No Sweeter Love (Sweeter in the City Book 3) (5 page)

Claire sighed, and the table fell silent as the waitress slid their plates across the table. There was one ketchup bottle on the table and they reached for it at the same time. Ethan pulled away; a small gesture, but the least he could do.

“You have more fries than me,” Claire sniffed, gesturing to his plate.

“You want to switch?”

Claire gave a small smile and Ethan felt his shoulders relax. He was used to women being mad at him, screaming, shouting, crying accusations. But something about Claire being upset with him felt different. Wrong, and scary.

He stiffened. He’d be best to remember that.

“I booked us two rooms at the hotel,” he assured her. “I even asked for lake views. I’ll see if I can upgrade you to a suite.” He sounded desperate, but hell, he was desperate. Desperate to get his family off his back, desperate to go for a few days in his hometown without being reminded of the reasons that kept him away.

Claire salted her fries. “I suppose it’s not that big of a deal,” she said, “other than the fact that we’re lying to your entire family.”

“We’re protecting them,” he insisted.

“You’re protecting yourself,” she snorted. She cut her burger down the middle, even though he’d already gripped his in two hands. “I suppose it’s too late to turn back now, though. You have impeccable timing, Ethan.” She lifted an eyebrow, her lips pursed, but there was a sheen of amusement in her gaze that told him he had her.

“I owe you, Claire,” he grinned, sinking his teeth into his burger as his appetite returned.

Claire locked his gaze. “Yes. You do. Big time. But you have to promise me one thing before I agree to this.”

Ethan struggled to swallow his food. He should have known. Claire was stubborn and hard-headed. Traits he usually loved about her. “What’s that?”

“No funny business.”

His pulse kicked as he laughed and picked up a few fries, but her warning was a good one, and one that he should heed. Claire was the closest thing to a real relationship he’d had in . . .well, years. He’d felt the sting of loss before, and he’d be damned if he felt it again.

And Claire, however perfect and pretty and funny and sweet she may be, was the last person in the world he could ever get involved with.

“No funny business,” he said firmly. Definitely, no funny business. Ever.

Chapter Four

A
s soon as they turned into the lakeside town of Grey Harbor, Claire knew that Ethan hadn’t done his hometown justice. The streets were lined with quaint shops and iron benches, and flowers seemed to burst from planters on every corner. As the street turned residential, Claire smiled at quaint homes tucked behind white picket fences.

The Parker home wasn’t too far from town, set serenely at the base of a gravel paved driveway that seemed to lead straight to the waterfront. Overgrown hydrangeas hedged by a stone path led up to the large, cedar-sided Victorian home, where a boxwood wreath hung proudly on the freshly painted blue front door.

Claire and Ethan didn’t speak as they climbed the porch steps, but she was all too aware of the tightness in his jaw, the nervous thing he was doing with his hands, and the telltale change in his breathing. The man was nervous as hell, but something told her it wasn’t about this ruse. No, it was something else. Something she couldn’t put her finger on.

Despite her circumstances, she was oddly curious. Really, could his family be
that
bad?

“Are you going to knock?” She realized that they had been hovering on the wraparound porch for an unnatural amount of time, given that this was Ethan’s home and all.

“No, I’ll just  . . .” He reached for the brass door handle at the same time the door was flung open, and there, gathered in the narrow frame, were at least six women of various heights, ages, and hair colors, ogling at Claire with naked glee.

“She’s real,” Claire heard someone hiss, and suddenly she was being enveloped in someone’s arms as a peal of joy went out, and all at once, everyone was talking over everyone else, making it impossible to decipher any clear words, but the tone was one of unmistakable excitement.

Claire finally untangled herself from the woman’s arms, only to have her hands gripped tightly. “I’m Barbara, Ethan’s mother.” Her wide hazel eyes roved Claire’s face with overt interest as a pleased smile teased her mouth. “But then you can probably see that. Everyone says he takes after me!”

It was true. She had the same dark hair, same eyes and square jaw line. Claire suddenly wondered what Ethan’s father looked like, but she knew better than to ask. It was a sore subject, and one he didn’t dwell on, and Claire understood, now more than ever. It wasn’t easy to lose a parent, regardless of your age.

“And this is Leslie, our youngest,” Barbara pushed a dark-haired girl to the front of the group. Even though they were the same age, Claire couldn’t stop herself from staring at the small baby bump, suddenly feeling like she was a child, with a long road to go before she found herself in such a position, especially now.

Unlike Ethan, Leslie’s eyes were dark and unreadable, but her smile was rueful when she lifted her gaze to her brother. “Planning on behaving yourself this weekend, Ethan?”

