No Sweeter Love (Sweeter in the City Book 3) (4 page)

“It’s not that unusual,” Ethan said, his jaw tightening as he pushed through a yellow light.

“Are we in a hurry?” Claire asked, resisting the urge to reach for the door handle.

“Hardly,” Ethan said wryly. “In fact, I was hoping to drag out the inevitable for as long as possible.”

“I thought you liked your family!” Claire said in surprise.

“Never said I didn’t. But weddings aren’t my thing.”

“Oh, and here I would have thought you’d see them as tromping grounds. A room full of desperate women, hoping to catch the bouquet…”

He slanted her a glance. “More like a room full of women hoping to catch a groom. Uh-uh. No thank you.”

Claire rolled her eyes and reached into her handbag for her sunglasses. “Well, I suppose it’s a good thing I’m tagging along then. You’re safe with a date.”

“I am,” Ethan said, looping his wrist over the steering wheel. “Thanks again for agreeing to it.”

“Consider the favor all mine,” Claire said, waving away his concern. “I feel better already, just knowing I get out of town for a while. I have a feeling Hailey is excited, too. She doesn’t let on, but I know my presence is, well, cumbersome.”

“It’s a small apartment,” Ethan agreed. “How’d she react to you staying on a bit longer?”

Claire chewed on her nail and stared out the window, saying nothing.

“You haven’t told her yet?” Ethan was incredulous. “What have you been doing all day when you are supposedly at work?”

“Looking for a job, of course!” She would become a waitress if she had to—the tips would be good, even if her time in the café had proven that she was hopeless at things like foaming milk or even carrying trays without her arms shaking and the dishes clattering.

“If you don’t tell her soon, she’s going to figure it out,” Ethan warned.

“I know.” Claire sighed. Hailey would be mad, but she would also be forgiving. She was kind like that. Just another reason Claire didn’t want to disappoint her, not when she’d given her so much already. Without Hailey  . . .Claire couldn’t even think about it. “I’ll get a job,” she said firmly. “I had a job. I can get another one. I’m experienced. I’m determined.”

“That’s the Claire I’ve missed!” Ethan leaned over and patted her knee. It was quick, and casual, but not fast enough to stop the flurry of butterflies from ripping through her stomach. Claire stiffened and looked out the window, accidentally making eye contact with a middle-aged man in the next car. She looked down at her bare legs, shielded by her cotton skirt, and silently scolded herself. After this weekend she’d create a dating profile, get out there again. It was clearly time to move on. To find someone appropriate. And Ethan was not appropriate.

For God’s sake, he was her best friend!

Her very cute, very unsuitable best friend, she thought, eyeing him. Yes, in a perfect world, he might have been the ideal man for her—if he wasn’t shagging half of Chicago.

She fished through her bag again and found a banana. “Hungry?”

Ethan wrinkled his nose. “We’ll stop along the way for something.”

“Another stall tactic, I see.” She slid him a smile.

Ethan hesitated, his eyes firmly on the road. “Look, I should warn you—”

“Oh, that’s right. Your sister.” All at once, Claire remembered Ethan’s stories about his sister Amelia, who, at the age of thirty-four, was still struggling with the dating scene. Claire remembered a vague story about an unfortunate break-up timed just before their younger sister’s wedding last summer. No doubt things were very tense right now. “Has she  . . .found someone?”

“Nope. She’s too busy holding out hope for some jerk who doesn’t deserve her.” He slid to a stop at the red light. “You two have a lot in common, now that I think about it.”

Claire dropped the banana back into the bag. “I’ll have you know I’m doing quite well lately.
Quite
well,” she said again, with greater emphasis. After all, she’d barely thought about Matt once today, and that was only because of the darn banana. She hated them, but Matt loved them, and she was still buying them out of habit.

There was a long pause. “Good to know you’re so much improved since the last time I saw you just seven days ago.”

