Writing On The Wall (The King Brothers Duology #2)

Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ETHAN

I can fix a lot of things. But I’m beginning to suspect I’ve stumbled upon a problem I can’t solve. The more I learn about Ivy, the more I want to know. It’s incredibly inconvenient since I’ve already set us up to push each other’s buttons at every opportunity. The fact that she has a boyfriend is even more problematic. Therefore, any interest in her would be wrong on multiple levels.

All that aside, I don’t understand her relationship with Toby. Maybe one of them isn’t into PDA, but Ivy’s the kind of woman you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off of. She’s the kind of woman who makes you bare your teeth when you find another man in her home instead of just smiling and shaking his hand.

There isn’t much I can do but try to avoid being an ass, I suppose, and possibly a friend.

I’m afraid that won’t be enough to satisfy my fascination with Ivy, though. In the short time I’ve known her, I’ve already changed so much of my routine. My Saturdays belong to Ivy now. Without her asking, here I am, parked across the street from her house, ready to do her bidding.

But before venturing back into the dragon’s lair, I need to call Colton for some intel. I want to understand what she’s dealing with, because the more I know about Ivy’s struggles, the better I can navigate our situation and hopefully avoid angering the dragon at every turn.

Yeah, I could ask her directly, but I’m ninety-nine percent certain that would be like throwing a cat in a bathtub then attempting to hug it. I value my face too much for that.

I don’t consider asking Colton about her to be an intrusion, seeing as I only want to understand her better.

Ember would admittedly be a better resource in this case, but she’d get suspicious if I showed too much interest in her best friend, and that wouldn’t end well. While everyone claims I’m the family gossip, Ember and my mom have become their own rumor-mill headquarters.

My eyes are drawn to the front door of Ivy’s house while I wait for my brother to answer the phone.

“What’s wrong?” he says, a tinge of alarm in his voice.

“Real friendly greeting there, Colt.”

“It’s Saturday,” he reminds me.

“And he’s learning the days of the week too? Such a clever boy.”

“You never call on a Saturday, smartass.”

“And now you appreciate when I do,” I reply.

“So, you’re not actually dying or calling from a jail cell?”

“Who says I’d waste my one call on you?” I squint, trying to see if Ivy is moving about inside. I’ve hit a new low—this is definitely entering creep territory.

“Come on,” Colton scoffs. “I know you’re not calling our parents in this hypothetical scenario. Would you really want Mom to show up with a casserole for your cellmates? ”

“Fair enough. So, um, is Ember with you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Has she ever said anything about Ivy having some kind of learning difficulty?”

“Not that I know of. What’s this about?”

Great. This probably means Ivy has been downplaying her struggles for everyone and not just her coworkers.

Except for Toby. She’s clearly confided in him, seeing as she’d been seeking his help that day at school when I stepped in.

“It’s nothing. I was just wondering if she knew anything about it. I gotta go though. Love you, bail bro.”

“I’ll answer the call, but I didn’t say I’d pay your bail.”

“Too bad. It’s an all-or-nothing position.” I hang up before he can reply.

My steps falter as I ascend Ivy’s porch, my gaze drawn to a silky teal hair ribbon trapped beneath a chair leg. I stoop to free it before tucking it into my pocket. Just as I raise my hand to knock, a shriek pierces the air.

The hell?

“Ivy?”

Another shrill scream follows, and I call out again. I get no answer. Panic claws at my chest and clenches my lungs in a vice.

Stuff it —I’m going in.

My hands fumble frantically for the spare key I kept. By the time I grip the handle to insert the key, the door opens.

It’s unlocked. Are you kidding me?

This woman has zero self-preservation.

I shove my way inside, feeling a scowl take over my face and wondering what it might take to get her to be more careful. I take three steps forward and come to an abrupt stop. Ivy is walking down the hallway, absentmindedly drying her damp hair with a towel, completely unaware of my presence.

I’d try to speak, but my tongue feels like it’s been nailed to the roof of my mouth. The woman stands barefoot before me, clad only in the towel wrapped tightly around her body.

She’s not tall by any means, so the towel actually covers everything from her knees to her shoulders. But it does cling to her like a second skin, drawing my attention to her curves. And… dang .

I’m only human, right?

She lifts her head for the first time in the ten seconds that have passed since I’ve been standing here, freaking out internally. This isn’t helping my aspirations to be less of an ass. I raise my hands in a staying motion as she lets out another ear-splitting yelp.

“William freaking Shatner! Ethan? What the heck are you doing in here?”

She gets the fright of her life and still manages to cuss innocently enough for a toddler’s ears. It’s a cute little fact that I shouldn’t be noting, but I do.

“You screamed, Marsh! What was I supposed to do, stand outside and wait for your murderer to finish the job?”

She scurries behind a wingback chair and holds on for support. “You couldn’t have just minded your own business? And why do you always jump to such dark conclusions? What goes on in that mind of yours, anyway?” Her face scrunches with a hint of disgust. She’s probably hoping I won’t notice, but I observe her gradually growing taller from my vantage point. She’s on tiptoes now, one hand still pressed against her chest as if she’s still trying to calm her racing heart.

Nope, I’m not thinking about Ivy’s body parts—organs included .

“My mind is a wonderful place right now,” I reply, flashing a flirty grin.

What are you doing?

Just like pressing her buttons came so naturally in the beginning, this new flirty side seems to be springing forth of its own accord.

“Ugh,” she scoffs with an eye roll. “Typical.”

The floorboards creak as I step forward, and she pulls the towel in tighter around her. And to be honest, I’m growing more jealous of that damned towel by the second.

“What are you doing here?” she repeats with halfhearted scorn.

“Why did you scream?” I ignore her question and take another step closer. She doesn’t back away.

“A bug?”

“Try again.”

She lets out a frustrated groan. Guess I’m still coming off as an ass. Her hands fold across her chest—a classic defiant stance. My eyes are desperate to wander, but that would only amplify the steam—not in a sexy way, but to the point where it’s coming out of Ivy’s ears. And I’m trying to be a gentleman.

“The water heater isn’t working, so my shower was cold. Now, tell me why you’re standing in my living room at eight AM again?”

The little sprite hadn’t told me the water heater was broken when I made the list of things that needed fixing.

“No reason,” I retort with a shrug and my most charming smile. But I don’t think she’s had her coffee yet, because she’s clearly interpreting it wrong—as usual. Her face scrunches up again as she throws her hands up in defeat.

“Whatever. I need to get dressed.” She huffs before scurrying off to her room and slamming the door behind her.

That went well.