Rare Blend (Red Mountain #1)

29. Marisa

CHAPTER 29

Marisa

GOOD ON PAPER

A s I predicted, Buckley’s is bustling with large groups and loud conversations despite it being two o’clock in the afternoon. Since my plans to stay with Hillary got squashed, we compromised and made plans to meet up for lunch before Ethan and I drive back to Red Mountain.

Ethan paid an exorbitant amount for parking, so we didn’t have to walk further than a block. When we get in, Hillary and Archie are already at a booth waiting for us. I’ve only gone a little over a month without seeing Hillary in person, and her belly looks like its tripled in size, which I didn’t think was possible.

“Yes, I look like a whale,” she says, as she pulls me in for a hug. “I feel like Regina George.” She releases me and sits back down.

“Why’s that?”

“Because sweatpants are all that fit me right now.” She points to her outfit as if that explains why she’s in a cashmere lounge set instead of something dressier. She focuses her attention on Ethan. “Oh, gosh. I’m being rude.” She extends her hand out to him. “I’m Hillary. You must be Ethan.”

They introduce themselves, and then Archie and Ethan shake hands.

Archie is quick to warm up to Ethan, and the two end up in a riveting conversation about pickleball. Well, riveting for them. Hillary and I couldn’t care less.

The entire meal, Hillary darts her eyes between me and Ethan with a curious look on her face. I’m not sure why, since we’re doing an exceptional job of sharing one side of the booth without so much as touching our shoulders. It’s a lot harder than it looks.

Our late lunch goes by way too quickly, but I know we can’t linger because a ton of snow could easily dump on the pass again and leave us trapped for another night.

Ethan and Archie head to the bar to pay the bill, but before they do, I try to slip Ethan some cash. He refuses, like he has every other time I’ve tried to pay for something on this trip. Hillary watches our interaction with a knowing smile.

“You like him.” Her smile is so self-satisfied, if she weren’t pregnant, I’d kick her under the table. “And he doesn’t seem anything like the serial killer I was expecting. In fact, he’s stupid good-looking.”

She gives me an exasperated look, and I fiddle with the remaining fries on my plate, ignoring her.

“I don’t like him. We’re friends.”

She takes a long, loud slurp of lemonade. “If I looked at my male friends the way you look at Ethan, then I never would’ve married Archie. There’s something there between you two, whether you want to admit it or not.”

I cross my arms, suddenly feeling defensive. “It’s too soon. I’m still processing the whole Brandon thing.”

Hillary twists her mouth, grimacing. “Oh, please. That’s bullshit and you know it. You were already falling out of love while you guys were still together. The only reason you were still with him was because you thought it was time to settle down and Brandon sounds good on paper.”

Was I really with Brandon because he sounded good or because I loved him? Where was all this advice when I was still with the guy?

“Either way, it doesn’t matter because if I get this job, then I’m moving back to Seattle, and Ethan has to stay in Red Mountain because the winery is there. So, what then? I give into the feelings only to fall for him and then have to move? I’m not doing long distance just to get broken up with months later over a text message.”

“Wow, you’ve really thought about this, huh?”

“I’m being a realist.”

“Whatever you say. All I’m saying is it might be worth it. Even if it’s just for fun, he’s hot and you’re hot. Two hot people should be having wild sex.”

“I see you’re still horny as ever.”

“Always,” she says with a wink.

“Do you think you’re going to get the job?” Ethan asks as we begin our journey back to Red Mountain.

I look down, twisting my fingers in my lap. I was so caught off guard to hear from Zoe and get called in for an interview, I haven’t had time to sit in my thoughts and really mull it over. It’s exactly what I said I wanted. This was the plan. But now, when I think of actually getting the job, and leaving, it doesn’t feel like I thought it would. I’m starting to question what I even want anymore. In truth, I’m feeling lost.

I smile, but it’s not genuine. “I guess we’ll see.”

“I like your friend Hillary,” Ethan says, changing the subject. “She was looking at me a little odd, though.”

A laugh bubbles out of me. “I swear she’s usually so normal. The pregnancy has made her weird.”

He nods, taking in my words. “How did she and her husband meet? Seems like kind of an odd pairing.”

Hillary and Archie have a love story for the ages. It honestly sounds like the plot of a movie.

“Hillary was dating this rich app developer douche and, like, three months into dating, he whisked her away for a European vacation. They started in Spain and then hit France and eventually made their way up to the UK. At some point things started to take a turn. He started showing his true colors, and they began arguing a lot more. They were in a pub, and he was drunk off his ass and got handsy with her. Then he straight up slapped her across the face.”

Ethan’s head whips to me, his face painted with shock.

