Goodnight, Sweetheart Read online

  "Ethan McKinley has been a firefighter with the Daleview Fire Department for the past five years," the emcee read off her notes. "When not fighting dangerous fires, he likes to relax at home with a good movie. He hopes to one day have someone who will join him on the couch. For his date, he will take you out for a night of good food and good fun. Now," the emcee continued, "who would like to start the bidding? Bid starts at $100." She waved a hand toward Ethan to encourage the bidders.

  No one spoke up. A cough sounded among the rustle of a restless audience, but still no one offered up a price. Ethan cleared his throat, which in the silence could be heard even to Rebel, who stood a good distance away from the stage, off to the left edge of the audience. As the seconds ticked by with no forthcoming bid, even Rebel started feeling bad for him.

  "You should bid on him," Jaclyn whispered beside her, jabbing an elbow into Rebel's side.

  "What?" Rebel only barely managed to keep her astonishment to a whisper.

  "Poor guy, no one bidding on him." Pity filled Jaclyn's eyes as she kept them on him up on stage.

  "Then you bid on him!" Rebel hissed back.

  "Can't. I'm with Jared, remember?" was the calm rejoinder.

  How could she forget?

  "Come on," Jaclyn implored. "As a favor to me?"

  Rebel knew Jaclyn was referring to their newfound friendship, but guilt flooded Rebel when she remembered how she had almost seduced the woman's longtime boyfriend.

  "Okay, fine," she grumbled. A guilty conscience had a way of being a great motivator. Raising her paddle, Rebel called out, "One hundred dollars."

  To her surprise, another voice came back with, "One-fifty!"

  Rebel blinked at the unexpected voice, then pressed her lips together in a grim, but determined line. The voice was unmistakably that of Gemma Cassidy, with the husky underlining that always sounded like she just spent the past hour in bed with a man, the kind of voice expensive 900-numbers liked to hire. Gemma Cassidy was also rumored to be trying to entice Ethan into an affair, always finding excuses to visit him at the fire station with freshly baked goods as she pranced in with her low-cut shirts and dresses and three-inch heels, despite her newly acquired husband of six months. And Rebel wasn't about to let Gemma do that to her sweet husband, a man who had shown Rebel great kindness when she moved to Daleview a month ago. She knew what the devastating effects of infidelity could bring.

  As Rebel's blood boiled, she called out, "Two hundred!" She ignored the satisfied smile on Jaclyn's face.

  Back and forth she and Gemma upped the bids until Rebel finally won, though she wasn't positive she had come out the victor, not when she just spent a thousand dollars on a date with a man she was trying to forget. She groaned just thinking about the new hole in her bank account, as well as her crumbling intentions.

  "You're Ethan?" Breanna's eyes were nearly popping out of their sockets at the sight of him when he came to pick up Rebel for the date which had netted the charity a whopping thousand dollars. People were still talking about it.

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Nice to meet you. I can see why she shelled out a thousand dollars for you." She gave a very indiscreet thumbs up to Rebel. Ethan laughed. Rebel blushed.

  It set the tone for their night, with eyes following them whenever they entered a room, no doubt because of his good looks. By the time they reached the restaurant, she felt as if she was a goldfish in a glass bowl.

  As the maître d' led them through the dimly lit restaurant to a private table in the back, Ethan's hand resting lightly against Rebel's back, the other patrons watched as they walked by, including a woman Rebel recognized as an attendee of the auction. As they passed their table, she heard the woman saying, "Some women get all the luck" to the friend sitting beside her.

  Ha! It wasn't luck, it was one-thousand dollars. And that lady could have been just as lucky if she had jumped in with a bid.

  Ethan pulled out a chair for her before the maître d' could. Once he was seated himself and they had ordered, he turned his attention to her.

  "I'm sorry I've been missing in action. I wanted to call you, but it was a hell of a week at the station this week and most I could manage were texts."

