Page 16 of Tides of Change (Seacliff Cove #2)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Garrett
I sat at my desk in the bullpen and stared at my monitor, unseeing. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, poised for action that wouldn’t come. The report I’d started an hour ago still read, Incident Summary: and nothing else.
The quiet hum of the station buzzed in the background—phones ringing, chairs creaking, the faint tapping on keyboards—but it all faded into a dull blur.
It had been three days since I’d escorted Ethan to the farmers’ market, and yet, every detail of that day played on a loop in my mind.
The sound of his laughter, low and warm.
The way his smile softened his features and made his eyes crinkle at the corners.
The way his voice, smooth but with an edge of uncertainty, drew me in like a magnet.
Accompanying him hadn’t been a hardship—not by a long shot.
I’d enjoyed every minute. I couldn’t stop replaying the casual touches I’d let myself indulge in—a hand on his elbow, a brush of shoulders as we maneuvered through the crowd, the steady press of my palm on the small of his back as I guided him toward the vendors.
None of it was necessary. All of it felt right.
And yet…why?
What was it about him that pulled me so deeply, like an undertow I couldn’t escape?
It wasn’t just the way he looked, though I couldn’t deny his curly auburn hair and warm brown eyes had captivated me from the start.
It was something more, something intangible.
The quiet strength he exuded, the way his humility never dulled his wit or kindness.
He wasn’t like any woman I’d ever been with—and that was the puzzle.
Ethan had me questioning my sexuality, something I’d never truly confronted before.
The thought rattled me, and yet, it didn’t scare me the way I thought it might.
It was the uncertainty that ate at me. My mind felt like a battlefield, emotions clashing in waves, leaving me tossing and turning at night as if I were a boat adrift on a stormy sea.
During the day, my thoughts scattered like sea foam in a gale. Even now, I wasn’t sure if I should steer toward Ethan or anchor myself far away. Every time I tried to sort it out, I kept coming back to the same question: What does he want?
A sharp buzz broke through my haze, and my phone lit up on the desk. My chest tightened with anticipation even before I glanced at the screen.
Ethan
I owe you dinner and a movie at my house. Any chance you’re free this weekend?
I stared at the text, and my pulse thudded in my ears. He’d reached out. He wanted to see me. The warmth of his words curled around me and quieted the storm.
My thumbs hovered over the phone’s keyboard as I typed, then deleted, then typed again. I wanted to say yes immediately, but I didn’t want to seem too eager. Finally, I settled on:
Pizza and Disney were our pleasure.
I paused, and my heart pounded. Was this the moment to take a leap? The decision felt monumental, like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring into the unknown. My pulse quickened as I typed my next message.
I’m free on Friday evening. Noah’s spending the night with my sister.
The response came almost instantly.
Building blanket forts?
I chuckled, the tension in my chest easing. Of course, he remembered Noah’s words about Harper and their fort-building escapades. That minor detail told me he’d been paying attention to my son, and as a single dad, that warmed me to my core.
Exactly. What should I bring?
Yourself.
My lips curved into a smile that I couldn’t suppress, the kind that made my cheeks ache.
7 okay?
That would give me enough time to pick up Noah from after-school care, drop him off at Harper’s, and shower off the workday.
See you then.
I glanced around the station and my fingers tightened around my phone as Ethan’s invitation lingered on the screen. A slow, goofy grin spread across my face before I could stop it. Dinner at Ethan’s.
If anyone noticed the stupid look on my face, they might ask questions. Questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
A quick scan of the room confirmed that no one was watching me too closely, but the weight of what I was doing settled in my chest. I shouldn’t be this excited.
Heck, I shouldn’t even be considering it.
This was a bad idea. A really bad idea. Ethan was part of an active investigation, one I led.
If Sarge got wind that I was spending time—alone—with the very man I was supposed to be protecting, it would raise red flags.
But darn it, I wanted to see Ethan. Wanted to sit across from him at the dinner table and pretend—just for a little while—that this wasn’t complicated. That there weren’t risks. That I wasn’t walking a razor’s edge between what I should do and what I wanted to do.
I told myself I’d keep it casual.
But I already knew I was lying.
I locked Ethan’s door behind me and toed off my Chucks.
The soft thud echoed in the cozy entryway.
The comfy house seeped into me like a welcome hug.
