15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
The past few weeks with Paige had been blissful.
Yes, blissful . Ethan wasn’t sure he’d ever used that adjective before, but that night on the floor of his office had kindled something inside him .
. . something between them. Whatever line they’d been walking had blurred.
Now, they were comfortably tangled in something that felt easy. Intoxicating.
And Ethan swore Paige felt it too. She had to.
Because they’d eased into this rhythm, this quiet intimacy that he hadn’t known was possible.
It was friendship laced with wildfire chemistry.
Stolen touches that turned into holding hands.
Inside jokes and lingering glances that did more to his heart than a jolt of electricity.
Pretending to date her had become wonderful and agonizing all at once—an internal tug of war.
Because now? It wasn’t pretend. At least not for him.
He was dreaming of more and wanted to find the courage—and the right moment—to tell her.
To say the words that had been pressing against his chest every time she smiled at him.
“I hope there’s an open table,” Paige said as she stepped onto the library escalator. Her chocolate-brown eyes danced, making his heart want to salsa. “The one we had last time was perfect.”
“It was perfect,” Ethan agreed, though it had nothing to do with the table and everything to do with Paige.
He followed a step behind her, their rhythm as familiar now as the scent of old books and sun-warmed marble.
For the past few weeks, they’d been inseparable, spending every day together in different corners of the library. Writing, researching, laughing.
Today, they were headed to the top floor—the garden atrium. Books filled Ethan’s backpack, and Paige’s crossbody bag contained both their laptops and notebooks. It was her turn to write. His turn to hunt for the clue.
And he was looking forward to the day ahead.
Not yet finding the next clue should’ve made him restless. On edge. But with Paige, the days had passed in a blur of easy conversation and stolen glances. If he was being honest? He wasn’t sure he wanted to find the clue anytime soon.
What if it was the last one?
What if the necklace was hidden with it?
What if this whole treasure hunt ended today?
The thought hollowed him out. He needed more time. With her.
As they rode higher on the escalator, Ethan leaned forward, drawn to Paige like a dropped stone to gravity.
With her a step above, they were almost the same height, and he had the strong urge to take her in his arms. His stomach somersaulted, just thinking about it.
He touched her waist and Paige glanced over her shoulder.
She grinned—playful and a little mischievous.
Her dark hair spilled around her shoulders, and when she tucked a piece behind her ear, he was done.
Ethan slipped his arms around her shoulders from behind, pressing his face into the curve of her neck, grateful for the charade that allowed him to act like she was his. He took in her sweet scent. Vanilla? Honey? Warm maple syrup? She was the perfect mix of comfort and temptation.
“We should write a kiss on an escalator,” Paige murmured, her voice low and teasing.
Ethan caught himself watching her lips, helpless to the way they moved. His arms tightened instinctively around her, pressing her even closer to his chest.
“Should we do some research?” he whispered, his lips brushing her ear. She gave a breathy laugh that lit him up like a firecracker.
“Right now?” She leaned into him, snapping his restraint.
He was just about to turn her toward him, to kiss her properly, when a chorus of voices broke through the haze.
“Wait—is that Ethan Cole?”
“Did you find the next clue, Ethan?”
The sharp flash of a few cameras followed. A group of teenagers was coming down the escalator beside them, phones raised, faces beaming.
Ethan looked up, startled. He gave a polite, practiced smile—reflexes honed since his stint on TV. But before he could fully recover, Paige turned.
And kissed him.
No hesitation. No time to think. Just her mouth on his, soft and certain, and earth-shattering. It knocked the breath from his lungs. He nearly lost his balance but caught himself, and her, wrapping her tight against him as his surprise melted into want.
The teenagers whooped and cheered, their excitement echoing in the hall. But Ethan barely registered it. Because the only thing he could focus on was Paige. Nothing else mattered. Just Paige. In his arms. Kissing him like she meant it.
As they neared the end of the escalator, Paige pulled back, her eyes glinting and her cheeks flushed. Her teeth tugged on her bottom lip. “Yep, we’re definitely writing that into the book.”
He shook his head, grinning like an idiot.
He was seconds from dragging her onto the down escalator just to do it again.
