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“Tell Liam I’ll text him later.”

“Okay. What about your weekly swim time? Do you still want me to remind you?”

I arch my brow and glance at him.Scheduled swim time?

He looks straight at me, his dark eyes giving nothing away.

“Cancel it.”

Chapter 36

Ethan’s eyes flare aswe stare at each other.

I can’t shake the feeling he’s trying to tell me something with his gaze. But his message is in a foreign language, one I haven’t mastered.

Or have you?my mind whispers.

Debbie’s voice comes across the speakers. “Sir, I just checked your calendar. Are you sure? Your guest this week is Michael Phel—”

“Have him come back another week.”

He hangs up the phone.

“Why are you meeting with Liam in the office? And did you just cancel a scheduled swim meet with one of the most decorated Olympians in history?” My voice sounds screechy. What in the twilight zone is going on? “But everyone says you’re a stickler to your schedules.”

Ethan grabs a notepad and a few pens from his desk and strides back to the table. “Liam is taking care of an investigation for me.”

Ah. The financial situation he mentioned before.

“And yes, I like my routines. Twenty laps in the pool each morning and ten additional laps with a professional on Wednesday afternoons to give me a boost to get through the rest of the week.”

He levels his stormy eyes at me. This time, there’s a bit of warmth inside them, like the sun peeking out from behind the clouds. “But I can’t have our intern failing, can I? And…I’m rooting for you, Lexy.”

My breath stalls at the fervency in his voice.

He swallows and continues, “I know I’m not an easy person to be around. I don’t say the right things. But I’m on your side. Always.”

His words burrow deep inside of me. It’s not a passing comment—he means it. And this knowledge has my pulse scattering wildly in my veins.

“Well…thank you.” I curl a lock of hair behind my ear and touch my lucky hummingbird earrings, my fingers trembling.

Why am I so nervous?I’m never nervous with the Andersons, not even with Maxwell, who’s the recluse of the family.

Why Ethan?

“You’re still wearing them.” His eyes darken. “The earrings.”

“Y-Yeah. They feel special. I like them. You said they represented joy, positivity, resilience, and love, right?” That’s what he told me that day in the hospital.

“You remembered.” His fingers fiddle with his cuff link, a pleased smile on his face. “You still don’t know how you got them?”

“The earrings?”Why are we still talking about the earrings?I shake my head. “No. Still no clue.”

“I see.”

The warmth vanishes from his eyes. A muscle twitches on his temple and he slides the cuff links from his shirt and places them on the table. Then, he slowly rolls up his sleeves—inch by inch—revealing muscular, corded arms and a map of veins that writhe with each movement.

My mouth dries, my breasts feeling tingly. I never knew I had a thing for arm porn. I’m thrusted back into that night, which isnotan alcohol induced illusion.