17. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ETHAN
W hen I draw Kinzie in close, tucking her head under my chin, a warm sensation courses through my body. At first, I think she’s going to push me away. I even brace myself for it. Not the physical aspect of it. I’m not worried about her fists. It’s my heart that needs to be shielded.
It sounds ridiculous. A thirty-year-old man worried about getting his feelings hurt. But I’ve been through a lot in the last decade, and I’m not afraid to admit that I have a sensitive side.
I can’t deny that I still care about Kinzie, even after all these years. I’d do anything for her. So yeah, if she pushes me away, it might affect me a little.
Kinzie, however, surprises me by pressing her face into my chest rather than pulling away. With her arms looped around my waist, she holds me just as tightly as I hold her. Her tears turn into sobs, and her body begins to tremble.
Then, as if in solidarity with her, the sky opens up, and we’re hit by big, heavy raindrops.
“Oh my God,” she says, peeling away. Her eyes are red-rimmed and her face is swollen and splotchy. “I’m so sorry.”
I shake my head, feeling slightly empty now that she’s no longer in my arms. “I already told you. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
The rain falls harder. It’s cold, and the walk back to the trolley shelter is a good twenty minutes. Grabbing her hand, I turn and quickly guide her down the beach.
By the time we get back, it’s dark, and the wind blows fiercely. We’re both soaked from head to toe. So much so that there’s no missing the outline of Kinzie’s breasts beneath the thin yellow top and skimpy bra plastered to her chest.
Fuck. With that one glance, I’m hard.
Turning to discreetly adjust myself, I look at the schedule against the wall. “The next trolly won’t be here for another fifty-five minutes.” Wiping at the moisture on my face, I huff out a breath. “I’ll text my family and see if anybody is around to pick us up.”
Me: Anybody near the beach who could come pick me up? It’s pouring.
Mom: Why are you at the beach?
Jill: It’s raining.
Logan: Sorry, dude, I’m at the bar.
Andy: No rain here. At least I don’t think there is. Just woke up.
Me: I know it’s raining. That’s kind of the reason I need somebody to pick us up.
Carter: Us?
Jill: Dealing with some shit, sorry.
Mom: I still don’t understand why you’re at the beach when it’s raining. Where’s your car? It wasn’t stolen, was it?
Carter: I’m still stuck on the us and why Ethan hasn’t responded.
Jill: Leave him alone. It’s probably Kinzie.
Andy: Who’s Kinzie?
Mom: Are you bringing Kinzie over for dinner tonight? If you haven’t invited her yet, invite her now. And Jill, what’s going on?
Carter: Send your location. I can be there in five.
With a chuckle at my ridiculous family, I share my location and pocket my phone.
“What’s so funny?” Kinzie asks, shivering.
“Just my…” Fuck. My words dry up, and every rational thought leaves my brain when I look at her in that soaking-wet shirt again. I can’t help it. The way she has her arms folded across her chest, pushing her breasts up and together, makes them impossible to miss. Why the hell does she have to wear such thin clothing?
My heartbeat picks up. She can’t get in the car with my brother with her nipples on full display like that. I peel the wet linen shirt from my body and tug it over Kinzie’s head.
“What are you doing?” she asks. Her voice teeters on annoyance, but she allows me to pull it down and over her anyway.
“You’re cold. A wet shirt doesn’t help with much, but it’s better than nothing.”
“What about you?” she asks, eyeing my damp white undershirt.
“Carter will be here in a few minutes. I’ll be okay.” I don’t mention how transparent her shirt is. She’ll realize it when she gets home. For now, I’d prefer to avoid any unnecessary discomfort.
“Thanks,” she says. “For not chasing me today.”
I run my hands up and down her arms in an attempt to warm her. At least that’s what I tell myself. It sounds better than me just wanting to touch her. “Don’t thank me yet. We still need to talk, but let’s not worry about that right now. Like I said, we can get through the next week just fine. By the way, my mom invited you over for dinner.”
“Dinner?” She stiffens and tries to take a step back, but I hold steady, keeping her firmly in place right in front of me. “Do they think we’re together?”
“No. Jill gave me a bit of a hard time about it all. Said we shouldn’t play with fire. But they all know we’re just friends.” I don’t mention how hopeful my mom sounded when she heard I’d taken Kinzie home from the bar. Kinzie furrows her brow. “Friends?”
