Page 5 of Tides of Change (Seacliff Cove #2)

CHAPTER FIVE

Garrett

The whir of the vacuum drowned out Noah’s chatter as he sorted through his Hot Wheels cars, precisely lining them up on the coffee table.

I maneuvered the cleaner over the carpet and zeroed in on the cracker crumbs from this afternoon’s snack.

Noah had insisted on Goldfish—extra cheddar, of course—and now the light-gray carpet I’d installed was paying the price. Thank fu—dge for STAINMASTER.

When I inherited the house, it had been a time capsule of the seventies—threadbare carpet in some rooms, curling yellowed linoleum in the kitchen and bathrooms. Fixing the flooring had been my first project.

I’d spent weekends ripping up the old floors and putting down carpet and tile.

It wasn’t fancy, but it was clean and functional.

I powered down the vacuum, gave the sofa’s throw pillows a quick fluff, and arranged them neatly on the kid-friendly couch.

It wasn’t the sleek leather kind Ethan probably had in the city, but it was stain-proof and built for a five-year-old’s acrobatics.

I stood back and took in the room. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.

“Time to put away the toys, bud,” I said while I stowed the vacuum in the small entryway closet.

Noah’s face lit up. “Is Mr. Ethan coming soon?” He buzzed with excitement.

“Yep.” I kneeled beside the coffee table.

Together, we tossed the fleet of cars and trucks into their storage bin, and my thoughts drifted to Ethan.

He was due any minute. He was coming for pizza and a movie—nothing big.

But the more I thought about it, the more nervous I got.

My house felt cramped and outdated compared to the remodeled rental Ethan was staying in. What would he think of my place?

What would he think of me?

The thought made my hands slow. I wasn’t used to second-guessing myself, but Ethan…

Ethan confused me. I liked him, that much was clear.

He was smart, funny, and easy to talk to.

And…was I attracted to him? It had been years since a man had made my pulse stumble.

So long that my attraction to Ethan felt… new. Fresh. Welcome.

The doorbell rang and snapped me out of my thoughts. Noah shot up like a spring, his excitement palpable. “I’ll get it!” He bolted to the door.

“Noah, wait!” I surged to my feet and my heart thudded in my chest. He was already at the door, fingers fumbling with the latch before I could reach him. My stomach tightened at the possibilities.

Noah swung the door open with a bang against the wall and revealed Ethan. The sight of him—his light smile and warm brown eyes that crinkled at the corners—loosened some of the tautness in my shoulders.

“Hi!” Noah sang and bounced on the balls of his feet.

“Hey there, buddy,” Ethan said, as if they were best friends. He crouched down to Noah’s level. He held out a red and yellow box like it was a prized treasure. “I brought popcorn.”

Noah hopped from foot to foot. “Extra butter?”

“Is there any other kind?” Ethan said mock-seriously.

I stepped forward and placed a firm hand on Noah’s shoulder. “What have I told you about opening the door without checking with me first?”

Noah’s excitement dimmed, and his narrow shoulders slumped.

“Sorry, Daddy,” he mumbled and tugged at my heart. “I thought it was Mr. Ethan.”

I weakened. “It’s okay. Just remember for next time, all right? You don’t know who might be on the other side.”

Noah nodded, chastened, but was quick to recover. “Okay!”

Ethan rose to his full height, and his gaze flickered between Noah and me. “Sorry if I caused any trouble.”

“Not your fault.” I stepped aside and gestured. “Come on in.”

As Ethan moved past me, the faint scent of his body wash—maybe cedarwood?—lingered in the air and frazzled me. My nerves, barely calmed from the door incident, flared back to life at his presence.

Noah’s excitement returned full force and brightened the space.

He buzzed around Ethan as he slipped off his shoes.

Noah chattered about the popcorn, and Ethan chuckled and handed it over.

I shut the door and leaned into it for a moment to collect myself.

But when Ethan’s eyes met mine, a peculiar twist gripped my chest.

What the hell was happening to me?

A knock jolted me from my spiraling thoughts.

“It’s here!” Noah practically vibrated with energy. His begging gaze caught mine as he silently asked for permission to open the door.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Hold on.” I peeked through the peephole and spotted the delivery driver. “Go ahead.” I stepped aside as Ethan moved to give Noah room.

Noah yanked the door open. “Yay! Pizza!” The savory aroma of garlic and spices spilled into the entryway.

The young deliveryman grinned and handed the hot, fragrant boxes over Noah’s head. I took them with a nod of thanks and passed him a tip while Noah darted toward the kitchen table. His shout of “Come on, Mr. Ethan!” echoed through the house.

“Wash your hands!” I called after him. He let out an exaggerated groan but veered toward the bathroom. The sound of rushing water followed.

Ethan stayed by my side. His gaze followed Noah’s retreat with a light chuckle. “He’s got enough energy to power the entire block.”

“Don’t I know it,” I said, my fond exasperation clear. Ethan’s quiet laugh did something to me—something I wasn’t ready to unpack.

In the kitchen, I set the pizzas on the table, and their rich aroma made my stomach growl. “I didn’t know what you liked.” I pointed to the boxes. “Got pepperoni for Noah, plus a veggie, just in case.”