The savory, spicy scent of herbs and garlic teased my senses and made my stomach growl loudly enough to fill the silence. “Mm, something smells good.”
Ethan chuckled at my grumbling stomach, the sound rich and low. “I hope you like veggie lasagna. I made it with the ingredients I bought at the farmers’ market.”
His brown eyes caught the golden glow of the living room lamps and danced with something that looked an awful lot like happiness—or maybe anticipation. The sight stirred something deep in my chest.
“Love it.” I grinned. “And I’ll bet yours is better than the frozen stuff I buy from the grocery store.”
Ethan reared back, and mock offense scrunched up his face. “I should hope so.”
I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped me. It felt good. Natural. “I’m sure it is.” I held up the six-pack of Barnacle Brews pilsner I’d brought. “I know you said I shouldn’t bring anything, but I couldn’t arrive empty-handed.”
Ethan smiled, and a flicker of warmth passed between us. “It’s perfect. Bring it into the kitchen. I don’t think the house came furnished with beer glasses, so we’ll have to chug it from the bottle.”
He led the way, his movements unhurried and relaxed. I followed him through the living room into the kitchen, full of delicious aromas and heat from the oven.
I set the beer on the table, shrugged out of my light jacket, and draped it over the back of a chair. I rolled up the sleeves of my button-down, which I’d paired with jeans. I’d debated what to wear—this evening felt almost like a date.
I was relieved to see he’d had the same idea. His crisp shirt fell perfectly from his broad shoulders, wrapped around toned biceps, and tucked neatly into the waistband of his jeans, which rested low on narrow hips.
When had I started caring what I wore around another man? Or noticing how his clothing highlighted his fit body?
Not since Leo. Not until Ethan.
He held up a cherry tomato, his expression questioning. “Tomatoes okay in the salad?”
I dragged my focus back to his face and nodded. “Unlike some little boys I know, I’m not a picky eater.”
Ethan snorted a laugh and scattered tomatoes on top of a leafy green salad. “Well, I can also make chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese like a top chef.”
The playful words warmed the air between us, but my thoughts turned serious for a moment.
When would he cook for Noah? Ethan lived in Brooklyn—his life was there.
His family was there; his niece was there.
The realization he’d leave Seacliff Cove once we caught the stalker weighed in my stomach like a stone.
As a single dad, I’d never stand between a man and his family.
Instead, I’d focus on the time we had together.
With that thought in mind, I popped open two bottles of beer, and the soft hiss broke the momentary silence. I handed one to him and brushed my fingers against his as I did.
“Thanks,” he said quietly. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
“What can I do?” I moved back and tried to ignore how close we’d been.
Ethan glanced at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Just stand there and look handsome.” He winked.
I froze for a heartbeat; the words hit me like a rogue wave, unexpected. Was he flirting ? Did I want him to be?
I raised an eyebrow and forced my voice to stay light. “Are you objectifying me, Mr. Cole?”
Ethan’s eyes widened, and panic flashed across his face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean?—”
“It’s okay,” I said, low and husky as I cut him off. “I like that you think I’m handsome.”
His cheeks flushed a rosy hue that had nothing to do with the oven’s heat.
He nodded, and the tiniest smile tugged at his lips as he turned back to the salad.
But when he placed the bowl on the table, his arm brushed mine even though he had plenty of room to maneuver.
He lingered just long enough to send a shiver down my spine.
The timer on his phone shattered the heartbeat of time. We both startled and stepped apart as if caught in the act of something we hadn’t quite admitted yet. Ethan cleared his throat and hooked a thumb toward the oven. “The lasagna…”
I nodded, unable to prevent a small quirk of a smile. “Right. Lasagna.”
He bent to pull the bubbling dish from the oven, but I didn’t miss the slight tremor in his hands as he slid a sheet of garlic bread inside.
In the quiet that followed, the air between us buzzed with unspoken words, unacknowledged feelings. Something was building, slow and steady, and I wasn’t sure whether to stoke the fire or let it burn out.
I sipped my beer, keeping my tone casual. Neutral ground seemed like the safest bet. “Did you write the screenplay for the Jake Slate TV series?”
He pulled plates from the cabinet, the dinnerware rattling. “No, a screenplay writer adapted the first book for the first season of the show, though he consulted me on the script.”