Chapter 6 Ethan
Ethan
Ethan stared at his reflection and straightened his tie, then straightened it again.
This was an older tux, but the thing still fit like a glove.
It better—it had been hand sewn and cost about a million dollars.
His mom had said it was a necessity, and one didn’t fight the mayor of Cooper Springs on necessities.
There was a tap on the connecting door.
“What?”
“You about ready in there?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, are you going to open the door?” Jordan asked.
“I’ll meet you out in the hallway.” He heard Jordan’s scoff and maybe the word coward.
Yeah, he wasn’t opening the connecting door because Ethan didn’t have to see Jordan in a tux to know he’d immediately want to strip it right off his sexy body and they would never make it downstairs.
He took one last glance in the mirror. Nothing was untucked, and he patted his pockets to make sure he had his room key.
Then Ethan took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped out into the hallway.
A wolf whistle had him immediately blushing.
“Wow, Ethan, you look incredible,” Jordan said, appreciation lacing his tone.
Ethan took a second to take in Jordan’s finery.
As a forensic anthropologist, he didn’t have many chances to dress up in fancy gear, but as the son of an ambitious small-town mayor, he did.
His mother had insisted he have one in his closet.
She’d even paid for him to have the one he wore so he could attend various events as her plus one when she needed him.
Jordan in a tuxedo was another level of hotness, one Ethan had thought he was prepared for. He was not. Ethan had already been overwhelmed by the Irish-style fisherman’s sweater; the tux was almost too much for him to bear. How was he going to sit next to him all night without embarrassing himself?
“It’s okay?”
Jordan spun in a slow circle.
“Yeah, it’s okay, Jordan. You look really good.”
Jordan held his hand out, “Let’s get going, then, because all I’m thinking about is getting you naked again.”
Feeling somewhat lightheaded, Ethan accepted Jordan’s hand. Ethan’s fingers slipped seamlessly between Jordan’s, although Jordan’s palm was slightly sweaty. He was nervous.
Good, that made two of them.
The dining room had been transformed yet again. A hum of excitement and anticipation filled the air. Two-tops and four-tops had been arranged so that all the diners had a view of the small stage that had been set up. Presumably, it was where the announcements would take place.
Ethan found their table, their name cards next to each other on crisp white stationery paper. Jordan pulled out one of the chairs and gestured for Ethan to sit before taking his own seat.
“What did you order?” Jordan asked. “I’m glad they let us order our food this morning. I totally forgot to when I checked in.”
“The salmon and green salad. You?”
“Same.”
They sat without speaking for a few minutes, just watching as several waiters moved through the crowd, offering champagne and wine while the rest of the detectives took their seats and got comfortable.
Almost everyone was dressed to the nines.
Some had gone so far as to wear Sherlock Holmes-style outfits, and others wore sparkling gowns with feather boas around their necks.
“Wow,” Ethan said, “I’m impressed. This is like the Met Gala or something. Not that I’ve ever been to one of those.”
“Well”—Jordan nodded toward a couple wearing jeans and t-shirts—“some folks didn’t get the memo.”
Ethan watched the two guests move across the room, scanning for their names and finally sitting at a nearby table. “Wait, check it out. Their t-shirts have silkscreened black ties and cummerbunds on them.”
“Points to them for creativity, then.”
Just then, a waiter carrying two plates paused at their table. “Mr. Moore and Mr. Ferguson?” he confirmed before setting their salads down. After that, both of them focused on the plates in front of them and each other.
Finally, after everyone had received their dessert, a woman Ethan didn’t recognize stepped onto the stage and tapped on the microphone.
“Can everyone hear me?” she asked.
Everyone assured her they could. Jordan scooted his chair closer to Ethan’s, and a large, warm hand landed on Ethan’s thigh.
“Ready to lose?” Jordan squeezed his leg.
It was Ethan’s turn to scoff, but he didn’t brush Jordan’s hand away. He liked it right where it was.
“I hope you’re not a sore loser,” said Ethan.
“Shh, it’s time to focus.”
One by one, possible perpetrators walked onto the stage, were declared innocent, and walked off again.
The room echoed with laughter and groans of defeat as guests realized they’d followed false clues.
Ethan started to worry that Jordan had guessed correctly but then the gardener strode onto the stage.