“Not picky.” Ethan shook his head. “But thanks for thinking of me.”

“No problem,” I muttered. My cheeks heated—was I actually blushing ? This man had me so off-kilter that I was in danger of falling on my face.

“What can I do?” Ethan asked.

“You can have a seat.” I gestured to a chair. “And let me know what you want to drink. I’ve got water, sparkling water, soda, iced tea, and lemonade.”

Noah ran into the room. “I want lemonade, Daddy!” His enthusiasm burst through the calm like a firecracker. He gripped the edge of the table as he jumped in his seat.

I raised an eyebrow and tried to suppress a smile. In his excitement, he’d forgotten the manners I’d worked so hard to instill. “Please don’t interrupt,” I reminded him gently. “Mr. Ethan is our guest. Let him choose first.”

Noah’s face fell momentarily. “Sorry, Daddy.” But he recovered with the resilience only a kindergartener could muster. He turned to Ethan. In his wide eyes, I could see his hopes rising. “But you want lemonade, don’t you, Mr. Ethan? Huh? It’s the bestest!”

Ethan’s lips twitched with the effort to keep a straight face. “Sure.” He nodded with mock solemnity. “If it’s the bestest, how can I say no? We can be twinsies.” His eyes sparkled with good humor.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

Ethan had an easy way of indulging Noah without a hint of condescension, a quality that made my chest tighten in an unfamiliar, complicated way.

His kindness touched me deeply, and I wasn’t ready to examine that too closely.

That’s just how friends felt about each other.

Right?

“Two lemonades, then.” Ethan glanced at me with a small smile. “Can I get them?” He half rose from his chair.

“Thanks, but I’ve got it.” I waved him off.

“Help yourself to pizza.” Truthfully, I was grateful for the excuse to step into the kitchen and steady my nerves.

I poured the sweet and tart drink into two glasses.

A punch of citrus hit my nose and mingled with the comforting aroma of hot pizza.

I grabbed a bottle of cold water for myself, took a deep breath, and returned to the table.

Ethan had already taken over and distributed slices. Noah happily munched on a piece of pepperoni, a streak of sauce smudged on his cheek. A slice of each pizza sat on Ethan’s plate.

“I didn’t know what you wanted.” He nodded toward the boxes.

The savory aroma made my stomach growl audibly. I grabbed two slices of pepperoni, and the cheese stretched as I lifted them to my plate. The first bite was heaven—gooey, salty, and rich. I groaned loudly, the sound escaping before I could stop it.

Ethan raised a brow, and his brown eyes twinkled with amusement. “Good?”

I swallowed quickly, and heat crept up my neck. “Excuse me,” I mumbled, embarrassed by my lack of restraint. “I was hungry.”

“You’re excused,” Noah said primly, his face the picture of disapproval. “But don’t do it again.”

Ethan turned his laugh into a discreet cough, and the sight of his barely contained smile sent a fresh wave of warmth through me. He had a way of making everything feel easy.

“So, Noah.” Ethan leaned forward. “Tell me about school.”

It was all the encouragement my son needed. “My teacher is Mr. Matsumoto, and he’s so funny. He tells jokes all the time!” Noah rose to his knees. “Knock-knock!”

“Who’s there?” Ethan asked. His mouth quirked as he braced for what was coming.

“Boo!”

“Boo who?”

“Don’t cry—it’s just me!” Noah exploded into a belly laugh, his joy infectious. I laughed, despite having heard the joke roughly, oh, a gazillion times.

Ethan chuckled along and nodded appreciatively. “That’s a good one. Knock-knock.”

Noah’s face lit up, surprised and delighted that Ethan was playing along. “Who’s there?”

“Cow says.”

“Cow says who?” Noah’s face wrinkled in confusion

“No, silly. A cow says moo!”

Noah squealed with laughter and nearly toppled off his chair. Ethan laughed with him, the sound rich and full. I watched the two of them, my heart swelling at how seamlessly Ethan fit into the scene. His patience with Noah, his genuine interest—it disarmed me, to say the least.

As Noah rattled off stories about school, his words tumbled over one another. Ethan listened attentively and asked questions that made Noah light up even more. I couldn’t help but admire the way he handled my son, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

After Noah finished his second slice and drained his lemonade, he looked at me expectantly. “Can I be done?”

“Yeah, buddy. Take your plate and cup to the kitchen and we’ll watch a movie.”

“Yay!” He threw his hands up in the air and nearly knocked over his cup. With all the speed and energy of a five-year-old, he dumped his dishes by the sink. In no time, he bounded onto the couch.

I shook my head, and a smile quirked my lips. He was a handful, but he was my handful, and I wouldn’t trade him for the world. As I turned back to the table, Ethan was watching me, his expression gentle, almost unreadable.

“What?” I asked quietly.

He shook his head, and his smile returned. “Nothing. You’re a wonderful dad, that’s all.”

The compliment meant more to me than I expected, and I had to look away. I busied myself with clearing the table and ignored the tightness in my chest. I brushed off the praise with, “Ready to watch Frozen with a hyperactive five-year-old? Brace yourself.”