Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ETHAN
This storm is getting intense, and I’m not just talking about the howling winds and the heavy rains battering the roof. I’m talking about the turbulence building in my chest as my beautiful neighbor sits against the living room wall, wearing my clothes and shivering slightly.
“Sorry,” I say, nudging some canvas across the base of the balcony doors to block the wind from coming in. “It’s colder than a polar bear’s ballsack in here.”
She laughs. Thank God—a real smile. The conversation we just had about her dad had gotten a little heavy.
I grab my jacket from the hook beside the door and hand it to her. “Wear this.”
“Thanks.” She pushes her arms inside, the jacket hanging off her like a loose parachute against the floor. She suggested we sit in the outdoor chairs I dragged in, but I don’t trust them after one collapsed under me.
I plonk down beside her and stare at the box of cereal still on the counter because it’s less daunting than the sight of Chloe wearing my sweatpants without anything underneath.
Now, there’s a mental image I could get lost in.
My dick thickens, and I shift positions to nip that train of thought in the bud.
“Don’t suppose you’ve got a pair of tweezers,” she says, inspecting one of her fingers.
“Do I look like the kind of guy who owns tweezers?” I tuck a wayward curl behind my ear.
“Don’t you have a tool for everything?”
She blinks at me, and all I can think about is Chloe asking to borrow my hammer.
“What do you need tweezers for?” I ask.
She holds up a forefinger. “I got a splinter when I was fixing the shutter at Mugs.”
“Gimme a look—I’ve got a degree in those bastards.” This week alone, I’ve probably had seven.
Chloe offers me her hand, and my fingers fold around hers.
I use my fingernail to gently scrape at the skin over the splinter.
She hisses, and without thinking, I stroke my thumb back and forth over her palm.
I can feel her gaze on my face, but I manage to stay focused on the tiny brown sliver, gently pressing down on the opposite end until the splinter pops out.
“Wow,” she says, inspecting her hand. “Impressive. Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
I have this sudden urge to take her hand back, to hold it for no other reason than I want to.
Instead of giving in, I get up and pad into the kitchen to open the fridge. The light cuts across half my face as I glance at her. “You want something to drink? Water? Juice?”
Chloe smiles. “Do you have anything stronger?”
I grab two bottles of a local beer, then wedge a packet of corn chips under one arm and a jar of Supremely Spicy Salsa under the other.
My occasional snacking after dinner used to piss off my last girlfriend.
She was big into this intermittent fasting shit and watching me “stuff my face” at all hours of the day made it too hard to keep to her strict regimen.
She didn’t understand what it was like to be six-foot-four and two-hundred-and-twenty pounds. Food keeps me upright.
I sit back beside Chloe with my stash and hand her a beer.
“You really do like things super-hot, huh?” she asks, nodding at the dip.
“The hotter the better.”
She digs out a corn chip and crunches into it. “Okay, so far, I’ve got spicy foods… punctuality… burned coffee… locking doors… big-word books…”
My beer pauses halfway to my mouth. “What books?”
She lifts her chin at the Mandela biography sitting on the arm of one of the outdoor chairs. “Didn’t know you were such an intellectual under that hard hat. Brains and brawn—nice combo.”
One side of my mouth lifts. Most folks who know my family think Gray is the only one of us with any brains. It’s kinda nice for her to notice.
She drags another chip from the bag, smirking. “So, what else do I need to know about you?” She asks, licking orange crumbs off her fingertips. My gaze slips to where her tongue drags lightly along one side of her finger.
Fuck me. I really shouldn’t have worn these shorts.
I end up telling her a bit about my family and my brothers, and she shifts closer, listening like she’s trying to figure me out.
“So, why construction?” she probes.
I grab a chip and sweep it through the dip.
“I sort of fell into it as a summer job and I liked it more than I expected. I get to work outside a lot, build things with my hands, and watch someone’s dream come to life.
No two days are the same, and it keeps me in shape, which is a bonus, because the thought of going to the gym makes me want to set fire to myself. ”
She smiles as her eyes run the length of my torso. “Sounds like you love your job.”
I wouldn’t say love. Not anymore. “There are a lot of good aspects, but as a foreman you have to deal with a lot of shit. The hours are insane, the projects always have problems, the clients are rarely happy, the boss is always trying to cut corners, and…” I clear my throat. “Sometimes shit goes wrong.”
Chloe pauses. “Like what?”
My gaze slides to hers, and the sudden urge to tell her about Leo presses against my throat. I don’t want to dampen the mood, though, so I end up saying, “It’s just a dangerous industry with a lot of risks.”
