Rare Blend (Red Mountain #1)

22. Ethan

CHAPTER 22

Ethan

SMALL DICK ENERGY VIBES

“ F irst round is on me, fuckers.” Shane sandwiches himself between me and Gavin, his arms around our shoulders, and pushes us into the bar, forcing me to tear my eyes off Marisa. But not before the image of her burns into my mind. The way her black, breezy dress skates across her perfect thighs. The way the little vest she’s paired with it has her perky tits spilling out over the top of the deep V. The way her tan, toned legs are on full display in white cowboy boots that shouldn’t look nearly as sexy as they do on her. The way her long, thick hair flows down her back in loose waves, and my fingers rub together as I imagine how it would feel to slide my hands through those silky strands.

She looks good. Too good. And it pisses me off, because I’m not the only one who notices. Heads turn like dominos falling over as my sisters pull her deeper into the bar and farther away from me.

I knew she was going to be here tonight—hell, it’s the only reason I agreed to come. I don’t enjoy this shit. Dive bars, crowds, drunken idiots—it’s my personal nightmare. But I’d rather suffer through this than stay at home and wonder if some asshole is hitting on her, making her smile, buying her drinks. No, I guess I’d rather torture myself by witnessing it instead.

If I had walked in alone, no one would have paid me any attention, but with my brothers on either side, the attention is unavoidable. Gavin is everyone’s favorite DILF—not my words, just what I know to be true. If he had any interest in dating again, he wouldn’t lack for options. It continues to surprise me how brazen some women can be, cornering him after PTA meetings and using their own kids to orchestrate some alone time under the guise of playdates. He’s a good sport about it, though. Unlike me, Gavin is actually nice, and likable, and so goddamn patient he deserves a medal.

Shane is a man whore—a title he owns proudly. We’re opposites in nearly every way. Where I’m brusque, stand-offish, and tongue tied, he’s all smooth lines and charisma. I’d think we weren’t blood related, but we look nearly identical, minus the seven years I have on him and the thirty plus tattoos he has on me.

I’m just the weird one. The quiet one. The one people tolerate in hopes that my brothers are part of the deal.

Gavin and I find an open booth, and Shane splits off to get us drinks. I try my damndest to not let my eyes search for Marisa. I didn’t come here to bother her. I just can’t seem to stay the fuck away.

Despite the fact that I recognize nearly everyone, my anxiety festers below the surface. A stray laugh, a drunken yell, a glass breaking; all sounds that weave around my nerves. Each noise causes my heart to pound harder in my chest, loud and insistent. I purposefully didn’t take a beta blocker because I knew I’d be drinking, and until some alcohol numbs me, I’ll have to ride out this raw feeling a while longer.

Shane returns with cold beers and shots. Skipping the beer, I go straight for the hard stuff and down the whiskey in one gulp, hoping the burn of it will tamper down my spiking pulse.

An hour. I can do an hour of this. If I set a clear, tangible goal, the competitor in me has to achieve it.

Shane is quick to abandon us for Shelby, who’s fluttering her eyes at him at the next table over, and a few of Gavin’s buddies join our booth to catch up. He rarely gets a night out like this, so when he does, he makes the most of it. Their conversation fills the void around us and enables me to relax slightly.

When my eyes scan the crowd again, they land on Marisa, who’s standing at the bar, laughing with none other than Cole Benton.

Fuck me.

Contrary to popular belief and small town gossip, the Ledgers and the Bentons get along just fine. We’re competitive in business, but it only makes us better in the long run. We all grew up together, and in most circumstances, I would even consider Cole a friend. But right now? I’m not feeling very friendly. Right now, I want to punch Cole square in the jaw.

He must be fucking hilarious because her head tips back as she giggles. My veins ignite with a rush of heat. It’s like a slow burn that starts in my chest and spreads out to my fingertips, which clench into fists at my sides.

I can’t take my eyes off them. Marisa’s smile is radiant, her eyes sparkling in a way that makes me wish I was the reason they shined. And Cole—damn him—leans in closer, his hand resting casually on the bar, inches from hers.

A wave of jealousy crashes over me, almost knocking me off balance. I have no right to feel this way. Marisa and I are friends, barely. And we need to stay just friends, because she’ll be back to Seattle in no time and I’ll still be here. But with the way my heart is hammering in my chest, you’d think it’s a different story.

