Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ETHAN
I knew that kissing Chloe would be a mistake.
For both of us.
Not because it was bad—because it was anything but. It dumped a tank of gasoline on a fire I’d tried to pretend wasn’t there.
Now, I think I’ve hurt her feelings, which is exactly what I was trying to avoid.
She’ll bounce back, obviously. Likely already has.
She’s Chloe—the woman whose smile is painted on, even when everything is going to shit. The one who knows how to make me do things I shouldn’t. And not just because she’s gotta be the sexiest woman I’ve ever met.
The way she held my gaze when she peeled down her wetsuit and untied her bikini… My dick got so hard so fast I had to get the hell out of there before the last thread of will I’d been clinging to snapped.
I don’t even know why I’m holding onto it anymore.
Just fuck the woman, Ethan. Fuck her into next Tuesday, and then get back to work.
The problem is, the more time I spend with Chloe, the more I like her. As much as I sucked at surfing, I still had the best time with her in that freezing water.
I don’t want to treat her like some meaningless hookup, even though there’s a voice in my head screaming to hell with it.
The fact that I haven’t gone there already with her makes me a damn saint. Someone canonize me already: Saint Ethan.
So, because I’m having all these intense, unhelpful feelings about Chloe, instead of following her into her shower like I wanted to, I dragged my saintly ass up to my back deck.
Now I’m in my own shower, needing some relief from the fierce ache down south.
Once I’ve expelled hours, days, weeks of tension, and the waves of pleasure spasming through me begin to subside, everything turns cold.
Time to reset and refocus.
After I’ve toweled off, I fully intend to get some work done on the house, but I can’t even dredge up the will to start. What the hell’s wrong with me? Usually, tight deadlines light a fire under my ass.
Yawning, I grab my Mandela book and read a few chapters while the cottony clouds roll lazily across the blue sky.
The entire time, my mind keeps drifting back to you-know-who. And the regret that keeps gnawing at my gut over being so stuck in my own head and not just getting into that damn shower with her.
The things we could be doing right now…
I snap the book shut and give Mom and Dad a ring to distract myself, then wander back inside and fling open the fridge, taking stock of the dinner options. Nothing but sad leftovers.
Does the Mexican place in town deliver? Although, I’ve still got the car Chloe lent me.
Who does that? Just hands over their keys to a virtual stranger.
Chloe, that’s who.
Deciding I can’t be bothered driving, I call the Mexican place and order some smoky chipotle wings and jalapeno croquettes, doing my level best not to wonder what my neighbor’s doing right now. I don’t think she’s home—a quick glance from the deck earlier told me her windows are dark.
What if she’s out with some other guy? Like that five-year-old who couldn’t change her tire?
No, that’s ridiculous.
But no matter what, a woman like her won’t be single forever. At least I won’t be around to see her with whichever guy she ends up with.
Unless I run into them when I come down to visit my parents.
The thought leaves me clenching my jaw.
Once the food arrives, I eat, throw on a renovation show on my laptop and try to ignore the mental image of future Chloe sunbathing on her back deck with some jacked-up jackass named Bodhi, while I’m back at Mom and Dad’s, fixing all the shit that would’ve broken down since my last visit.
Somehow, I manage to sleep and wake up with a clearer head and enough energy to get some actual shit done. The windows and shutters arrive first thing, so I start on those, slowly making my way around the house.
I’m soaking in the spectacular view through the new kitchen window when a flurry of orange flashes across the corner of the deck.
Dumping my glass in the sink, I peek out the balcony doors and freeze.
What is that?
Hold on. Is that a kitten beneath all that fluff?
A small pair of ice-blue eyes blink back at me.
I take a cautious step out onto the deck. Instead of darting away, the kitten tilts its head back as I reach down and give it a few light pets. Then it leaps forward, swiping at the hem of my T-shirt like a tiny tiger attacking its prey.
I smile, catching its little paw and unhooking its claw from the fabric. Who owns this thing? There’s no collar, so it could be feral.
Maybe Chloe knows.
I straighten. Sounds like the perfect excuse to see my neighbor and clear the air. After the rough night of sleep I had, I want to make sure we’re all good after what happened yesterday. Plus, she seems to know everything and everyone in this town. Does that include four-legged friends?
I scoop up the meowing bundle and hold her against my chest, heading next door.
My taps on Chloe’s front door go unanswered.
“Come on, Kat,” I say to the kitten, deciding on a temporary name. “Let’s see if we can find my pretty neighbor.”
With the kitten wedged under my arm, I grab the key to Chloe’s car and lock up the house.
Her driver’s side lock is jammed, so I circle around to the other side, shaking my head.
I carefully set Kat down on the back seat and risk breaking every bone in my back as I squeeze into the toy car and climb over the center console into the driver’s seat.
If I had the room in this coconut-scented capsule to pull out my phone, I’d set a reminder to book in a physiotherapy session after this. Or possibly spine surgery.
