No Sweeter Love (Sweeter in the City Book 3) (6 page)

His mother swept a hand over the dresser. “Grey blue. Reminds me of the fog rolling in on a summer evening. I added new throw pillows, as you can see.”

Eventually, Claire blinked and murmured, “Beautiful. It’s just beautiful. Is this the, uh, only cottage you have on the premises?”

“Oh, yes. It was an old boathouse before we converted it. See the rafters? Ethan used to climb those when he was little.” Barbara chuckled and shook her head fondly at Ethan. “This boy always had a way of making trouble, but then, I suppose you know that already, Claire.” She raised an eyebrow, and Claire shot him a look of naked amusement.

“So yes, just this one small cottage, but renters love it, and I hope you will, too. It’s quiet down here, secluded, and don’t you worry, I won’t be knocking on the door to bug you two.”

Ethan shifted uneasily on his feet, summing up the space on the floor. Thanks to a wide chest of drawers and two generous end tables, there was very little space in the room, certainly not enough to camp out on for a few nights.

He glanced at Claire again, imagining she was making the same calculation.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” his mother finally said. “Dinner is at six at Patricia’s. Casual, on the beach, if the weather holds up.” She crossed her fingers. “I know everyone is looking
very
forward to it,” she added with emphasis, casting Ethan a meaningful glance.

“I’ll just go get the luggage,” Ethan said quickly, hoping to follow on his mother’s tread, but Claire just smiled and said sweetly, “No, stay for a minute. The luggage can wait.” Her gaze held his with such fury, that he knew he had no choice but to oblige.

He waited until his mother had closed the door behind her and was a safe distance back to the main house before turning back to her. “Look, I can explain.”

Claire folded her arms across her chest and tipped her head. “Explain what exactly? The fact that we’ve supposedly been dating since Christmas? Or that I’m expected to carry on lying to all these nice women? Or maybe you’d just like to explain where exactly you’ll be sleeping tonight, because we sure as hell aren’t sharing this bed.”

He frowned. “Why not? It’s not like I’m going to cop a feel.” He grinned, hoping to lighten the mood, but she was having none of it.

She sighed and dropped onto the bed. “Look, why don’t we just tell them the truth? That you and I are good friends, that you brought me along as your date, that I’ll keep you in line and make sure you don’t disappear with the bride or anything between now and Saturday night.”

“The bride is my cousin,” he reminded her calmly.

“Fine, then the maid of honor.” She tossed up her hands. “I thought we’d stay at a hotel. In separate rooms. That we’d casually see your family for a few minutes at the rehearsal dinner and the reception. Then we’d disappear into the crowd. But this?” She shook her head. “I can’t do this, Ethan. I can’t lie to these people. And I don’t see how you can either.”

“It’s a white lie,” he reminded her. “Besides, you have no trouble lying to your family.”

Her cheeks turned red. “That’s only temporary!”

“So is this!”

Claire clamped her mouth together, her breath was hard. “I plan to tell Hailey about losing my job when I need to. Until then . . .why worry her?”

“And I don’t want to worry my family,” Ethan said.“You saw the way they talked to me. Even the way they were with you. Imagine what I’d be hearing if you weren’t with me? If they didn’t think I’d changed my ways?” He gave her a long look, watching her waver. “I’m not doing this to hurt anyone. And if it makes you feel better, I’ll sleep in the bathtub.”

She laughed at this, and a glimpse of the old Claire, the girl he knew, the girl he loved, reappeared before his eyes.

He swallowed hard. Took one step backward toward the door. Right. Time to get the luggage.

He gulped in a big breath of the clean country air and hurried his way to the car, feeling the eyes of his extended female relationships on him through the back kitchen window. He didn’t stop until he got to the car, sheltered by the side of the house where the windows were shielded by overgrown shrubs, and closed his eyes, pushing out the sights and the sounds and the memories that seemed to hit him everywhere he turned. He avoided this place for a reason, but not for the one Claire knew. His mother and sisters and nosy aunts, he could handle. But the feelings he had when he was here, the reminders of happiness, of loss . . . That he couldn’t handle.

And that was why he needed Claire to stick with the plan. To keep him in line. To keep him from doing something far more stupid than having a fling with a member of the wedding party.