She smears the tiniest bit of spicy dip over a corn chip. “So, you took a few weeks off construction work to come here and do more construction work?”
She has me there. “That wasn’t the plan, but my parents bought this place without doing enough due diligence, and it needed a ton of work.” Better I do it than some jackass with a drinking problem.
A sudden, shrill ring makes us both flinch.
“Is that your alarm?” Chloe asks as I lean sideways to reach for my phone.
“Yeah. It’s just a reminder about some orders I need to go through.”
She gives me a funny look. “You know, there’s such a thing as being too organized.”
I set my phone down. “How so?”
Licking her lips, she reaches for another corn chip. “If you’re too structured and ordered, you get so focused on what you should be doing that you stop living in the moment and end up stuck in the future. Or the past.”
I fall silent, grappling with how much sense that actually makes.
Chloe dusts crumbs off her lap and crosses her arms tightly against her chest. She looks so delicate and small in my clothes.
The protectiveness I usually reserve for those closest to me rears up like a tidal wave.
“You scared the hell out of me today,” I confess.
Her gaze darts back to me, her brow furrowing. “I did?”
I nod. It feels good to admit it out loud, to let some of this constant worry in my chest seep out. “When you didn’t come home till late. You told me you’d never leave your house alone in a storm. So when you didn’t show up for hours, I pictured you stranded somewhere.”
A little line appears between her brows. “I’ve lived on this island my whole life; I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. You didn’t need to worry. I was just out trying to find my dad.”
She tells me about what happened, leaving a blade of irritation jammed in my ribs. That fucking asshole.
To think he pissed off his own daughter so much that she was hiding out in her car in weather like this. And now he’s sitting on his ass inside her house, probably working his way through her booze. I hope the house collapses into a pile of mud and debris all around him.
Bit harsh? Yeah, not for me.
Chloe presses a hand to her mouth, trying to hide her yawn.
Looks like the night is coming to an end.
Having her here has really made this whole storm scenario feel a lot more bearable.
Hell, I think I even enjoyed myself.
I climb back up to my feet. “Come on. I’ll walk you home. All ten steps.”
She doesn’t budge. Simply looks up at me from the floor, all flushed cheeks and wide blue eyes. “So here’s an idea,” she says. “What if I… didn’t go home tonight?”
I freeze, a nervous fizz starting in my stomach. Is she serious? “You don’t want to check on your dad?”
She slides her phone out of her pocket, frowning down at the screen. “He hasn’t checked on me once, so why would I want to check on him? And you said it yourself: he’s a grown man. It’s not my job to look after him. Right?”
I run my fingers through my hair, my slick palms catching on the strands.
“You also said that I should stay with a friend,” she throws in with a coy smile.
When I said that, I didn’t mean me. I’ve decided the way I feel about Chloe is anything but friendly. Still, I’m hardly going to send her home if she doesn’t want to go. “You can stay if you want.”
She blinks at me, her eyes narrowing. “But do you want me to?”
I shouldn’t want her to, but I answer honestly. “Yes.”
Is that selfish, knowing I’m leaving town in a few weeks?
Also yes.
The truth is, I don’t want to spend yet another night alone in this house, or spend the rest of the night overthinking every decision I’ve ever made.
I want to lose myself in her.
Not that I’m going to give in to that urge.
“Although only one of the rooms is set up,” I add, just so she knows the situation upstairs.
Chloe’s shy smile brightens her whole damn face as she pushes to her feet and adjusts the waistband on her borrowed sweatpants. “That’s okay. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”
As if I would ever let that happen. “If anyone is sleeping on the floor, it’s me.”
She follows quietly as I check that the front door is locked, then turn off all the lights on the way up the stairs. We keep going to the room at the end of the hallway, which I’ve claimed as my own.
My brothers are going to be pissed that I stole the only other room with an en-suite, but they can suck it up. I’m the one here doing the work, so I get first dibs.
Chloe’s lips purse as she peers into the room. “The bed looks big enough. Why don’t we both just sleep there?”
I splurged on a king mattress, so hypothetically, there should be plenty of room, and I have enough restraint to keep my dick in my pants. This, tonight, is about making Chloe feel safe... giving her a place to stay where she doesn’t have to worry about her dad, or her house, or anything else.
Including me trying to make a move on her.
“Only if you promise to behave,” I say.
Grinning, she sinks onto the mattress. “Don’t worry, Ethan. I promise to be a very good girl.”