  She smiled, genuinely unbothered. He owed her nothing, and besides, she was long used to the lengthy periods of silence that were broken by intermittent and brief contacts. Her ex had written the handbook.

  "So what made you want to be a firefighter? It must be hard." she asked, taking a sip of her wine.

  He took a sip of his own wine. "Yes, it can be hard, but so worth it. Makes me feel like I'm making a difference. I used to be a pencil pusher, but it seemed all it did was help CEOs fatten their already fat salaries."

  Before she could respond, a smoky voice rang out. "Ethan!" It was followed by a squeal of excitement, the sound so loud in the quiet restaurant that heads turned—including Rebel's.

  A busty woman with poofy blond hair that obviously came from a bottle was making a beeline for their table, where Ethan had already begun to stand in politeness. "Betsy, how are you?" he asked when she reached them. "Betsy, this is my date, Rebel Wynters."

  Upon closer inspection, Betsy was about twenty years older than she had initially appeared from a distance, though she was still a beautiful woman. She must have been stunning in her youth. Apparently Ethan's appeal transcended even the age barrier.

  Betsy barely deigned her a glance before shoving her breasts in his direction. To his credit, his gaze never wavered from the woman's face and he kept their conversation light, instead of leading it down a flirtatious path, and even included Rebel in the conversation, something that earned her daggers from the buxom bombshell. Luckily Betsy left them alone when their food arrived and they were able to finish their meal in a pleasant, if polite, companionship.

  To her surprise, he didn't try to wrangle an invite inside when he drove her home after dinner and walked her to the front door. He hadn't even tried to kiss her, except for one on the back of her hand that had left it tingling the rest of the night. Her ex had used the excuse of needing to use the bathroom.

  Ethan had been a perfect gentleman the whole night, nothing like the flirtatious man she had come to expect.

  Impeccable manners. Attentive. Polite.

  But he would show his true colors soon enough.

  When she returned home the next evening from running errands, she found a long rectangular box waiting for her. Inside was a single red long-stemmed rose. There was no guessing who sent it. Classic trademark of the practiced lover. Her ex had sent her a dozen following their first date.

  Still, it was a nice gesture, even if she knew she shouldn't put much stock into it.

  At nine, her phone rang. Classic trademark number two—the phone call. Sure enough, it was Ethan McKinley on the other end.

  "Did you like the rose?" he asked.

  "Yes, it was lovely." She had put it in a tall vase and set it on her nightstand. It seemed fitting.

  "I had a nice time." Then he asked if he could take her out again. And despite her misgivings, she accepted. They chatted a little longer and before they hung up, he whispered, "Goodnight, Sweetheart." As she crawled into bed, she tried to wipe the grin off her face and staunch the tingling throughout her body, telling herself not to fall for the practiced moves of a Casanova, and failed.

  A month had passed since that first date, the one she had purchased. Between that time Rebel had gone on multiple dates with Ethan since. And without fail, he would call her each night just to tell her he was thinking of her, or if he couldn't call, he would text, always ending with a "Goodnight, Sweetheart," whether audibly or through a screen. Rebel found herself looking forward to those words each night.

  But tonight, she was looking forward more to her latest date with him. With each date she became progressively more attracted to him—with all of him, not just his looks, but his heart, his caring nature, his wit, his attentiveness.


  The doorbell pealed just as she was putting on some fresh lipstick. "Coming!" she called out, hurrying to cap the tube, then rushing to open the door.

  Ethan stood on the other side, hands in his pockets, a crooked grin on his chiseled face. "Hi."

  She was tempted to suggest they not even go out, but stay in for the rest of the night. . .

  "You ready?" he asked, taking the decision from her.

  She nodded, joining him on the front steps and linking an arm through his, even if it was a short walk to his car. Just being beside him, feeling his heat, his muscular arm touching her softer one, inhaling his clean scent, no matter how brief, filled her with a headiness like that of a druggie with a drug-induced high.