“Fuck,” said Jordan, grabbing his glass of wine and finishing it off.
There couldn’t have been many more suspects left. The bellhop was followed by the head chef, who performed a sweeping bow and grinned at the crowd.
“I told you I was innocent,” the man said before striding off again.
As far as Ethan could tell by everyone’s reactions, there were only a few tables left that hadn’t been defeated by the murderer.
When the bookkeeper finally appeared but his guess still had not, Ethan knew he’d been right. Being right was almost always satisfying. He already knew Jordan had guessed wrong by the sag of his shoulders a few suspects ago.
“Is everyone ready for the big reveal?” the emcee asked.
The audience clapped and whistled.
“Before we bring the culprit out onto the stage, I want to congratulate the three participants who successfully uncovered our murderer! Detecting cousins, Daisy and Xavier Stone, and Ethan Moore! Everyone, give them a round of applause!”
The room exploded with clapping, cheering, and whistling. Ethan narrowed his eyes Xavier’s direction. He vaguely knew the man from his hometown, and the man had zero chill. For his part, Xavier grinned and gave Ethan a little finger wave as he and his cousin took their bows.
“Stand up,” Jordan said, giving him a last squeeze.
Reluctantly, Ethan rose to his feet and did a quick bow as well. His cheeks were burning and he sat back down as quickly as he could.
“Are you ready?” the emcee asked.
“God, yes,” Ethan whispered. “I need to get out of this monkey suit.”
A hush fell over the room as Moira, the snappily dressed front desk clerk, walked onto the stage. All the guests applauded as she took a spin and spread her arms wide. Ethan grinned.
“How the fuck did you know it was her?” Jordan demanded.
“If I tell you, I might have to kill you.”
“Ethan.”
“Jordan.”
Jordan ran his hand up Ethan’s thigh, perilously close to his groin.
Ethan shivered. “Not here.”
“What are we waiting for?” Jordan asked as he threw his napkin on the table and rose to his feet. He grabbed Ethan’s wrist and half dragged a laughing Ethan to his feet.
“Somebody’s in a hurry.”
“Yes, I am. For you, you smug bastard.”
By the time they got back up to their rooms, Jordan had both their coats off and was working on the buttons to Ethan’s shirt.
“Knock it off.” Ethan brushed Jordan’s fingers away. “I’m trying to unlock the door and you’re not helping. Also, you’re crumpling my jacket.”
The door popped open, and they stumbled inside. Ethan managed to keep to his feet, but it was a close thing.
With a sigh, Jordan leaned back against the closed door. His shirt was rumpled and half out of his waistband.
“Where did your cummerbund end up?” Ethan asked, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way and shrugging out of it.
“What?” asked Jordan.
“Cummerbund. Where?”
“Oh.” Jordan looked down. “Here.” He raised the fist with the crumpled jackets and sure enough, there it was.
Ethan kept shedding clothing until he was down to his boxers and realized that Jordan was standing there just staring at him. “Are you getting out of that thing or not?”
“Oh, right.”
It was Ethan’s turn to watch Jordan. He flopped onto the bed and enjoyed the show.
He was not disappointed. When all that was left were his own black boxer briefs, Jordan didn’t join Ethan on the bed, he simply stood with his hands on his hips.
It took Ethan a minute to realize, then he patted the mattress.
“No, I want to see your guess.”
“Oh my god.” Ethan couldn’t help but roll his eyes.
“You think I was wrong? Nope, sorry, dude.” Chuckling, he heaved himself up and off the bed and headed for the closet.
It took him two tries to get the safe open—Jordan was very distracting and standing mostly naked directly behind him.
Once the box was open, Ethan reached in and handed the slip of paper to him.
“Read it and weep.”
Jordan unfolded the notepaper and read it aloud. “Moira from the front desk—I don’t like her eyebrows. How the hell did you guess from her eyebrows?”
Ethan shrugged. “I just had a hunch.”
“Lucky fucking guess if you ask me.”
“Who was your perp—no, wait, let me guess—the head gardener.”
Jordan stared at him, eyes wide. “How the fuck?”
He tapped the side of his nose. “Forensic anthropologist.”
They were chest to chest now, and Ethan didn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around Jordan and pressing himself against him. They stood that way, just holding each other, for several minutes.
