Rare Blend (Red Mountain #1)

30. Marisa

CHAPTER 30

Marisa

FRIENDS MY ASS

“ H ow many festivals does this town have?” I ask Suzy, hugging my arms against myself to keep warm.

“I’m not sure, I’ve never really counted.” She considers it for a moment. “At least ten.”

Mario was supposed to cover the Trunk or Treat Festival but came down with the flu that’s been going around, so now I’m covering it, with the help of Suzy.

It’s been windy for most of the day, a bone-chilling wind that cuts right through my flimsy peacoat. I purchased this coat more for looks than practicality, a choice I’m very much regretting.

Suzy looks at me, laughing at my shivering. “Once the parade is over, you’ll have all the pictures you need.”

Thank God.

Tonight’s events are particularly bustling because, for a majority of the local wineries and farms, harvest has come to a close. A lot of people who would normally still be tied up are now out celebrating, causing downtown to feel overcrowded.

“What time does the parade start?”

“Six o’clock.” She turns to me, arms crossed to keep warm, too. “You have forty-five minutes to kill. Go walk around, get your blood flowing. Or better yet, go mingle under one of the heated tents.”

“And what are you going to do while I mingle?”

She shrugs. “Probably go check to see how my husband is handling the kids.”

Suzy’s husband Derek is taking their four kids around to the different cars parked along Main Street that are participating in Trunk or Treat, where local businesses and city services hand out candy to kids, rather than them going door to door to get it from strangers.

We split, Suzy going north while I head south. To be honest, the last thing I feel like doing is mingling. Ever since Ethan dropped me off yesterday, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what happened. In fact, it seems to be all I can think about. I woke up early this morning to go for a run, at least that’s what I told myself, but really I think I was hoping to bump into him. But when I walked outside, his cottage was still dark. Either he already went in to work, or he was still sleeping. And I’ve spent the rest of the day searching for him, hoping to talk—or to avoid him, I haven’t quite decided. As I walk, I make sure to snap pictures for the article. A pumpkin carving station, kids lined up for a costume contest, face painting, bobbing for apples, a mini corn maze for dogs. Several booths are set up with food and drinks, but I gravitate toward the one I know will warm me up. Hot cider.

I get in line and blow on my hands, rubbing them together to create warmth. Meanwhile, kids are running around in paper-thin costumes, perfectly content with the recent drop in temperature. Either I’m a weeny when it comes to cold weather, or kids are made out of some different shit these days. I take a picture of a group of kids in coordinating Minion costumes when I feel the presence of someone behind me. I turn to look at the source of the shadow, part of me hoping it’s Ethan for some silly reason.

It’s not Ethan. It’s Cole.

“Heyyy, drunky,” he says teasingly.

I wince at the nickname but give him a polite chuckle.

“Cole, right?” I don’t want to further inflate his ego.

He places both hands over his chest. “You remembered. I’m touched.”

“I wasn’t that drunk,” I defend.

He scoffs. “You definitely were. Lucky for you, though, my buddy Ethan was kind enough to carry you home.”

My cheeks warm. “You heard about that, huh?”

His smile is mischievous. “Sweetheart, the whole town heard about that.”

That’s just great.

I’m saved from having to continue with the conversation since it’s my turn to order. I order the cinnamon apple hot cider and wait off to the side for them to complete it. Unfortunately, Cole is close behind. He joins me in the waiting area, his face full of questions.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Ethan? Are you guys together or fucking around?”

I suck in a sharp laugh. “Neither. We’re friends.”

At least I hope we’re still friends. Things are a little murky right now after having mauled each other in his truck and not speaking since.

“Does he know that?” He smirks, his eyes trained on the crowded street.

My forehead scrunches. “What do you mean?”

Cole lifts his chin with raised brows, looking beyond my shoulder, and I whip my head around a little too fast to see what he’s gesturing at. For a split second, I think Cole is messing with me, but in an instant, Ethan’s eyes connect with mine from across the road. We stare for a moment, but a little girl—his niece, I’m assuming—asks him something, breaking the connection.

