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

Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

ETHAN

I’m even more suspicious about Toby’s allegiance to Ivy, because the way I felt after walking into Ivy’s house and finding another man there…I mean, I’m not even dating her, but my body’s reaction was borderline feral. There’s no way Toby could have remained so sickeningly civil upon discovering me in Ivy’s living room a while back if he really cared for her.

And hearing her call the man who just stormed out by her brother’s name only slightly lowers my blood pressure. Because he’s clearly upset her.

Resignation hangs over her shoulders as she gently swings the door closed.

“So. Ready to tackle that list?” She hooks a thumb over her back to gesture toward the wall. Her mouth forms a tight smile, and she stuffs her hands into her pockets.

A few weeks ago, I’d labeled this woman as “complicated” and wanted to run in the opposite direction. Now, here I am, ready to beg her to unload all of her problems on me. I don’t just want to hear them, either. I want to fix them.

I’m equal parts attracted to and afraid of Ivy because she makes me want to test my boundaries. But in the back of my mind, there’s always a what if. What if I thought things would be different this time, and they weren’t. What if the enticing call of adventure came along, and I couldn’t resist leaving again? I’m just not sure I’m cut out for a long-term relationship, and I can’t take that risk with her.

“Was that your brother?” I ask, tipping my chin to the door.

Ivy sighs, like she hoped I’d ignore the tension that’s still hanging in the air. “Yeah. Nothing new. Just his usual stuff, but with bigger consequences.” She stares outside the window for a few heavy seconds before her attention snaps back to me. “I have your brownies! Is it too early for brownies?”

“It’s never too early for brownies,” I say, grinning. “Although, I’m a little disappointed you didn’t greet me in a towel this time.”

“You wish,” she replies with a condescending smile.

I kinda do , I think as I follow her to the kitchen. But I pull up short as soon as I walk in.

“Wow. You weren’t kidding when you said you’d…uh…” I pause, nodding my head as I take in the massacred cabinets and the holes in the walls.

Ivy brings her fingers to her top lip while her own eyes survey the room. “Yeah. I did a number. They needed to come down, though, right?”

“Uh—eventually, yeah. I guess that’s today’s job, now.”

“After brownies,” she corrects me, the hint of a smile in the corners of her mouth.

We sit on the floor together, leaning against the wall while we sip coffee, and I eat way too much of the best brownies I’ve ever tasted.

“You make these for all your enemies?”

“I think we’ve progressed to frenemies by now, don’t you think?” She licks a bit of chocolate off her finger, and I clear my throat and force myself to look away. But my eyes are stubborn, and I’m a glutton for punishment, so I glance back at her lips.

“Maybe we can even drop the enemies part some day,” I suggest, openly staring at her now. Without thinking, I lift a hand to swipe the chocolate smudged over the corner of her mouth.

“I’d like that,” she whispers, and I almost think she said I like that, referring to my thumb grazing her lips. Then she blinks a few times, as if she’s trying to come back from a trance. “And, no. This is my Gran’s recipe. I thought it was lost, but I found it stuffed in the back of one of these cabinets. I’ve never made them for anyone before.”

Sitting next to her, our height difference doesn’t feel as significant, and her face is closer than it’s ever been. The green in her eyes shifts as she focuses on different parts of my face.

“You made them especially for me, then?” My voice comes out deeper and more gravelly with each bit of our back-and-forth.

“Maybe.”

She has a boyfriend.

Right. I stand abruptly and offer my hand. “Well, enough lazing around, Marsh. Let’s get back to work.”

She takes my hand hesitantly, obviously confused by the sudden shift in my tone. But I had to do something to avoid getting drawn any farther. Gazing into her eyes while all these feelings threaten to bubble up is too confusing and complicated, especially while she’s still in a relationship. I need to switch gears before I do something stupid.

I hand her the pair of gloves I bought specifically for her, and we spend the next hour picking up the remnants of her kitchen cabinets.

We return to the kitchen after hauling everything out to my truck, and Ivy begins sweeping up splinters of wood and dust. I watch her for a second before speaking. “If you’re not set on custom cabinets, I think we could pick out some stock ones at a home improvement store, if you’re up for it?”

“Today?” she turns to me, eyes wide and sparkling. I feel like I’m getting closer to earning another genuine smile.

“We need to get the measurements first, and they won’t get delivered today, but, yeah, you could choose the ones you want.”

“I’d love that,” she says, the corners of her mouth lifting a little more.

Getting there.

“You’re measuring,” I tell her, picking up her fractional tape.

“Oh, okay.”

The way she keeps nibbling on her lip is slowly becoming my undoing. With every one of these cute little things she does, it’s beginning to feel more and more like she’s got me under her spell.

And that doesn’t bode well for my future plans, because I never counted on getting bewitched by a woman who’d capture my attention this way, especially not one who has a boyfriend.

Ivy measures the space for the cabinets, each dimension she relays contributing to the proud grin forming on her lips. And every time she flashes that smile my way, it’s another jolt to my insides, my brain saying, you’re in trouble.

“Seeing as this is your area of expertise and you know the industry, could you have a look at the budget I got from Gran’s lawyer and tell me what I can afford to get done?”

