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“I see,” Ethan turns his coffee cup on the table in a circle. “And what exactly are those stipulations?”
“If I am going to write an article that exposes my dad for what he’s doing, what he’s always done, no one can know I am writing it.”
“I agree.”
“I mean, no one can know I am even working for NBT.”
“Lucky for you, you aren’t on payroll,” he says, leaning in enough that I can smell the oaky musk of his aftershave. It’s another thing about him that has always been present but that I didn’t actually notice until I started tonoticehim as a man and not my dad’s friend. “You don’t work for NBT, sweetheart. You work for me.”
My lips tip down at his words. “What did I say about the pet name?”
“You’re feisty for someone being offered a very decent job.” He leans in even further, closing what was left of the space between us.”
“And you’re being pretty ballsy for someone who is in desperate need of a journalist who can actually write this article.” I shoot back.
Ethan lets out a chesty laugh at that. “I am a lot of things, love. But desperate is not one of them. I could write the article myself if I wanted to and I’d do a banger job of it, make no mistake of that.”
“So why don’t you do that? If you could write it so well, why do you need me?”
“Again. I don’t need you, Izzy. But I want you.” The raspy way he says the last part tickles the nerves in the back of my neck making all the hairs stick up and making my nipples hard. Thank God I am wearing a real bra today. “I want you to do it because you do a kickass job of calling people out on their shit. That, and you know him. You know what you're up against. Liam Sloane is your father and he still doesn’t intimidate you. That in itself is an enigma. So what are the rest of your stipulations?”
Ethan takes a sip of his coffee and for a second I’m left speechless. Somehow in less than thirty seconds, the man has managed to irritate me, turn me on, insult me and compliment me. Not to mention leave me speechless, which I do not appreciate.
“Right,” I clear my throat which suddenly feels like it’s lined with sandpaper. I take a sip of my coffee and go on. “No one can know.”
“Check marked.”
“I’m also going to need your email so I can submit the article when I’ve finished writing it.”
“Of course. But I’ll check in as well, don’t worry.” He nods, pulling out his phone.
I have to laugh at that. “Check in? You mean like Zoom?”
“I mean when we meet up to discuss things. I prefer face to face.”
I blink. “You’re going to drive all the way to Grand Junction from Denver for meetings?”
Ethan laughs again, this time it’s a low gritty sound. “Of course not. You’re going to be in Denver.”
“In Denver? I can’t just move to Denver!”
“Why not?”
“I have a job.” I stutter.
“A better paying job than this?”
“No. But I have…other obligations.”
“You’re living with your co-worker in a house that she inherited,” he states and I realize just how deep he actually dug. Now I’m nervous if he knows or even suspects anything else (like that I have a son). “Listen. I’ll pay for it all. You won’t have to worry about it. I’ll get you a temporary place in Denver. A nice condo if you’d like. Maybe downtown near the restaurants and lounges.”
“Do I look like I spend my evenings going to lounges?” I cut him off. I don’t like the sound of any of this. But I also know I have no choice. So I take a deep breath and square my shoulders. “Fine. I’ll come out there. For now. But I want a townhouse.”
“That’s fine.”
“And I want it in a safe neighborhood. A family neighborhood, not downtown.”
“That’s fine too.”