A few minutes later, a woman with a jet-black Anna Wintour bob and thick, black-framed glasses comes down the curved staircase.
“Hi, Marisa?”
“That’s me.” I hold up my notebook, as if it somehow makes me look more official.
“I’mTawny. We spoke on the phone.Come on up.”
I follow her up the curved, wrought iron staircase.
When we reach the top, she turns back to me. “His office is down the hallway, straight ahead. Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee? Wine?”
“Water would be great, thank you.”
The nerves tickling my throat as I walk toward Ethan’s office make me thankful I asked forwater;though wine would’ve done wonders for myoveractive heart rate.
I’m even more thankful I asked for water when I catch sight of Ethan. Seated behind anintricately carved wooden desk, he’s wearing a button-down flannel and backward cap.
A backward cap.
It’s my kryptonite. And wow, does he wear it well. I swallow the nonexistent saliva in my mouth, my throat burning from the action.
Sweat forms a sheen over his face, causing his flushed skin to glisten under the overhead lighting and highlighting the contours of his high cheekbones. It’s evident that he’s been outside most of the day. The stubble lying outside of his shave line creates a shadow around his normally trim beard, giving him a slightly undone look. A bead of sweat slides down from his temple, rolling down the curve of his neck before disappearing under the collar of his shirt. My tongue slips between my lips, and the desire to lick that trail catches me completely off guard.
“Is everything okay?” Ethan asks, a crinkle of concern resting between his brows.
Of course he’s concerned. I’ve just been standing in silence, staring at him.
I recover with a nod and an attempt at an easy smile. “Can I have a seat?”
“Yeah, come on in.” He gestures his arm, welcoming me to take the chair across from him.
As soon as I’m seated, Tawny walks in with a glass of water. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks me.
“I’m good, thank you.”
“Anything for you, Mr. Ledger?”
A sharp burst of air hisses from Ethan’s nose, followed by a guttural chuckle. “What the fuck did you call me?”
She busts up, roaring with laughter. “Sorry,” she says between bursts. “I was trying to make you sound important for your interview.”
My eyes ping-pong between the two as they exchange humorous looks. Clearly, there’s familiarity between them. Ethan looks relaxed in her presence, displaying a noticeable ease.
In fact, I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen him look this relaxed with another person. And she’s a woman. A hot, green slurry begins to simmer below the surface of my skin. Ignoring it, I force a smile and try to join in on their shared joke, but my smile strains, and my eyes wander over to Tawny, immediately playing the comparison game. Is she his girlfriend? Has he had a girlfriend this entire time and I didn’t notice? My stomach tightens, and my lunch rolls, turning sour. I’ve flirted with him. It was innocent, but still. I never would’ve had I known. And he’s kind of flirted with me, too. He literally got down on his knees for me. Did I imagine how sexually charged that moment felt? Maybe it was just me.
Willing myself to stay composed, I fist my hands, the sharp daggers of my nails digging into my palms.
Even when they seem like they’re not the type, they are.
Ethan, still gleaming from laughter, looks at me, seeming to suddenly remember I’m still in the room. “Marisa, this is Tawny, my cousin.”
Cousin.
I’m an idiot.
“Your cousin!” My body jolts, shocked by the screech of words that flew out of my mouth.
Tawny does a half wave. “Only a relative would put up with his cranky ass.”
