Page 72 of Hostile Witness
Tia froze in the back with both hands clasped over her mouth, fearing the worst.
Ethan gave her an ornery smile. “It was the end of the day, and Miss O’Rourke needed to go home. But she had a very educational adventure.”
Tia damn near swooned with relief against the bulletin board when he didn’t tell the whole story.
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Tia slid into the waiting black sedan in the school parking lot. She set her work tote on the floor and laid her head against Ethan’s arm. “I could get used to being chauffeured around all the time.”
He chuckled. “Well, Mac insisted I have transportation until I’m fully recovered, so we are blessed to have Gerard for the duration of the summer.” He slipped his fingers through hers. “Did you know that Gerard is Mac’s personal assistant when he travels? He’d been hoping for some time at a beach instead of jetting around the world. Right, Gerard?”
“Oui, Detective. I’m so happy to be in one place for a while, and the beach here ismagnifique.”
Tia smiled. Gerard’s French was lovely.
Ethan leaned closer to her and kissed the barely visible bruise on her neck. He still seethed inside every time he saw it. “Do you have time for a little field trip tonight? It’s close by.”
She gazed into the emerald-green eyes she’d grown to love. “Sure. Will it include a bite to eat? I forgot my lunch today.”
He nodded. “Of course. Hey, Gerard, would you please drop us off at Fifteenth Street and the boardwalk?”
“Oui, Detective.” He turned left on Route 50 East.
Tia squeezed his hand. “Fifteenth Street, huh? I seem to remember being at that location with you a long time ago.”
Gerard pulled up alongside an old landmark hotel and opened Ethan’s door. “Here you go, good people. Don’t forget this, Detective.” He tucked a blanket under Ethan’s good arm. “You text me when you’re ready to go home, okay?”
Ethan pulled Tia close to his good side, headed up the boardwalk ramp, and immediately turned into an Italian restaurant. It had one table already set up outside with wine and flowers and colorful balloons. He kissed the top of her head. “Will this do?”
Aw. And she’d thought he didn’t have hearts and flowers in his repertoire. “It’s lovely, thank you.”
He sat down and poured the wine. “I already ordered for us. The salad will be here shortly, and I asked for lemon-chicken entrées. I didn’t want us to be disturbed.”
“Okay, that sounds wonderful.” What in the world did he have up his sleeve? Her insides danced with anticipation as she sipped the wine. He’d already popped the question three different times. But she wasn’t ready—yet. And she wasn’t very materialistic, so a diamond wouldn’t sweeten the deal.
He drew little circles on her palm. “Have you decided between a tattoo or surgery yet?”
Tia rolled her shoulders and breathed deeply. “I’m pretty sure I’m going for the tattoo.”
His eyes lit up. “Really? Maybe we could get them together, then. I’m getting a new one.”
“Oh? Where?”
He slapped a hand across his heart. “Right here, it’ll cover the new scar from the bullets. I’ve already picked out a teacup design. It’ll be colorful and have little flowers on the saucer and cup. It’ll look just like one of Nan’s good china cups.”
She scrunched up her face. “Why a teacup? You’re a huge guy with a broad chest. Why would you ever tattoo a teacup there?”
His gaze held hers. “Because you’re my T and in my heart to stay.”
What? Her lower lip trembled, and tears slipped down her cheek. “You can’t do that.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “I almost died three weeks ago. I can do any freaking thing I want. You could’ve died three weeks ago, but you refused to give up. Life is tenuous, Tia. I’m getting a teacup so you’re always right here.”
The salad and chicken arrived, and all she could do was stare at it. She could’ve said no to a diamond, but not to his teacup.
He held a forkful of salad to her lips. “You’ll love the dressing. It’s fresh. How’s your living arrangement working out for you?”
Wait—she was still thinking about the teacup. She took the bite of salad and chewed. It was phenomenal. “I’ve really enjoyed living with my mother and Carson these past few weeks, especially the catch-up with my mom, but I’m about done, and they need their privacy, too. I’ve decided to sell the house. I can’t live there anymore. It pains me to let go of all the sweat equity I’ve poured into the place, but that guy died on my kitchen floor. He tried to kill me in the living room. And Flynn can’t relax at all when I go over to retrieve things. I need a fresh start somewhere new.”