I force myself to look away, trying to focus on anything else. Gavin abandoned his beer for another whiskey, and even though it’s lukewarm and flat now, I drink it down.

I told myself I wouldn’t keep watching her, but I’m unable to resist. I feel more and more like a stalker the longer I watch. Eventually, she leaves Cole and returns to my sisters. I almost relax enough to look away, but then my sisters take her from group to group around the bar, introducing her to the whole damn town.

She doesn’t realize it, but she’s the center of attention tonight. Like the little social butterfly she is, she’s been giving them her cheerful smile and warm laugh, and I slowly watch everyone fall in love with her.

It’s going to be a long night.

I tried so hard to dislike her, tried to avoid her. Maybe because I scare easily around a beautiful woman, or maybe because some primal part of me knew she was different. That from the moment I laid eyes on her, I was done for.

Forcing my gaze straight ahead, I try to pay attention to the story one of Gavin’s friends is telling, but my periphery follows Marisa’s every movement. My ears are so trained on her laugh, it seems to overpower all other sounds, even the blaring music. All I hear is her. All I see is her. I’m an absolute masochist for coming tonight.

The waitress comes by, and instead of continuing to drink my sorrows away, I opt for a water so I can sober up and get the hell out of here.

“Fuck,” Gavin grumbles, his eyes on the bar.

“What is it?” I ask, following his line of vision.

I’m about to ask him what I should be looking for when my eyes pause on a familiar golden-blonde mane. It’s Laura. And she’s not alone. She’s ordering at the bar, and Travis has his arms wrapped around her from behind, his hands resting low on her torso. They look right together, comfortable. It reminds me of a time when it was my arms she was in. The unwelcome image hits me, and I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing it out as quickly as it popped in. That was someone else entirely. It wasn’t me. At least not the person I am today. I wait for the stabbing pain to start in my chest, but it never comes. The jealousy I should feel at seeing them standing intimately with each other never surfaces.

“Oh, shit.” Gavin dashes out of his seat.

It takes me a brief moment to catch on, but then I’m seconds behind him. Elyse has spotted Laura, and she’s making a beeline straight for her.

We practically sprint to get there before her, but we’re too late. Elyse reaches Laura first.

“You fucking bitch! I can’t believe you have the balls to show your face around here!”

Elyse screams in Laura’s face, and rather than Laura looking angry or scared, she’s smiling, which in turn only riles up Elyse more.

“Get over it already.” Laura laughs her perfected, condescending laugh.

Elyse stiffens, and her eyes narrow into thin, darkening slits. She’s about to lose her shit. “You dumb fucking whore?—”

Gavin swoops between the two women, picking up Elyse mid-insult and hauling her away.

“Come on. One hit!” Elyse screams, trying to wiggle out of Gavin’s hold. “Just one really good one. You know she deserves it!”

Gavin, unrelenting, continues walking with her in his hold until they’re both outside, leaving me behind to deal with the aftermath. The crowd that had gathered due to the commotion disperses, uninterested now that there won’t be a fight. The bartender shakes her head at me, as if I’m to blame, and then returns to wiping down the counter.

Laura’s amused eyes meet mine, and Travis awkwardly coughs. Her mouth quirks up in what I think is supposed to be a smile, but it looks fake as shit. “Ethan. So nice to see you. Looks like Elyse still hates me, huh?”

Her voice is like the high-pitched whistle on a teakettle. Fucking annoying.

“Laura,” I say, tipping my head slightly.

She frowns at my dismissive greeting. What was she expecting? Me to beg for her back?

“Good to see you,” Travis says.

Fuck, this is uncomfortable as hell. Gavin should’ve let Elyse get one hit in. At least that would have saved me from having to interact with these two at all.

A tingle of heat singes my shoulder as someone taps on it.

“Hey, have you seen Elyse?”

I turn to face the woman I’ve had my eyes glued to the entire evening. Her brow is furrowed, looking confused, and it’s cute as hell.

