Page 68 of Rare Blend
“Spit it out already, Elle.”
She glares at me, annoyed. “Don’t you have to be in Woodinville on the thirtieth?”
“Yeah.” I shrug.
“What a coincidence. That’s the same day as Marisa’s interview. You two should ride up together, since you have all-wheel drive.”
Marisa’s eyes meet mine, and she’s already shaking her head. “Oh, gosh, no, it’s totally fine. I don’t need a ride. Seriously. My car will be fine. Really, Ethan, it’s fine I?—”
My head is already nodding before my mouth can catch up. “Yeah, I’ll take you. But I’m going up the night before. Do you have somewhere to stay? There’s room at the apartment above the tasting room, but you probably wouldn’t be comfortable.”
Her eyes blink rapidly, flooded with disbelief. Did she really think I wouldn’t take her?
“Oh, um, wow. Thank you. I can stay with my friend Hillary. I haven’t seen her since I moved here and it would be nice to catch up.”
“Okay, sounds like a plan.”
Our stares anchor together, and something about this moment feels like the turning of a page, so many unspoken words hanging between us.
“I’m such a genius. What would you guys do without me?” Elyse says.
I know exactly what that was. For whatever reason, Elyse is trying to push Marisa and I together, and for once, I’m not mad about my little sister’s meddling.
CHAPTER 26
Ethan
I HAVE A MARISA FETISH
Ididn’t think this through. There’s no way I’m going to survive hours alone with Marisa, cramped in the tight quarters of my truck.
I just know she’s going to be wearing that sweet vanilla perfume I always smell coming off her skin, and some little outfit that will be beckoning my eyes off the road the whole drive there. Being alone with her that long, I’m bound to say something stupid and get tongue twisted and make a fool of myself. She may have accepted my friendship, but we’re still on shaky ground. I denied it for long enough, pushed her to the point I thought she would hate me for sure, but the jig is up. I can’t seem to stay away from her. And now that I’ve gotten to this point, there’s no going back. I’m in deep, whether I like it or not. If this ever evolves past friendship is irrelevant. I’ll take whatever she’s willing to give.
We planned to be on the road no later than 10:00 a.m. since snowfall on the pass was predicted to start later in the afternoon, but I got tied up with the final details to wrap up harvest for the season, and Marisa had a deadline to meet to release the first edition ofThe Vine. Now, it’s nearly three o’clock. I’ve just put the truck in park outside Marisa’s cottage when I see her tryingto lug a giant suitcase out the front door. The thing is almost as big as her, and it’s comical watching her try to maneuver it.
I jump out and get to her just before the two steps on the porch. “Trying to throw out your back?” I grab the suitcase from her and lift it, taking it down the steps to my truck. It weighs a shit ton, and I am not exaggerating. “You do know we’re only going to be gone one night, right?”
She shoots me a glare. “This interview is important, and I needed outfit options. For a guy that has sisters, you should know these things.”
I was right about the distracting little outfit. Although by most standards, it’s not distracting at all. She’s wearing leggings and a hoodie with some open-toed sandals. Her white painted toes stand out against her olive skin. Who knew toes could be so sexy? Do I have a foot fetish? I think about it for a moment and decide it has nothing to do with her shoes or her clothes, it’s her. I have a Marisa fetish, plain and simple.
We get loaded up and on the road. On our way out of town, I stop at the gas station before we get to the highway.
“Want anything from inside?” she asks me before I start pumping gas.
“Surprise me.”
An excited grin splits her face. “Okay.”
As the gas pumps, I run through the mental checklist I always do before a longer drive. I already checked the oil last night, and that’s good to go. The tires all feel good. There’s plenty of water and roadside supplies underneath my back seats for emergencies, and all the windows are free and clear.
Marisa emerges from the Pit Stop carrying a bag full of junk food. It’s rude of me to assume it’s junk food, but I know for a fact that the Pit Stop doesn’t so much as carry apples. It’s all pure gas station trash food. And for some reason, this woman loves the stuff.
We both get back in at the same time, our doors closing in sync.
“Find anything good?”
She buckles up and sets the bag on the floor. “Only the best of course. I got nachos, corn nuts, two pops, a variety of candy bars, and some questionable-looking corn dogs. As I’m sure you remember, I’m quite the gas station food connoisseur.”
