“Margot?” A deep voice stops me in my tracks just as my foot hits the first stair.
Flee in shame!My brain revives its plea from earlier today.
To be fair, my brain is probably right. My hair is tied up in a floppy bun on top of my head, I’m swathed in a blanket, and my cheeks are full of popcorn.
“Hi,” I say, spinning around and covering my mouth with my hand as I speak.
“What are you doing?” Ethan asks.
“Fleeing,” I answer honestly. It takes me a few awkward seconds to chew and swallow the mouthful of popcorn. Ethan just watches me with his arms folded over his chest, clearly amused by my squirrel-like behavior. “I thought you might bring a date home. I didn’t want to interfere.”
I glance behind Ethan, still expecting a woman to walk into the room at any moment.
“It’s just me,” he says. His eyes scan me, no doubt horrified by my rumpled appearance. Under the blanket, I’m swimming in more of Ethan’s lounge clothes, which he set out for me earlier today.
His gaze drifts over to the television. “Were you watching something?”
“No, just reading.” Disappointment flashes over his face for some reason, prompting me to add, “But we could watch something if you want.”
The shift in Ethan’s demeanor is so subtle that no one who hasn’t spent forty hours a week with him for the past two years would notice. But I do.
“Okay,” he says casually.
It surprises me that Denver’s Most Eligible Bachelor wants to spend his Saturday night on the sofa watching TV, but I certainly won’t object to the company. I’ll gladly take all the distractions I can get.
Ethan crosses the room and plops down on the sofa with the heft of someone who’s had an exhausting day. His six-foot-two frame of lean muscle makes the springs creak a little as he lands. He pushes a hand through his perfectly quaffed dark brown hair, which falls right back into place. Meanwhile, a few rogue strands of crinkled hair spill out of my floppy bun and tickle the side ofmy face. Still clutching the blanket around me like a cape, I walk over and settle back into my spot on the opposite side of the couch.
“Bad date?” I ask.
Ethan shrugs. “Sort of.”
“Did she bring her emotional support iguana?”
The corner of his mouth lifts and his shoulders shake with a quiet laugh. He rolls his head to one side to look at me without lifting it from the back of the sofa. “No, we just didn’t click.”
“Oh.” It’s all I can think of to say that doesn’t seem too nosy or personal.
Ethan’s gaze drops to the remote on the cushion between us. “What do you want to watch?” he asks, reaching for it.
Before I can answer, my worst nightmare comes true.
While reaching for the remote, Ethan’s hand bumps my e-reader, which is sitting on the cushion right beside it. The screen lights up, revealing the cover of the book I’m currently reading. My boss’s eyes narrow and his eyebrows dip in confusion as he stares down at a picture of three obscenely muscular shirtless blue alien men arranged around one very busty brunette.
Anxiety and shame wage a war in my veins, and I’m not sure which one rises victorious. My hands dart out from my blanket, fumbling as I reach for the little button on the side that will make the screen go dark again. Instead, my book opens to the page I was reading, where the words “Their enormous cocks sprang free of their tattered loincloths” are front and center. And because I’m practically blind and the font size is set at one million, there’s no doubt that Ethan can easily read those words from where he’s sitting.
His eyebrows shoot up, along with the corners of his mouth. “Are you reading gay porn in my living room?”
It’s not a rhetorical question. His tone may be light and teasing, but it’s clear that he expects an answer.
No, I’m just reading reverse harem alien breeding smut in your living room.
Those are a few words I’m not willing to say out loud to my boss.
Or anyone. Ever.
Suddenly, I’m hoping for a sink hole to open up beneath me and swallow me whole. Ethan will survive, and he has two other living rooms, so he’ll be fine.
“N-no,” I stammer. “It’s just a romance book…