Her House Divided (Beach Haven Book 1) (5 page)

Chapter Eigh
t

 "Are you 
insane
?"

"Tara, just hear me out –"

"Why? Because it's going to get even crazier?" Tara threw her hands up in the air and turned to march out of the room, but Ethan moved quickly to block her way.

"Five minutes," he pleaded. "Give me five minutes. I know it sounds crazy, but just let me explain."

Tara eyed him warily. It was still much too early in the day for her to have to deal with the fact that the man had obviously lost his mind somewhere between the front porch and the kitchen. Still, he had seemed fairly reasonable up until this moment, so she might as well give him the five minutes he asked for.

"Fine," she said, sitting carefully at the table. "Five minutes."

He explained it again, just as he had a few minutes before, and she thought he still sounded like a complete whack-a-doodle. But she had to admit that he made a certain degree of sense too.

"So you and Ben think that Jacqueline might back down if we can convince everyone that we really are a couple," she repeated.

"Right. If it looks like we were together when Grandma drew up the will, then it seems like she pretty sane at the time."

"Ben really suggested this?"

Ethan shook his head. "Not entirely. He just sort of hinted at it. But think about it: Jacqueline's main argument for proving that Grandma was senile is that Grandma lied to her lawyer about you and me. If we can make it look like we really were a couple at the time, then that just knocks the legs right out from under her argument."

"But we weren't. We 
aren't
."

"That's not what the Hyde sisters have already told half the town."

"Oh, no." Tara had forgotten about the two old gossips. She groaned. As crazy as it sounded, she had to admit that Ethan's idea was at least worth considering. "But won't it just make your ex even angrier? Any lingering jealousy that you've moved on so quickly?"

"No."

Tara raised a questioning eyebrow, which he made a point of ignoring.

"So," she said after a moment, "we just have to tell her that we've been together all along, and let people see us together in public, right? We don't have to make any kind of a legal statement or anything, do we?"

"Right."

"For how long?"

"Been says she's got six months to contest the will."

"
Six months?!"

"One more thing." Ethan suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "Jacqueline's going after this from two angles. She's going to try to prove that Grandma wasn't of sound mind, and she's going to say that you exerted 'undue influence' because of your money problems. So. . . I gave Ben your financial information that Jack gave me yesterday."

Tara groaned again.

"He says she probably broke a few laws to get your personal information without your permission. He also says he wants to meet with you because he thinks he can help you fight some of your bills."

"I can't afford—"

"Yes, you can. Ben's a good guy. Just talk to him."

She nodded. This was just crazy. She didn't know if she could pretend to be more than Ethan's roommate for six months. Lying made her uncomfortable, but there was also the undeniable attraction she felt toward him. In just the few days they'd lived together, they'd already kissed twice; it was hard enough to keep their hands off each other when they were alone. How much harder was it going to be if they had to act like a couple in public?

As if reading her thoughts, Ethan reached across the table and took her hands in his. She shivered at his touch.

"Tara, I can't let the Ice Queen turn the Seashell into a rental," he said softly. His blue eyes looked deeply into hers, and she suddenly found that she couldn't look away. "I don't ask for help very often, but I'm asking you now. Please. You need this place as much as I do."

Her voice wouldn't work, she realized. She had lost the ability to form words. So she nodded dumbly.

"Wh-" she managed, and cleared her throat before trying again. "What should we do for our first date?"

* * *

The County Fair was a small one, as fairs go, with only a few rides and a small midway, but Tara had never missed it. She loved to wander through the craft displays and animal barns, and she had a major weakness for "fair food" of any kind. Her former boyfriend, Randy, had seen the fair as more of an opportunity for beer-drinking and rowdy behavior rather than a chance to rub elbows with their small-town neighbors, so it hadn't been as much fun for her in recent years.

"I can't ride any rides this year," she warned Ethan.

"That's okay. I throw up on the ones that spin around."

"Really?"

"True story. Every year. I think they have my picture at the ticket booths, warning the carnies not to let me ride the Gravitron or the Zipper."

She wasn't sure if she was up to spending an entire afternoon on her feet, but he promised her that they would take breaks whenever she needed. The weather was still miserably hot and humid; she hesitated before slipping into a lightweight cotton sundress and twisting her hair up into a clip on the back of her head. With the shoulders exposed and her hair pulled up, her scars would be visible to everyone, she realized. And by "everyone", she meant "Ethan".

But it was so 
hot
, she reasoned. And she really shouldn't care whether he saw the scars or not. They were only 
pretending
 to be a couple, after all. Once he saw the ugly red lines running down her neck and between her shoulder blades, he would be as repulsed as Randy had been, and that should take care of any lingering concerns she might have about any more late-night make-out sessions. There was no way Ethan – or any other man – would ever be attracted to her again with 
that
 mess going on.

She heard him catch his breath when he helped her into the Expedition and saw her back, but he said nothing.

He parked as close to the entrance as possible, near the barns, so they began there. Ethan seemed to enjoy showing her the farm animals, even daring her to reach across the fence and touch some of them. She wasn't terribly excited about the cows and pigs, but she didn't need much encouragement before scratching the little goats behind the ears and petting the velvety noses of the different breeds of horses.

Every time the ground was a little uneven, he took her elbow until they hit level ground again. She wasn't sure if she should be grateful for his protection or offended that he thought she couldn't handle it by herself.

"Mr. Davis!"

They turned just before entering the rabbit barn, and saw three teenagers trotting toward them.

"Hey, Landon. Michael. Carrie," Ethan called out to them, 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. He turned his head and kissed her fingers, sending bolts of electricity streaking through her body.

"We . . . should stop," she said.

"Yes, we should." But he made no move to pull away from her.

From somewhere behind them, a voice broke through. "Really! Ethan, what if your students see you?"

They jerked apart and looked up to see the two indignant elderly ladies who had shown up on their doorstep the previous morning. Well, only 
one
 seemed to be indignant. The smaller of the two women – Lenora – was covering her mouth with one hand in apparent astonishment, but Tara thought the old woman's eyes were sparkling with concealed laughter.

Vernabelle was definitely not laughing.

"Nice to see you again, ladies," Ethan said smoothly. He stood up and helped Tara to her feet.

"It is shameful for a teacher to behave this way in public," Vernabelle told him.

"You're absolutely right. I apologize. I guess we just couldn't help ourselves, right, Tara?"

She nodded, feeling her face grow warm again.

"Bea always told us how perfect the two of you were together," Lenora said. "She would be so happy to see you so obviously in love. Verna, we should leave them alone and mind our own business."

"But, but—" her sister sputtered.

"Our church is putting on a Sloppy Joe dinner at that tent over there," Lenora told them, pointing. "We donated some pies, so you two should head that way when you get hungry. All proceeds go to the Food Pantry."

"Not your famous blueberry pies, Miss Vernabelle?" Ethan asked. "Your pies are the reason the Methodist tent always brings in more money than any of the other food stands. Tara, you have not tasted pie until you've tried one of Vernabelle Hyde's blueberry pies."

She began to look slightly less miffed. By the time he finished charming her, she was beaming at them both. They promised to return to the Methodist tent for dinner and finally moved on after several hugs and knowing smiles from the sisters.

"That was impressive," Tara said under her breath.