“Well, a lot can happen in a week,” Claire replied, and she should know. In seven days you could go from planning your new life to having it ripped out from under you, to being single to meeting your soul mate.

My, that was optimistic of her. Yes, she must be feeling better. In no time at all, she’d make it through an entire day without wondering which part of the city Matt was living in, and what his new/old girlfriend looked like.

“So you’re telling me that since you ran into him at the jewelry store, you haven’t thought of Matt at all? Haven’t wondered where he’s living, haven’t considered a drive-by at night, when the lights are on and the curtains are still open?”

Claire firmed her mouth. Busted.

“Ah-ha!” Ethan slammed a palm on the steering wheel, his laughter loud. “See, that’s the problem, Claire. I know you too well. You can’t lie to me, you know.”

“I never try,” Claire smiled, leaning back in her seat.

The engine revved as Ethan accelerated onto the highway. “Don’t worry, Claire. By the end of this weekend, Matt will just be a thing of the past. I promise.”

***

It was half-past twelve by the time they found a place to stop for lunch: a ramshackle diner across the street from a gas station somewhere over the Wisconsin border. Claire climbed out of the car, stretching her long legs and smoothing her skirt with both hands, looking anything but impressed.

“I’m guessing you don’t bring your dates to joints like this,” she said, pursing her lips in that knowing way of hers.

“Hey, it’s this or the truck stop,” Ethan said, gesturing to their other option across the road.

“Well, it’s certainly an adventure,” Claire sighed, lifting her handbag onto her shoulder as she headed for the building.

Ethan locked the car and quickened his step to hold the door for her, releasing a blast of cold air as she passed inside.

Claire shivered and gestured to the back of the room, away from the window-box air-conditioner units. Ethan nodded his agreement, his stomach starting to knot with dread. They were just two hours from Door County now, and there was no telling how she would react to his announcement. He’d told himself that it was no big deal, he’d casually mention it in one of their usual daily phone conversations, but a week had passed since the initial invitation and now here they were, sliding into a booth with ripped vinyl, face to face with only a greasy Formica table to separate them, and his mother and sisters no doubt wringing their hands and circling the house, eager to meet Claire—his supposedly serious girlfriend.

Claire tucked a wisp of blond hair behind her ear and studied the menu. “I think I’ll have a double cheeseburger,” she announced as she closed it firmly.

Ethan grunted and looked up at her, incredulous. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I eat salads, fruit, and yogurt every day of my life. This weekend is my little break from reality. Why shouldn’t I indulge?”

Ethan shrugged. He couldn’t argue with that.

“Two double-cheeseburgers,” he told the waitress when she appeared at their table, pen poised. “And a chocolate shake.”

“Two chocolate shakes,” Claire said, winking at him.

Something in him tightened at the sight of her slow, secretive smile, but he pushed it firmly into place. Claire was special. She was his friend. At least for the moment.

He pulled in a breath. Time to tell her.

“So this wedding. I should warn you—”

Claire leaned forward, shaking her head. “You don’t need to warn me, Eth. I know your sister’s a little—”

“Crazy?” he finished.

Claire laughed good-naturedly. “I wasn’t going to use that word, but okay, yes. I do now remember something about a tattoo of her ex’s name.”

On her upper arm. For all the world to see. Ethan muttered his disapproval under his breath. “Amelia is crazy. Boy crazy. Crazy. But you know all that.”

Claire tipped her head. “Then what do you need to warn me about? Oh, God, you’re not trying to set me up?” Her face turned pale as her eyes widened. “You know I hate set-ups, Ethan. Please, don’t.”

His laugh felt a little hollow. “It’s not a set-up.”
Well, not exactly
, he thought, running his hand through his hair in agitation.

Claire set a hand to her chest and leaned back in the booth. “Thank goodness for that. For a second there I thought you were bringing me up here on false pretenses.” She grinned at him, but he didn’t smile back. She blinked. “Ethan?”