“I know,” I continue. “It was so bad. Anyway, emerging from the shadows comes Archie, her knight in shining armor. Him and his buddies roughed him up and threw him out of the pub, and Archie swooped in to make sure she was okay. He couldn’t let her go back to him, it obviously wasn’t safe, but Hillary had almost no money on her. She was screwed. She ended up crashing at Archie’s, and he basically saved her. He helped her get another passport, which the douche was holding hostage as a tactic to get her back. It was a whole thing. And then I don’t know, they fell in love, and he flew back with her. And then she flew to him. They went back and forth for a bit, and eventually, he decided to move here.”

“That’s quite the story.”

“I told her if I ever write a book, I’m stealing their story.” I smile, suddenly feeling tired, the trip finally hitting me. “I think some people are meant for epic love stories while the rest of us have to settle for mediocre.”

Ethan swallows audibly, his throat bobbing. “Do you think you’re someone that’s going to have to settle?” His voice is quiet, almost a whisper.

I yawn, wiggling further into my seat. “That’s all I’ve ever done. I settle.” My eyes start to feel heavy. “I don’t even think I know what it feels like to not settle.”

I wake up as we’re passing through the Yakima River Valley, the very same road I was on almost a month ago, full of nerves and worry. It’s hard to believe it wasn’t that long ago when it feels like another lifetime. My time in Red Mountain has felt a lot fuller than I anticipated, and the longer I stay, the more I think about not leaving. Which is crazy. Leaving has been and will continue to be the plan. Seattle is my home, this is limbo, this isn’t real life.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Ethan says quietly when he notices me stir.

My eyes glance at the clock on the dash. Seven o’clock in the evening is far from morning.

I give him a small smile but stay quiet.

The remainder of the drive is silent, only the murmur of throwback 2000s songs plays low in the background. There’s a noticeable tension, not electrically charged, but sad. It feels like a conclusion. The adventure is over. Back to reality. I lean my elbow against the window and let my chin rest in my palm as we pass darkened vineyards. I feel Ethan’s stare on me, but I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze.

“Hey.” Ethan pulls his truck between our two cottages, puts it in park, and turns off the ignition, hitting the dome light as he turns to me. “What’s wrong? You seem upset?”

“Nothing,” I respond automatically but don’t turn to look at him. “I’m fine.”

“I wish I believed you.” His hand reaches out and gives my knee a gentle squeeze, forcing my attention to his face. “I know something is wrong. Talk to me.”

I look down at his hand still resting on my knee, and he quickly removes it, but my eyes remain fixed on the spot.

“I think I’m feeling conflicted about the job.”

“You were so excited earlier.”

“I was… I am—” I break off, trying to find the words to explain this melancholy feeling. “I want the job, don’t get me wrong. But it’s been nice seeing my dad again, feeling like I have someone to lean on. Hillary is great. She’s always there for me, but she has her own family now, and with my mom always gone and being single, I don’t know. Sometimes it feels incredibly lonely. I don’t know what’s worse, actually being alone, or feeling alone even around those who love and care about you.”

Ethan nods, giving me the space I need to voice my thoughts as he listens.

“When I was with my ex, it was easier to distract myself. There was always some errand to run or event to get ready for. I never felt the gaps in my life. And I’m not saying I miss him—because no, fuck that guy—I just know that when I go back to Seattle, it’s only me, and that’s a little scary. Am I making any sense, or do I sound like some emotional girl?”

I didn’t mean to spill my intrusive thoughts all over Ethan. Embarrassment settles deep in my chest, spreading to my heart and squeezing. The longer Ethan stays silent, the more it constricts.

He unbuckles and turns toward his door. I’m not sure what I was expecting him to do, but it wasn’t him completely ignoring me. I’m not someone who opens up like that often. Being vulnerable and talking about real shit is something I usually avoid. I feel foolish for dropping my guard. I should’ve kept it surface level and not let him pry.

Ethan clears his throat, stilling me from making a quick exit.

When I face him, he’s spinning a white envelope between his fingers.

“Laura and Travis invited me to their wedding,” he says, looking straight ahead, still fidgeting with the envelope.

“That’s…” I try to find the appropriate word but nothing feels right. “Unexpected.”

He chuckles dryly. “Yeah, unexpected.” He pauses, tossing the envelope on the dash and twists to face me. “So, believe me, I get it. It’s not that you miss them, you miss the comfortable bubble. You miss feeling like you had someone that would always be there. You miss the plans you had for a life and a future that no longer exist. And worst of all, you start to question your judgment. How you couldn’t see all the obvious signs that something wasn’t right.”

