Chapter 8
Blake
Soon I’m walking up the path to the neat house Emmy shares with her fiancé, Patrick. The house is charming, with a tidy lawn and flower beds that always seem to be in bloom. The house used to belong to Patrick’s grandmother, and I can still sense her spirit—Granny Sloane was larger than life.
Next door, Patrick’s mom’s garden is a wild riot of colors, with beautiful sculptures peeking out from behind the foliage. It’s a stark contrast to the other manicured lawns, but somehow fits perfectly into the neighborhood.
Emmy and Patrick got back from traveling several months ago, and Emmy and I have become fast friends. She’s one of the kindest and most genuine people I’ve ever met, and I’m so glad to have her in my life.
I knock on the door and their little dog, Stormy, starts barking. Within moments, Emmy answers, her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, while Stormy jumps up on me, sniffing me all over, wagging his scruffy little tail.
“Blake!” She gives me a tight hug. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it to the Tavern last night. I had a shift at the hospital.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, returning the hug.
She steps back, holding the door open for me. “Come in, come in. Do you want some coffee or breakfast? I just made a fresh pot.”
“I’ve already eaten, but thanks.” I follow Emmy and Stormy into the cozy living room; the house smells like bacon and vanilla.
Emmy heads to the kitchen and pours me a glass of OJ. “At least have some juice. I know how bad you are remembering to eat. This is probably the last thing you’ll have until dinner.”
I take the glass and follow her to the table. The kitchen is bright and airy, with sunlight streaming through the windows. Fresh flowers sit in a vase on the table, which is set with cute, mismatched dishes that somehow work together perfectly.
As we sit down, the sound of water running reaches me. “Is Patrick in the shower?” I take a sip of juice.
Emmy’s expression softens at the mention of her fiancé. “Yeah, he’s getting ready for a pretty busy day. He’ll be out in a bit.”
We chat for a few minutes, catching up on the latest news. Emmy tells me about her shift at the hospital, and we talk about the oil spill. I’m conscious Patrick could be done at any moment, and I take a deep breath, deciding to dive right in.
“Something crazy happened last night after everyone else left the bar.”
Emmy leans forward. “Do tell.”
I set down my juice. “Ethan stayed back to help me fix a broken tap. We ended up getting drenched in beer. It was a total mess.”
Emmy laughs, shaking her head. “Only you, Blake.”
“There’s more.”
She leans back in her chair. “Go on.”
A blush creeps up my cheeks. “Well, we kissed. And it wasn’t just any kiss. It was... hot. Like, really hot.”
Emmy’s eyes widen, and she looks thrilled. “It’s about time you had some fun! You deserve it.”
I shake my head, trying to temper her enthusiasm. “Fun is all well and good, but not with Ethan.”
She tilts her head, giving me a sympathetic look. “I know he’s got a reputation as a playboy, but Ethan has a good heart. Don’t write him off so quickly.”
“You’re right. He’s a good guy. We’ve been friends forever. But he’s used to women who toe the line and don’t challenge him. I’m not that kind of woman.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what he needs. Someone who challenges him. Someone real.”
“Maybe. But more to the point, there’s too much going on right now to even think about getting involved with someone. Ethan is exactly what I don’t need. Besides, he was the one who stopped things going too far.”
“What? Why?” Emmy leans closer.
“He didn’t say, just that he’s wanted me for longer than I know.”
“Ethan wants you bad! I knew it!”
Just then, Patrick walks into the room, toweling off his hair from the shower. He catches the tail end of our conversation and frowns.
“Hey, be careful with Ethan. He’s not exactly relationship material.”
Ugh . I did not want to be having this conversation with Patrick. I get up from my seat, a wide smile pushed in place. “Thanks for the warning, Patrick. Look guys, I better head off. Clean up duty calls.”
Patrick narrows his eyes, but thankfully doesn’t push further. I hug Emmy goodbye and give Stormy a pat. “I’ll see you later. Thanks for the juice.”
“Anytime, Blake. Just think about what I said, okay? You need a little fun in your life. And don’t listen to Patrick”—she shoots him a cheeky look—“you guys would be great together.”
Back in my car, driving toward the lighthouse, I take a deep breath, trying to clear my mind, resolving to keep my relationship with Ethan strictly platonic, despite Emmy’s well meant encouragement. It’s better this way, even if a part of me would love for something to happen with him again. Last night was hot . But I need to stay focused. Relationship, fling… whatever. There’s no space in my life for anything else right now.
Pulling up, Ethan’s already here, along with a couple of other volunteers. His dog, Bandit, a sweet older Blue Heeler, is darting around, clearly excited to be part of the action.
The white lighthouse stands tall against the blue sky, but the pristine facade is a total contrast to the scene below. Dark, viscous oil coats the sand and rocks, while the usually pristine water is marred by oily streaks, the air carrying a heavy, acrid smell.
Seabirds, their feathers slick with oil, struggle along the shore, and the waves that lap at the beach are stained with a greasy sheen. It’s a heartbreaking sight, an awful reminder of the urgent work that lies ahead.
I step out of my car and Ethan’s gaze locks onto me. It’s intense, like he could eat me alive, like his gaze alone could set my core on fire, and he grins a roguish grin at me before turning his attention back to the others.
