan nods once. “Put a couple of big rocks in the pool before you fill it up. Water’s heavy, but they’ll help weigh it down on these extra windy days.”
I watch his dark, wavy hair whip around, and I start to lift my hand, knowing I need to give him his hat back but feeling strangely reluctant to do so.
He shakes his head. “You can give it back when you’re done with the straps.”
I lower my hand. “Okay.”
A vehicle door slams nearby, and I remember the honk that broke us apart.
We both turn to look at the newcomer who parked nose to nose with Ethan’s truck.
“Hey there, Ranger.” The guy is around my age, give or take, with shaggy hair and a tall, lanky build.
“Fisher.” Ethan turns to face the man as he greets him, putting himself between me and the new guy.
I hear a chuckle and lean to the side to look around Ethan’s wide shoulders.
The man grins at me.
Ethan steps to the side, blocking my view again.
What is he doing?
I lean the other way.
And the man, Fisher, grins at me again.
“I assume you’re here to buy bait or some shit.” Ethan holds out an arm, gesturing toward the front door of the hardware store. “Don’t let us stop you.”
A snort escapes me before I can stop it.
Ethan really is a grump.
Fisher ignores Ethan’s bad manners and holds his hand out, keeping his attention on me as I peek around Ethan’s side. “Name’s Fisher.”
Keeping his arm up, now with a finger pointed toward the hardware store, Ethan uses his other hand to slap Fisher’s down.
“Ethan!” I gasp while attempting to hide my amusement at his rudeness.
When I try to step around him, he hooks his arm back around my side. “Tilda, this is Fisher. Fisher, this woman is none of your business.”
Fisher presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, like he, too, is trying not to laugh.
“Tilda, nice to meet you.” He tips an imaginary hat my way.
“I have a girlfriend, and we love to double date, so if you and whoever you’re seeing”—he cuts a glance at Ethan—“want to go out sometime, just call Black Mountain Lodge and ask for me.”
“Thank—”
“She won’t be doing that.” Ethan tries to push me farther behind him as he speaks over me.
Fisher just grins before snapping a salute. “Ranger.” He drops his hand and does a little bow in my direction. “Miss.”
I bite down on my lip as Fisher straightens and strides away from us toward the store.
Ethan slides his hand down my hip as he drops the arm that was hooked around my side and slowly turns around to face me.
I tip my head back so he can see me lift my brows. “What, pray tell, was that?”
“Fisher, I already told you.”
I snort. “You’re rude.”
I swear his lips twitch with the start of a smile, but instead, he rolls those fascinating eyes, then nods toward my truck. “Go feed your duck, Matilda.”
My feet stay planted for a second, not wanting to go.
The first time I met Ethan, I was embarrassed and mortified.
The second time I met him, I was embarrassed and irritated.
The third time… this time, I started out embarrassed. But then he touched my face and gripped my hair. And he…
Heat rolls in my stomach.
This time it feels different.
He feels different.
Ethan takes a step back. “Now, Starlight.”
I take my own step back, widening the distance between us. “Why do you call me that?”
Ethan lets his gaze lower slowly, trailing it down my body, then back up, until he meets my eyes again. “I’ll tell you later.”
Then, after dousing my dormant hormones with gasoline and lighting them on fire, Ethan turns, climbs into his truck, and drives away.