Page 79 of Rare Blend
“Congratulations.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “When do you start?”
“I haven’t accepted the job yet.” The “yet” hangs in the air, bright and red, like a warning light.
“But you will. And you should. It’s a great opportunity.”
His eyes briefly land on my bra before he flicks them away. Quickly, I put my shirt back on.
The space between us is fraught with tension, made worse by my tangled hair and Ethan’s twisted shirt, evidence of what almost happened.
“I should go inside.” My hand is already on the handle.
I climb out and take a deep breath, letting the cool air fill my lungs. Ethan exits as well, fast at work, getting my suitcase out and taking it to my porch. We move in silence. I can practically feel the regret coming off him. Clearly, it’s a good thing we got interrupted. It would’ve been a mistake, one I’m not sure I’d recover from easily.
“See you,” I say, not looking at him, my chin remaining down, as I enter my cottage.
“Yep,” he says, walking away toward his.
Once inside, I flop my head back on the door and slump down until I’m sitting, knees hugged against my chest. I closemy eyes and press the tips of my fingers against my swollen lips, feeling where he branded me. If not for the evidence, I would think I imagined the entire thing.
CHAPTER 30
Marisa
FRIENDS MY ASS
“How many festivals does this town have?” I ask Suzy, hugging my arms against myself to keep warm.
“I’m not sure, I’ve never really counted.” She considers it for a moment. “At least ten.”
Mario was supposed to cover the Trunk or Treat Festival but came down with the flu that’s been going around, so now I’m covering it, with the help of Suzy.
It’s been windy for most of the day, a bone-chilling wind that cuts right through my flimsy peacoat. I purchased this coat more for looks than practicality, a choice I’m very much regretting.
Suzy looks at me, laughing at my shivering. “Once the parade is over, you’ll have all the pictures you need.”
Thank God.
Tonight’s events are particularly bustling because, for a majority of the local wineries and farms, harvest has come to a close. A lot of people who would normally still be tied up are now out celebrating, causing downtown to feel overcrowded.
“What time does the parade start?”
“Six o’clock.” She turns to me, arms crossed to keep warm, too. “You have forty-five minutes to kill. Go walk around, getyour blood flowing. Or better yet, go mingle under one of the heated tents.”
“And what are you going to do while I mingle?”
She shrugs. “Probably go check to see how my husband is handling the kids.”
Suzy’s husband Derek is taking their four kids around to the different cars parked along Main Street that are participating in Trunk or Treat, where local businesses and city services hand out candy to kids, rather than them going door to door to get it from strangers.
We split, Suzy going north while I head south. To be honest, the last thing I feel like doing is mingling. Ever since Ethan dropped me off yesterday, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what happened. In fact, it seems to be all I can think about. I woke up early this morning to go for a run, at least that’s what I told myself, but really I think I was hoping to bump into him. But when I walked outside, his cottage was still dark. Either he already went in to work, or he was still sleeping. And I’ve spent the rest of the day searching for him, hoping to talk—or to avoid him, I haven’t quite decided. As I walk, I make sure to snap pictures for the article. A pumpkin carving station, kids lined up for a costume contest, face painting, bobbing for apples, a mini corn maze for dogs. Several booths are set up with food and drinks, but I gravitate toward the one I know will warm me up. Hot cider.
I get in line and blow on my hands, rubbing them together to create warmth. Meanwhile, kids are running around in paper-thin costumes, perfectly content with the recent drop in temperature. Either I’m a weeny when it comes to cold weather, or kids are made out of some different shit these days. I take a picture of a group of kids in coordinating Minion costumes when I feel the presence of someone behind me. I turn to look at thesource of the shadow, part of me hoping it’s Ethan for some silly reason.
It’s not Ethan. It’s Cole.
“Heyyy, drunky,” he says teasingly.
I wince at the nickname but give him a polite chuckle.
