So, here I am… moving on.
Absolutely not thinking about Ethan at all. And certainly not wondering if Ethan is also moving on right now with some random woman he met at the hotel bar.
The thought makes my stomach twist and my appetite vanish into thin air. Fortunately, there’s no food in sight. We’ve apologetically sent the waiter away three times already without ordering anything because Tyler was too busy explaining his draft picks to look at the menu.
I take a sip of my drink, my gaze roaming the restaurant. That’s when I seehim.
My heart stutters, along with my straw as I drain the last of my gin and tonic.
Ethan strides through the restaurant like he owns the place. He’s wearing a tailored navy blue suit and a white shirt with the first two buttons undone. His eyes scan the tables with purpose before connecting with mine. I sit up a little straighter, my brow quirking with confusion. He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t smile. In fact, this is the closest to pissed I’ve ever seen Ethan North look.
Tyler is talking again. About what? I have no idea. But when Ethan stops abruptly at our table, Tyler’s voice trails off and confusion clouds his features.
I try to act casual, like my pulse isn’t racing and my cheeks aren’t actively on fire.
“Ethan, what are you doing here?” I ask.
“I need to talk to you,” he replies, voice clipped and firm, like the matter is already settled.
Curiosity tugs at me with enough force to make standing up and following Ethan feel like the most natural thing in the world, but social decorum dictates that I should at least pretend to object to this disruption.
My eyes shift uneasily to Tyler then back to Ethan. “I’m sort of on a date right now. Can this wait?”
“No,” Ethan says.
Luckily, Tyler seems more confused than annoyed when he turns to me and asks, “Do you know this guy?”
I nod. “He’s my boss.”
“Why is he here?”
I shake my head and shrug at the same time, emphasizing that I am just as confused as he is.
Finally, Ethan acknowledges Tyler’s existence by addressing him directly. “Look, nothing personal, but this date is over. She’s coming with me.”
“What?!” The word flies out of my mouth with a laugh that’s half nerves, half amusement at the absurdity of this statement. “Ethan, you can’t just show up and declare that my date is over.What are you thinking?” Glancing at Tyler, I say, “I’m sorry about this.”
“Don’t be,” Ethan says. He pulls a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and tosses it onto the table. “Your dinner’s on me,” he tells Tyler. Then he turns to me, tilts his head towards the exit, and says, “Let’s go.”
At this point, I’m so stunned that I simply comply with Ethan’s demand, but not before giving Tyler one last apologetic look and repeating, “I’m so sorry.”
Before I catch Tyler’s reaction, Ethan’s hand is at the small of my back, steering me through the restaurant and out the door. Indignation overtakes my curiosity, and I march beside him, lips pursed and heels clicking angrily.
Ethan is silent the entire walk to his car, his chiseled jaw set tight. He’s giving off a confusing mix of irritation and something else I can’t quite identify. Even though I should be outraged over being dragged away from my perfectly adequate date, I can’t help the hope and excitement flickering through my veins. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him off that easily.
He opens the passenger door of his dark gray SUV and motions for me to get in like he’s being chivalrous instead of completely deranged right now. I dig my heels a little harder into the asphalt.
“Ethan, what’s happening? Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Everything’s fine. Just get in the car, please.”
I cross my arms. “You can’t just show up here, crash my date, and demand that I get in your car. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”
The intensity of Ethan’s stare steals the air from my lungs. He takes a step forward, leaving a mere inch or two of space between us. His eyes dip lower, roaming over my red dress (yes, the same one I wore on our practice date weeks ago) like he’s calculating the quickest way to rip it off. I suck in a shaky breath,allowing Ethan’s familiar scent to fill my lungs. He always smells like a cool ocean breeze, even though we’re nowhere near an ocean.
When he speaks, his breath grazes my skin, and the low timbre of his voice vibrates through me. “I’m fixing a mistake.”
“What mistake is that?” I ask.