I Really Can’t Stay (A.R.’s Holiday Standalones #1)

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Message received

Subject: Too forward?

Thanks again for being my date tonight. I’m looking forward to meeting you. I’ll wait for you in front of Cafè 101, and we’ll go in together.

Some things you should know before meeting up with me, in case my coworkers bring it up (our company isn’t huge and everyone knows far too much about each other).

1. I despise onions.

2. I have a scar through my left eyebrow from a BMX biking accident three years ago. Sometimes you truly cannot, in fact, teach an old dog new tricks.

3. I’m the oldest of six. We grew up here in San Diego, but I’m the only one who still lives here.

4. My favorite color is burnt orange.

5. I have a German shepherd named Otis, and a cat named Callie.

I’m not sure why I feel these are important things you should know, but there you have it.

See you later,

Ethan Hanson

___

T he lights of downtown San Diego glitter against the fog that’s sweeping through the city, shining brightly against the white haze. Rubbing my sweaty palms against my red velvet dress, I blow out a shaky breath and get myself into character. Ethan had sent me some basic facts about himself—things someone who’s actually dating him would know—but for some reason, I don’t think I’m going to need to know any of it.

Nerves zip through my system as the rideshare driver approaches the restaurant, pulling over in the loading zone.

“Thank you so much,” I tell the woman as my fingers dance across my phone screen to leave her a tip on the app.

“Of course, hunny. Have a great time.”

Slipping out of the car, my black strappy heels touch the asphalt, and I wrap my shawl around my shoulders. As I make my way behind the vehicle, the driver leaves, and at that exact moment, my eyes meet with a man who is clearly Ethan.

His smile radiates hotter than the sun. He’s beautiful in person—like a Greek God. His blue eyes are piercing, glowing brightly in contrast to the navy blue suit he’s wearing. The lack of tie and a couple of unbuttoned buttons are really doing it for me.

“Hi,” he greets as I approach, taking me in. His eyes rake over my body, and for a moment, butterflies stir in my stomach.

Why did I come up with a no sex rule again?

“Ethan, hi,” I say with more confidence than I’m feeling. Extending my hand, we shake, and he pulls me into his arms in a tight hug. I’m a little thrown off by the gesture, and stiffen in his arms.

“This is so weird, but also strangely exhilarating.”

“I know. So what should I expect?”

Taking a step back, he rubs his hands down my arms. “Hor d’oeuvres, drinks, maybe some dancing, and a bunch of tech geeks. HR rented out the back room of this place,” he gestures at the restaurant behind us, “and instead of having a sit-down dinner, they decided to treat it like more of a small-scale party.”

“That sounds like fun. Not as much pressure to maintain conversation, either,” I point out.

Ethan’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “I hope you plan to converse with me, at least.”

“Of course!” My cheeks heat with embarrassment as I replay what I just said in my mind. “I didn’t mean I don’t want to talk to you , just that there’s less room for error with everyone else!”

“I know what you meant, Holly. Don’t worry.” He smiles again as I visibly relax. “So, how long have we been dating?”

“You tell me.”

“Well, everyone was surprised I was bringing a date. I said it was new. So, maybe a month? Couple weeks?”

My lips purse in thought, and I don’t miss the way Ethan’s eyes lower to look at them. “A couple weeks is good. That way, if I get caught not knowing something about you, it’s not as suspicious.”

“Sounds great. Thanks again, Holly. I appreciate you doing this.”

“No one should have to face the holidays alone.”

For a second, I stop and think about why a man this attractive has to have a stand-in date, but I shake the thought away. It’s none of my business.

“You’re right.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders. “No one should.”

As he pulls open the door, the noise of the restaurant overtakes the quiet sounds from the street. Ethan stops to talk to the hostess, and she leads us to the back, where the holiday party is being held.

The second the French doors open, the entire crowd erupts in excitement with a collective round of “Ay!” for Ethan's arrival. It’s infectious, and my smile widens as I watch him shake hands with his coworkers and say hello to their spouses.

Pushing a lock of hair behind my ear, I stand behind him, not really sure how to act. It only takes a second before Ethan begins introducing me as his girlfriend.

“Oh, girly pop, you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into with this one here,” a petite blonde woman drawls, her southern accent thick as she backward jabs her thumb in Ethan’s direction. “Stubborn as a mule, this one.”

“All work and no play makes Ethan a dull boy, isn’t that right, Bossman?”

Bossman?

“I’m not your boss, Randal,” Ethan volleys back at him in a bored tone. He rolls his eyes dramatically at me, making me laugh.

“You sure think you are! Bossy as hell when we’re on a deadline.”

