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“I was sparing your feelings. One of my biggest pet peeves is nosy teachers who ride motorcycles.”
His chest rumbled as he laughed, low and rough, and she pulled her hand back before she could lose her mind and trace the outline of his— extremely firm, good lord— pecs. He was a schoolteacher, for Pete’s sake. He didn’t need abs. That was just rude.
“I’m starting to think the shyness is an act.” Before she could blink, Ethan had pulled her hand toward him. “I think,” he said, stroking over the Triforce tattoo at the base of her thumb, “there’s an adventurer hiding in here.” Another stroke, and with it, every inch of her skin erupted in goose bumps.
“Loves basketball, saves Hyrule, and can craft beautiful stories in her spare time? I don’t think you understand what that does to a man.”
He needed to shut up. Seriously. Right now.
“Surprised?”
“No.” He cocked his head, watched her thoughtfully. “Should I be?”
Indy shrugged. “Most people tend to judge. If not about that, then these…” With her free hand, she gestured to the tats on her arm.
Ethan’s attention moved down her body, and it was like being slowly cataloged. A shiver ran through her.
“They’re sexy,” he said, taking his time as he brought his gaze back to hers. Everything he did was deliberate. Measured. Confident. “Tell me about them.”
With the entirety of her left leg and right shoulder tattooed, Indy was used to the question.
Every inch had been carefully planned. Chosen, sketched, considered, tested out with temporary materials— long before being inked. It had started with the main piece on her thigh, red cedars lit by a full moon, a young girl curled up, asleep, beside a wolf. From there, all manner of forest creatures began to emerge: deer and rabbits, frolicking among leaves and flowers. Like the fables she’d read as a child, the early nursery rhymes and fairy tales that had fueled her imagination and love of writing.
“This was the first,” she said, sliding her hand over the moon and fighting off another shiver when Ethan’s gaze lowered to it. “And Dale here,” she pointed lower, to the top of her calf, “is my favorite.”
The little chipmunk was lovingly inked in rich color, raised on his back legs while he nibbled on a flower. Stretched up and grasping tight, his position reminded Indy that sometimes good things could be slightly out of reach, but no matter how small she felt, there was a way.
Her arm was far more haphazard. A sound wave. The symbol of the Rebellion. A watercolor galaxy featuring a lone Earth astronaut tethered to his X-wing (this one, thankfully, weeded out the worst kind of men on dates), the silhouette of a woman within a cavern, a single torch lighting the way, the coordinates of Sir Francis Drake’s tomb. Pride of place, though, was the measuring tape and a mallet atop the faint lines of a blueprint at her wrist.
“I add to them to commemorate new chapters in my life. Sometimes I pick a meaningful image, sometimes I go for fun.”
“Like I said, sexy.” And then he was brushing the backs of his fingers along her cheek. “Thank you for coming to my rescue today. You’re my hero.”
“It’s just lunch.”
“You saved me from starving.”
“Does that mean you’ll save me next time?”
“You don’t need saving, Indy.” The seriousness behind his words was overwhelming. “But I’ll help. Anywhere, anytime.”
“Like my sidekick.”
“Like a man who’d do anything for you.” A light tug on her hand, a suggestion, and she moved closer, between his knees, though not quite touching. Yet.
“Oh, that’s nothing. Wait until you see me fashioning a bow and arrow by hand.”
He grasped his chest. “Be still my heart.”
Indy pushed at his shoulder while laughing. The mountainous dork.
The sound of stampeding feet in the hallway meant their time was up. “I think that’s my cue,” she said, stepping back and pushing her disappointment down. She wanted to stay. Being around Ethan was easy, with his silly jokes and steady composure. No wonder his students loved him. He was incredible.
* * *
As soon as the door closed, she sent a voice memo to Sasha. “He wears glasses. Glasses, Sash. I’m in so much trouble. It’s like Clark Kent and Captain America had a freakin’ love child. And my god, I’ll never be able to unthink that.Help me.”
An hour later, when she was safely ensconced on her sofa, a message appeared.