  By the time dinner was over, all she wanted was for him to kiss her, the way he had the way he had the first time. The memories teased her already fraught nerves, electrifying them.

  They had only made it halfway across the parking lot when he took her hands in his, linking their fingers together, and she heaved a sigh of happiness at the gesture.

  Once in the car and on their way back, her elation bubbled over until she confessed to him, "It's funny how life can be sometimes, don't you think?"

  He glanced at her briefly before turning his eyes back onto the road. "How so?"

  "Us. I never thought we'd be together."

  "You didn't?"

  "Oh, yeah, I never would have gone for you—too much like my ex. But," she laughed, "when your body craves something, you indulge."

  "And I'm your guilty pleasure?" What looked like a smile teased the corner of his mouth, from where the light shone on it, juxtaposed against the shadows cast inside the vehicle.

  "Yes, most definitely. Even when I tried my hardest to fight it, my body cried for you." She laughed again, feeling free once she was able to admit to him, but also to herself, what she had been trying to deny all this time—that she had always wanted Ethan McKinley. She was done fighting the desire. He wasn't like her ex, not at all, at least where it counted.

  He smiled at her. "Come on, I think it's time I take you home." With him leading her back to his car, one hand on the small of her back, the searing heat of his hand penetrating the thin material of her dress, nervous excitement washed over her. His nearness set her heart fluttering, as it seemed to always do now anytime he stepped within two feet of her, even when he was oblivious to it, as he was now.

  She didn't know what all the tomorrows would bring, but she knew she wanted Ethan to be a part of them. And she knew she wanted to show him tonight.

  Silently they made their way up the paved stones toward her house, all the while with her summoning her courage to invite him in. When they finally reached the front door, she tilted her head up, ready to ask him if he wanted to stay the night—only to have a wave of desolation wash over her when she looked into his eyes. Though there was nothing outwardly to indicate it, yet somehow she had the overwhelming sense he would not be coming in.

  She smiled, hoping it didn't wobble. At the same time, her mind raced to understand his abrupt change, but she came up empty-handed. "See you tomorrow?" she asked in an attempt to hide her growing apprehension.

  He returned her smile, kissed her gently at the corner of her mouth, and said, "Good night, Sweetheart," as he pulled back, then walked over to his waiting car.

  She stood there on her doorstep, watching as he lowered himself into his car, then walked in her house, knowing he would not leave until she was safely inside. As she closed the door, she heard him start his car, then drive off. And as he did so, the desolation bore down into an oppressive weight of despair. He hadn't answered her question.

  And that night there was no text or phone call wishing her a "Goodnight, Sweetheart."

  "I think it's over between me and Ethan."

  "Over?" Breanna's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "I thought you didn't want to be involved with him?"

  Rebel blushed. "I kind of changed my mind."

  Breanna smiled. "Good. Because you need a good guy in your life. And it helps that he's so delicious." She winked, then turned serious. "So why do you think it's over between you two?"

  "He didn't call or text me last night."

  "So?"

  "Because he always does. Every night, he says, "Goodnight, Sweetheart" before the night is over.

  "So he didn't say it at all yesterday?"

  Rebel's brows scrunched up. "Well, he did say it when he dropped me off after our date."

  "There you go! He already said it. He didn't need to say it again, right?" Breanna assured her.

  "You think?" Hope lit within Rebel, a tiny spark, but something there to kindle. The logic did make sense.

  "Sure. He said, 'Goodnight, Sweetheart,' just like always, didn't he? Just in person this time."

  The small fledgling fire blazed brighter. A smile slowly appeared. "Yeah, he did."

  "There you go. You got nothing to worry about."

  Relief washed over Rebel. "Thanks, Breanna." She hugged her roommate.

  "Anytime. Just make sure to invite me to the wedding."

  Rebel laughed. "I'll make you maid of honor!"

  It had been eight days since Ethan last spoke to her, eight days since he had left her on her doorstep and driven off quietly. Nothing like the circus performance her ex had pulled. Just a soft, "Goodnight, Sweetheart," and that was it.