I let my head fall back against the seat, rolling my neck to meet his gaze. Ethan’s expression is wary, like he’s worried he revealed too much. A sense of camaraderie falls over me. It’s as if he’s voicing everything I felt in the aftermath of Brandon. I feel seen, understood. I suspect he doesn’t reveal this side of himself often, and being entrusted with his vulnerability is a precious gift.

“Should we go to the wedding?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

Ethan huffs a laugh. “As much as I would enjoy seeing the look on her face if I showed up with a stunning woman on my arm, I think I’ll be nice and let them have their day.”

My cheeks warm. Am I the stunning woman he’s referring to, or was he speaking more abstractly?

A spark of bravery lights within me, and I decide to push against the boundary. “Darn. We could’ve made out in the church. Now, that would ruin the wedding.” I end on a giggle so it comes off as humorous despite my pulse having picked up speed at the thought of kissing Ethan.

His playful eyes shift into a darkened stare as they drop to my lips.

The cabin of the truck compresses, closing us off from the outside world. A sanctuary where only we exist. Us and this moment.

I lean forward. Or maybe he does.

“Marisa,” Ethan whispers.

“Hmm,” I sigh, getting lost in the flecks of gold in his eyes.

“Do you remember last Saturday when we were leaving the bar?”

My heart jumps, and I rear back slightly. “No. Why?”

“You— We— You almost?—”

I cover my face with my hands. “Do not tell me I drunkenly kissed you.”

His hands grab hold of mine and he peels them away from my face, and I’m met with his twinkling irises. “We didn’t kiss.”

I release a breath. “Oh, good. Not that I— I mean not?—”

“You tried.” He cuts me off, his smile wider.

I try to rebury my face, but he still has a hold on my hands. This is mortifying. And to think he’s been walking around for days acting as if nothing happened. Even more embarrassing is that I tried and he rejected me. I don’t know what stings worse. The rejection, or the fact that he’s laughing about it now.

I try to pull away from him, but he’s firmly holding me in place.

“I wanted to.” His eyes bore into mine, all hints of amusement gone. “But you were drunk and it would’ve been wrong.”

My embarrassment eases slightly.

“Besides.” His thumbs begin to draw lazy circles on my palms, a motion that shouldn’t feel sexual at all, yet I feel it all the way to my core. “When I do kiss you, I want you to remember it.”

When. He said when, not if .

My breath catches as butterflies take flight in my stomach. His left hand comes up to cup my jaw, and his thumb slides across to brush over my bottom lip, causing my pulse to spike. I melt into his hand, my body going slack.

His face inches closer, close enough that I would only have to lean into him slightly to feel his lips on mine.

“Marisa,” Ethan whispers, his warm breath fanning across my face.

“Yes,” I breathe, barely audible.

His eyes look down at my lips and then back at me. “Have you had anything to drink?”

His tone is teasing. Seeing as we haven’t been apart for hours, he knows I haven’t had a sip of alcohol, but I play along.

“Nope.” I pop the P.

“Good,” he replies, his voice low and husky.

He closes the distance between us, and his lips meet mine, deliciously slow. Calculated. Lingering. As if he wants to sit in this moment for as long as possible.

The scruff of his beard rubs against my skin, like striking a match, igniting a heated thrill that spreads through me. I want more of him. I need more of him.

Despite my attempts to get closer, I’m held back by the seat belt I’m still wearing. He senses my struggle and pulls away from me, breaking our kiss. Our eyes meet, goofy smiles spread across our faces.

“Here, let me.” Ethan presses the release button, the sound equivalent to that of a starting horn.

The moment I’m free, I leap across the middle console, Ethan simultaneously yanking me to him. This time, our lips crash against each other, demanding, carnal. I settle my body against his, straddling his lap. Every part of my body connects to him. Mouth to mouth. Chest to chest. My arms snake around his neck, eliminating any remaining distance, and we melt into each other. My hips involuntarily grind, seeking friction against his hardness. Ethan’s fingers dig into my waist, sending a scatter of goosebumps up my spine, before releasing and sliding to cup my ass, forcing my core closer.

He moans into my mouth at the contact, and his hips flex, returning the friction. I’m a mindless pool of lust, surrendering my body to him. I can think of nothing but his touch and wishing our clothes would disintegrate off our bodies. I’m desperate for more, for his skin on mine, for relief from the throb pulsing between my legs. He releases my mouth and moves his lips down my neck, nipping and sucking until he reaches my collar bone, where his tongue darts out and licks a trail. He moves higher, licking up the column of my neck, kissing along my jaw until his hot breath is in my ear.

This is more than a simple kiss. This is possession.

I move my hand from his neck, dragging it down his torso, and cup his hardened length over his jeans. His cock twitches beneath my grip, giving me a pretty good idea of his size. Long and thick. Massive .

