Page 87 of Ignite

When It Comes To An Ex, It’s Always Wrong Timing

“Yesthatisbushfiresmoke you can smell. Yes, it could become serious. The RFS has asked that all residents and visitors to the beautiful south coast of New South Wales keep an eye on the weather, and regularly tune into the national broadcasting radio station. If you don’t have a bushfire plan agreed and in place with your family, you are running out of time. Ask anyone who has lived through a bushfire catastrophe and they will tell you, it’s better to have a plan you don’t use than not have a plan in place when it is time to leave. In other news …”

Rylee

Showering was a good idea, right? I mean, I’d been around paint fumes and oil all day. A good loofaing made sense, getting rid of all the dead skin cells and stimulating whatever a loofa was supposed to stimulate.

My hair needed a good wash, and the hair mask was about having time to pamper myself before I settled in for a relaxing couple of days.

By the time I got out of the shower, rubbed moisturizing lotion over my body and finger-braided my hair, I didn’t want to get dressed in comfy sweats.

I found an old sundress in the back of my closet and pulled it over my expensive lingerie—the type I saved for special occasions. I tried to convince myself that I deserved to pamper myself like this more often, not only to celebrate finishing a special job.

Not while I waited for a special man to drop by and offer his thanks in person. He would, wouldn’t he? Surely the Ethan I thought I knew wouldn’t just send a text?

I settled into the comfy recliner chair next to the front window. If Ethan was going to drop by, I’d either hear his approach, or see him.

With a cup of tea at my side, I curled up to try and choose one of the dozens of good books on my #TBR list.

Korbin:Just left him. Package delivered.

Ten minutes.

Fifteen minutes.

Eighteen minutes.

I started to lose faith in my plan. Korbin had delivered the ute to Ethan. How long was it going to take Ethan to pull up his big boy pants and come and thank me?

Twenty-seven minutes.

Twenty-nine minutes after Korbin’s text, Ethan’s glistening ute parked in my driveway and I rushed to the bathroom to check my hair and makeup. I looked all shades of wrong. This glamorous woman in the mirror wasn’t me. I heard the knock at the door just as I pulled a cleansing wipe from the packet, intent on removing all traces of Make Up Rylee.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Too late to change my mind, I half-hoped Ethan wouldn’t notice my effort. Nothing screamed desperation more than a tomboy dressed up as a sexy kitten in the hope that the man of her dreams would turn up.

Opening my front door, I got the full impact of not having seen Ethan Cooper in days. The physical reaction from our first meeting hit me all over again. I felt every kiss, every touch. I relieved every smile from receiving his cute texts, and how good it had felt to lie naked in his arms. Without saying a word, I felt all our moments crammed into one explosive bolt of lightning.

I understood everything.

Yes, I wanted the man I fell in love with to value the RFS, but that wasn’t why I’d been sabotaging my relationship with Ethan. He affected me. A glance or even a nod, and he affected me. I’d felt it after the car accident, after our night in Beringi, at Shar’s place and every time I saw or thought about him. I was scared to death of the way Ethan Cooper affected me.

“Hi.” I smoothed down my sun dress, suddenly noticing the creases from being curled up in the recliner.

“Umm …” He seemed thrown by my appearance. “Are you about to leave? I won’t take up much of your time.”

“Ethan, please come in. I was …” Shit. I was, what? About to make us dinner and hope he’d join me? About to make myself a drink—would he judge me for dressing up only to drink alone? “I was about to do some paperwork.”

The same excuse I’d given Korbin and Trey sounded incredibly lame when I tried to use it with Ethan. Damn, I wasn’t good at this wholefemme fetaleseduction crap.

Even to my ears, I didn’t sound sexy. I sounded forced, hollow, and deceitful.

“Right,” Ethan laughed as he walked inside, and I closed the door. “You dress like that for paperwork? Remind me to wear a tux to my next footy training session.”

“And here I was, thinking that you were more a speedos to football training and tux to the beach kind of guy,” I laughed. Ethan waited to follow me through the foyer through to the living room. He’d only seen my bedroom on his first visit. If he wanted to see the real Rylee, here I was. Surrounded in furniture that still had scratches from when my brother and I played on our scooters in the house, benchtops scarred by my cooking failures and the same faded curtains chosen by my mother years before she passed.

“Lady, don’t knock me in a banana hammock until you’ve checked out mybudgieon full display.“ Ethan cupped his groin and continued our banter before turning around to check out my family photos on the mantle.

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