My God, why is her seat so close to the steering wheel? She’s not that short.
I find the lever and slide the seat back as far as it’ll go, but I’d still need to hack off a good ten inches of my legs to ever sit comfortably in this thing.
It takes me a block or two to figure out the rhythm of the car. Kat sits stock-still, her wide eyes darting in every direction, and then bats at the seatbelt like it’s some terrifying monster. I probably should’ve given her a box to sit in, or at least a blanket.
“It’s all right,” I say gently. “We’ll get you something to eat after this. What do you like? Tuna? Chicken? Salmon?”
I glance at her. Nothing.
“Where do you think our neighbor is? Is she at work?”
I pull over outside Mugs. The car door opens easily from the inside, thank God, so I gently pick up Kat and climb out, leaving the door slightly ajar so I don’t have to break my spine a second time.
The place is jam-packed, but there’s no sign of Chloe. I squeeze past the front of the line to ask where she is, but the teen with neon-pink braces says she’s not in right now. Damn.
Do I just go home? I’ve got a kitten in my arms that I’ve got no idea what to do with.
A flicker of unease returns to my stomach. I’m kidding myself if I think I’m only here for Kat. I don’t think I’ll be able to fully relax until I see Chloe’s smile and know she’s not upset about yesterday.
Fuck, I can be an asshole sometimes. I can’t believe I told her I only kissed her because I was drunk, without even trying to explain myself.
Outside, two of the old fellas who are always here are chatting by the fence. I pace over, Kat wriggling in my hold. The men go still as I approach. “I’m looking for Chloe. Do you happen to know where she is?”
Two sets of milky eyes narrow at me. “Who’s askin?” the one in the veteran hat snaps.
“My name’s Ethan.” I hold out a hand. He frowns at it, then offers me a slow handshake. I swear, his fingers nearly snap off in my palm. “I’m a friend of Chloe’s,” I explain.
“I seen you here before,” says the one with the cane, wobbling as he lifts it to point it right at me. “You’re the one mouthin’ off that time when our girl was runnin’ late.”
Jeez, that was weeks ago, before I realized this island runs at its own pace. “That’s me,” I say, my smile tightening. “So do either of you know where she might be?”
“She’s at the grocery store,” Hat Head says with a nod. “Ran outta some fancy milk. Mentioned it on her way past.”
“Thank you,” I say, while Old Man Cane goes off on him about giving up Chloe’s location. Is this what keeps small town folk entertained?
The grocery store’s only a few blocks away. I park out front, between two convertibles. Kat has decided she’s done with silence and wants to sing instead, meowing over and over.
“Come on, then,” I say, scooping her up. “But you’re gonna have to hide; I don’t think animals are allowed inside.” Luckily, it’s cooler today than usual. My tan canvas jacket is the perfect hiding spot.
Inside, I head straight for the refrigerated aisle. No Chloe. I check each aisle until I spot her by the long-life milks, stuffing two more cartons into her overloaded basket. My chest tightens along with my throat as her face flies up to meet mine.
Something warm flashes in her eyes, but then dims.
“Hey,” she says as I approach. “How’s it going?”
“Good. I’ve been busy.” I hiss through my teeth when Kat’s claws pierce my chest through my T-shirt. “With a pussy,” I add, biting back a laugh.
Chloe’s mouth drops slightly. “I…”
I’m not used to seeing her lost for words, not even for a second.
I tug my jacket to one side; Kat’s furry face pops out.
A small smile touches the corners of Chloe’s mouth. “Who is this little darling?”
“I found her on my back deck. Isn’t she cute?”
Her cheeks open into a smile. “She’s adorable.”
“Do you know who she belongs to?”
Chloe shakes her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her before.”
I sigh, glancing down at the furball. “I’ve been calling her Kat.”
She arches a brow. “You named the cat Cat?”
“With a K. As in Kathy… or Katorina.” She shakes her head again as I cradle the bundle of warmth in my hands. “Should we keep her?” I ask.
Chloe glances down at her basket. “Why, have you decided to stick around?”
I clear my throat. “It was a joke.” A terrible one at that.
She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “Oh, right.”
I stroke my fingers down Kat’s apricot fur, and the kitten relaxes into me. “How are things with you?”
“Fine. Busy.”
My smile fades a little as Chloe lowers her face to the kitten, her mouth opening into her gorgeous smile, and it hits me like a punch to the chest.
Shit.
Fuck.
I messed up.
I shouldn’t have said what I did about kissing Chloe—about it being a mistake. I didn’t mean to make her feel like it didn’t matter.
Because it did.
I knew it then, and I know it now.
She reaches out to give Kat’s neck a scratch, her bracelets softly jingling, her coconut scent filling my nose. As my gaze moves over her, something clamps down hard on my lungs.
Chloe’s throat bobs as she bends to pick up her basket. “Well, I’d better get back to Mugs. It was good seeing you.”
“You too,” I say, but she’s already gone.