Page 31 of The Bargain (Dalton Family #2)
Chapter Thirty-One
Sofia
I am never going to catch up to Ethan.
There’s a huge group entering Starbucks as I attempt to exit, crowding the doorway, and as they file in, I’m forced to wait.
And wait some more. The delay feels eternal, the coffee shop stuffy.
My nerves frazzled, but as these new customers greet me with smiles and apologies, I somehow offer them proper manners, even mustering a curve to my lips.
My parents didn’t raise a heathen, but then they might have raised the girl who is about to kill Ethan Dalton.
When I finally step outside, the night air is cool, fall scenting the air with amber and oak, my skin cooling even if my temper has not, nor is my path any less obstructed.
Paul is parked right in front of the walkway, and for a moment, I think Ethan is inside.
In the next, I fear he’s become frustrated and decided to leave without me, which is illogical, but I still hurry forward, anxious for confirmation one way or the other.
I pull open the rear door, and Ethan is not there.
“Where is he?” My voice is urgency and demand I cannot quell.
Paul’s brow furrows. “I don’t know. He told me you needed a ride.”
My heart is thundering in my chest with such fierceness my head spins, but I still manage to slam the door shut, already forming a plan in my mind.
I’m going after Ethan. I’m going to stop him before he does something we’ll both regret.
I dart around the rear of the SUV, seeking the pedestrian walkway and praying Ethan is headed to my father’s place just as surely as I pray he is not.
A car passes through the space between me and the path to my father’s house, and I want to scream as I’m halted once again.
Finally, I’m on the sidewalk to his street, and I can see Ethan in the distance, relief and panic washing over me.
He’s not gone, but he is planning to talk to my father.
I want to shout out, but my throat is dry and raw, and it’s too late anyway.
He’s at the gate. He’s entering the garden.
I settle into a fast walk. What good is running?
It’s too late. When I reach my father’s house, Ethan is gone—inside the house, I assume.
I don’t even consider going to the door.
Instead, I claim the curb and sit on the concrete ledge where I wait, wondering what the heck Ethan is doing, as angry as I am fretful.
What is he thinking? Why would he do this?
A full ten minutes pass before the door opens and shuts.
I’m on my feet and in front of him when Ethan opens the gate and exits. “What was that?” I ask, my voice a hushed demand.
“He needed to hear from me. Now, he has.” His tone is oh so nonchalant, as if he hasn’t just rocked my world and probably our relationship before I’m even comfortable calling it that.
“What did you say to him?”
“Man-to-man stuff. He listened. He needs space to digest what I said.”
“ What did you say to him?” I repeat, not letting this go.
“That’s between me and your father.”
I scowl so deep I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s etched permanently in my forehead. “You do know that’s not okay, right?”
“I assumed you’d be pissed,” he concedes. “I assumed I might end up on the couch or in a hotel, but if I got through to him, it was worth it.”
“I don’t even know what to say to that.”
“He said the same thing to me. Think on it, just like he is, and let’s get you home.”
Paul pulls the SUV to the sidewalk, and Ethan opens the door for me.
I consider walking, but then I’d lose the chance to drill him for more.
I climb inside the vehicle, and Ethan follows, and he doesn’t keep his distance.
He shuts the door, slides in close, and before I know his intent, his hand is on the back of my head and he’s leaning in close, his breath warm and wicked on my cheek.
“I told him I need him to step back and think like an investor and see what I saw without a full picture, and then really consider my turnaround and the success we can have together. He’s not getting rid of me.
He might as well make money with me. And, I told him, the reason he’s not getting rid of me is that I’m crazy about you.
” And then his mouth is on my mouth, and I’m moaning with the possessive way his tongue licks my tongue, melting against him even as he folds me close.
My fingers tangle in his hair, and I’m only remotely aware of the vehicle moving, of Paul right in front. I’m panting when Ethan’s lips part mine, and he says, “He’s going to come around.”
“You don’t know him. You don’t know that.”
“I know people. I negotiate all the time.”
“I’m not a negotiation, Ethan. This is about his daughter. It’s about us.”
“I know that. He knows I know that.”
“But you still won’t tell me what you said.” It’s not a question. He’s not going to tell me. I know this. I feel it in every part of me.
“Give me some credit, Sofia.” His hand plants on the seatback behind me.
“I’m his ultimate precious cargo.”
“And you’re mine now, too.”
“I can’t be that important to you yet.”
“When can you be? When is that okay with you?”
I’m reeling, defensive, and uncertain. Anything too good to be true… “Not now,” I say. “Not yet.”
“Good to know.” His voice is a blade, and I know immediately it’s not me who’s cut. It’s him. In my effort to protect myself, I think…I think I hurt him, and I didn’t…That wasn’t what I intended.
The SUV halts, and Ethan bites out, “Let’s go inside.”
It’s then that I realize we’re at my house.
We’ve been tongue-to-tongue in all kinds of ways, and I had no idea we’d made the trip.
Ethan pushes away from me, and I run my hand through my hair, desperate to compose myself.
“Thank you, Paul,” I murmur without looking at him, heat burning my cheeks.
He has to know we were all over each other as readily as we were at each other.
Ethan offers me his hand, and I accept it, the connection one part attraction, one part anger.
He’s hurt and pissed. I think I am, too, but maybe he has more of a reason for how he feels.
Maybe not. He did go to my father’s house without even asking me upfront.
His long fingers close around mine, and I swear when he touches me, my mind’s a jumbled mess.
He owns me, and it’s a little bit terrifying, but no matter what, when we go inside, we’re talking.
Or yelling. Or whatever it takes to get to the other side of this, whatever this has become.