I give him a firm stroke over his jeans, and he grunts, the vibration from it making my skin tingle.

“We should stop,” he says, as his teeth graze my ear and his hand slips under the waistband of my leggings.

“We should,” I agree, matching his lack of conviction.

I tilt my head back, allowing him more access.

“It’s a terrible idea.” His lips press against my neck before giving me a pinching nip. The combination of pain and pleasure is enough to bring me to the edge of combusting.

“The worst,” I moan.

Wandering fingers inch closer to the spot I need him, and he groans. “Fuck, Marisa. Have you not been wearing panties this entire time?”

“I don’t wear underwear when I wear leggings.”

He releases a frustrated groan, and I giggle, giving him another stroke, but my giggle morphs into a gasp as he slips one finger inside of me and then slowly spreads my arousal around.

“Yourpussy is dripping. Is this all for me?” he rasps.

I grind harder, letting him fill me more. “Every. Last. Drop.”

He recaptures my mouth with his, roughly, frenzied, and I crumble, relishing in the loss of his control. While his fingers curl inside of me, teasing me, his other hand slides into my hair. He gives it a firm tug and starts twisting it around his hand. Parting our kiss, he firmly pulls on the strands wrapped around his knuckles, causing my head to angle back. “Fuck, this hair. I’ve been fantasizing about wrapping it around my fist for weeks.”

I gasp, both from the dull ache at my scalp and from his confession.

Weeks.

My stomach flip-flops with anticipation. I don’t care where we are. I don’t care about repercussions. I can only think of what I need, and that’s to be fucked right here and now.

The same thought is apparently running through Ethan’s mind. He practically rips off my shirt, tossing it over his shoulder and exposing my bra. His eyes widen, taking in the sight, and I thank the universe I’m wearing one of my sexier lace ones. He drops the seat back, but rather than pull me against him, he forces me to stay upright, his eyes admiring me, drinking me in, before locking with mine.

“You’re fucking incredible, you know that?”

I swallow, feeling like he’s not just looking at me but that he truly sees me.

This doesn’t feel like a heated moment between two friends. It feels like the precipice of something deeper. Something I’m not sure I can handle.

Ethan, sensing my shift, brings his hand up and caresses my cheek. It’s such a gentle movement compared to what we were just doing. I search his eyes, looking for my fears reflected in them, but he’s unwavering.

“Baby,” he whispers, and I turn liquid. Sweet, warm liquid. “Tell me what’s going through that beautiful mind of yours.”

How do I explain that with every touch, every kiss, the less this feels like two people caught up in a fleeting act of passion, and more like the beginning of something real? Something that transcends attraction and hormones, something more profound. And it’s overwhelming.

“I…I?—”

My words are cut off by my buzzing phone.

I look away from him, already crawling off his lap. “I should get that.”

As I’m digging through my bag for the phone, every sound feels like a door closing. His seat locking upright, the ruffling of adjustments being made to his clothing. The rattling of keys. I’m too distracted to read the caller ID before I answer.

“Hello?”

“Hello. Am I speaking with Marisa Castilla?”

“This is she.” My eyes cut to Ethan as he hands me my discarded shirt, avoiding looking at me.

“This is Cherie with Skyline Solutions. Sorry to call at this hour, but I wanted to catch you before the day ended. We would like to extend an offer for you to join our team.”

She proceeds to explain the particulars about the position and that they will need an acceptance or rejection within two weeks. She then informs me an email is waiting in my inbox.

I feel Ethan’s gaze as I end the call. When I look to face him, his brow is creased and he’s nearly unreadable. Closed off once more.

“You got the job.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

I nod, finally meeting his eyes.

“Congratulations.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “When do you start?”

“I haven’t accepted the job yet.” The “yet” hangs in the air, bright and red, like a warning light.

“But you will. And you should. It’s a great opportunity.”

His eyes briefly land on my bra before he flicks them away. Quickly, I put my shirt back on.

The space between us is fraught with tension, made worse by my tangled hair and Ethan’s twisted shirt, evidence of what almost happened.

“I should go inside.” My hand is already on the handle.

I climb out and take a deep breath, letting the cool air fill my lungs. Ethan exits as well, fast at work, getting my suitcase out and taking it to my porch. We move in silence. I can practically feel the regret coming off him. Clearly, it’s a good thing we got interrupted. It would’ve been a mistake, one I’m not sure I’d recover from easily.

“See you,” I say, not looking at him, my chin remaining down, as I enter my cottage.

“Yep,” he says, walking away toward his.

Once inside, I flop my head back on the door and slump down until I’m sitting, knees hugged against my chest. I close my eyes and press the tips of my fingers against my swollen lips, feeling where he branded me. If not for the evidence, I would think I imagined the entire thing.