Can't Get Over You (Fortune's Island, Book 2) (5 page)

Zach turned, saw Ethan. He spun back toward Jillian. “Is that why you’re so dressed up? You have a
date
?”

“What I do with my life is no longer your concern, Zach.”

“Wait, you’re already going out with someone else?”

“We broke up three months ago. So, yes, I’m dating. Now, can you leave, please? I have plans.”

But Zach stayed where he was, stubborn, his face flushed. Ethan flicked a quick glance at Zach, then smiled when he saw Jillian. “You look stunning,” he said.

It felt very, very nice to be noticed. Zach had barely paid attention to her appearance. At least, he hadn’t paid attention until Ethan showed up. “Thank you,” she said to Ethan.

“Are you…” Ethan looked again at Zach, then back at Jillian, “ready?”

“Yes.” She started to pull the door shut and brush past Zach, when he turned toward Ethan.

Zach thrust out a hand, like this was some kind of garden party, not some weird and awkward encounter. “I’m Zach. Her fiancé.”

She wanted to throttle him. How dare he lay claim to her, as if they were still together? If he wanted to be her fiancé so badly, he should have stepped up over the summer. Not waited till fall to finally get a clue. “No, you’re not, Zach, and the sooner you stop thinking that, the better. Now, get off my doorstep. I’m leaving.”

“JillyBean—”

She ignored the nickname, slid past Zach and up to Ethan. “Let’s go.”

Ethan took her hand as they headed down the walk toward his car. Ethan’s hand was smaller than Zach’s, his grip lighter. But he smiled when he looked over at her, and that made her stomach flutter. She kept on walking, and didn’t glance back at her porch again until she got in the car.

By that time, Zach was gone. Exactly as she’d expected.

# # #

Too late.

Those were the words that rang in Zach’s head after he left Jillian’s apartment. He was too late. She’d moved on, started dating someone else. And the worst part? She never even looked back when she left.

That had been his favorite part of saying goodbye to her at the end of the day. They’d each walk off toward their respective cars, and just before he reached his, he’d turn back and wait. Always, Jillian turned one last time, flashing that amazing smile of hers at him.

This time, there’d been no smile. He’d gone down to his car, waiting by the door. But Jillian just got in the passenger’s side of her date’s car and they pulled away a moment later.

Maybe she was right. Maybe he had let too much time go by. Maybe he’d let her down one too many times before. And maybe he was an idiot for ditching the band and showing up here.

He powered up the Mustang and pulled away from the curb. The sportscar’s engine growled as it shifted gears. He’d had the car for two years now, the first thing he’d bought when he started making money. He still lived in a crappy apartment, barely had any furniture and an anemic savings account, but he had the car. When he’d bought it, the auto had made him feel like he was finally making it. Achieving those things his father told him he never could, the things his brother had thumbed his nose at. The car represented so much to Zach.

Maybe too much.

Jillian had hated the Mustang. She’d told him it wasn’t smart to spend all his money on an automobile when he should be thinking about their future. Like paying for their honeymoon, saving up for a house. Being an adult, essentially.

That other guy tonight had been driving one of those boring little compacts. Probably had a 401k and an automatic deposit to his savings account every month. He looked like the kind to crunch numbers. What Jillian wanted with someone that boring, Zach didn’t know.

He reached the long flat road that curved around the island, and dropped his foot to the gas pedal. The Mustang responded like a long-caged cheetah, leaping onto the road with a happy roar.

But as Zach rushed down the street, he didn’t feel the same sense of freedom he normally did when he drove his car. Instead, it felt more like an albatross around his neck. One he should have gotten rid of a long time ago.

FIVE

Ethan made her laugh.

That was what Jillian liked the best. How long had it been since she’d laughed like this? Months, at least. The longer she had dated Zach, the more serious their conversations had become. When they weren’t fighting, they were talking about his career or his car or his dreams. The laughs they used to share when they were younger became few and far between, until she couldn’t name the last time he’d made her so much as chuckle.

