smiling. "You guys having a good time at the fair?"
"Yes, sir." The taller of the boys was openly staring at Tara. She felt her face grow warm under the scrutiny.
"I love your dress," the girl told Tara. Her eyes flickered back and forth from Tara to Ethan.
"Thank you. And I love your sandals," Tara returned the compliment.
"So, are you, like, Mr. Davis' girlfriend?"
Tara glanced at Ethan, whose smile had begun to look a little forced. "Carrie," he started.
"Were you all in Mr. Davis' class last year?" Tara interrupted.
They all three spoke at once, telling her about his math class and how he had taken part in a school fundraiser the previous year. She wasn't able to listen to all three excited voices at the same time, but she caught something about donkeys and basketball. She also caught on to the fact that Ethan's students adored him.
As they turned to go, Tara saw both of the boys flash Ethan a thumbs-up. She felt ridiculously pleased to see the smile on his face as he waved them off.
"They seem like nice kids," she told him.
"They are. Landon and Carrie think they are madly in love, so Carrie's mother makes them take her younger brother Michael with them everywhere they go. Apparently, little siblings kind of put a damper on teenage sex."
"I see. And donkey basketball?"
"Long story. It was a fundraiser for a student whose mother had cancer. Teachers against students, and the teachers won by one basket." He raised his arms triumphantly and then bowed at an imaginary audience. "I scored the winning shot, by the way."
"My hero."
Chuckling, Ethan touched her elbow and guided her toward a bench in the shade. "I'll go get us some lemonade," he offered.
She nodded, suddenly realizing that she was weary. It was ridiculous that she tired so easily since her accident. The doctors had assured her that she would eventually get her strength back, but it was hard for her to be patient on days like today when the slightest bit of exertion left her in need of rest.
Her reverie was disturbed by the sound of raucous laughter from somewhere behind her. Young men, enjoying the beer tent, obviously. She thought she recognized one of the voices, but told herself not to turn around. She did not need to see Randy, not today, not ever. And especially not when he'd been drinking.
"Are you all right?"
She started. Ethan had returned and was standing in front of her with a tall paper cup in each hand. He frowned.
"I'm fine," she said. She accepted the cup of ice cold lemonade and moved over on the bench to make room for him. "I just – that's my ex," she blurted.
"Which one?"
She didn't have to turn around to be certain. "Short guy, dark curly hair, drunk off his butt. Probably wearing very expensive clothes and far too much jewelry for a man."
"I see him. I think he sees us too." Ethan sat next to her and gave her a lopsided grin. "Want to mess with him a little?"
She smiled despite herself, and nodded.
Ethan slid closer to her on the bench. He draped an arm across her shoulders—covering the worst of her scars, she realized – and cupped his other hand around her cheek to turn her face toward his. "Look up into my eyes," he murmured. "Whisper something to me, anything, and smile."
Tara tore her gaze away from his lips and up into his eyes. She could feel his breath on her skin.
"What should I whisper?" she asked.
"Anything you like. Unless your ex can read lips, it doesn't matter."
"He can barely read books ." Tara fought the urge to laugh out loud at the look of surprise on Ethan's face. Smiling at each other was okay, but laughing would ruin the appearance of intimacy that they were trying to create. Looking into his eyes, it dawned on her that she no longer felt like laughing; she had a sudden need to feel his lips on hers, to taste him again, to revel in the feeling of his hands on her skin.
She reached up to brush her fingertips across the tiny scar near his lips.
"Tara—" Ethan's whisper sounded strangled.
"Yes, sir." The taller of the boys was openly staring at Tara. She felt her face grow warm under the scrutiny.
"I love your dress," the girl told Tara. Her eyes flickered back and forth from Tara to Ethan.
"Thank you. And I love your sandals," Tara returned the compliment.
"So, are you, like, Mr. Davis' girlfriend?"
Tara glanced at Ethan, whose smile had begun to look a little forced. "Carrie," he started.
"Were you all in Mr. Davis' class last year?" Tara interrupted.
They all three spoke at once, telling her about his math class and how he had taken part in a school fundraiser the previous year. She wasn't able to listen to all three excited voices at the same time, but she caught something about donkeys and basketball. She also caught on to the fact that Ethan's students adored him.
As they turned to go, Tara saw both of the boys flash Ethan a thumbs-up. She felt ridiculously pleased to see the smile on his face as he waved them off.
"They seem like nice kids," she told him.
"They are. Landon and Carrie think they are madly in love, so Carrie's mother makes them take her younger brother Michael with them everywhere they go. Apparently, little siblings kind of put a damper on teenage sex."
"I see. And donkey basketball?"
"Long story. It was a fundraiser for a student whose mother had cancer. Teachers against students, and the teachers won by one basket." He raised his arms triumphantly and then bowed at an imaginary audience. "I scored the winning shot, by the way."
"My hero."
Chuckling, Ethan touched her elbow and guided her toward a bench in the shade. "I'll go get us some lemonade," he offered.
She nodded, suddenly realizing that she was weary. It was ridiculous that she tired so easily since her accident. The doctors had assured her that she would eventually get her strength back, but it was hard for her to be patient on days like today when the slightest bit of exertion left her in need of rest.
Her reverie was disturbed by the sound of raucous laughter from somewhere behind her. Young men, enjoying the beer tent, obviously. She thought she recognized one of the voices, but told herself not to turn around. She did not need to see Randy, not today, not ever. And especially not when he'd been drinking.
"Are you all right?"
She started. Ethan had returned and was standing in front of her with a tall paper cup in each hand. He frowned.
"I'm fine," she said. She accepted the cup of ice cold lemonade and moved over on the bench to make room for him. "I just – that's my ex," she blurted.
"Which one?"
She didn't have to turn around to be certain. "Short guy, dark curly hair, drunk off his butt. Probably wearing very expensive clothes and far too much jewelry for a man."
"I see him. I think he sees us too." Ethan sat next to her and gave her a lopsided grin. "Want to mess with him a little?"
She smiled despite herself, and nodded.
Ethan slid closer to her on the bench. He draped an arm across her shoulders—covering the worst of her scars, she realized – and cupped his other hand around her cheek to turn her face toward his. "Look up into my eyes," he murmured. "Whisper something to me, anything, and smile."
Tara tore her gaze away from his lips and up into his eyes. She could feel his breath on her skin.
"What should I whisper?" she asked.
"Anything you like. Unless your ex can read lips, it doesn't matter."
"He can barely read books ." Tara fought the urge to laugh out loud at the look of surprise on Ethan's face. Smiling at each other was okay, but laughing would ruin the appearance of intimacy that they were trying to create. Looking into his eyes, it dawned on her that she no longer felt like laughing; she had a sudden need to feel his lips on hers, to taste him again, to revel in the feeling of his hands on her skin.
She reached up to brush her fingertips across the tiny scar near his lips.
"Tara—" Ethan's whisper sounded strangled.
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