He opened his eyes, popped the trunk, and pulled out the luggage, cursing under his breath when he felt the weight of Claire’s suitcase. Four days, and she may as well be taking a two-week trip abroad.
Women
, he thought, locking the doors, even though there was no around for a mile and he doubted they’d try to steal his radio.

Even though he’d grown up without a father, even though some claimed he was somewhat of an expert when it came to the other gender, the truth of the matter was that he didn’t know the first thing about them.

And maybe that’s why he was still single. Asking his best friend to pose as his girlfriend.

Because he couldn’t find one on his own. And when he did—when he had . . .Well, no use thinking about that.

Claire was collecting towels from the linen chest when Ethan reentered the cottage.

“You don’t have to sleep in the bathtub,” she said, giving him a faint smile. “But there will be a roll of towels separating our bodies.” She held up a pointer finger, locking his eyes. “I swear to God, one move, one
finger
crosses those towels, and the wrath of your sisters will pale in comparison to what you’ll see from me.”

He nodded and set the bags down in the corner.

“Four days, Eth. I mean it. And next time you talk to your mom, you tell her we’ve broken up, got it?”

He nodded. He got it. It was the kind of conversation he had a lot of experience with, unfortunately.

Chapter Five

C
laire took her clothes and toiletries into the en suite bathroom and firmly locked the door behind her. Her heart was pounding, and she wasn’t sure why. Normally she felt comfortable with Ethan, more comfortable than she did with Hailey half the time. She could say anything, do anything, didn’t have to monitor herself around him, didn’t have to watch her words or worry if she had food in her teeth or laughed too loud at a joke that wasn’t all that funny.

But something about being here, out of the city, trapped in this tiny boathouse, made her start to feel prickly and weird, as if something was shifting between them, a heightened awareness she didn’t exactly like.

She checked the knob, just to be sure it was indeed locked, and then stripped out of her clothes before turning the taps to the shower. It was a pretty bathroom, light and airy, with a skylight above the tub. She laughed as she closed the glass door to the shower, imagining Ethan curled up in there, with his pillow and blanket. With his six-foot athletic frame, it would no doubt be a tight squeeze. She supposed it was sweet of him to offer, but then that was Ethan. Thoughtful. Dependable. Readable. There was no mystery with Ethan. No pretense, no façade. She knew him inside out.

So why did she suddenly feel a flutter of nerves at the thought of him being on the other side of that door?

She hurried to shampoo her hair and rinse the day off her skin. Ever so hospitable, Barbara had left a stack of towels within arm’s reach. Claire took the top one from the pile and wrapped herself with it, jumping when she heard the knock at the door.

“You decent?”

“What?” Her cheeks flared. “No! I’m not!” Panic caused her voice to screech, and even though she knew she had locked the door, she eyed the handle in horror, waiting for it to turn, for Ethan to walk in and see her . . .well, not decent.

“Well, hurry up! If we’re late I’ll never hear the end of it!”

Claire rolled her eyes as she towel-dried her hair. It was a warm evening, and there would be plenty of time for it to dry on its own before they went to the clam bake at Ethan’s aunt’s house. According to him, it was just a short walk down the beach. Claire set a hand to her stomach as fresh nerves pumped. More friends and families to fool. More lies to tell.

She slipped on the pale blue sundress she’d brought for the occasion and added a touch of makeup. She rarely wore much, especially in the summertime. Ethan said it was a casual affair, and, hoping that was the case, she wedged her toes into a pair of espadrilles and unlocked the bedroom door.

Ethan was lying on the bed—in the middle of the bed—when she opened it, the steam from the shower filling the small room.

“I see you forgot my rule about staying on your side,” she observed, raising an eyebrow.

He had the nerve to look confused. “It’s not bedtime yet. Besides, I needed to rest if I’m going to make it through this shindig tonight.”

“Gee, I’m really looking forward to it now,” Claire said, laughing slightly under her breath as she walked to her side of the bed and folded her dirty clothes into a bag in her suitcase.

“Oh, you’ll have a great time,” Ethan said with confidence.

“And why won’t you?” she asked, looking up at him.

His mouth quirked into a lazy grin. “Easy. They’re my family, not yours.”