And again. He couldn’t imagine tiring of kissing Paige Moon.
But before he could act on that urge, she laced her fingers through his and tugged him toward the glass doors which led into the garden atrium.
“Come on,” she said, glancing back with a smile.
Ethan followed, dazed and barely remembering the original reason they were here . . . to work. To write. Though, honestly? He might have the best job in the world—because it came with a major perk that was currently pulling him around by his heartstrings.
Ethan opened the door, and they entered the garden atrium, greeted by warm light and the faint scent of blooming jasmine.
Sunlight streamed through the glass ceiling, dappling the marble floor in shifting patterns of gold and green.
Ferns laid in gentle waves beside tall potted trees, and early library-goers were scattered around, murmuring quietly or sipping coffee, with their noses buried in books.
Their table—the one Paige had claimed as her favorite—sat in a corner, half in sun, half in shade, with just enough privacy for whispered banter and deep focus. Paige dropped her bag onto the bench with a satisfied sigh.
“Perfect,” she said again, glancing up at the canopy of glass above them. “You’re all done with your chapter?”
“Yep. Ready for your feedback.” Ethan shrugged off his backpack and set it on the table. “I’m going to dive into the last of the books we pulled yesterday.”
As they settled in, Paige booted up her laptop and Ethan retrieved the stack of books from his backpack.
He opened the first thick volume and tried to focus, flipping pages and scanning for the hidden clue.
But his attention kept drifting back to Paige.
He couldn’t stop analyzing her expression as she read what he’d wrote.
The first time he’d waited for her to critique his writing, he’d braced himself for devastation, convinced she was going to rip him apart.
But instead, Paige had offered thoughtful suggestions and—most surprising of all—praise.
Genuine praise. Since then, he looked forward to her feedback, and they’d found a rhythm.
Writing together was easy and energizing.
Every time he sent her a scene, he couldn’t wait for her reaction.
And when it was her turn to write? He devoured her chapters like his favorite meal. He loved getting lost in her brain.
Now, as Paige read his latest chapter, Ethan watched her, analyzing every little flicker of her face. Her brow furrowed. Her lips twitched. She sat back. A soft huff escaped her lips, and she pressed a hand over her mouth.
He leaned in, not able to take the buildup of anticipation. “What?” He had to know what made her do that.
She looked at him. Was she amused? Surprised? “This—this is so good.” She pointed at the laptop, like he could see what she meant.
“What part?”
“This scene,” she started, setting her hand down on the table. “The way you got inside Aldean’s head. His feelings for Mary Anne. The longing. The way he’s more concerned about her than the treasure hunt.”
He nodded, knowing exactly what she meant and where that inspiration had come from. “It’s good?”
“ So good ,” she breathed. Her fingers curled. “When he says he feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, but he’ll only jump if she goes with him?” She placed a hand on her chest. “Oh, my heart.”
Heat crept up the back of Ethan’s neck. “It’s not too much?”
Paige shook her head, quick and sure. “No. It’s perfect. It’s emotional and grounded. Honest. It shows his growth and the undeniable connection he has with her. It’s romantic in all the best ways.”
Ethan’s smile grew. He wasn’t sure what made him happier—that he’d written that scene, or that Paige had liked it that much. Being with Paige had brought raw emotions to the surface, in ways that he was starting to be able to pinpoint and describe. And those emotions were bleeding into his writing.
“I didn’t think you were into my writing,” he said. The words had fallen out of his mouth, simply because they’d been sitting in his chest for some time now. He played it off as a joke, but there was a true, honest ache there.
Paige stared at him. Her smile faltered. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” he started, only hesitating because it hurt to say the words out load. “You refused to blurb my last book.” He tried to keep the internal cringe from reaching his face and wasn’t sure he was successful.
“I—” Paige blinked, her eyelashes fluttering like a butterfly. “That wasn’t about your writing.”
Ethan stilled. His brow furrowed. What else would it be about? “Marsha said my book wasn’t up to your standards.”
Paige sat up straight. “What?” Her voice pitched higher, drawing a few curious glances from nearby readers. “That’s not what I said.”
He gave a shrug, brushing it off. “That’s what I was told.”