Page 4

“No, no, no!” Star panicked. “I can do it! You don’t need to come up.” She was tiptoeing on thin air, balancing on the top of the ladder like some unhinged acrobat. “Just hold it for me, would you?”
Ethan stalled, slowed down, and then backed down the ladder to hold it, but his jaw tightened. “Star, I think I should?—”
And that was when she did the thing.
She let go of the roof.
Landed both feet on the ladder’s top platform.
And squatted like a smug little gremlin.
“No, see? I’ve got it,” she chirped, all confidence, flashing a grin.
Ethan’s brain screamed. Then …
One moment, she was fine.
The next?
Her foot missed the first rung.
He watched in horrified slow motion as she flailed, grabbed for the top of the ladder—missed completely—and let out a tiny, utterly undignified squeak before plummeting.
Ethan lunged forward, arms outstretched to catch her. Only catch was the wrong word.
Because, one second later, they were both on the ground. More accurately, Ethan was on the ground. Star flattened on top of him. She let out a groan and rolled off, sitting up. She whispered, “Oh my. Not again.”
Ethan closed his eyes, sprawled on his back, hands limp at his sides. Could he feel his fingers? Yep. Toes? Yep. Back, oh, hell, yeah. Shirtless, the concrete had no doubt given him one hell of a road rash. He turned his head to look at her. Neck worked. So, relatively unscathed. “Yeah. Again.”
Star shook her head, then turned to him, wide-eyed with guilt. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Also … why don’t you have a shirt on? Or shoes? Oh, you’ve been sparring again. Ouch, I don’t know how you do that brutal sport.”
Ethan lifted his head just enough to glare at her. He knew she didn’t like MMA. She called it ruthless, which it kind of was, so he ignored those comments. “I was working downstairs. I forgot to get dressed.”
Star blinked. Then, as if the sheer absurdity of his response finally hit her, she burst into laughter. “You forgot to get dressed?”
Ethan sighed, dropping his head back down. “And you forgot how to get off the roof.”
“It wasn’t that hard to get up there,” she defended, rubbing the back of her head.
Ethan followed her gaze to the sharp pitch of the roof and the highly questionable ladder placement.
Star gestured vaguely at the house. “If you’d put the ladder a little closer, it would’ve been easier for me to climb down. That’s how I got up there in the first place.”
Ethan sat up, gave her an incredulous look, then gestured at himself, lying in a heap on the concrete. “Of course,” he deadpanned. “You could’ve told me that.”
She nodded. “Yeah, that’s true.” After a beat of silence, Star perked up. “Did you hurt yourself?”
Ethan sighed, shaking his head. “Nothing but my pride.”
Star waved away his comment with a casual flip of her hand. “Oh, I have no pride left. I’ve bruised it so much I think it died a long time ago or at least crawled into hiding.”
Ethan chuckled as he pushed himself to his feet and brushed off his jeans. Then he extended a hand, effortlessly pulling her up.
“Are you okay?” he asked, scanning her for injuries.
She nodded. “Yup. I rarely get hurt in these situations.”
Ethan narrowed his eyes. “You save that honor for me?”