She took him in. He’d never be the life of the party, but he’d always be a rock. He’d probably never let down anyone in his life. He may think he’d disappointed his family by not moving on after his wife died, but Rue suspected he had that part wrong. If she’d known him such a short time and already ached for his happiness, she couldn’t imagine how they must feel. “How much of a show do you want to give them?”
His brow kicked up. “I’m not looking to get arrested.”
Apparently she’d worried him, which amused her, but she rolled her eyes anyway. “Are you ever?”
“You haven’t convinced me…yet.”
“Challenge accepted.”
He responded with enough regret in his expression that she laughed out loud. He didn’t get a chance to say anything, though, before the meeting was called to order. They found seats at the far end with Ethan’s family, garnering raised brows from the entire lot of them when Ethan took her hand and held it.
Her expression must have portrayed her surprise because he leaned in. “People are watching.”
“I’m not sticking around to care what they think,” she whispered back. “You are. Besides, our hands are under the table.”
“Good point,” he said, punctuating with a light kiss to her ear that left her reeling.
As did his words.
What were they supposed to mean? He certainly didn’t back off, and she remembered he had all the reason in the world to sell their relationship, especially to his family, who sat around them.
Bleakly, she wondered if that was what the kiss had been about. Correction: kisses. Amazing kisses. Don’t be stupid. The only witness to that was the balloon pilot, and he didn’t know them from the next couple. Ethan had held her—kissed her—because he wanted to. And she’d probably carry those moments the world over, breathing in their sweetness when she had nothing else to cling to. Pretty tame as far as earth-shattering experiences went, but she’d never wanted anything so bad in her life. Which was a blaring neon sign that she keep her distance.
Later. She’d keep her distance later.
She barely heard most of the meeting, after which Boyd’s grandmother was swamped. The eighty-something-year-old woman was crazy as a loon—evidenced in part by the empty, vintage cigarette holder she waved around like a wand—and at best an eccentric dresser—cue the white floppy floral hat that looked like a silk pillowcase puddled on her head—but she was also godawful rich, and it seemed like most of the people in the room wanted to be seen holding her attention. There was no way Rue was going to get a chance to talk to her that evening, and the longer she hung around, the more likely her mother would ambush her. In fact, she was shocked it hadn’t happened yet, but her parents were there for networking, and Rue, standing with Ethan’s family, was probably more of a detriment at that point.
Typical.
“You want to get out of here?” Ethan asked.
“If you can take me to ice cream, it’s a deal.”
“That’s an offer I can’t refuse,” he told his family. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.”
They said their good-byes and managed to escape any communication with her mother, which as far as Rue was concerned, made the night. She still needed to talk to Boyd’s grandmother, but maybe she could just send the charity an email. She’d need their agreement in writing anyway.
“What’s on your mind?” Ethan asked.
“Ice cream,” she repeated. They hadn’t arrived together, but they were clearly leaving that way. Especially if ice cream was involved.
“That guy really is a jerk,” Ethan said. “I mean, he still looks like a jerk when he’s sitting still with his mouth shut. That takes some talent.”
“It’s because he’s a spoiled, petulant child,” she said. “One who turned a bored look into an insult.”
“Forget him,” Ethan said.
“I plan on it,” she assured him.
He was quiet for a moment. She was on the verge of reminding him about the ice cream when he spoke.
“Sitting there listening to all those gala plans made me realize something. You don’t need to get home any time soon, do you?”