Addicted (Ethan Frost #2)(67)

Who the hell are these tabloids to judge me based on the fact that I’m a student and an intern? I work for one of the most prestigious corporations in America and I’m applying to law school in less than six months. Surely that should count for something?

It doesn’t, of course it doesn’t. The truth rarely matters unless it can sell magazines. Nothing proves that more than a magazine calling Brandon Jacobs “America’s Sweetheart.”

We finally—finally—make it back to the house and Ethan parks the car before running around to my side to help me out. “I’m not an invalid,” I tell him as I get myself out of the car and up to the front door. “I really am fine, you know. It was just the shock of it, after everything we had just been talking about.”

“I know. And I’m so—”

“If you tell me you’re sorry one more time, I’m really not going to be responsible for my actions. But if it makes you feel better, you can carry in the groceries while I languish on the couch like a damsel in distress.”

“I’m good with that.”

I roll my eyes at him. “Somehow I knew you would be.”

I, however, have never been much for languishing, so as Ethan carries the bags in, I make quick work of putting them away in his state-of-the-art kitchen. I thought the kitchen in the La Jolla house was fancy, but this one is something else. Two stoves, a built-in grill, refrigerator and warming drawers not to mention huge double ovens. Napa is known as one of the food capitals of the world and I can’t help wondering if that’s why this kitchen is such a chef’s paradise. If it’s just part of the culture here.

And yes, I am well aware that I’m focusing on things like Ethan’s Sub-Zero refrigerator and state-of-the-art range because it keeps me from thinking about those tabloids. And about the fact that I’m once again being called a whore—only this time it’s not just my classmates who get to hear the insults. It’s the whole damn world.

When I’m done putting away the last of the groceries, I wander through the huge family room and down the hall, looking for Ethan. I find him in the back of the house, in the master suite. He’s running a bubble bath with my new lavender bath oils and the entire bathroom smells like a summer meadow.

“Careful,” I tell him, sliding my arms around his waist from behind. “You keep smelling this good, with your pretty face, someone’s going to think you’re a girl.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” he tells me, tossing a quick grin over his shoulder. “I like girls.”

“I think I’ve heard that about you somewhere.” I press a few kisses between his shoulder blades, reveling in the way his whole body just melts at my ministrations.

“You okay?” he asks after a minute. He’s careful to keep his gaze focused on the running water while he waits for my reply.

“I’m fine.” And if it’s not quite the truth, well then no one needs to know that but me. “Besides, if I’m going to be your girlfriend, I’m going to have to get used to the barbs. There’re a lot of women who would give their favorite pair of Louboutins to be in my position.”

“Don’t you mean your shoes?” Ethan says with a quiet smirk.

“Oh, absolutely. My bargain flip-flops really are all the rage right now.”

He finally turns then with a laugh and wraps me up in a huge bear hug. And maybe it’s weak of me, but I can’t help burrowing in. Can’t help clinging for a couple of long, quiet moments.

“Why don’t you take a bath?” he suggests when I finally let go. “After that run last night, you’ve got to be sore.”

I am. And it’s that soreness that keeps reminding me that my headlong flight into the darkness really did happen just last night. With everything that’s happened since—good and bad—the argument that caused me to run in the first place seems like it happened such a long, long time ago.

“I plan on it.” I start unbuttoning his shirt slowly, carefully. “Why don’t you join me?”

A quick hand on mine stays my fingers before they can take care of more than the first two. “I’d love to, but I have a couple of business calls to make. I want to make sure the buses got everyone evacuated and ensure that the plane landed safely in Vegas. But the calls shouldn’t take too long. When I’m done, I’ll make us a light dinner. Sound good?”
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“It sounds very good. Though I’ll miss you when I’m soaking in this big tub all by myself.”

Ethan grins. “Yes, well, we’ll definitely have to remedy that before we head back to San Diego. I wouldn’t want you to be lonely.”

I laugh, as he intends me to, and then watch him walk away before slipping out of my clothes and sinking into the fragrant, steaming water. About a million different thoughts bombard me the second I start to relax, but I just let them flow over me, refusing to focus on anything more strenuous than trying to decide what wines I want to try out at the vineyard tomorrow. Definitely the pinot noir, since Ethan says it’s his favorite. But I’m a sparkly girl myself and I can’t help hoping he’s got a nice moscato for me to try, as well.

Exhausted after the events of the last two days, I lounge in the bathtub for nearly an hour, slipping in and out of a light doze. When the water finally cools, I reluctantly drag myself out of the tub and go in search of my hastily packed backpack.