But Ethan had a quick wit, a slightly sarcastic edge to him that had her in stitches long before they reached the restaurant. He’d told her dozens of stories about the quirky musicians he’d worked with, each tale more entertaining than the one before. “Then the monkey got loose in the recording studio, and before the guys could get him off the control board, he had added a whole track of his own.”

Jillian leaned forward and kept her laughter muted. Monty’s had an upscale, yet uncluttered elegant feel with its double layers of white linen tablecloths and deep, comfortable chairs. The wait staff worked the room like ghosts, in and out of the space with practiced, near silent movements. It almost made Jillian feel uncomfortable, like if she talked too loud or chose
the wrong fork, they’d be escorted out the door. But Ethan—he seemed like he’d been born in a place like this. “Oh my God,” she said, her voice low. “What did you do?”

“Actually, the Capuchan was more talented than the rapper we’d signed. We kept the track on the record, and it hit number ten on the charts. Now the monkey is demanding his own contract. His agent’s a real animal.” Ethan grinned.

“Ha ha.” Jillian shook her head. “What a different world from the one here. We get lots of wacky tourists, but nothing like that. Except for the guy who insisted his cat was a seeing eye cat, and kept trying to bring it into The Love Shack.”

“A seeing eye cat?” He chuckled. “Hey, you never know. It could have been.”

“If the guy had actually been blind, we might have let him bring Princess in with him, but he was reading a book at the table. Didn’t exactly help his case.”

“That’s too funny.” Ethan tugged the bottle of pinot grigio out of the ice bucket beside them, and topped off her glass. “How’s your lasagna?”

“Amazing.” She took a sip of wine. The pricey blend went down smooth and easy. She couldn’t remember the name of the vineyard or the year, only that Ethan had ordered the bottle with confidence that said it wasn’t his first time choosing a wine. “The entire meal is amazing. And the restaurant is gorgeous. I had no idea it was this nice inside.”

The entire restaurant was decorated in soft shades of cream and light blue, making it feel like they’d brought the beach inside, but with an upscale edge. It felt like almost like an exclusive island resort, where the waiters brought fruity drinks to bronzed women in shaded lounge chairs.

He arched a brow. “You’ve never been here? But you live on this island.”

“Nope. Never been here. I’ve only heard about it vicariously through friends.” She shrugged. “Most of my dates have been the let’s-get-a-burger type.”

Ethan cut off a bite of his chicken saltimbocca. “And your fiancé? Was he a burger guy, too?”

She could hear all the other unspoken questions in that innocuous one. Like, was she still involved with Zach? Still in love with him? Missing the burgers with him even as she sat here and ate decadent lasagna and drank a vintage white wine? “Yeah, definitely a burger guy.”

That didn’t answer any of those unspoken questions, after all. Maybe because even she didn’t know the answers yet.

Ethan raised her glass toward her. His gaze smoldered when it met hers, and that sent a little thrill down her spine. “Well, Jillian Matheson, I think you deserve more than burgers. Much more.”

She clinked her glass against his and took another sip. “Thank you.” She wasn’t sure what else to say to that. The whole experience felt surreal, as if she were watching another girl out on a date. With Zach, things had been far from perfect, but they had been predictable, familiar. This date with Ethan was all new and a little scary. Like being on a rollercoaster for the first time and not knowing whether it was going to plummet down a hill or zig around a tight curve.

“You are so different from the women I normally meet in LA,” Ethan said.

“Different?” She laughed. “Is that a good thing?”

“It’s… refreshing.” He smiled at her, and something tingled deep inside Jillian. “You are quite an intriguing woman, Jillian.”

She’d never considered herself intriguing or interesting or anything of the sort. She was just a waitress in her family-owned restaurant on an island smaller than most cities. The attention from Ethan—the clear interest from this handsome, polished man—was more intoxicating than the wine. “Thank you…again.”

He held her gaze for a little while. The room seemed to disappear, to narrow to just the two of them at this candlelit table by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bay. Then the waiter stopped by to refill their water glasses and the spell was broken.

“Okay, so I have a test for everyone I meet, sort of an occupational curiosity, I guess,” Ethan said after the waiter had left. “I like to find out what kind of music people listen to. What speaks to their soul. I think you can tell a lot about someone from the music they love.”

