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“I don’t think you take anything lightly, sweetheart.” His lips twitched at her indignant frown before he continued. “I did not expect you to tumble into bed with me over a bowl of gumbo.”
Her breath came out with a shudder as she relaxed, the tension draining out of her. “Okay,” she said slowly. “So, we’ll just forget this happened and?—”
“You can try but I don’t plan on doing that, either.”
“I said we could be friends, Ethan, and this isn’t what I had in mind.” She kept her gaze down, focused on the skull ring he wore, a glint of silver against the rough skin of his hand. He’d put that hand on her and she’d liked it. Liked it enough to be frightened of it and what it could mean to her.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said, tipping her chin up with his finger until he was looking her in the eye. “You still come to dinner with me tomorrow and I promise to behave. I’ll be a perfect gentleman and I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
“That’s—”
“Wait,” he cut in, finger lifted to indicate he wasn’t done. “I’ll keep my hands to myself until you want me to touch you. If you want to be more than friends, you’ll have to tell me exactly what you want. Out loud.”
The idea of that was humiliating, which made Eloise absolutely certain she’d never be willing to do any such thing. Sarah was going to owe her a whole month of pastries. Maybe she’d start with a cream puff, instead of a blueberry scone.
She held out her hand for Ethan to shake. “Deal.”
Eight
His car smelled like leather and the faint hint of his dusky cologne as he pulled out of his driveway with her in the passenger seat. Summer nights meant late sunsets, and the horizon was a riot of pinks and oranges beneath the deeper purples and blues of the night sky. The first stars were winking to life and he had put classical music on the radio.
“We don’t have to listen to this,” she said, waving her hand at the dashboard before settling it uncomfortably back into her lap. She wasn’t sure where to put it. Sitting with her hands clasped in front of her seemed too formal, too stiff, but she didn’t know what else to do, so she gripped her fingers together and hoped he wouldn’t notice how rigid her posture was or how tensely she held her muscles.
“I know you like it.”
“I do.” They lapsed into silence as she picked at the fabric of her dress—she’d decided to go with the pink floral after another two hours of worrying over her choices—and wracked her brain to think of something to say. The night before, and the odd agreement they’d come to, weighed on her as he turned the car toward the highway.
He wasn’t looking at her, his eyes on the road as he drove them toward whatever destination he’d picked for dinner. He’d claimed to know the perfect place and she had to admit he’d been right about the gumbo. She’d relaxed a little, letting him handle the details and take control in a way she normally avoided. It was hard not to, when he seemed so casually sure of himself, so confident. She often managed to fake that sort of energy, but it never settled as well on her as it did on him.
She took the opportunity to look him over, his focus on the road giving her a few uninterrupted minutes to drink in the details of his appearance without embarrassment. He’d opted for casual—jeans and his boots with a nicer black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms—and he’d taken the time to comb his fingers through his hair and make sure his short beard was neat and tidy.
She wondered if it would feel as scruffy under her fingers as it had against her cheeks the night before, and she tightened her grip on her own hands to keep from reaching across the car to find out. There wasn’t much to distract her from the impulse. The familiar town visible through the windows was certainly nothing new and the inside of the car offered only a monotone gray interior. The dashboard was polished and free of dust but something caught her attention as she focused on the instrument panel.
“Ethan?”
“Hmm?”
“Please tell me you’re not actually doing nearly a hundred miles an hour.” Her tone was carefully blank, but her mind was screaming.
He glanced over at her and flushed. “Sorry.”
She knew her eyes must have been comically wide, her knuckles white where she was clenching them, but she didn’t relax until he slowed the car to somewhere closer to the speed limit.
“Well,” she said slowly, “Remind me not to ride in the car with you again after tonight.” He chuckled and she crossed her legs, pressing her thighs together at the sound of his laugh as it rolled over her. If she’d expected her response to offend him, it seemed she’d been off the mark, though, to be honest, he usually did seem amused when she was at her most uptight and inflexible.
“Come on,” he urged. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Okay, maybe I didn’t even realize how fast we were going but,” she said, before he could gloat, “it’s dangerous to do that. You’re speeding and if you crash, you take out all those other drivers. Just look at that minivan. Are you going to take out a minivan?”
He frowned and muttered, “I bet you’re fun at parties.”
“I only got invited to parties so I would be there to clean up the mess.” It popped out before she could stop it, leaving her wondering not for the first time why she was so willing to let her guard down around him. It was true enough, but not the kind of information one usually shared voluntarily with others.
“Seriously?”
“Not anymore.” She hurried to explain, before he had the chance to feel sorry for her. “Not since I moved here and met Sarah and the others.”
He turned on his blinker, slowing as he exited the highway. “Those are your friends from work?”