Cole snorts. “Friends my ass.”

The booth attendant hands me and Cole our ciders. I ordered it for warmth, but my flushed skin seems to indicate I was warmed by something—someone—else entirely.

Cole is holding two ciders.

“Thirsty?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “One is for my date.”

Date?

Relief sweeps over me, and I’m not sure why. Maybe because he’s flirtatious but in a way that feels like an inside joke I’m not privy to. Or maybe it’s that I don’t want him to flirt with me at all.

He shoots me a sly smile. “Ethan and I have always been competitive.”

“I don’t understand.”

He smiles again, this time more genuinely. “I had this theory, and you guys proved it.”

With that, he turns to leave, and I’m even more confused than I was before.

As I’m walking out of the tent, Elyse flags me down with a wave. She’s standing with some of her family—including Ethan.

“Hey! Are you here alone?” Her eyes dart around me while I will mine to not glance over at the tall, ruggedly handsome man to her left.

“I’m here for work. I’m covering the festival.”

“Fun!” She does a spin, showing me her costume. “What do you think?”

I bite my lip, holding back a laugh. “What are you supposed to be?”

Her eyes roll playfully. “The sexy Wicked Witch of the West. Obviously.” She gestures to her family. “We did a group costume this year for my niece Lily. She’s Dorothy, Gavin is the lion, Shane is the scarecrow, and Ethan is the tin man.”

Gavin has his normally tied-back hair loose and free, with his face painted like a lion. It’s a little comical to see a man like him going full out for Halloween, but it also warms my heart knowing it’s for his daughter. Shane also has his face painted and is exposing his bare chest, revealing even more tattoos. And then there’s Ethan, who, not surprisingly, is only wearing a gray henley under his open jacket.

“Where’s your costume?” I ask Ethan, putting an end to our streak of silence.

Elyse nudges him. “Mr. Party Pooper agreed to wear the hat”—she rolls her eyes at me—“for pictures only.”

“Because that hat makes me look like a conspiracy theorist,” he argues.

She places her hands on her hips. “It’s for your niece.”

He looks at both of us through furrowed brows, internally debating, before he relents. “Fine.”

Elyse does a little clap. “Yay!” She pulls the cone-shaped DIY foil hat out of her purse and places it on Ethan, snapping the chin strap for good measure.

His eyes flash to mine. “See? Ridiculous.”

I bite my bottom lip to prevent my threatening smile. “You’re supposed to look ridiculous. It’s Halloween.”

He crosses his arms, but his expression has a glint of humor. “And where’s your costume?”

I shrug. “I’m on the job. I have to look professional.”

Ethan shakes his head at me, the corners of his lips lifting. “Excuses, excuses.”

“Speaking of which,” I shout, so the group can hear me. “Let me take a picture of you guys for the Herald .”

Lily runs out from behind Gavin to stand front and center. As she should.

I glance around for a spot to set my drink so I can take the picture, but before I can figure it out, Ethan quietly takes the cup from my hands. Our fingertips briefly brush, causing a subtle warmth to pass between us, and without a word, he slips it behind his back as he joins his family for the photo.

It takes me a moment to regain my composure, far more affected by him than I’d like to admit.

Shaking my head to focus on the task at hand, I step back to get the right frame. “Alright, everyone say ‘cheese!’” I take a few quick shots. “Okay, I think I got some good ones.”

Gavin approaches me. I thought Ethan was tall, but Gavin has him by a few inches. “Think you could send me a few copies of those?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

He reaches out and gives me a brief handshake. “I’m Gavin, by the way. I don’t think we’ve officially met.”

“Marisa. Nice to meet you.”

Lily stands at her dad’s side, staring up at me, so I bend down to meet her at eye level.

“And you’re a very pretty Dorothy.”

She smiles brightly and does a twirl, mirroring Elyse’s. “Thank you,” she says, cheeks turning a light shade of rosy pink.

Lily spots a Disney princess and takes Gavin’s hand to drag him away, leaving me with Ethan and Elyse.

“I’m going to go grab a hot chocolate. You guys want anything?” Elyse asks us.