He studied his tented hands on the table. He didn’t know why he was making such a big deal of this. It was no big deal, really. At least he didn’t think so. Claire, however  . . .

“It’s just  . . .You know the stories I’ve told you. What happened last year at my sister Leslie’s wedding . . .” He eyed her as their milkshakes were delivered to the table.

Claire peeled the paper back from her straw and took a long sip. “Something to do with the maid of honor, as I recall? Leslie’s best friend?”

Ethan felt his jaw twitch, just like it did every time he thought of that night. How was he to know that the girl had crushed on him for fifteen years? He’d explained to his sister that he hadn’t intended to lead her on, but from the fire in her eyes followed by the six months of silence, something told him she hadn’t believed him.

Ah, Leslie. Just another obstacle he’d have to deal with this weekend.

“Look, my family thinks I should settle down. They think I . . .well, they worry about me.” He frowned at his milkshake. “They think I’m . . .”

“A womanizer?” Claire asked pertly, one eyebrow cocked. “Sorry, I know you hate that word. Should I say . . . a Casanova?” She grinned and started to giggle.

Despite himself, Ethan managed a wry grin.“Yes, I suppose they think I’m a womanizer.”

“And this bothers you because?” Claire plucked the cherry from the top of the whipped cream and brought it to her mouth, grasping it between her teeth before finally plucking the stem free.

Ethan stared at her in silence, unable to tear his gaze away. He could do with some ice water. Where was that waitress?

“I’m not a womanizer,” he clarified, ignoring her doubtful expression. “I enjoy my single life, and I enjoy women’s company.”

Claire was just nodding her head, a funny smile playing at her lips.

“My family is worried  . . .” Worried that he’d taint another family wedding. Worried that he’d be single forever. Worried about the reasons behind it. “I’m getting tired of listening to them fret.”

“And?” Claire frowned. “I’m sorry, Ethan, I’m not following.”

He pulled in a breath. Here it went.“I told them I was bringing you—”

“Of course,” Claire interrupted. “I wouldn’t want to spring myself on them!”

God, she wasn’t making this easy
. “I told them I was bringing you as my date.” There, it was out.

Claire didn’t blink for an unnatural amount of time. “You told them I was your
date
?” She spoke slowly, clarifying each word, her expression unreadable.

“Well, technically I told them you were my girlfriend,” he said, sliding her one of those grins that usually got him out of trouble with women, but Claire’s nostrils simply flared and her cheeks went a little pink as her eyes blazed bluer than ever.

Aw, crap. He should have known moves like that didn’t work on Claire.

She leaned into the table, lowering her voice. “You told them I’m your girlfriend. So you lied to them, and you expect me to lie to them too.”

Well, when she put it like that…

“We’re doing them a favor, Claire,” Ethan protested, feeling his conviction grow. It was true, he knew, thinking of how overjoyed his mother was when he mentioned his nonexistent relationship.

He closed his eyes for a second.
It’s for the best
, he told himself. It was really the only way.

Claire clucked her tongue and pulled back from the table. “More like you’re using me to cover your butt. What are you, five years old? Afraid of getting in trouble?” She slurped at her milkshake, her eyebrows pinched.

Ethan pushed his own drink away. “It wasn’t like I concocted a scheme behind your back. I thought if you were there we could hang out, that it would be just like usual, and yes, that my mother would be forced to keep her unsolicited advice to herself if a guest was present. But then I told her I was bringing you and, well, she jumped to conclusions.”

“Conclusions you didn’t correct,” Claire said sternly.

Ethan held up his palms. “She was so excited, and I hated to upset her. I figured . . .what harm is it? We’ll go up, have a pleasant time, and when the time is right, I can say we broke up.”

Claire held up a finger. “You can say that I broke up with you.”

Ethan gave her a hard look. “You’re kidding, right?” But her eyes flashed and those nostrils flared again, and so he said, “Okay. You broke up with me. We’ll say it didn’t work out. She won’t be surprised,” he muttered.