Breaking All The Rules (Book 1 - Second Chances Series) (10 page)

I cleared the screen on my phone and noticed I’d missed a call from Ethan. My heart skipped a beat. I plopped down on a chair. What was going on with me? Getting all in like with Terrance’s cousin was not in the plan. I lived in New York. He lived wherever he wanted. One Wright man had already been the wrong man for me. Hadn’t I had enough? I thought about ignoring his call, but he’d already let me know if I did he’d be showing up here, so I pushed the button and dialed his number. 

“I’ve been thinking about you the entire day. It’s taken every ounce of discipline in my body not to have called you already,” he said.

I smiled. Talk about a greeting. Who didn’t want to hear that?

“I’ve been talking to vendors all day.” I could hear the smile in my own voice.

“So, are you trying to tell me you haven’t been thinking about me?” The velvety timbre of his voice dropped an octave and become huskier. I imagined his long body stretched out on a piece of furniture in his family room. That was hot.

“Not really,” I teased.

“Not one thought?”

I smiled. I was enjoying this. “You did cross my mind earlier. I wondered how your eye was.”

“It’s black. It may be black at the wedding.”

“Hmmm,” I murmured, “there’s makeup for that.”

“I’m not wearing makeup. It’s bad enough I have to put on that suit.”

“You’ve worn makeup every time you’ve had a photo shoot for a sports magazine. You will not mess up the pictures for a wedding I’m planning. A little makeup won’t kill you.”

“You’re right, but not seeing you all day will, so what about that dinner?”

I sighed. Gave it some thought. I did need to eat, and I most certainly did not want to be stuck here with Terrance and Janette all evening. “I could stand to get out of the house.”

“Great. How about we go into the city and have some real pizza?”

“You forget I live in New York. I have real pizza all the time. As appetizing as that sounds I really don’t want to go for that ride. I get car sick pretty easily and I’m going to have to go to Atlanta tomorrow anyway, so I need to save my nausea for then.”

Ethan was silent for a moment. “I’m free tomorrow. I could take you.”

An image of them shopping for wedding decorations came to her. He’d be bored to death. “I appreciate it, but I couldn’t put you out like that.”

“Put me out? I said I had nothing to do.”

I considered his offer. A truck would be helpful as would someone else behind the wheel other than me. I couldn’t deny the idea of spending the day with him was appealing.

“Okay, tomorrow is a date, but I don’t want any whining about how long it takes me to shop. This wedding stuff can be pretty painful for an onlooker.”

“I swear I won’t moan or groan,” he said.

“I’m going to remind you of that.”

“I’ll figure out something for dinner. How about I pick you up at five-thirty and surprise you.”

I hesitated. “I don’t like surprises.”

“Of course you don’t. Planners never do, but trust me, this’ll be cool. Jeans and a tee-shirt okay?”

“Let me confirm the time with Terrance.”

“I already did. He said he’d be there at five-thirty.”

I remembered the ugly words Terrance and Ethan had exchanged and decided the two men didn’t need to see each other this quickly. “In that case pick me up at five-fifteen. I don’t want your other eye black.”

Ethan laughed. “Trust me. He’ll never catch me off guard like that again. I’ll see you at quarter after five.”

“Okay.”

“And Nectar, you can wear jeans, but don’t skip the heels.”

I laughed. “Say goodbye, Ethan.” I pushed the end button.

***

Ethan was right on time and that was good because Terrance was a few minutes early. I spotted his truck turning onto our street. I hustled downstairs and opened the front door so he could let himself in. Then I hid out in the restroom and waited until I heard Ethan’s truck. Childish I know, but I had no intentions on letting Terrance get me alone.

While I had no plans to be alone with Terrance, Ethan certainly had plans to be alone with me. His surprise was a dinner made with his own hands served on his deck.

“I tried a few new things,” he said. “I catch an occasional cooking show on the television.”

I slid into the chair he pulled out for me. “Have you just watched or gotten in some practice?”

“Watched,” he replied, opening a fancy jar that looked like fresh steeped ice tea and filling both our glasses.

I raised an eyebrow. “Watching eh, do you think you’d be a great soccer player if you’d just watched the game or even have learned to play the piano without practice?”

He shrugged. “I figured I couldn’t mess this up. It’s a recipe.”

I laughed and reached for my glass. “I’ll let you know.”

He nodded. “I’m sure you will.” He retreated into the house leaving me to marvel at his deck. I turned and took the entire view in; an outdoor retreat was the accurate description. It was two levels with a massive pergola and an integrated privacy screen at one end. The other end swept down to a hot tub with a pool. The table I was sitting at was a concrete built in. To my right he’d installed an outside kitchen area complete with an enormous stone barbeque grill, which looked like it was turned on.  To my left was lounge seating in an outdoor entertainment area that included a television as large as the entire wall space. It had to be sixty inches or more.

I stood and walked to the end of the deck to survey what was on the first level. More seating and a swim-up bar complete with stools at the end of the pool.  Amazing.

“I should have told you to bring your suit.” Ethan’s voice broke my concentration. He opened the lid to the grill and placed the two skewers covered in vegetables on the cooking grate. I joined him just in time to see him flip two humongous steaks. 

“How many pounds of meat is that? It literally looks like a side of beef.”

“Twenty-four ounce Porterhouses. This is make an impression meat. I reserve it for the very best in dinner guest.”

I raised an eyebrow. “It works. I’m impressed. I know you didn’t pick these up at  Piggly Wiggly.”

He shook his head. “I’m a bit of a snob when it comes to my beef. I don’t eat much of it, so when I do I prefer grass fed.” He closed the grill and put down the fork. “I have a few shipped in when I come home.”