She cut off another bite of lasagna. “As in, those who love Nirvana must be angry at the world or rebelling against authority?”

That made him smile. “Something like that.” Ethan leaned across the table and his blue eyes met hers. “So tell me, Jillian, what kind of music whispers to you?”

When Ethan looked at her like that and spoke to her in that quiet, inquisitive tone, it made Jillian weak in the knees. His eyes were riveted on hers, every ounce of his attention focused on her and her alone, not on the orchestral band in the corner or the waitress carrying desserts to the table beside them. On her.

When was the last time Zach had looked at her like that, or given her that kind of undivided attention? This was what Zach didn’t get, what he failed to understand. That what she had wanted—what she had always wanted—was for him to make her a priority. She just wanted to feel important to him.

And here was this man, a near stranger, hanging on her every word like she was the most interesting person in the world. As far as first dates went, this one was already a winner, and it was far from over.

It took her a few seconds to gather her thoughts, and to remember the question was what kind of music she liked, not whether she liked Ethan. Which she did. Quite a bit already. He’d called her intriguing, but she could say the same of him—the way he looked at her, the way he listened, the way he took an interest in what she liked.

“I’m a fan of singer/songwriters like Regina Spektor and Zee Avi,” she said. Ethan nodded, clearly familiar with the indie singers. Jillian wanted to tell him about her own music, but once again, she hesitated. She’d kept the secret for so long, she wasn’t sure she knew how to even broach the topic. So she deferred to talking about other musicians instead, the kind of musicians who sang the music she loved that maybe…just maybe, someday she could emulate. “They’re so…intense in their music. It’s almost like listening to a confessional.”

“That’s a great way to describe them. Although Astor Records, the company I work for, tends to book more pop artists, when it’s just me and my stereo, I mainly choose artists like Fiona Apple, maybe even some Tori Amos.”

“Curled up by the fireplace with a glass of wine and your pet cat?” she teased.

“And wearing a cardigan. Of course.” He winked.

She laughed. God, it felt so good to laugh, to have someone interested in what she thought, what she wanted, and yes, to be spoiled by the fancy restaurant, the expensive wine, the incredible food. “This was a great night. Thank you for asking me out, Ethan.”

“It was my pleasure. And thank you for the recommendation. It was a great restaurant.” He gestured toward the tray of pastries the waiter was holding a few feet away. “Do you want some dessert?”

She pressed a hand to her stomach. If she ate another bite, she’d surely explode. “Not now. But maybe later, if the offer still stands.”

Wait. Had she just invited him over later? No, she wasn’t ready for that. Definitely not.

Ethan signaled to the waiter for the check, and waved her off when she pulled out her wallet. “No, no. My treat.”

Her hand stilled on the clasp. Was this how dates went nowadays? The men didn’t want to go Dutch? Maybe she’d spent too much time dating a struggling artist to remember what it was like not to split the tab. Yeah, definitely a different experience than when a waitress went out with a musician. She couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t worried about a price tag or a restaurant bill. “At least let me pay the tip.”

“We talked shop, right? Then it’ll be a tax deduction.” He grinned. The waiter deposited the bill in quiet, near invisible movements. Ethan slipped a credit card inside, without even looking at the total.

“Well, thank you,” she said. “It was a very nice dinner.”

“You’re welcome.” A moment later, he’d signed the receipt and gotten to his feet, reaching for her chair to pull it out. They walked out of the restaurant and onto the boardwalk outside, with Ethan holding the door for her on the way. At every turn, he’d given her the royal treatment. She was so used to just taking care of herself, of not waiting on Zach to open doors or pull out chairs. This…this, she could get used to.

“All this chivalry is going to ruin me,” she said. Who was this flirty Jillian? She hadn’t even realized she had a side like this. But whatever had brought it out, Ethan was definitely responding.

Ethan leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear, sending a little shiver down her spine. “You’re the kind of woman who should be treated like this every single day.”

Every single day? Just the thought started a slow simmer in her belly. Yes, he was definitely the intoxicating one.

She turned to Ethan, her mouth mere inches from his. She raised her chin until she was staring up into those deep blue eyes. “Why?”