Page 20 of Beneath the Blue Moon

***Ethan***

“You are absolutely breathtaking.”

She gives me a bashful smile, turning her head away. My eyes

feast on her, from her fiery hair to her pretty pink-painted toenails. She is a

vision… and she’s mine.

“Thank you. You’re looking very handsome tonight.”

“As opposed to all the other nights when I wasn’t?”

She giggles—a sweet, girly sound that sends my heart

pounding. “There’s that… umm… confidence again.”

I offer her my arm with a smile. “Shall we?”

She closes the door behind her, curling her arm around mine

with a determined nod.

“Let’s do this.”

In the truck, I glance over at her as she crosses her

gorgeous legs. She’s quiet, just sitting there staring out the window at the

passing scene. When she adjusts her top, it draws my gaze to her luscious

breasts, and I quickly return my attention to the road as I feel my dick begin

to harden.

“How’s your dad?” I ask.

“He’s okay. I’m thinking of getting him a full-time nurse. I

mean, I’d still be there, but it might be better to have someone with some

medical training.”

“That could be expensive.”

“For a bartender’s salary?” She turns to me with raised

brows.

Fuck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine.” She chuckles. “My job’s just for me, to keep me

sane mostly. My dad was pretty good with money, made some lucrative

investments. Plus, there’s his pension and my mom’s life insurance.”

“I see. I might know someone who’d be able to help.”

“Really?”

“I can make a few calls if you like.”

“Would you? I’d be really grateful.”

“I’ll start first thing in the morning.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

I give her a reassuring smile, and she turns her attention

back to the scenery. Her phone vibrates in her pocket, and she pulls it out,

smiling at something on the screen.

“My friend Sandy wants me to send her a picture of you,” she

says.

I turn to her with a smirk. “You told your friends about

me?”

“Don’t look so smug. I told one friend that I had a

date.”

“Well, by all means, satisfy her curiosity.”

She shoves the phone back in her pocket and smiles. “Not

tonight.”

“Is she your best friend?”

“My bestest friend.”

I chuckle at her child-like response. “That close, huh? How

long have you known her?”

“She moved into the house next door when we were eight. It’s

been the two of us ever since.”

“Sounds like Charlie and me, only I’ve known him forever. Our

parents were very close.”

When I turn off the main road, she shoots me a quizzical look.

“Don’t tell me you live in a tent in the forest?”

“No, no tent.”

“Cabin?”

“Something like that,” I reply.

“You’re one of those outdoorsy types, aren’t you? Hiking,

fishing, hunting….”

“I love nature. Don’t you?”

“Why do you think I moved here? It wasn’t for the gorgeous

men, although that is a bonus.”

Men? What men? “Gorgeous men?”

“I guess you wouldn’t notice that. Canid seems to be

a veritable buffet of handsome men.”

They all better stay the fuck away from you! I grit

my teeth and try not to show my anger.

“Anyone catch your eye?” I ask.

“Oh, I see a few possibilities.”

She’s teasing me, isn’t she? Right? I look over at

her and catch the twinkle in her eyes.

“Little minx. You enjoy torturing me, don’t you?”

“How am I torturing you?”

“I don’t want you talking about any gorgeous men, except me,

of course.”

She giggles and shakes her head. “Your confidence

amazes me.”

With a chuckle, I pull into my driveway. She gazes up at the

house in wide-eyed amazement.

“This is it?”

“Home sweet home.”

“Wow. It’s magnificent.”

Before I can open her door, she hops out and stares up at my

two-story personal heaven.

“Did you design it?” she asks.

“It’s been in my family for generations. We’ve just made

improvements along the way.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you. Come on.”

I offer her my hand, and she slips her fingers between mine,

leaning on my arm as we walk. The contact, being so close to her, sends my

heart slamming against my chest. I take a deep, steadying breath and lead her

inside.

“Drink?” I offer.

“Please.”

She follows me to the kitchen, openly admiring the décor.

Good. It will be her home pretty soon. I pour two glasses of Dom Romanée-Conti

and hand one to her.

“Conti, huh? Aren’t you Mr. Fancy Pants?”

“Only the best for you.”

“Mm-hmm,” she answers, the sound rife with skepticism.

“Come on. I’ll give you a tour.”