Resisting Mr. Tall, Dark & Texan. Christine Rimmer
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brother. You are really turned around about this, aren’t you?”
“Turned around? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Corey gave him another of those long, unreadable looks. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re about to put your fist in my face?”
Because I am, Ethan thought. Which was really all out of proportion to the situation, and he knew that. He dialed it back, going for a slow breath as he ordered his body to relax, take it easy. “Sorry. It’s late. I’ve got a lot on my mind and a bad case of jet lag, you know?”
Corey’s expression said he wasn’t buying Ethan’s excuses, but he let it go. “I hear you. Get a little sleep, okay?” He turned for the propped-open door to go back inside.
Ethan felt like a complete jerk bag—meaning worse than a jerk. More like a whole bagful of jerks. “Corey?”
Corey stopped in midstep, sent a glance over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“I’m glad you found Erin. Congratulations, man.”
Corey smiled then. A real smile. “Thanks. I hope you work it out with Lizzie.”
What exactly did he mean by that?
Ethan decided he didn’t want to know.
Lizzie was up at seven, showered and dressed and ready to face the day by seven-thirty. She headed for the kitchen fully expecting to brew some coffee, grab some toast and be on her way, alone.
But as soon as she opened the door of her room, her nose told her the coffee was already made.
She entered the kitchen to find Ethan sitting at the table in the breakfast nook. He was freshly shaved and wearing boots, jeans and a casual shirt.
“I got the coffee going,” he said. He raised his full mug and took a sip. “I was beginning to wonder if you would ever get up.”
She made a face at him. But actually, she was pleased that he’d made the effort, and that she would have his company for the next few hours. “Want some eggs?”
“Do we have time?”
“Sure. Scrambled?”
“Great.”
She went to work on the food. It didn’t take long. She slid his plate in front of him and put the jam in the center of the table. Then she grabbed her own plate and sat down across from him. They ate in silence, fueling up for the morning ahead. He did look a little tired, she thought. There were shadows beneath his eyes.
“How much sleep did you get?” she asked, as she took their empty plates back to the sink.
“Enough.”
She sent him a glance. “Listen, I can manage the trip myself if you want to go back to bed.”
“I’m taking you.”
“But if you—”
He cut her off. “Look, I don’t want to go back to bed. I want to drive you. Got it?”
“Uh, sure. Got it.” She scraped the plates and put them in the dishwasher. “How was the party?”
“It was fine,” he said. His tone told her that the subject was closed, just in case she had any idea of trying to get maybe a sentence or two more out of him. So she left it alone.
A few minutes later, they climbed into Ethan’s SUV and were on their way.
In Bozeman, they spent about an hour each at the two restaurant supply places. After that, they visited a community co-op grocery, where there was also a deli. They had lunch there before moving on to their final stop, which was Safeway.
They were on the road back to Thunder Canyon at one-thirty. Lizzie was feeling really good about everything by then. Ethan had been sweet and helpful the whole trip. And she had managed to find everything she needed, which was a considerable relief.
At the house, Ethan helped her carry everything inside. When the back of the big SUV was finally empty and the granite counters in the kitchen were piled high with all she’d bought, he asked, “What else can I do?”
“Not a thing,” she told him. “You’re my favorite boss in the whole world and you have my undying gratitude.” She started emptying the bags—groceries first.
He came around the counter toward her. “I love it when you’re grateful.” He stopped inches away.
She could smell his aftershave, which was subtle and manly and whispered tastefully of money. Already, there was a shadow of dark beard on his sculpted cheeks. She paused with a flat of free-range eggs in her hands. “You know you’re directly between me and the fridge, right?”
“Oops.” He gave her one of his famous killer half smiles—and stayed where he was.
With a put-upon sigh, she eased around him and carried the eggs to the roomy side-by-side high-end refrigerator. When she shut the door and turned back to him, he hadn’t budged. He was still standing there, watching her. A shiver went through her, one way too much like the one she’d felt the day before, when they stood in the foyer together, after Erin and Erika left.
There were bags on every counter. She could so easily have just started on one of them—and steered clear of him. But that seemed downright cowardly somehow. What was the matter with her, anyway? Afraid to approach Ethan? Made no sense at all.
So she marched back around him and started on the next bag, hauling out a jar of cherry juice.
“Lizzie.” His big hand closed over her arm—zap. Like a light tap with a live electrical wire.
Seriously. This could not be happening.
She gritted her teeth and faced him. “What?”
“I’m leaving, don’t worry.” He spoke quietly now, in a low, burned-sugar voice. And he still had hold of her arm. In fact, he showed no inclination to let go. “I’ll get out of your way …”
By a sheer effort of will, she ignored the scary sensations that were zipping through her and muttered drily, “Promises, promises.”
“Just one thing …” His eyes were soft as kitten fur. Was he going to kiss her?
No way.
Gently, she eased her arm free of his hold and fell back a step.
There. Much better. She could breathe again. And the disorienting shivery feeling had passed. “Sure. What?”
“Tonight. The rehearsal dinner. I want you to come with me.”
She frowned. “But … I already bowed out on that one.”
“I know you did.” Now he was all eager and boyish and coaxing. “Change your mind. Come with me. Pete and my mom will be there. And my brothers and Rose. And Erin, of course. And Erika. They’re all crazy about you. It will be fun. And you can meet my cousins DJ and Dax, and their wives, Allaire and Shandie, and—”
“Ethan.”
He blinked. “Yeah?”
“Is there something … going on with you?”
Now he was the one stepping back. At last. “Going on? What are you talking about?”
“Are you, um, putting moves on me or something?”
His mouth dropped open. “What the hell, Lizzie? What makes you think that?” He looked totally stunned at the very idea.
Which wasn’t the least bit flattering and also made her feel like a complete idiot for even suggesting such a thing. Heat flooded up her neck. She just knew her whole face was as red as the jar of cherry juice she still clutched in her hand.
She set the juice on the counter and whirled away from him. “Um …” She pressed her