Finally, Jordan spoke. “Are you telling me goodbye or…”
“Or what?”
“Can you forgive me? Are you willing to give me another chance? Yes, I live in British Columbia, which kind of complicates things, but Piedras isn’t that far, and there’s a small airport.”
“Are you made of gold, Mr. College Professor?”
“No, but I’ve made some decent investments over the years. I’m not living in a falling-down shack, and I can afford the trip over the Salish Sea.”
“Hmm. Well, damn, that changes your entire image. Tell me, do you wear button-up sweaters now? Or is that awful cable-knit thing the only one you’ve got?”
Jordan laughed, his warm breath ghosting over Ethan’s neck. “That sweater is the real thing.” He leaned back to look Ethan in the eyes. “And I wore it for you.”
“No pressure or anything.”
“What do you say? Will you give us a chance, me a chance? Ryder already interrogated me about my intentions. I don’t know if I’ve ever been more embarrassed in my entire life, but he knows everything. All of it, even Karin.”
“On a first-name basis, are you? And he still went ahead with this shenanigan? Ugh. Honestly, Jordan? My brain says, fuck no, run now. My heart, though? My heart is scared but weirdly hopeful, I guess. My body wants you. It’s always been stupid for your biceps.”
Even with this far-too-serious conversation, the physical attraction was completely obvious. Jordan’s fingers tightened against Ethan’s shoulders as if he was afraid to let him go.
“I’m scared too. I’m scared you’ll say no. Ryder warned me that you might. He said I shouldn’t get my hopes up.”
“Is this some kind of reverse psychology?” Learning Ryder’s assessment made Ethan want to prove him wrong. He totally wouldn’t put it past his younger coworker to set that up.
“If it is, is it working?”
Ethan looked at Jordan, really looked at him.
He took in the half smile, the color of his eyes—blue like the Pacific Northwest sky in July—the worry and laugh lines that hadn’t been there eighteen years ago.
A faint scar beneath his lower lip hadn’t been there either.
He wondered what Jordan saw, how he was different from young Ethan who’d believed in love at first sight.
But was it not still love at first sight if, so many years later, Ethan still wanted to throw caution to the wind?
“I want to go on a date, a real date,” he said, leaning his forehead against Jordan’s.
Out in the hallway, he heard the thump of another guest maybe bumping against the wall and then a door opening and shutting again.
“Done.”
“In Vancouver. On your turf.”
“Tomorrow? Is this a test? My favorite sushi place isn’t too far from campus. They know me there, we won’t need a reservation.”
The expression on Jordan’s face was tentatively hopeful. So not what Ethan had ever in his life, not since that fateful June, had imagined he might see.
He was tired of being alone, of being the fifth wheel, but Ethan worried that those were the wrong reasons to say yes to Jordan. And while he knew they weren’t the only reasons, he didn’t want them to be the strongest either.
So, whispered a little voice in his head, don’t go fast. Go slow, see how things go. You only live once.
At least they’d confirmed that the physical attraction was still as scalding as it ever had been.
“Maybe not tomorrow,” Ethan countered, “and I have a busy week ahead, what with the killing of Ryder Mann and hiding his body. But I could make time next weekend.”
Was he really agreeing to this madness? If they crashed and burned, he had no one to blame but himself. But maybe slow would work. Get to know Jordan again. Find their footing. See if they could be what he’d hoped they’d be all those years ago.
As if he was reading Ethan’s mind, Jordan said, “We’ll go slow. Maybe my habit of leaving dishes in the sink will turn you off. If I’m lucky, maybe not. You visit me in BC, and I’ll come to the island to visit you. Maybe I can meet some of your friends, aside from Ryder? Can we lie down now?”
“Jordan,” Ethan said, “even if slow doesn’t work out, I forgive you.”
At the sight of Jordan’s smile, Ethan made a mental note to throw out the creased and tattered envelope at the back of a desk drawer at home. It would go directly into the trash. Maybe he’d burn it; he’d meant to years ago, but somehow, he never gotten around to it.
Lifting his hands, Ethan cupped Jordan’s jaw, reveling in the scrape of stubble against his palms. Pressing the rest of his body against Jordan’s, Ethan slow-walked him the short distance to the bed.
“Yes,” Ethan said against Jordan’s lips. “I think we can lie down now.”