Heat is unfurling inside me again. Why does he have to be so damned gorgeous?
Joy Parker turns up, her sedan full of volunteers she’s car pooled with, and Tom Harrison from the bakery arrives at the same time as Carlos and his brother.
Soon we’re all here, and Ethan steps up, giving detailed instructions for the cleanup, his voice confident and authoritative. He’s wearing shorts and a T-shirt with the name of his company across the front—it stretches across the broad of his chest, revealing the hard planes of muscle beneath.
He’s so good looking, and he knows it, winking at me as he shares out the equipment, making sure everyone knows their tasks. After he’s done, he makes a point to come over.
“Hey, beautiful. Ready to get your hands dirty?”
He doesn’t mention the kiss, or the fact I ended up half-naked, thank God, and I smirk, trying to keep my cool despite the butterflies in my stomach. “Always. Just don’t get in my way, Mr. Boss Man.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Bandit trots over, and Ethan reaches down to ruffle the dog’s fur. “Who’s a good boy, huh?” His voice is filled with affection. Bandit wags his tail furiously, looking up at Ethan like he’s the center of Bandit’s world. And it’s clear the feeling is mutual.
“You really love that dog, don’t you?”
Ethan glances at me, his expression tender. “Yeah, he’s my buddy. Always has my back.”
Everyone gets to work and Ethan remains by my side, shovel in hand as I hold a bag open for him. We soon settle into a rhythm, working efficiently together, chatting with that ease we’ve always had, and I’m glad things aren’t awkward between us, despite last night.
“Remember that time in biology when you accidentally set your hair on fire?” Ethan teases, dropping a load of oily sand into the bag.
We were lab partners in the same biology class in senior year, and spent almost every lesson driving our teacher, Mrs. Hill, mad with our incessant chatter.
I laugh, shaking my head. “It was an experiment gone wrong! And it was a tiny flame. Besides, I’m pretty sure you’re the one who knocked over the Bunsen burner.”
“Details, details. I seem to remember being the one to put it out, though.”
“Yeah, by dumping an entire bucket of water on my head!”
“Hey, it worked, didn’t it? And you were cooler for the rest of the day.”
I shake my head, laughing. “You’re impossible. It was the middle of winter!”
“And yet, you keep coming back for more.”
“Maybe I’m just a glutton for punishment,” I reply, my heart beating a little faster.
“Or maybe you just like my company.” He’s staring at me.
“Don’t get too full of yourself.” I try to sound stern but fail miserably.
We keep shoveling tarred sand into bags until Tom calls out from across the beach, “Has anyone seen the extra shovels?”
“They’re over here.” I raise a hand and wave at Tom, before bending down and grabbing the sack of tools. “Hey, Mr. Boss Man, think you can handle this heavy lifting?”
Ethan hoists the bag effortlessly. “Watch and learn. This is what real muscle looks like.” He flexes his biceps.
“Yeah, yeah, just don’t throw your back out, old man.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m surprisingly flexible, and I’ve got plenty of stamina.” The way he looks at me, I know he’s no longer talking about lifting tools.
“Blake! Can you give me a hand here?” Carlos calls to me from the other side of the beach.
“Saved by the bell.”
Ethan leans in close, his breath warm against my cheek. “For now,” he whispers before straightening up.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. This day is going to be interesting, that’s for sure. I just need to keep reminding myself we’re friends. Nothing more.
I cross the beach quickly, where Carlos tells me what he needs. We start by laying absorbent booms along the waterline to keep the oil from spreading further, then scoop up the contaminated sand and rocks, dumping them into heavy-duty bags for proper disposal. It’s a messy, exhausting job, and the acrid smell of oil clings to everything, but every bit of the black sludge we remove feels like a small victory.
Nearby, a makeshift wildlife rescue station has been set up. I take a moment to watch as a team gently cleans a seabird, its feathers matted with oil. They’re using a mix of warm water and dish soap, meticulously washing each feather, trying to save the poor creature—a repeat of what Ethan and I did outside the Tavern on the first day of the spill.
The bird flutters weakly, but gradually calms under their careful hands. A stack of cages sit beside them full of birds who have already been cleaned—volunteers will pick up the animals later and take them to the wildlife rehabilitation center to rest and recover.
By the time we take a break, I’m sweaty and tired, but there’s a sense of accomplishment and camaraderie that fills the air. Ethan seeks me out, handing me a water bottle, his fingers lingering as they brush mine.
“You’re doing amazing. Really. I’m glad you’re here.”
I take a sip, the cool water refreshing, and try to hide the smile tugging at my lips. “Wouldn’t want to be helping out anywhere else. Besides, someone’s got to keep you in line.”
“Guess I’m lucky it’s you,” he says softly, the intensity in his gaze back. Then he produces a small, delicate wildflower, its petals a soft purple. “I saw this in the dunes and thought of you.”
My heart stutters despite how corny it is, and he tucks the flower behind my ear, his touch gentle, careful. He smells of musk and cinnamon and something so distinctly masculine, and the fire is back, spreading through my core.
Mother of all that is holy. This is not what I need.
I don’t want a relationship with anyone, don’t want to get distracted. But when did Ethan get so damn adorable?