Page 416 of One More Kiss

ETHAN

After a long day of work,I’m ready to call it a night. Windows paint the walls of the third-story tower room in my house that I use as a workspace. Although it’s my favorite room, it gets hot as hell. Hotter than the rest of the house, especially in Charleston during the summer. But it’s the only place I find inspiration anymore, so I work through it.

I jump in the shower and clean off the aftermath. This time of year, I usually wait for it to cool off and work in the evenings and night, but my schedule’s jam packed between working and showings, that I need to squeeze it in when I can. Just as I’m putting on a pair of jeans, I hear doors slam outside, and when I peek out the window, I see a woman and a taxi driver talking on the sidewalk. Assuming it’s my tenant for the week, I rush downstairs before putting on a shirt.

The moment she eyes me, I can read the judgment all over her face. I decide this can go two ways: I can dazzle her with my southern charm and prove she’s wrong about me, or I can have some fun and mess with this unmistakable city girl.

I choose the latter.

She’s attractive in an obvious way. Pretty face, long, lean legs, chocolate-brown hair—the type of girl who could get by on her looks alone. When I open the door and see her standing on my front porch, I notice that her eyes are a sparkling green, or perhaps that’s just how they look when she’s annoyed. Either way, she’s got that girl-next-door mixed with a Sex and the City vibe. Innocent and classy, but could probably break me in more ways than one. Her sass proves that immediately.

Staring at me, her eyes continue to roam up and down my body. I smirk, knowing she’s checking me out just as I was her. Though as soon as I speak, her attitude shifts and gives out a look of disgust. I find it humorous, really, because I know her type—uppity and snobbish. She pretends to be unaffected by me and then offended when I ask if she plans to stare at me all night.

And when she answers me, in that tone and scowl, I know I’m completely right about her.

* * *

The next morning,I wake up with Wilma’s ass in my face. She’s a feisty feline who doesn’t give two shits about personal space or boundaries and wiggles her way under the covers until she’s comfortable. She’s purring softly, which means she’s still sleeping, but that doesn’t stop me from pushing her away.

“Nice work, Wilma,” I groan. “Woke me up before my alarm, so I’ll actually have time to make coffee this morning.”

She stretches and meows before rolling onto her back and waits for me to pet her. I give in and then get dressed before I get too comfortable and fall back asleep.

“C’mon, Wilma. Let’s get breakfast.”

I slip on my jeans before heading downstairs. The sun is rising over the water and streaks of reds and oranges are shining through the bay windows. It’s gorgeous. My favorite part of the day actually, but since I’ve been working more than usual lately, I’m usually getting up before the sunrise.

After refilling Wilma’s food and water, I fill the coffee maker and pull out my mug. Just as I’m digging in the fridge for some creamer, a knock at the back door startles me.

“Shit,” I curse when I see it’s Vada. She looks like she literally just rolled out of bed with messy hair and sleepy eyes. It’s actually kind of cute.

“You scared the living shit out of me,” I tell her once I open the door. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Sorry,” she apologizes, pulling her robe tighter around her waist. “I work best in the morning and was trying to get a head start, but…there’s no coffee maker.”

“And here I thought you were coming for another viewing.” I cross my arms over my chest, emphasizing my biceps.

“Funny.” She rolls her eyes, swallowing back a groan that tells me she’s not in the mood for any games. “After letting me get swarmed with mosquitos, the least you could do is let me have some coffee,” she tells me matter-of-factly.

I grin, leaning against the door. “Well…that’s not the least I could do…”

“Oh, fuck it. I’ll get dressed and go into town for coffee.” She turns, but before she can walk away, I step forward and grab her arm.

“Oh, come on.” I chuckle, finding everything about her amusing. “You don’t need to go into town scaring the locals with your raccoon eyes and rat’s nest. I made coffee.”

She studies me for a moment, staying silent. Her eyes roam down to where my fingers are gripped around her wrist. I remove them and wait for her to say something. Her breath hitches and I wonder if it’s because our bodies are so close—we’re nearly chest to chest—or if it’s from the loss of my touch. Either way, it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Fine,” she grits between her teeth. “Only because I’m desperate.”

I cough to cover up a smile as I widen the door and wave her inside.

Once she steps in, I shut the door behind her and point a finger to the cupboard near the fridge. “Coffee mugs are in there.”

“Thank you.” She walks over and reaches inside for one of my mugs, wrapping her fingers securely around it and studies it. “These are spectacular. Where did you find them?” She brushes her fingers across the markings and smooth surface. Tilting it over, she reads the bottom. “Paris?”

Clearing my throat, I adjust myself, so we’re parallel from each other. I lean up against the island and watch as she admires the mug. “There’s a shop in town that sells them. I probably have a dozen or so.”

“Wow…I’m impressed.”

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