We both shake our heads no, and she darts away for one of the various tents.

And then there were two.

Ethan takes a drink of my hot cider, and I can’t help the blush that takes over my cheeks. I’m not sure why sharing a drink feels so familiar, but it does. Way too familiar when I remember that his mouth was on mine less than twenty-four hours ago. His lips linger on the rim of the cup a moment longer than necessary, and when he hands it back to me, his eyes lock with mine. There’s a teasing glimmer in them, but something else, too—something that sends a spark of heat down my spine.

I swallow, trying to ignore the flutter in my chest.

The air between us inflates, and despite being steps away, he suddenly feels too close. Close enough for me to catch a hint of his scent, and it mingles with the faintest trace of cinnamon from the cider.

Ethan sticks his hands in his pockets, keeping his focus down while I bobble my head about as if I’m looking at the crowd, when really I can’t focus on anything but the man next to me.

“The article turned out great. Thanks for focusing it more on the winery.”

I tipped Marv, the man who delivers the paper, to deliver it to Ethan first thing in the morning. It should’ve been waiting for him at the winery when he got to work.

“Good.” I smile tightly. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Seconds tick by as we look at each other but don’t speak. It’s as if neither one of us is quite ready to address the metaphorical elephant standing between us.

“Well, this is awkward.” I huff a laugh, hoping to dissolve this stupid tension.

“Yeah, about that,” he starts, his head lifting to meet my eyes. “I was an ass yesterday. I should’ve been more excited for you. I am—I’m proud of you. And I’m happy you got the job.”

He smiles, that soft, gentle smile I selfishly hope is only reserved for me.

“Thank you.” My voice is a whisper as my throat tightens with emotion. It’s one thing to congratulate me or say he’s happy for me. It’s an entirely different feeling to say he’s proud of me. Growing up, it was the compliment I strived for the most and so rarely received. My dad was never easily impressed by my accomplishments. As soon as one was achieved, it was on to the next. The constant chasing of his praise led to burnout in my college years. Growing resentment combined with never feeling good enough made me believe that my achievements—or lack thereof—were tied to his love for me. I can feel my daddy issues surfacing, so I clear my throat and push them back down.

He nods, eyes boring into mine, before cutting away to look around us. When they meet mine again, they’re laced with…worry? Embarrassment, maybe? I can’t read him.

“We should probably talk about what happened,” he says in a low, quiet voice.

My chest sinks down to my stomach. “Right,” I breathe. “We should.”

He rubs the back of his neck. A move I’m realizing he does when he’s anxious. “I think it would be best?—”

“You regret it, don’t you?” I cut him off. “It’s fine if you do. It was a heat of the moment thing, and I?—”

“Marisa, stop,” he says firmly, shaking his head, almost in disbelief. “I don’t regret it.” His eyes travel down the length of my body, leaving behind a heated trail. “I don’t regret any of it.”

“Oh.” I swallow. I was fully prepared to brush it off to save face. Now I’m not sure what to say.

“Why? Do you?”

I hesitate only a moment and then give my head a shake. “No. I don’t regret it either.”

The corner of his mouth quirks as he looks down at me. “Good.”

I press my lips together, fighting a grin. “Good,” I echo.

“But,” he starts.

I take a deep breath. “There’s always a but.”

His smile settles to one that is more even. More wistful. “But we probably shouldn’t go down that road.”

I know this. My brain knows this. But my heart? My heart disagrees. A pressure builds around it, heavy and insistent. I bring my hand to my chest and rub my sternum, trying to ease the pain. One kiss shouldn’t have left me feeling this way. But here I am, fighting to keep my emotions in check.

“You’re right. You’re so right.” I nod quickly, trying to sound casual, even keeled. Not at all dejected like I feel.

“It’s just that you’re leaving. And?—”

“I get it.” I didn’t intend to say that with as much bite as I did, and I wince, mentally scolding myself. “Friends?” I ask, my voice way too cheerful. I even squeaked it went up so high.

God, I sound pathetic.

He blows out a breath, and it fogs between us. “Friends,” he agrees.