I like her. More than I should. More than I should allow myself to. Up until recently, I was convinced it was simply a physical attraction. But with the relief I feel just being in her presence, the way she changed the beat of my anxious, overactive heart, I know it’s more than that. And the worst part of it all is that it’s been so long since I’ve felt anything close to this. It’s just my luck that it’s for someone who doesn’t live here. She’s only temporary, and it would do me some good to remind myself of that every time I see her. She’s temporary.

“Ethan? Did you hear me? I can’t find Elyse,” Marisa repeats, louder.

I would rather not explain the entire situation. At least not now. “She got a little out of hand, so Gavin took her to cool off.”

“That’s kind of strange,” she says.

Marisa, noticing Laura and Travis, flashes them a sweet, sunshine smile. “Hi, I’m Marisa,” she says, tapping on her chest, slightly leaning and yelling over to them so they can hear her over the music.

“I’m Laura, and this is my fiancé, Travis.” She encircles him, blatantly setting her left hand on Travis’s stomach to show off her gaudy ring. Laura’s eyes dart between us. “Ethan, I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”

“Oh— No— I…”

Marisa slides her hand through the crook of my arm and clasps on to me, pushing her body in closer, her breasts rubbing up against my arm.

I nearly groan at the contact.

What is she doing?

Marisa is more than a foot shorter than me. She shouldn’t fit at my side as well as she does, yet I can’t help but notice how perfectly snug she feels, like a missing puzzle piece effortlessly slotting into place.

Glancing down at her, I catch her eye, and there’s pure mischief dancing behind those molten chocolates. I have a feeling she knows exactly who Laura and Travis are.

“It’s still new,” Marisa dreamily says to Laura. “We’re still in that can’t-keep-our-hands-off-each-other stage.”

I will my face to not burn. If we’re going to get caught in this lie, it’s going to happen now, because Laura knows I’m not the most affectionate. At least I never was with her.

Laura’s eyes pinch, landing directly where Marisa has her hands wrapped around my arm. Normally, I would overthink this, cipher through various options and hope to land on one that appears the most natural, but there isn’t time for that. I need to make a quick move that doesn’t look robotic to shut down any doubts Laura may have about the legitimacy of this very illegitimate relationship. I’m sure I’ll be paying for this when the gossip spreads around town.

It will be worth it just to touch her. Even if it’s only once.

Marisa angles her head and rests her chin on my chest, and as if we’ve done it a million times, I tuck a stray strand of her long hair behind her ear, indulging myself more than anyone else by letting my hand graze her jaw and travel down her neck before slipping my fingers around the silky, dark, curled tendrils. In the time since I arrived, it’s taken on a more messy, disheveled appearance. It’s the way I imagine her hair would look after she’s been thoroughly fucked. I fight the desire to wrap the thick strands around my knuckles and instead smooth it out for her, untangling the knots with gentle slowness. I think she moans, but I can’t be too sure if I imagined it or if it was the music messing with my head. Her eye lids slant, turning hooded, and I feel her chest rising and falling much quicker than it was just a moment ago. It’s not a big show of affection, but it’s intimate. It’s the way I would touch her in public if she were mine.

Our gazes latch. If things were different—if I was different—I would take advantage of the opportunity and kiss her right here and now. But I’m still me, so I don’t.

I finish smoothing one final piece around her temple. “There,” I say quietly.

Her eyes are soft and almost sad as they stare into mine. It’s as if she’s in disbelief that I fixed her hair—or maybe I’m reading the situation wrong, and she’s weirded out.

She swallows harshly and takes in a lung full of air. “Thanks.” Her tone is low and hushed, just for me to hear.

“Should we go sit down?” I ask her, saving us both from continuing this charade.

She nods, her chin still resting on my chest, eyes looking dazed, likely from one too many drinks.

“Nice seeing you guys,” I say, not bothering to even look at them as I spin Marisa around, pressing my front to her back and keeping her in my arms as we move together.

God, she feels good. And she smells good, like sweet, warm vanilla. I would’ve stayed planted in front of Laura and Travis the rest of the night if it meant I could touch Marisa this way. But even that small bit was too much. Marisa is someone I would drown in if I let myself. It’s better if I keep swimming.

Once we’re out of sight, Marisa walks out of my embrace, and I immediately miss the feel of her, but the moment has passed and we’re back to reality.

She turns to face me, her face bright with laughter. “Oh, my God! Did you see the look on her face? She wanted to murder me.”

