Page 31 of Play to Win
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Yesterday had been awful.
Ethan was of a mind to make today better. He’d finished his shift at the bar about an hour ago and stopped at the store before getting to his final destination. Sunnydale. Even if he hadn’t already decided he needed to see Portia today, Camy coming into the bar stating quite succinctly that he needed to get his head out of his ass would possibly have prompted him to do so.
“You’re being a jerk. She still likes you a lot,” Camy had said.
“I was with her all evening,” he’d replied. And it was true.
From the time that Portia had surprised him by standing right behind him while he talked about not having a thing for her, until somewhere around eleven-thirty when he’d followed her home, they hadn’t been more than a few feet apart. She’d eaten and he had too. She’d laughed at Lance’s silly jokes and arm wrestled with Rock, even though they all knew who was going to win. When Camy sang and Lance played the guitar, Portia had crossed her legs and leaned forward to rest an elbow on her thigh. She’d swayed to the music and Ethan had watched her feel every lyric of the ballad. So he’d had no idea how that equated to being a jerk.
“Why aren’t you with her now? You know the hurricane is coming. She’s all by herself in that big old house. What if she doesn’t have enough water or something? What if the windows get blown in, or there’s flooding?”
“Stop!” Ethan had said when it seemed like Camy’s rambling would last forever. “You’re in an old house by yourself too.”
“Del and Lance are both coming over as soon as they close down the bar to board up the windows and do whatever else needs to be done before things get bad.”
He was about to say something else, but she held up a hand to stop him.
“Yes. I could’ve done all those things myself. I don’tneeda man around to take care of things. And I’m sure Portia doesn’t either. But, if there is a man who professes to care about a woman, they should be there to do those things. Chivalry’s not dead.” Camy finished with an arched brow that dared Ethan to say anything to the contrary.
“I’ve already got plans,” Ethan told her at the risk of receiving more scathing looks. “And besides, she’s still leaving soon, so I’m sure she’s spending the day packing.”
“I don’t think she wants to leave,” Camy continued.
Ethan moved away from the bar to return a stack of menus to the hostess stand.
“You should’ve seen the look in her eyes when she was going through the stuff in those boxes yesterday. I found her sitting on the front lawn, just like she used to do when she was younger. That’s why I stopped and talked to her, because it sucks that nobody paid any attention to her before.”
Her words weren’t new to Ethan. He’d thought them a time or two during the time that Portia had been back in town.
“We were kids, Camy. We didn’t realize what we were doing. And if we did, we were too young and dumb to stop. Portia understands that now.”
“Does she?” Camy had asked.
Ethan was saved by Del who came along to tell them that the mayor had announced that everyone close and head home because the storm was getting closer. True to the plan he’d already concocted while working today, Ethan had left the bar and made a quick run to the market and hardware store that was running out of supplies.
Now he was standing on her front porch, mildly wet, holding bags in his arms and staring at perhaps the most attractive woman he’d ever seen.
She was clearly surprised to see him, as evidenced by the way her mouth instantly gaped open when she opened the door. Now, she was shaking her head and telling whoever was on the phone that she had to go and that yes, she would be okay during the storm, before disconnecting the call.
“Hi,” Ethan said because he wasn’t totally sure she knew what to say to his impromptu visit. “I picked up some things I thought you might be able to use.”
He went with his gut and immediately began walking as if he intended to enter the house. Then something inside halted him and he stopped just a breath away from her. He looked down to see the question in her eyes as she tilted her head upward to meet his gaze. Once again, she appeared vulnerable in baggy gray sweatpants, sock covered feet and a t-shirt that hung off one shoulder. She wore no make-up and innocence in her gaze was enough to make him feel guilty about something, everything or hell, anything.
“Can I come in?” he asked, praying that she wouldn’t say no.
She nodded and he almost sighed with relief.
He heard the door close behind him and looked over his shoulder to ask, “Which way to the kitchen?”
“Through the living room and the parlor,” she said. “What did you buy?”
“Provisions,” he answered. “We’re in for a rough night. I’m going to put this stuff down and then I’ll walk around and check the windows.”
“They’re new,” she said just as he put the bags on the floor in the kitchen because there was no furniture.
“All the more reason to check on them. The wind’s picking up already. Rod said there are some pieces of wood down in the basement. I’ll just head down there to see what I can use.”