“It’s called leadership and accountability. Maybe you should try it sometime.” Ethan’s tone is playful, and his eyes shine brightly with enjoyment as he looks at me. “Can I get you a drink?”

The eye contact this man holds is mesmerizing.

“What are my options?”

“Let’s go find out.” Lightly gripping my elbow, he steers me to the private bar set up in the corner. The bartender smiles brightly as we approach.

“Hiya,” she singsongs. “House drink is a cranberry spritzer. We’re also serving red and white wine, craft beers, and soda.”

“What will it be, sweetheart?” Ethan asks with a smirk on his face.

“I’ll try the cranberry spritzer, thank you.”

“And I’ll take a double IPA.”

Lifting his hand, it hovers just above my shoulder, but he hesitates, like he’s not sure if he should touch me. There’s a silent question in his eye as he tentatively rubs his hand down my arm, burning a trail that leaves goosebumps in its wake. When his hand reaches mine, he tangles our fingers together.

Leaning closer to my ear, he whispers, “Is this okay?”

There’s a lump in my throat that I swallow before I speak. “That depends. Is it for show?”

He nods, his gaze penetrating through me.

“Then yes, it’s okay.”

No strings, no sex, I repeat my mantra in my head.

Why no sex? I groan inwardly.

Behind us, a loud squeal pulls us from the bubble we’ve inadvertently created for ourselves. Across the room, there’s a man who looks like he’s had one too many drinks, holding a microphone attached to a large speaker.

“Oh no,” Ethan groans as the chords to “Sweet Caroline” begin, and the man twists the microphone around in his fingers for show.

“I want everybody to sing along with me!” the man yells into the mic. The melody floats through the speaker.

“I’m so sorry,” Ethan shouts over the off-key singing.

The crowd starts to join in, and it’s absolutely hilarious. My face hurts from smiling, and as the man hits the chorus, he turns the mic toward the crowd, and they join in screaming bum bum bum , and the energy is addictive.

Ethan sips his beer, and while he doesn’t join in, I can tell by the way the corners of his mouth upturn that he’s having a good time.

“No! You can’t go. The night’s still young!” Ethan’s work best friend, Desmond, protests.

“You heard the man,” Ethan says, dusting his fingertips across the top of my shoulder from where his arm is slung over the back of my chair. The party’s still going strong, but it’s almost eleven now, and we’re going to get kicked out of here soon, anyway.

“I really can’t stay,” I insist, looking up at Ethan.

“Baby, it’s cold outside!” Desmond sings, then slams his palms down on the table. “Another round of karaoke?”

“No, Des.” Ethan laughs. “If my girl says she’s got to go, she’s got to go.” Looking at me, he asks, “Have you ordered a ride already?”

“Not yet.” Fishing my phone from my purse, I pull up the rideshare app and request a car. “Six minutes away.”

“You’re not going to drive her, Ethan?” a lithe woman named Ophelia asks, joining us from the next table over.

Our eyes meet briefly. “She’s fiercely independent,” he says, not knowing if it’s true.

But it is. I have no choice but to be.

“He’s right, plus I wouldn’t want to steal him from you guys. The night’s still young, as Desmond said.”

“Another round, boys?” Ophelia asks the table.

All the men cheer except for Ethan.

“Here, let me walk you outside,” he says, standing when I do.

I say my goodbyes to the people at our table, then lead the way to the doors.

When we’ve stepped just beyond the threshold of the restaurant, Ethan turns to me. “Thank you again, Holly. For everything.”

My phone vibrates, and I glance down at the notification from the rideshare, alerting me that my ride is about to arrive.

“You didn’t need me at all.” I smile. “They love you.”

He nods. “We’re like a family. It’s a blessing and a curse.”

My heart tugs at the mention of family. With a tight smile, I say, “I imagine it could be.”

Ethan steps closer to me, and I have to tilt my head back to look up at him. “You sure about the second stipulation in your bio?”

No strings. No sex.

It’d be so easy to go home with him, but that’s a complication I don’t need.

“I’m sure.”

Brushing a fallen piece of hair from my face, he nods. “It was nice to meet you, Holly North.”

“It was nice meeting you, Ethan Hanson.”

Getting into the back of the car, the driver confirms my name, and I close the door while Ethan watches me.

There’s a split second where I’m tempted to jump out of the car like I’m in a cheesy Christmas TV movie and leap into his arms to kiss him—let him take me home. But the thought is fleeting, and as the driver pulls back onto the street, I turn in my seat to glance at him one last time, and end up looking out the back window until Ethan is completely out of view.