“Yes. Friends. We don’t have to pretend anything tonight. If you can’t bear to be in the same room with me, then I’ll take you home myself.”
Before Kinzie responds, headlights wash over us.
“Gosh, it’s been so long.” My mom hugs Kinzie the minute we step into the kitchen of my childhood home. She smiles and gushes in the way only a mom can. “Ethan, you were right. She is gorgeous. But what happened to your eyes?”
Kinzie is dressed in a pair of tight jeans and a baby blue blouse, similar in style to the one she had on earlier. Her still damp hair is pulled back in a low ponytail. After Carter dropped us off at my truck, we stopped at Tessa’s house so Kinz could grab dry clothes, but she wasn’t ready to face her sister yet, so we headed back to my place to shower. Separately.
When Kinzie flicks her eyes to me, I shrug and flash her a smile, ignoring the way the back of my neck heats. I may not have used those words, but there’s no reason to correct my mom, because the truth is, she is gorgeous.
“It’s a long story, Mom.”
“I have all the time in the world,” she says with a huff. “Tell me everything. Where do you live? What have you been up to?”
“Mom, jeez, give her a second to breathe,” Jill hiccups as she glides into the room carrying two cans of hard seltzer. She leans in and gives Kinzie a side hug and then makes her way to me. “Hey, brother,” she hiccups again.
“You okay?”
“Never better.” She gives me a peck on the cheek. From the look of her bloodshot eyes, it’s obvious that she’s lying.
“Is Peter here?”
“Nope. Just me. He has too much work to do ,” she says in a mocking tone.
My heart sinks. I’m about to ask her more, but Carter waltzes in with a girl I’ve never seen before.
“Hey, everyone,” he says. “This is Cali. Cali, this is everyone.”
Cali, all five foot two of her, bounces on her toes and waves. “Hi. It’s so nice to meet you. Carl told me so much about y’all.”
I huff a laugh, ready to tell her his name is Carter , not Carl, when Carter puts up a hand and shakes his head.
“Hello,” my mom says, not bothering to mask her disappointment. “How did you and my son meet?”
Cali smiles wide, oblivious to her tone. “I interviewed for the management position at Four Oysters, and we just hit it off.”
Jill snorts, sending a spray of seltzer across the countertop. “Oh my God,” she says, rushing to get a paper towel. “My nose burns.”
“Who’s fucking Ferrari is parked out in the driveway?” Logan yells from the front door.
I suck in a sharp breath. A Ferrari?
“Oh, that’s mine. Should I move it?” Cali asks, turning to Carter.
“Hell no. You’re not putting that thing on the street.”
When Logan squeezes into the kitchen, he scans the space and scowls. “I still see black. The walls need another coat.”
All at once, we turn and survey the empty wall still outlined in painter’s tape.
“Actually, I was thinking of wallpaper. I found some samples in a magazine—”
“No,” my siblings and I all say in unison.
“Have you thought about doing a gallery wall?” Kinzie asks. “There’s a lot of open space here. It would look great.”
With a smile, my mom slips an arm around Kinzie’s waist and pulls her away from the group, falling into a conversation about photos and memories and color schemes. Carter, Cali, and Jill disappear into the living room. I hang back with Logan to keep an eye on Kinzie.
“You doing okay?” I ask my brother, whose posture is far more rigid than I’m used to seeing.
He grumbles something indistinguishable under his breath. When he realizes I have no idea what he’s saying, he huffs. “I’m dealing with some girl problems, but I don’t want to talk about it.”
I can respect that. With a curt nod, I change the subject. “How’s business? Jill mentioned needing a new bartender.”
“New bartender, a line cook, a general manager, and somebody to take care of all of our social media needs.” He lifts the lid to the pot of beef stew on the stove and stirs it. “It’s easy finding entry-level help, but we’re invested in growth, and it’s kind of hard to grow when you can’t find competent people.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
He shakes his head. “We have interviews lined up all this week. If we can find a few solid people, we’re considering opening another location. There’s a site just south of Charleston that would be perfect.”
Genuine excitement washes through me. “I didn’t know you were thinking about expanding. I can put some feelers out there with my veteran group and let you know.”
Logan visibly relaxes a little, his shoulders lowering and a long breath escaping him. “I’d appreciate that. Right now, I have people like Cali coming in. Zero experience.” He shakes his head.
