“They’ve probably already noticed my truck parked out front all night,” she says, and pulls my face back up to hers. “We have to tell Mila about us.”
I drop my forehead to hers. “We do.”
“Soon.” Summer kisses me one more time, then leaves me standing there, already missing her.
Just over an hour later, I finish up a punishing ten kilometer run with a walk down Main Street to cool down. On impulse, I decide to stop in and see Mila. Sunday mornings are normally busy for her, but I must have caught her in a weird lull because when I walk in, there’s no one in the café except Mila, who I can see in the back, and the girl who’s working the cash register.
“Hey big brother,” she calls out cheerily. “Grab some coffee, I’ll bring out fresh muffins in a minute.”
I do just that, pouring a coffee from the self-serve carafes and head over to my favourite chair to wait for my sister.
She comes over a few minutes later with a plate holding two muffins.
“You look way too stressed out for this early in the morning. When was the last time you got laid?”
I can feel the heat instantly flooding my face. Shit. Does Mila know? “What? I…” I try to think of a response quickly, but Mila laughs, waving me off.
“I’m kidding, big brother. I don’t want to know a single thing about your love life. Got it?”
A customer walks in and Mila stands up to go help them. Midway across the bakery, she turns back to me.
“But I know Summer means more to you than just a friend, Ethan, I’m not blind. And if you hurt her, I’ll have to kill you.”
15
Summer
MILA: Hope you’re ready for the work party this afternoon! Meet me at the bakery at two and we can go over to the resort together.
Mila’s text came through sometime last night, probably in between my second and third orgasm. I’m glad I didn’t check my phone until now, when I’m at home alone, because the instant guilt I feel seeing her name is hard to handle. Last night was spectacular; I’m pretty sure I am still vibrating from every incredible climax Ethan brought me to. I want to be able to share how happy I am with my best friend, but she doesn’t even know I’m with someone. Much less that the someone is her brother.
SUMMER: Awesome! See you later.
I hit send on my reply and drop my phone down on the counter before slumping down on one of the chairs. I hate lying. Almost as much as I hate being lied to. I guess I just have to hope that Mila can accept Ethan and I being together, because right now there’s not much that could make me walk away from him.
Waking up this morning in Ethan’s arms was pure heaven. I was filled with an overwhelming sense of being right where I belonged. It was so intense that it almost brought a tear to my eye. He may have thought I was still sleeping while he kissed his way across my body, but the truth is, I knew the moment he woke up. My body was so in tune with his that my subconscious mind knew he was awake long before my conscious mind caught up to the way he was teasing me.
Heaving a sigh, I get up and get started on my laundry and other mundane chores that need to happen. At least the jobs serve to keep me slightly distracted, so I don’t waste the entire morning daydreaming about Ethan. But around lunchtime, the lack of sleep from last night catches up to me and I find myself yawning over and over. I decide to lay down for a while, hoping that a short nap will help me be ready for this afternoon.
The obnoxious sound of my phone alarm going off on the pillow beside me wakes me from a hot dream involving Ethan and whipped cream. But when I blink bleary eyed at the screen to see that it’s already after two, I spring up, fumbling to find a sweater and socks.Shit. I hate being late. I hurry down the stairs, thankful that the bakery is literally right beneath me. All the same, when I pull the door open, I’m full of apology. “Oh God, I am so freaking sorry! I laid down and must have fallen asleep,” I say, and Mila looks up from the counter where she seems to be inspecting something closely.
“First of all, you’re like, five minutes late. No big deal. Second, coffee?” She walks over to the espresso maker and starts it up without even waiting for my response.
“You’re a goddess,” I groan, walking forward and sinking into a chair. While she’s busy, my phone buzzes with another text.
A couple of minutes later, Mila walks over with a steaming cup of caffeinated delight, and even the aroma is enough to perk me up. Then she turns back to the counter and picks something up before coming and sitting down across from me.
“Feel free to call me a goddess on a daily basis,” she says cheerily, sliding a plate in front of me. “Now, try this, and be honest.”
I eye the plate curiously. There’s a delicate looking pastry on it that reminds me of those hasselback potatoes that were huge several years ago, only better, and covered with icing sugar. “What is it?”
“Sfogliatella.”
“Foggy what now?”
Mila laughs. “Sfogliatella. It’s an Italian pastry. I’ve been experimenting with flavors for a couple of weeks now, and I think I finally have something worth adding to the menu. This one has an orange mascarpone filling between the layers.”
I bite into the flaky pastry and sweet citrus notes explode on my tongue along with the buttery taste of the pastry and the richness of the mascarpone. “Oh my God, this is incredible.” Crumbs fly out of my mouth and I don’t even care as I take another bite. “I’m gonna need another one.”
