Nightfall (Grim Gate #1) - Emily Goodwin Page 0,60

Goddess, because, let’s be honest, I’m not too sure of anything anymore—give me the strength to—

The EMF meter beeps, and we both jerk our attention to it. Only a second later, Ethan’s phone rings, hence the spike in electromagnetic energy.

“It’s your dad,” I say, reading the name on the screen, and move off Ethan to get the phone. I close my eyes and let out a shaky breath when I’m turned so Ethan doesn’t see. I need a cold shower. Or five minutes alone with my vibrator. I’m so hot and bothered, it might not even take five minutes. “Should you answer?”

“He’ll call back if it’s important.” Ethan declines the call and runs his hand over the back of his neck. We were two seconds away from ripping each other’s clothes off, and now the moment should be over, but it’s not. All it will take is one advance and I’ll be right back in the same position, and that position is bent over on all fours while Ethan grips my ass and fucks me hard and fast.

Ethan’s phone rings again and he gets to his feet. “I should take this.”

“Okay. I’m going to use the bathroom.” I get a head rush when I stand, stars dotting my vision. The sun is starting to set, and exhaustion weighs down on me. I peer into the tiny spare bedroom, heart in my throat. I don’t sense anything, but séances can open doors and you never know who will come out.

I use the bathroom, check on Romeo, and go back into the living room.

“She had no idea,” Ethan says, still talking to his father on the phone. “At all.”

I pause, telling myself I’m not eavesdropping, I’m giving him space.

“Yeah. I do.” He pauses. “I’m not wrong,” he says vehemently and then pauses again, listening to whatever his dad is saying. “Fine. Yes. We’ll be there.” He ends the call with a sigh, and I go into the kitchen, needing something to snack on. I take a wooden cheeseboard out of my overcrowded cabinet and start pulling stuff from my fridge to make a thrown-together charcuterie board.

“Need any help?” Ethan leans against the wall.

“How good are you at arranging charcuterie boards?” I ask with a smile.

“A what?”

“Charcuterie board. It’s one of those fancy things where you arrange food to look pretty.”

“I think I know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to take an hour setting things up, but I do love cheese, crackers, and the other stuff that goes with it.”

“That does sound good.”

I set two blocks of cheese on the counter along with salami, pickles, and an open can of black olives.

“What’s the point of taking an hour to artfully set up food when you’re just going to eat it?”

I shrug. “So you can post a photo of it on Instagram?”

He laughs. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“I went to a charcuterie class with a friend last year. It was fun, but I kept eating my food while we were supposed to be arranging and at the end of the class, we had to present our boards to everyone. Mine only had half of what everyone else’s did.”

“Mine would have won.”

“If you put cheese in front of me, I’m gonna eat it.” I take the cheese from the wrappers and set them on the board.

“I can slice that up for you, if you want.”

“That would be helpful,” I tell him and pull a knife from the knife block on the counter. “I’ll get you a cutting board.”

“Isn’t this one?”

“It’s a cheeseboard. They look the same, but they’re different.”

“If you say so.” He goes to the sink and washes his hands. My cutting board is in the same crammed cabinet the cheeseboard is in, and I have to maneuver it around several other items before I can get it out.

Ethan cuts up the cheese while I add the salami and crackers to the board. I finished the last of my artichoke dip a few days ago and haven’t been grocery shopping since. The rest of the board is a little hodgepodge, but at least it’ll all taste good.

“This is supposed to be good,” I tell Ethan, reaching way back in a cabinet for a bottle of red wine. “It’s from a vineyard in Michigan, not far from where my aunt lived. Do you want a glass? I’m just going to have a little. It goes with the whole cheese-theme.”

“I’m not much of a wine drinker, but sure.”

I open the bottle and pour two

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