Chapter 23 #2
But this? This flutter in my stomach over one permanently unimpressed bookstore owner?
Absolutely not.
I scowled at myself. Nope. Not going there. Not with him.
Music was safer. I flicked on the radio, one of those Top 40 countdowns where Backstreet Boys bled into Third Eye Blind.
First stop was the shower. I scrubbed off hay, dust, and whatever barnyard perfume had clung to me, then wrapped myself in steam and tropical shampoo until I felt human again. Blow-dried curls framed my face, sleeker this time, more intentional.
Out came the parade of possibilities: black tailored shorts with a silky jewel-toned blouse for a casual evening out, a floral sundress that was practically begging for a garden party, even a pair of high-waisted jeans I hadn’t worn since college.
I twirled, frowned, swapped shoes, sang into a hairbrush microphone, and vetoed everything twice.
Finally, I landed on it: a silky slip dress the color of midnight, cut simple but just daring enough. I paired it with strappy sandals that clicked softly on the floor, and a cropped white cardigan knotted at the waist. Gold hoops, glossy lips, a spritz of perfume.
I studied my reflection, heart thudding faster than I wanted to admit. Not prom-queen dramatic, but not farm-girl either. Somewhere in between.
I spun once, hair bouncing, and pointed at the mirror. “You’ve got this. Whatever this is.”
The kitten meowed from the doorway, unimpressed.
I snatched up my little black purse and turned for the door. The evening air was warm against my freshly showered skin, carrying the faint scent of lilacs from Carol’s yard.
I knocked once and pushed into her kitchen, calling out, “Alright, I’m ready for… whatever this mystery adventure is. Hopefully not tractor pulls, because I’m overdressed.”
Ethan was leaning against the counter, mid-sip of coffee, wearing a soft charcoal henley that hugged his shoulders just right, sleeves pushed to his elbows.
His faded bootcut jeans sat low on his hips, a worn brown leather belt slung through the loops, and his Timberlands looked like they’d survived every Ohio season since ’90.
He totally looked like he stepped out of a small-town Abercrombie catalog.
The moment his eyes landed on me, he froze. The mug stopped halfway to his lips. His gaze swept down and back up, so obvious it made my stomach dip.
Suddenly, I was tugging at the hem of my dress, heat prickling up my neck. “Too much?” I blurted. “Should I change?”
He dropped the mug on the counter like he’d forgotten he was holding it. “No,” he said quickly, voice low and certain. “Don’t change. It’s… perfect.”
Carol glanced between us, the corners of her mouth curling in quiet amusement. She reached out, patting my arm. “You look stunning, Lily. Absolutely stunning. And I have a feeling you’re going to have a lovely evening.”
Ethan cleared his throat, eyes darting anywhere but me now, and I forced a bright smile, ignoring the thrum under my skin.
The walk to his truck felt different now, like the air itself had gone heavier. Ethan opened the passenger door for me, and we both fumbled a quiet “thanks” and “yep,” neither of us quite looking at the other. I slid in, smoothing my dress, while he shut the door more carefully than usual.
The silence stretched as he started the engine. I fiddled with the clasp of my purse, willing myself to say something normal. Finally, I cleared my throat. “So… do I get a hint about where we’re going yet, or am I supposed to just sit here in suspense?”
“Suspense builds character,” he said.
“Uh-huh.” I crossed my legs and leaned back, making a show of sighing like I was long-suffering. “You do realize suspense is only fun in the movies. Otherwise, it’s just annoying.”
That earned me a quick glance, the kind that lingered a fraction too long before he snapped his eyes back to the road.
My pulse jumped, a warm thrill coursing through me, and I had to look out the window before I gave myself away.
But as I focused on the passing scenery, I couldn’t help but steal another glance at him, my heart racing at the thought that maybe, just maybe, he felt it too.
The air between us crackled with unspoken words, and I wondered if he could sense the way my thoughts danced around the space he filled.
The drive wasn’t long, maybe five minutes, and then he was turning into a lot strung with streetlights. I spotted the marquee before we even parked. Bold black letters spelled it out across the sign:
WILLOWbrOOK PLAYERS PRESENT: ANNIE
I gasped so loud that Ethan almost missed the turn. “Stop. Are you serious? Annie? You brought me to a musical?” My voice shot up an octave.
He finally looked at me, startled. “That’s… good?”
“Good?” I smacked his arm, too thrilled to care about the awkwardness anymore.
“That’s amazing! I love musicals. Like—love love.
I wore out my VHS of The Sound of Music when I was nine.
And don’t even get me started on Les Mis, because I’ll never shut up.
Did you know I worked for Rent? Rent! Oh my gosh, Ethan, Annie was my first-ever play.
I played an orphan. With a mop. And two whole lines. ”
I was babbling, I knew it, but I couldn’t stop.
My hands flew as I talked, and he just watched, one hand loose on the wheel, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth like he couldn’t quite keep it down.
By the time he pulled into the lot, I was still mid-story, and for once, he didn’t look like he minded.