Page 30 of The Surprise
I roll my eyes. “But not all of us have cows to feed.”
“Your family does, though, right?” He quirks one eyebrow.
“I mean, we do, but that’s my dad. And the people he hires to help do it.”
Ethan shakes his head. “I know what we have to pay Jeff and Kevin. I have no idea how your dad can do very well, paying people to help out. The profit margin on cattle ranching isn’t as high as I hoped.”
“It’s definitely more of a lifestyle,” I say, parroting the phrase my dad always uses. “But look, you can’t be here. My mom will hear you and come out any time, and—”
Ethan reaches toward me.
I try to close the door, but his hand grasps the frame, blocking me. “You didn’t call or text.” His voice is hurt. “You could have said you wouldn’t go to ice cream, but you should have at least told me you were alright.”
He’s right. He almost killed me last night—my fault—and he didn’t just leave me there. He kept me company, helped me not drink that last beer—it’s all coming back much more clearly—and then walked me home.
He was basically a saint.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “That was rude of me. Even ruder than leaping in front of your car last night.”
“It was more of a stumble than a leap.” His lips are twitching.
“Hey.” I frown.
“But listen.” He thrusts a bag at me.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“It’s not anything big,” he says. “But if you’re still on the fence about letting me take you out for ice cream, I thought this might help.” The tops of his ears turn just a little pink, and I wonder what in the world he brought me.
When I take the bag, the tips of our fingers brush and a thrill races all the way up my arm. I try to suppress the shiver. It would be awful if he knew I thought he was hotandhe noticed my reaction to touching him. “Okay, well, thanks.”
“I get it, I’ll go.” He leans against the door like leaving is the furthest thing from his mind. “But Beth.”
“Yeah?” I try to force a scowl.
“You better call me once you open that, or at least text me, or I may have to come back to confirm that you’re fine.”
I hate how badly I want to hear from him and how happy it makes me that he’s planning to follow up. Again. “Yeah, sure,” I lie. “For sure I will.”
After he leaves, I practically race to my room so my mom won’t see the bag. Two minutes later, she’s tapping on my door. “Beth?”
I shove the bag under my bed and turn around so I’m looking at her when she opens the door.
“Who was it?”
“Wanted to wash our windows,” I choke out.
“Huh?”
I clear my throat and think calm thoughts. “Just some guy who wanted to give us a quote to wash our windows.”
Mom blinks. “How much did he want to be paid for it?”
I was not expecting that. “What?”
“What did he say he’d charge? Did you get his card?”
I shake my head. “I—he said—I told him we weren’t interested.”