“How did you know?” She had to have known. Someone must’ve told her, or else she wouldn’t have started that little display.

She lifts her chin toward Shane, who’s standing by the retro jukebox. “Your brother with all the tattoos. Shane, right? He stopped me when I walked out of the restroom and told me to go save you from your, and I quote, ‘cunt of an ex and her pussy fiancé.’”

That sounds like Shane. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to do that. You’ll be the talk of the town if anyone noticed.”

She shrugs, unaffected. “Meh, who cares. If I was given the opportunity to do that to my ex, I totally would. Gossip be damned just to see the look on his stupid face.”

Marisa slides into the booth near us, and I follow suit, sitting opposite of her.

“Bad breakup I take it?”

She blows out a groany breath. “The worst. He’s the whole reason I’m here. Cheated on me, evicted me, fired me. It was a mess.”

Jesus. And I thought I had it bad. Now I feel even worse than I already did about her first couple of weeks in Red Mountain. She was going through all of that, and then had me to deal with, too. I don’t deserve her friendship—hell, I barely deserve to be speaking to her at all.

She shimmies her shoulders absentmindedly to the upbeat country song playing. “I showed you mine. Now you have to show me yours. What’s the story?”

I take a deep breath. It’s been a while since I’ve had to rehash everything. “Laura and I were engaged.”

Marisa’s smile drops, and her back goes rigid. “Oh. Shit. I had no idea. That’s like—wow. That’s serious.”

With time having dulled the sharpness, it’s easier to talk about than it used to be. I give her a nod. “It was serious. For me, it was at least.”

“What happened? Unless you’d rather not tell me, that’s totally fine too. It’s really none of my business and I?—”

“Relax.” I chuckle, cutting off her adorable rambling. “Everyone else around here knows, you may as well, too.”

Her shoulders relax slightly, but her eyes remain soft and expectant.

“The guy she was with, Travis. He was my best friend.”

Her eyes become saucer-like, but she remains silent.

“Anyway, I’m sure you can put the pieces together. She was cheating on me with him. He was my best man. I caught them about a month before the wedding, going at it like a couple of horny teenagers, parked in the driveway of the condo Laura and I shared. They thought I had gone to bed.”

Marisa’s jaw drops. “Excuse me? I’m this close”—she pinches her fingers together for emphasis—“to putting on my thick cocktail rings and slapping her around. She seriously cheated on you”—her hand waves up and down like I’m a prize on The Price is Right —“for that below average, crusty man?”

“The heart wants what it wants, I guess. Besides, Travis probably saved me from what would’ve been an unhappy marriage. We weren’t a good fit, and I think I thought getting married would fix all of our problems. I know she seemed awful, but that’s her defense mechanism. She’s not a bad person and neither is he, they just did a bad thing.”

Her face scrunches. “You’re a much better person than me. I hope the wires in her bra always poke at her, and I hope he misses her clit by millimeters for the rest of their lives. And I hope he has a small penis. Which I’m sure he does. He gives small dick energy vibes.”

I laugh, listening to her basically curse them. “You’re not some kind of witch, are you?”

She throws me a teasing look. “No, but I know how to find a bruja if necessary.”

This woman never fails to surprise me. Anyone else, and this night may have been ruined, but with her, it keeps getting better.

Elyse returns with Gavin trailing behind her. I forgot where we were for a while there. The crowded bar faded away, and all of my focus went to Marisa. That’s a first. Usually, with this much surrounding commotion, my anxiety would be floating beneath the surface, threatening to jump out at any moment.

Elyse slides in next to Marisa, and Gavin takes the seat next to me.

“I can’t believe you missed my almost bar fight,” Elyse tells Marisa, retelling the events from earlier.

While they chat, I turn to Gavin. “You think she’s calmed down enough?”

He snorts. “Is she ever calm enough?”

I guess not.

Gavin starts telling me a story about Elyse trying to bum a cigarette off someone, but I’m only half-listening. Marisa’s eyes flick to mine while Elyse talks her ear off. It’s brief, but it feels like a silent acknowledgment that the rest of the evening will be spent apart. As it should be. Because we’re just friends, and friends don’t hang out in a secluded corner of the bar, getting lost in each other. No, friends definitely don’t do that.