“Sure.” I nod over a hard swallow. She looks adorable, covered in dust and her hair bow slightly askew. I follow her to the living room, where she pulls a file from a side table and hands it to me. Then our eyes meet for an electric second when my hand makes contact with hers. We can’t have any of that, I think, clearing my throat and gently tugging my hand back. I take out my phone to calculate some rough estimates for each task on our fixit list. Ivy watches me through the corner of her eye while she fluffs pillows and straightens things in the room.

“Okay, this is definitely doable, assuming no major issues turn up.” I announce.

She moves closer to look over my shoulder at the paperwork, and it takes a surprising amount of effort to concentrate on the paper in front of me as I go over the figures and not to turn and gape at her again. Once I’m done, I slide my hands into my pockets, suddenly forgetting what it is I normally do with them. Ivy stares up at me earnestly, rambling about paint colors and fanning herself with the collar of her shirt. I respond on autopilot, my mind stalling as my fingers toy with the ribbon that’s still stashed in my pocket.

It’s not okay to have this kind of response to a woman who’s in a relationship. Shut it down, King.

I suggest taking Ivy’s car to the store, seeing as mine’s loaded with evidence of her solo demolition. It would be better for my state of mind if we took separate cars, or better yet, if I hadn’t suggested we do something together in the first place. But I can’t think of a valid reason to cancel the plans I suggested without seeming a little unhinged, so I force all these weird feelings I’ve started having way, way down as we drive to the store. It’s mostly silent in the car, and Ivy seems preoccupied with her own thoughts as we walk into the home improvement store together.

We quickly find ourselves perusing cabinets, Ivy running a hand along each surface she passes. This is followed by a small head shake or a nod of approval. And I’m like a puppy, doting on her whims.

“These are the ones I can afford?” she turns to me with a raised brow .

“Yup. So, tell me about Ross,” I blurt out, opening a cupboard and swinging it shut to test its soft close features.

“Your segue game is strong, King.”

“I am strong, thank you,” I retort, flexing my arms.

“That’s not what I—” she rolls her eyes when she catches my smug grin. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

“He’s older, right?”

She’s wearing those ridiculous platform shoes again, but she still stretches onto her tiptoes to reach an upper cabinet, huffing when she can’t extend her hand far enough to touch the highest shelf. “Yeah, although it doesn’t feel like it most of the time.”

“Why not?” I prompt, grabbing a nearby step stool and placing it beside her. She pushes the corner of her glasses up, staring at me while I offer her a hand, the other behind my back like a nineteenth-century footman.

She steps up, letting go of my hand to execute a little twirl on the stool.

‘Woman,” I growl, my arms bracketing the space around her.

But she ignores my protest to answer my question. “Because I feel like I’ve always been the one having to take care of him and rescue him when he gets into trouble.” She hops off the step with a bounce.

“He lands in trouble often?”

“No, well, yes , but he doesn’t mean to. He just needs…I don’t know what he needs.” She sighs and shakes her head. “I don’t know how to help him anymore.”

I’m no expert on family dynamics, but she’s clearly carrying a lot of responsibility that isn’t hers to bear.

“It’s not your job to save him, you know. He’s a grown man.”

The deep grooves between her brows tell me I’ve overstepped, so I deflect, choosing humor to defuse. I swing open a tall door on our side. “Should we explore this panty cupboard?”

“It’s pantry cupboard.”

“I’ve heard it both ways.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she grumbles, closing the door. But her lips twitch as though she’s trying to hold back a smile.

“I wouldn’t say ridiculous …maybe an eccentric with amazing hair.’ How about these?” I point to a set of white shaker cabinets with paned-glass doors on the top.

“Oh, I love them! They’re so much better than the old peach ones we took out.”

A store attendant wedges himself between us, making me flinch. “A great choice, ma’am, if I do say so.”

“Whoa, dude. Someone was definitely named ‘most likely to execute the creepiest intro’ in their yearbook,” I mumble as he stares at the cabinets we’re all facing.

His name tag says Farnan , and I wonder whether that’s the name he was born with or if he’s one of those hippies that chose a new name as an adult.

He turns to ogle Ivy with that ‘I have duct tape and a shovel in my trunk’ look in his eyes, and I instinctively sidle up next to her, casually stretching an arm around her waist. Farnan must be giving her the creeps, too, because she doesn’t protest when I pull her a little closer.

“You have these in stock to go, Farnan? ” I ask, enunciating his name.

“Sure, Michelle over here can help you with the order.” He directs us to a counter with a far less creepy sales associate. Once we go through the process of deciding exactly what pieces we’d like to order, Farnan thankfully moves on to his next victim.

“You’re in luck, because everything seems to be in stock at our warehouse. It should be delivered tomorrow.” Michelle smiles while typing on her computer. “Now, if only they magically assembled themselves, that would be amazing. But what can you do?” She laughs.

“The hokey pokey,” I deadpan, furrowing my brow in mock concern. “But my friend here refuses to turn herself around. Because for her, that’s not what it’s all about.”

Michelle’s eyes bounce between me and Ivy with another forced laugh.

“Ignore him,” Ivy says, stifling a smile as she thanks Michelle and grabs the paperwork, as well as my bicep. I flex for her again as she drags me away, and I can’t resist another comedy bit when I catch her struggling to hide her grin. “See you next year, Michelle.”

When we round the corner, Ivy lets out a bubble of laughter. “You’ve officially creeped Michelle out worse than Farnan creeped me out.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re a big goofball, Ethan King.” She shakes her head with a wide smile, finally rewarding me that prize I’ve been coveting.