Ethan gave a good-natured laugh, but his cheeks looked a little ruddy, Claire thought. “I always do.”

Leslie snorted and extended her hand.

“I’ll keep him in line,” Claire assured her, and Leslie’s eyes lit with surprise.

“I like this one,” she said, flashing her first grin, and Claire decided on the spot that she liked Leslie too. In fact, she liked them all, even though there were so many of them, and they were still staring, and it was a little nerve-racking, really.

“Where’s Amelia?” Ethan suddenly asked.

Barbara’s expressed turned worried. “She’s . . .not feeling well. I told her not to worry. She’ll meet up with everyone later.”

Ethan passed Claire a knowing look, subtle enough to go undetected by the rest of the group, who were now ushering them through a large entranceway to the back of the house, where huge kitchen windows lent a breathtaking view of a stone patio, green grass, and blue water.

“Lemonade?” Barbara asked, already pouring two glasses and handing them out.

Claire happily accepted her own and took a sip. “This is a lovely house you have,” she admired, walking to the bay window to take in a better view. A wicker conversation set was wedged under the shade of a weeping willow, where a woman sat with her feet curled up, reading a book, and, from what Claire could tell, smoking a cigarette.

Amelia
, she thought, suddenly intrigued.

“Oh, well, it’s been in the family forever. When I was little it was our summer home, but when my parents passed away, we decided to make Grey Harbor our full-time residence. Not that Ethan has noticed,” she added, giving him a pointed look.

“Life gets busy, Mom. Besides, I wasn’t exactly welcome with open arms during my last visit.” He frowned into his glass as the room fell silent.

Barbara wrung her hands nervously, and flicked her eyes from Leslie to Claire. “Now, where are my manners? Let me introduce you to everyone. You’ve met Leslie, of course, and this is Milly, my oldest sister, and Patricia, my younger sister. Her daughter Meryl is the one getting married. And this is my cousin Ellen, and her daughter Lydia, and my aunt Hazel,” she said, wrapping an arm around a frail woman wearing a thick wool cardigan, despite the warm day.

Claire shook each woman’s hand and stood back, letting the awkward silence resume.

“I must say it was quite a surprise when Ethan said he was bringing a guest. Our Ethan is just full of secrets, it seems.” His mother winked at him.

You could say that again
, Claire thought.

“Ethan said you’ve been dating since Christmas!”Barbara exclaimed, and a murmur of approval went up in the group.

Claire shot Ethan a murderous glance. “Did he now?”

“Said you worked at an auction house!”

“I have some antiques in my attic you might be interested in seeing,” interrupted Hazel. “My daughter calls them junk, so I’d be quite interested to see what an expert has to say.”

“Mother.” Ellen sighed.

“There are so many antique shops in town!” Barbara said excitedly.“Ethan will take you, won’t you, Ethan?”

Ethan’s eyes were flicking from female relative to female relative, and for a moment, Claire felt a pang of sympathy for him, but only for a moment. After all, the man was lying to these poor women, creating a fictitious life they were clearly tickled over.

“Well, we should probably get settled at the hotel,” Ethan began, but his mother barely gave him a glance.

“Pshaw. No son of mine is going to stay in a hotel, not when we have so much room! Now, Leslie and Nick are staying in the house, and Amelia, of course,” Barbara added somewhat darkly.“I figured you two would like a little space, so I went ahead and made up the guest cottage for you. There are fresh linens on the bed and towels in the cupboard next to the tub.” She beamed at Claire, whose pulse skipped with panic.

The
bed? As in, only one?

“Oh, but we can’t impose,” she tried, hearing the strain in her voice.

Barbara took the empty glass from Claire’s hand and splashed more lemonade into it.“Nonsense! It’s not every day my son brings a girlfriend home, and I must admit, we’re all quite eager to get to know you a little better.” She winked at Ethan, who seemed to be radiating tension Claire had never witnessed in him before.

“Now don’t go scaring her away,” Ethan warned.

Claire dragged her eyes to his, holding them there. Now that was rich.

“But it’s a beautiful cottage!” cried Milly, who was identifiable by her many strands of pearls and matching earrings. She was older than Barbara by several years, it seemed, and had a wild look in her eyes. “Barbara rents it out for a pretty penny nearly every week of the year. Lots of honeymooners enjoy the amenities.” She winked, and Claire felt her teeth graze into some semblance of a smile.

Ethan stepped forward. “Really, Mom. We’re fine at the hotel. We don’t want to take away the room from a paying guest.”

Claire mentally fist-pumped. An excellent point—surely his mother couldn’t argue with that.