  An eternity to her crumbling heart.

  "I don't know what I did!" Rebel blubbered into a tissue the next Sunday afternoon, crying for the past few hours to her roommate when she finally realized her heart had been right: Ethan wasn't coming back.

  The funny thing was when her scum ex finally split, she hadn't been upset. Angry? Yes. But not upset.

  How could someone she had only known for a little over two months take such a permanent residency in her heart? Another sob broke through and she buried her face into a wad of tissue that had long ago been shredded by the overabundance of tears.

  "Think back to that night. Something must have caused him to suddenly pull back. You already told me about that night, but maybe you forgot something?" Breanna probed.

  "No, I don't think so. Things were going fine. Or at least I thought they were. We were having a good time at dinner. We even kissed after dinner, just like I had told you the other night." She blushed at the reminder of how heated the kiss had been, then burst into another round of tears knowing it had turned out to be their last. "He was a little quiet on the drive back, but it hadn't felt awkward. More like one of those comfortable silences."

  Breanna's brows pulled down in worry. "I'm sorry, honey. I don't know what to tell you." Rebel sobbed louder. "Maybe his best friend would know?"

  Hope slipped in. "Yes, maybe Jared would have some answers." And even if it turned out Ethan had pulled a disappearing act just like her ex used to do, at least she would have closure. "I'll talk to him."

  "Thanks for meeting with me on such short notice, Jared." Rebel stood on the front steps of Jared's house—his and Jaclyn's—hoping he would be able to shed some light on her dilemma.

  "No problem. Come in, come in." He stepped aside to let her through.

  Seated at their dining table with a cup of coffee for each, she took a deep breath, drawing courage. "Jared, I don't know if Ethan told you, but we had been seeing each other the past few weeks."

  "Yes, I know." He took a sip.

  "It actually started when I won him at the bachelor charity for the PET Organization."

  "Mm-hmm."

  Was it her imagination or was Jared avoiding looking at her?

  She forged on.

  "I thought things were going well between Ethan and me, but he's suddenly stopped all communication. I just wondered if you knew if he had lost interest? I just want to know if I'm wasting my time."

  He looked up, shock on his face. "Wasting your time? No!"

  "But I haven't heard from him in over a week."

  "M
aybe he's busy."

  "Yes, but in the past he had always managed to at least text me once a day no matter how busy he was"—with that sweet, "Goodnight, Sweetheart, and now that she was sharing this with Jared, she knew in her heart Ethan wouldn't have taken her for granted and the silence was indicative of how things stood between them. Suddenly her heart felt heavier. She wrapped her hands around the coffee mug, seeking its warmth, despite the hot summer weather outside.

  She stood up, knowing the truth now. "I think I have my answer now, Jared. I think I'll leave now." He stood up as well.

  "Are you okay?"

  "Yes, I'll be fine. But I know now that Ethan no longer wishes to see me. Had he said as much to you?"

  "Ethan not want to see you? Impossible! He went to a lot of trouble to—" All of a sudden his eyes widened and he quickly turned, clearing the mugs.

  And suddenly she had the feeling he was hiding something from her. Did Jared know more than he let on? Was Ethan seeing someone else now?

  "What is it, Jared? What are you not telling me?" As her answer, he only quickened his pace toward the kitchen. She followed him in. "He's dating someone else now, isn't he? Go on, you can tell me. We hadn't said we couldn't date others," she tried to reassure him.

  "You haven't?" I thought—" The guilt on his face as he cut himself off only confirmed he was hiding something.

  "What is it, Jared?"

  "Nothing."

  Definitely hiding something. Her pain was forgotten, replaced by a rising anger. Maybe Ethan had been playing her for a fool the entire time. Or maybe he had only been interested in the chase, and now that he had caught her, she no longer held interest for him.

  "Tell me, Jared," she said, her voice firm. "Remember, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."