Rare Blend (Red Mountain #1)

26. Ethan

CHAPTER 26

Ethan

I HAVE A MARISA FETISH

I didn’t think this through. There’s no way I’m going to survive hours alone with Marisa, cramped in the tight quarters of my truck.

I just know she’s going to be wearing that sweet vanilla perfume I always smell coming off her skin, and some little outfit that will be beckoning my eyes off the road the whole drive there. Being alone with her that long, I’m bound to say something stupid and get tongue twisted and make a fool of myself. She may have accepted my friendship, but we’re still on shaky ground. I denied it for long enough, pushed her to the point I thought she would hate me for sure, but the jig is up. I can’t seem to stay away from her. And now that I’ve gotten to this point, there’s no going back. I’m in deep, whether I like it or not. If this ever evolves past friendship is irrelevant. I’ll take whatever she’s willing to give.

We planned to be on the road no later than 10:00 a.m. since snowfall on the pass was predicted to start later in the afternoon, but I got tied up with the final details to wrap up harvest for the season, and Marisa had a deadline to meet to release the first edition of The Vine . Now, it’s nearly three o’clock. I’ve just put the truck in park outside Marisa’s cottage when I see her trying to lug a giant suitcase out the front door. The thing is almost as big as her, and it’s comical watching her try to maneuver it.

I jump out and get to her just before the two steps on the porch. “Trying to throw out your back?” I grab the suitcase from her and lift it, taking it down the steps to my truck. It weighs a shit ton, and I am not exaggerating. “You do know we’re only going to be gone one night, right?”

She shoots me a glare. “This interview is important, and I needed outfit options. For a guy that has sisters, you should know these things.”

I was right about the distracting little outfit. Although by most standards, it’s not distracting at all. She’s wearing leggings and a hoodie with some open-toed sandals. Her white painted toes stand out against her olive skin. Who knew toes could be so sexy? Do I have a foot fetish? I think about it for a moment and decide it has nothing to do with her shoes or her clothes, it’s her. I have a Marisa fetish, plain and simple.

We get loaded up and on the road. On our way out of town, I stop at the gas station before we get to the highway.

“Want anything from inside?” she asks me before I start pumping gas.

“Surprise me.”

An excited grin splits her face. “Okay.”

As the gas pumps, I run through the mental checklist I always do before a longer drive. I already checked the oil last night, and that’s good to go. The tires all feel good. There’s plenty of water and roadside supplies underneath my back seats for emergencies, and all the windows are free and clear.

Marisa emerges from the Pit Stop carrying a bag full of junk food. It’s rude of me to assume it’s junk food, but I know for a fact that the Pit Stop doesn’t so much as carry apples. It’s all pure gas station trash food. And for some reason, this woman loves the stuff.

We both get back in at the same time, our doors closing in sync.

“Find anything good?”

She buckles up and sets the bag on the floor. “Only the best of course. I got nachos, corn nuts, two pops, a variety of candy bars, and some questionable-looking corn dogs. As I’m sure you remember, I’m quite the gas station food connoisseur.”

“Which one is for me?”

She laughs, handing me a corn dog. “In case it has food poisoning, you can eat it first as the test dummy. It’s the least you can do for ruining my dinner that night.”

I take an exaggerated bite. I’m not too worried about it. I lived off of these as a kid and know for a fact that as stuck up as Shane is about food, these are still a frequent part of his diet.

She grabs a red box out of the bag. “Want some Cheez-Its to go with it?”

I audibly gag. “No. Those are the worst. I hate Cheez-Its.”

Her head snaps at me. “What?! I think this friendship might be over.”

A huff of a laugh falls out of me. “Think of it this way, more for you.”

My answer seems to please her, because she happily shrugs and pops an orange cracker in her mouth.

Once I get onto the highway toward I-90, Marisa is already on her third Taylor Swift song.

“Got anything else on that playlist besides the entire Reputation album?”

She laughs. “I’m surprised you know what album this is.”

“I have sisters. And I like the occasional Taylor Swift song. Plus, it’s one of her more upbeat albums.”

She stares at me, openmouthed.

“What?” I smile. “Should I hand in my man-card or something?”

“Just the opposite. I couldn’t be more attracted to you than I am right now.”

Heat creeps up my neck and flames my cheeks. There’s humor in her voice, so I know she’s only fucking with me, but damn do I wish it was true. I want her to find me attractive. I want her to see the good parts of me. It’s delusional of me to think she would ever see me the way I see her, especially after I treated her the way I did, but it’s nice to think that maybe we’re on the same wavelength, if only for a moment.

After the song ends, she puts on an Arctic Monkeys song, which is a lot more my speed.

“Do you think we’ll make it there before it gets dark?” she asks, her voice tense and worried as she looks out the window.

“I’m not sure. I guess we’ll see.”