The rest of the evening unfolds with little excitement. We have a casual meal around the kitchen table and leave the pot of stew on the counter so we can serve ourselves.
Cali talks about her soon-to-be ex-husband and how she acquired the Ferrari in her settlement. Jill and Logan discuss a new drink menu for the upcoming holidays. And my mom and Kinzie continue conversing about home decor.
When Kinzie’s blog comes up in conversation, I shift my attention to them.
“That’s what you do for a living?” Mom says, her face lighting up as she types the web address into her phone.
“I blog for a living, yes. But not everything revolves around design tips and room transformations. I have to keep it balanced, because while all that makes me money, that’s not how I gain readers.” Her eyes flick to mine for the briefest of seconds.
“Wow.” Mom swats at Kinzie’s arm. “Did you do this all by yourself?” She enlarges a picture and turns her phone to the group, but I’m across the room, so I can’t see details of what’s on the screen.
Cali pauses her conversation with Carter and lets out an ooh .
“That’s gorgeous,” Jill says.
“Damn,” Logan grunts over a mouthful of food. “Did you just stain that or did you—”
“I repurposed it. I stripped a standard dresser, added the molding, and stained it. This,” Kinzie says, her cheeks going pink at all the attention, “is the final product.”
“The gold detail makes it pop. Do you still have it?” Jill asks.
Kinzie shakes her head. “No. It sold quickly.”
I stand and circle the table so I can get a good look at the picture. At first, I’m not sure where to look—the tall windows with sheer curtains; a bed draped in a floral design, tinted in gold and soft colors; a table; and a desk. Eventually, I zero in on the dresser.
I take the phone from my mom and zoom in. And then I zoom out. “Did you do all of this?” I ask, pointing at the other pieces.
She nods.
“Not just the dresser?” I ask again, almost in disbelief.
“Yes. All the wood furnishings were throw-away items. After stripping and sanding them down, I created a mold pattern and stained each piece so they matched. I etched gold into them for extra flair. The rest of these are patterns I found at secondhand stores.”
“Wait a minute,” Logan says. “Did I hear that first part right? Did you say you have your own blog? As in, you’re good with social media?”
“I do. And yes, I’d like to think I am.” Her eyes light up.
“How would you feel about helping with social media for the restaurant? We need somebody to boost our visibility. Neither of us is good with that sort of thing, and everybody else we’ve talked to so far only knows the basics. We can’t hire a big company just yet, but we can pay you well.” With that, he launches into their business goals and somehow, dinner turns into a sales pitch.
By the time we leave, Kinzie has promised to meet Jill for coffee tomorrow morning, to help my mom with a gallery wall for the kitchen, and to think about Logan’s proposal.
“Thank you for inviting me over tonight. It was a lot of fun,” Kinzie says as she pulls her seat belt across her torso.
“It was,” I say with a small smile. “Normally, we sit around in silence.”
“Silence?” she laughs.
My heart stumbles a little at the tinkling sound. “Maybe not complete silence, but we see each other all the time. Between the restaurant and Sunday dinners, there’s not much we don’t already know.”
The sky is starless tonight, the cloud cover thick and the rain still coming down. “This storm doesn’t want to let up.” And, dammit, every time I think about it, an image of Kinzie in her wet shirt pops into my mind.
“Will it be hard to sleep? The storm is so loud, and it probably makes the boat rock more, doesn’t it? Will you be okay out there?” Her voice is dripping with concern.
Clearly, I’m an asshole, because I like that she’s worried about me.
“When I first moved there,” I say, turning toward downtown Hope Island, “getting used to storms was a challenge. But, like you saw earlier, it’s tolerable. If it gets too bad, I’ll head over to my mom’s place.”
Kinzie’s face is lit by the light glowing from Tessa and Derrick’s porch as she unbuckles herself. Rather than throw the door open and make a run for it to keep from getting too wet, she stays put, biting at her lower lip.
What I’d give to be able to read her mind right now. This wasn’t a real date, but it also wasn’t fake. Maybe I should say something. Maybe now would be a good time to discuss our plans for the week. I’m mid-thought when Kinzie presses her lips to my cheek. They’re warm and soft and tender.
“Thanks again,” she murmurs. And then she’s gone, slipping out of the truck and darting for Tessa’s front door.
Leaving me with a hollowness I can’t quite explain.