Ethan took more than half an hour to primp in the bathroom—nearly twice as long as it had taken Claire, who had shaved her legs and washed and conditioned her shoulder-length hair. And applied makeup.

When he finally emerged, he looked barely any different than when he’d entered. Claire pursed her lips to smother a smile. She loved Ethan, God did she, but the truth was there was a reason why Ethan could never settle down and fall in love—he was entirely too self-focused.

“If I’d known it would take you half the day, I would have skipped my shower,” she quipped.

“Hey, you thought this afternoon was bad? You haven’t seen the rest of the Parker clan. They can’t wait to get their hands on me, to look for any reason to criticize. Do I have any nicks on my face? I shaved in a hurry.”

She stood and peered at his chin. It was a very nice, strong, square chin. His body was still warm from the shower. His skin smelled like aftershave. She frowned. What was wrong with her?

“No nicks. Smooth as a baby.” Well, not really. More like perfectly manly and sort of sexy and . . .wrong. She really needed to get out there again. Clearly, she was ready.

He looked down at his white linen shirt, frowning. “Should I tuck this in?”

“If you’re tucking in that shirt, then I’m changing my dress,” Claire said, adjusting the back of her earring.

“Sorry. I just . . .I get nervous around these people.” He ran a hand through his hair, dragging in a shaky breath.

Claire laughed and reached over to take his arm. “These people are your family. How bad can it be?”

***

Fifteen minutes later, she knew exactly how bad the night might be. As they approached the spot of beach where a bonfire was already crackling and glowing, the music seemed to stop, and slowly, face after face stopped their conversation to stop and stare.

It seemed that the novelty of her arrival hadn’t dimmed since this afternoon. If anything, it had spread to dozens of more people, who were now practically pushing each other aside to have a good look.

Claire felt her stride falter, and she didn’t dare look at Ethan, who had stopped talking and was no doubt following her gaze.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered, and all at once, Claire felt his warm, smooth palm slide against hers.

“What are you doing?” she asked in panic, snatching her hand back. She stopped walking, aware that as she did so, every person on the beach was piquing with interest, craning their necks to see the lovers’ quarrel that was unfortunately out of earshot.

He gave her a mild smile. “Claire, if we’re going to make them believe we’re a couple, we have to act like we’re a couple.”

She chewed her bottom lip. He had a point there. “Yes, but holding hands. It’s so, so  . . .” She hadn’t held hands with anyone since Matt.

“Would you rather I put my hand around your waist?” His lips twitched, and Claire realized he was having fun with this.

“I’m glad to see this is so easy for you!” She folded her arms across her chest defensively, but he just gave her a rueful smile in return.

“Lighten up, Claire. You know what your problem is? You take life too seriously.”

“I do not!” she scoffed, but she did. She knew it. And leave it to Ethan to keep saying it.

“I mean, if you’re worried I’m going to take advantage—”

“Ethan!” But now it was her turn to laugh. She did, but then remembering this ruse, turned from him, frowning. She hadn’t thought ahead this far. She hadn’t assumed there would be touching, or . . . She groaned.

“Look, it’s a beautiful night. We’re on the beach. We’ll have a couple drinks, make a little small talk, and then we can go back to the cottage and put a big wall of towels between our two bodies.”

“Ethan . . .” She sighed.

“Is it so hard to pretend to be attracted to me?” he asked, and for a moment Claire thought she saw a look of hurt soften his eyes. “If it makes it any easier, pretend that Matt is there. Give him something to turn green over.”

Claire gave a little smile. Wouldn’t that be the day?

“Fine,” she said, gritting her teeth as she reached out her hand and let him take it. His grip was firm, his skin warm, and as they walked toward their waiting audience, Claire had the strange feeling that she could sort of get used to this  . . .

***

“So, together since the holidays!” Aunt Milly’s eyes seemed to pop on the statement, as if she couldn’t quite believe such a thing was even possible. “A solid six months!”

Claire looked up at him through a gritted smile and said sweetly, “That’s right. Since New Year’s Eve, actually.”

They both knew how each of them had really spent New Year’s—she’d gone to Vail with Matt and he’d gone to a masquerade party with that brunette with the long legs and the law degree. He was working on New Year’s, covering the best events of the year, not that he minded. Half the time his job felt like play, at least the research aspect. And when he mentioned reservations at the hottest restaurant in town, it was usually the icebreaker he needed to secure a date for Saturday night.