I nodded and returned to the edge of the deck. “This is amazing. I’m surprised you built it when you spend so little time here.”

One broad shoulder lifted in a shrug. “This is home. I want home to feel like a retreat.” He began. “Remember, when I’m building houses and schools and wells we sometimes sleep in some pretty cruddy spots. There aren’t any five star hotels in Southern Sudan.  Even if there were, we wouldn’t stay in them. It’s not cool to build houses for the poor and retire to luxurious hotels, so when I’m working I sleep in campsites.”

I thought about that, about his sacrifice. How could someone so loving and generous be removed from the God who had gifted him to give? I turned back to him. “I admire you. I haven’t slept an uncomfortable night in my life.”

He leaned in closer. The effect of the daylight savings had already cast a shadow of darkness that the overhead light worked to compensate for. His eyes were serious. He licked his lips and I was certain he was going to kiss me again. I was going to let him, but then his phone began to beep.

He reached in his pocket. “That’s the timer. I have to get the stuff in the kitchen.”

I cleared my throat, stepped back a little to get away from his heat. “Let me help.”

He shook his head, still never removing his eyes from mine. “No, relax. I like to serve.” He made a quick departure back into the house.

He liked to serve. God that had to be a line, because the Lord didn’t make them like that anymore. I shook my head, removed my phone from my pocket and sent a text to Gayle.

Me:
I’m at Ethan’s. He’s making me dinner.

Gayle:
Sounds romantic. You two are spending a lot of time together.

Me:
He’s a really nice man. I can’t believe someone hasn’t snatched him up.

Gayle:
Maybe he’s been waiting for you.

Me:
He’s too young for me, Gayle.

Gayle:
If you say so. He looks like a grownup to me.

I didn’t have a response to that. He was too young for me. Wasn’t he?

I heard the whoosh of the sliding glass door and Ethan rejoined me. He placed the tray in his hands on the table. It included bread, salad filled bowls and plates with covered domes.

I put my phone on vibrate and joined him at the table. He opened the lid to the grill, moved our steak and vegetables to the plates and then recovered them. I took a seat and moved my napkin to my lap.

“Wow, I’m impressed. Everything looks delicious. Are you sure I’m not going to go in there and see the chef heading out the front door?” I pointed towards the house.

Ethan chuckled. “Not tonight.” He took a seat. “Let’s hope it’s as good as it looks.”

He reached for a fork. I reached for his hand and tilted my head. “Grace?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

We closed our eyes and I hesitated waiting for him to say it. I opened one eye and found he still had his closed. Just when I was about to pray he found his voice and blessed the food.

We began to eat. The salad, a mix of super-greens that I recognized as Swiss chard, Bok Choy, spinach, and arugula along with shrimp, was tossed with a wonderful vinaigrette dressing that was flavored with ginger.

I shook my head as I let the flavors dance in my mouth. “This is the best salad dressing. What is it and can I get it in this country?” I asked.

“You can get it out of your own kitchen. It’s homemade.”

I dropped my fork. “Stop playing. You did not make this.”

“I did, but I’ve been making it for years, so I’ve pretty much perfected it.” He winked. “I made it with your delicate stomach in mind. It has ginger in it.”

I swallowed hard. I didn’t know how to take such a considerate gesture. I picked up my fork and pointed. “I want the recipe.”

Ethan smiled and dropped his eyes to his food. I sensed my compliment carried more weight than it should. With all his confidence and success it never occurred to me that he needed affirmation, but of course he did, we all needed it.

“So,” I said, “I’m not going to beat around the bush. Why don’t you go to church anymore?”

Ethan coughed. Picked up his water glass and took a long sip.

I shook my head and tried to resist laughing. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to torpedo you.”

“No,” he cleared his throat. “I just, one second we were talking about salad dressing …” he paused, stood and escaped inside the house.

I sat back against my chair. That might have been a little rude, but he wasn’t going to be wining and dining me and asking me to open my mouth and I not know if the man had gone to Africa and converted to Islam. I might not go to church every time the door opened, but I was a Christian and that wasn’t changing.

I picked up my glass, swirled it around and took a sip. Ethan came back out of the house and took a seat.

“I was about to come in and perform the Heimlich maneuver on you.”

“No need. I had to check on something in the kitchen.”

I squinted curiously suspecting he was actually running from my question.

His eyes widened at my questioning glare. “Okay, I confess I burned dessert.”

“Oh,” I said with a laugh.

“I meant to restart my timer. It’s okay, I have a backup.”

I laughed again and put more salad in my mouth.

He moved his salad to the side and reached for a roll. “You’re laughing at me. I can’t do everything right.”

I returned my glass to the table. “You’re so cocky. Who says you do everything right?”

Ethan took in a deep breath. A devilish look came over his face. “I’m not going to incriminate myself by answering that.”

I rolled my eyes. This conversation had gone to the far side. It was time to reel it in. “That was a nice blessing you said for the food. I was asking you why you don’t go to church.”

Ethan reached for his glass. “What makes you think I don’t go to church?”

I decided not to keep my source a secret. “Janette told me you hadn’t been to Pastor Wright’s church since high school.”

Ethan smiled. “So, you’re talking about me, eh?”

I blushed again, but resisted the urge to avert my eyes. 

“I go to worship all the time. I just don’t go when I’m here.”

“Why?”

“I have my reasons.”

He seemed uncomfortable with the question, but I wasn’t dropping this line of questioning. I had to know. “When you say worship are you talking about a Christian worship or some other kind?”