And he wouldn’t be that hot…Reporters aren’t hot at all…
I decided to give it a try. “Would you like to go out with me tonight, Ethan? How about going to the movies?”
“No. I don’t think so,” he shook his head. “Not tonight.”
“What! Why?”
“Because you’re sick.”
“I’m not sick. I’m hung-over. There’s a difference,” I snapped. “Are you playing games with me? Did I just spill out bits of my soul to you for nothing?”
He shook his head and laughed heartily.
“What’s so funny? Are you laughing at turning down an A-list celebrity? Does that make you feel good about yourself? Does that—”
He walked over to my chair and scooped me into his arms like I was a bride—effectively shutting me up. He carried me over to my bed and gently set me down, letting his fingers linger against my skin a few seconds longer than necessary.
He took the paper bag out of my hands and emptied the contents onto my nightstand. He arranged the soups and water into a small semi-circle, and opened the fruit plate—carefully slicing the orange and pineapple chunks into smaller, fork-friendlier pieces.
What is he doing?
When he was done with the fruit, he reached behind my head and fluffed my pillow. He was close enough to kiss me, and for a second I thought he was about to—I wanted him to, but he simply brushed his lips against my cheek.
He unfolded the silk blanket at the end of my bed and delicately draped it over me. He began tucking me underneath it, smiling at me with each soft and tight tuck.
“What do you think you’re doing? I’m not a child,” I tried my best to sound annoyed. “I don’t need to be tucked into bed! I told you I was interested in going out with you and you turn me down? Is that revenge for me canceling on you last time? Hello! I know you can—”
“Shhh,” he put his finger atop my lips and brought his face close to mine. “I would love to go out with you, Selena. I think I’ve made that more than clear for the past two weeks. But after last night, I’m sure you still have a headache and would rather stay in bed all day today. Isn’t that true?”
I felt my heart skip a beat and nodded.
“What about tomorr—” I tried to ask, but he snapped my mouth shut with his fingers.
“Reschedule it whenever you feel better. Do you need me to get you anything else today? Juice? Aspirin?”
I shook my head.
“Good,” he caressed my face before leaving the room. “Try to stay in bed for the rest of the day.”
“You’re dressed mighty fancy for closing duty, darling,” my mom looked up from her recipe book when I walked into Sweet Seasons. “You must be feeling much better today!”
I looked down at my nude-colored Burberry lace dress and leopard print flats. I’d spent all day getting glamorous—I even did my hair and make-up, and I was only stopping by the bakery to say “Hello” before treating myself to a movie.
“Closing duty? I thought I was off today!”
“Well,” she threw a sponge at me, “you thought wrong. And you’re on time for a change! The keys are in the left drawer in my office. Lock up everything when you’re done. Make sure you clean the ovens and thoroughly scrape off all the brew pads.”
She can’t be serious…
“Can’t you get someone else to do it tonight? You wouldn’t make me clean up in these clothes would you? How about I come home with you and we catch up some more? We could pop popcorn in the fireplace and make candy apples! We could plan more strategies for competing with Autumn Wonder!”
“Clean it from top to bottom, Selena. I mean it,” she closed her recipe book and hugged me before walking out the front door.
I watched her car pull off and contemplated going back to my hotel. She wasn’t paying me anything so she technically couldn’t “fire” me. Then again, I was finally on her good side and I didn’t want to upset her any more than I already had…
I slammed the sponge into a bucket and filled it with warm water. I changed the radio station and drew the blinds closed. I wrapped every leftover cake and pie, wiped down all the tables, and cleaned out every pastry case.
Since the bakery was much bigger now, there was no way I was going to get everything done by myself at a decent hour, let alone make it out in time to see the last movie of the night.
I swept half the dining room before getting a brilliant idea: I could ask Ethan to come help me.
He did tell me to call him once I wanted to reschedule our “date.” I figured that talking while cleaning could be a good step towards taking things slow and I could make him clean out the ovens—the hardest thing to do.
I envisioned his perfectly sculpted face and became giddy. I sat atop the lunch counter and scrolled down to his name. With each ring my heart sped up.
One ring. Two rings. Three rings…
“I’m not available. Leave me a detailed message,” his voicemail picked up after the fifth ring and I shut my phone.
It was worth a try…
I swept the rest of the room at a snail’s pace and set the first coat of wood polish on the floor, attempting to keep my shoes as clean as possible.
As I was making another bucket of soap water, my phone rang. Ethan.
“Hello?”
“Hello Selena.”
Does he know how sexy his voice is?
I held myself against the wall. “Hello Ethan...again.”