Free drinks and the best tables weren’t the only perks of his job. Still, if he was honest with himself, going out four nights a week was getting old.

“My, this certainly is promising,” Milly continued, giving her husband Les, who seemed to be struggling to keep his eyes from drooping, a firm jab in the ribs. “I don’t think Ethan has held onto a relationship for that long since—”

“Les, you doing okay?” Ethan cut in. He swallowed hard, and did his best at playfully giving his uncle a friendly slap on the back. “Another round of drinks is in order, I think. Claire, want to help?”

She smiled demurely, and hurried to follow him. Before they were out of earshot, Ethan heard Milly remark, “How sweet. They don’t want to be apart, even for a few minutes.”

Behind him, Claire snorted, and by the time they pushed their way to the drinks table, they were both laughing uncontrollably.

“What do you say we get out of here?” Ethan suggested.

“But, Les’s drink?” Claire’s eyes crinkled in confusion, but Ethan shrugged away her concern.

“Did you see him? The man was practically snoring on his feet. Once he settles onto a chair, he’ll be out for the night. Poor guy is used to having his ear talked off.” He shook his head.

He’d gotten used to it over the years, the buzz of chatter, the seemingly endless amount of time his mother and her sisters could sit and talk. He liked it, especially as a kid, on the cool summer nights when his mother cranked his bedroom windows open. He’d turn on his side and listen to their laughter, the din of their voices from the back patio, where they sipped iced tea and reminisced about the past. It made the night feel less dark, somehow, less lonely. It made him forget that his father wasn’t there anymore.

Ethan turned to Claire, who was standing patiently at his side, staring out onto the water that lapped softly at the sand not far from her bare feet. Her sandals were dangling from her fingers, the hem of her dress billowing in the breeze, and for a moment, Ethan felt a sense of peace wash over him, the same way it had all those years ago when the breeze filtered through his bedroom windows and the murmur of voices began to emerge in the dusk.

Claire wasn’t a chatterbox. If anything, she was quiet. He liked that about her.

He looked over his shoulder to where his mother was deeply engrossed in a conversation with his cousin Meryl and her fiancé, Eddie. He knew an opportunity when he saw one.

He grabbed Claire’s hand again, sort of liking the excuse to hold it a little more than he should. It was small, light and feminine, but there was strength in it, and a security he hadn’t felt in a while.

He pushed that thought away. No use going there, not when no good could come of it.

“Come on. We’ll see enough of everyone over the next few days.” He winked, and Claire’s blue eyes sparkled as they turned and marched casually across the sand, through the mingling guests, and farther into the growing darkness, until the party was just a strange glow in the night, far behind them.

He dropped her hand, feeling a strange distance from her when he did, and stared straight ahead, aware of her body next to his with every step. The big house that he’d grown up in loomed at the top of the dunes, just ahead. Ethan tipped his head toward it. “It’s still early. Let’s grab a drink.”

They hurried the rest of the way to house, and Ethan didn’t exhale until they were finally inside, the door closed firmly behind them. The house seemed quiet and eerily still without the usual boisterous activity that filled it. The light in the kitchen was still on, and Ethan grabbed a beer from the fridge, holding it out to Claire. She wrinkled her nose, as he knew she would, and he offered her the next best thing.

“A wine cooler?” She turned it over in her hand, mesmerized.

“It was that or hard lemonade. It appears all the wine has been rounded up for the festivities.” He pulled open a drawer and found the bottle opener.

“I haven’t had one of these since high school,” Claire laughed, popping the top.

Intrigued, he leaned against the counter, studying her with interest. “You mean to tell me that you, Claire Wells, actually
drank
in high school?”

“I didn’t
drink
.” She flushed. “I mean, once. I went to a party one night with Hailey and . . .my friend’s older sister was handing out wine coolers.”

He grinned. “And let me guess, you got tipsy.”

Claire pursed her lips. “I’m not such a good-goody, you know. We can’t all be rebels like you.”

“And is that what you think I am? A rebel?” He tipped the beer back, feeling the foam chase its way down his throat.

She shrugged. “Compared to me. Come on,” she said, tugging his sleeve. “I want to see your room.”