But Barbara just handed Claire the glass of lemonade with a smile and said, “Now don’t you worry. I cancelled this weekend’s reservation the moment I heard about the wonderful Claire. Besides, you can’t have your hotel room back. To compensate for the inconvenience, I gave the couple one of the rooms you’d booked at the hotel—I have connections like that. Two rooms, the front desk said.” She clucked her tongue. “They must have made a mistake.”

“Mom—” Ethan’s voice had taken on a tone of warning, but Barbara was not to be deterred.

“I’m a modern woman, Ethan. I know how the world works now. In my day people waited for marriage, but then, in my day, people weren’t still unattached in their thirties, either.”

The older women of the group all exchanged knowing looks.

“Mom, I think Claire might be comfortable—”

“Oh, settle down, Ethan, I know when to back off, you know. And Claire knows what I’m referring to. Times have changed! And I pride myself on rolling with it! Besides, something tells me Claire and I are going to get along just fine,” she said, looping her arms through Claire’s as she led them out the back door and toward their honeymoon suite.

***

Amelia was still sitting on the old wicker bench when they approached the cottage, her tattoo on full display near the straps of her tank top. She set her book aside when Ethan said hello, her gaze immediately shifting to Claire with impassive interest. Ethan steeled himself as panic set in, wondering if this was such a good idea after all, if it might have been easier to face them all alone, put up with the insinuations and the warnings and even the threats, and then go on his way, back to the city, back to his life. Back to
his ways
, as they called it.

“So this is the woman we’ve heard all about,” Amelia remarked, standing to smooth her long cotton skirt and extend a hand to Claire. “She seems normal,” she accused, lifting an eyebrow at him.

Ethan balled a hand into a fist, but he could see Claire swallowing her laughter from his periphery. “And how are you, Amelia? Will I be meeting
your
wedding date this evening?”

As soon as the words came out, he regretted them. Amelia’s eyes narrowed on him, and all at once she was grabbing her book, and making a big, clumsy show of leaving.

“Nice,” Claire whispered, shaking her head at him in disapproval.

“Amelia!” Ethan called out at his older sister, who was scrambling barefoot up the stone steps to the back patio, her shoulders squared in fury. “Amelia, come on. I didn’t mean to upset you!” But it was no use. She was sliding open the sunroom door without a glance back.

Well, great. He hadn’t been home even fifteen minutes and already he was in trouble with at least one member of the family, when all he’d wanted for the weekend was to avoid it.

“She’s on edge,” his mother said. “We’re all doing our best to tiptoe around her. I strongly suggest you do the same, Ethan. Between you and me, I think it’s hard on her that you have . . .Claire.”

Claire turned around and gave Ethan a hooded look.

Great. So now he was in trouble with at least two women on this stretch of property.

Ethan shoved his hands into his pockets and stared out at the lake. He couldn’t help it; this place always put him in a bad mood. It made him out of sorts, irritable and agitated. He was on edge, saying things he shouldn’t say.

He looked down at his shoes. Four more days. He could do it.

They hovered outside the cottage door while his mother showed off her new window boxes, and Ethan ground on his teeth, his gaze lingering on the sunroom doors of the main house, where no doubt Amelia was already regaling the rest of the group with his insensitive behavior.

But what about their insensitive behavior, he thought, feeling anger heat his blood. What about their little comments, their silent judgment, their sharp remarks?

God knew it was hard enough coming back here without their commentary.

He pulled in a breath and studied the back of Claire’s head as she obediently leaned in to smell one of the daylilies. Her blond hair glistened in the sun, and his mother slid him a smile so approving, for a brief moment Ethan felt a twinge of guilt for lying to her.

But then he remembered the reason behind it. Thought of the reaction he’d received. The opinions they held.

The one he was hell-bent on changing this weekend.

“Well now, you probably want to freshen up and change before dinner,” Barbara was saying as she unlocked the door and let them pass. Ethan saw the panic in Claire’s eyes before he even felt it himself.

The room was smaller than he’d remembered. It was hardly a cottage at all, but more of a bedroom with an en suite bathroom and a kitchenette in one corner. French doors led to a small patio that housed two Adirondack chairs and a side table, but otherwise, the accommodations lent no other seating area. The bed was covered in a simple white duvet, queen-sized, as luck would have it, and Claire’s eyes never strayed from it.

“I see you painted the walls,” Ethan remarked, desperate to break the silence. Last time he was in here, they’d been a light green. But then, that was a long time ago, he supposed. Last summer he’d stayed in the main house. He couldn’t recall his visit before then, he realized with a start.