Chapter Five
1848 Words
This was the third house she had knocked on, and still no answer.
The first two houses she stood there like a clown and no one answered. Some neighbors, she thought.
Jamie huffed, pulling her rain-soaked jacket tighter around her body as the cold night air nipped at her skin, the wind howled like crazy, almost blowing her away several times. One more, she told herself. If the next house didn't pan out, she'd give up and call an electrician in the morning.
The final house loomed ahead, different from the others.
There were no flower beds neatly lining the walkway, no cozy porch furniture, no seasonal decorations to hint at a welcoming presence. The yard was slightly overgrown, weeds creeping up along the cracked pavement. The porch light remained off, casting the house in shadow, making it feel almost abandoned—lifeless.
Yet, inside, a faint glow flickered.
The bluish hue of a television screen pulsed against the window, stretching shifting shadows across the curtain. A figure moved behind the fabric—brief, fleeting. Someone was home.
Jamie hesitated, an unsettling feeling creeping up her spine. Something about the stillness of the place made her uneasy. But she shook off the sensation and stepped forward, knocking firmly on the door.
Her pulse kicked up, though she wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the frustration of the night, the discomfort of asking for help—or something else entirely.
A full minute passed before the door finally swung open.
And just her luck, standing in front of her in all his glory was Ethan Cross.
Jamie's breath hitched.
She hadn't realized he was her neighbor, but in a town this small, she supposed it made sense. Everyone knew everyone. She just couldn't figure out why she didn't know he lived this close to her.
Ethan leaned against the doorframe, exuding effortless confidence, his broad shoulders filling the space. His dark brown hair was an artful mess, the kind that looked like he'd just rolled out of bed—though Jamie had a feeling he always looked that way. Stubble dusted his sharp jawline, and his stormy gray eyes, intense even in the dim light, gleamed with amusement as he took her in.
Dressed in only a pair of low-slung sweats, he was every bit the bad boy he was rumored to be—dangerous, unbothered, and completely at ease.
The second recognition flickered across his face, a slow, knowing smirk curled his lips.
"Missed me already, sweetheart?" His voice was deep, rough, threaded with something teasing—and something else—that sent a sharp jolt down Jamie's spine.
Her stomach flipped, and damn it, she hated that reaction.
Yes, Ethan Cross was attractive—annoyingly so—but she had sworn off men like him. Men who thought their charm, their maleness, gave them the right to treat women however they pleased. She had no interest in repeating that mistake.
Still, she was here for a reason.
Jamie swallowed hard. "Hey," she started, but her voice came out weaker than she wanted. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Can I have a moment of your time?"
Why the hell did she suddenly sound like she was trying to sell something?
His smirk deepened.
"Sure, sweetheart. How can I help?"
That damn nickname.
She both hated and loved it, and she wasn't sure which feeling was stronger.
Jamie took a steadying breath. "Umm… could you?" Her words tangled together. What the hell was wrong with her? She was never this thrown off her game.
Ethan's gaze flickered with amusement, as if he enjoyed watching her unravel.
Frustrated with herself, she rushed out the rest of her request. "I have a situation with my electricity. Could you maybe help me out, please?"
The words spilled out in a breathless rush, as if she was afraid that if she waited even a second longer, she'd retreat into the safety of her house and forget about fixing it altogether.
She didn't understand it.
Out of all the people, why was he the one who made her so nervous?
Ethan studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a lazy shrug, he said, "Why not?" His voice was laced with amusement, and she was certain she heard a teasing edge to it.
Before she could respond, he shut the door.
Jamie blinked. Did he just—?
Just as she debated knocking again, the door reopened. This time, Ethan had thrown on a hoodie, concealing the defined muscles she definitely had not been staring at.
She should've been relieved. Instead, disappointment flickered through her.
What is wrong with me?
"Lead the way," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets and picking up what looked like an umbrella that was lying beside the door.
Jamie turned quickly, guiding him through the rain-slicked street toward her house. The only sounds were the rhythmic patter of rain and the occasional distant rumble of thunder.
Her mind, however, was anything but quiet.
She felt him beside her, the warmth of his body radiating even through the cool night air. She tried not to notice the way his muscles flexed as he walked, the way his presence felt too big in the small space between them.
But her mind betrayed her.
She could picture it—her hands smoothing over the ridges of his chest, her fingers tangling in the light dusting of hair.
Get it together, she scolded herself under her breath. Now is not the time for this.
Ethan must have caught the mumble because he shot her a sideways glance. "Talking to yourself, sweetheart?"
She nearly tripped. "No," she lied.
A chuckle rumbled from him, deep and husky.
Jamie ignored it.
They reached her house, and the instant she stepped inside, the overwhelming darkness swallowed her whole.
"Where's the fuse box?" Ethan asked.
"Upstairs, in the laundry room," Jamie said, already making her way toward the living room to check on Lily.
Her daughter was still curled up on the couch, her tiny frame buried beneath a mountain of blankets. Peaceful. Unbothered.
Jamie exhaled softly before turning back toward Ethan, who waited at the doorway, his expression unreadable in the dim glow of her phone light.
She lifted her phone, illuminating the staircase. "Come on," she beckoned, motioning for him to follow.
He stepped inside, his presence suddenly feeling too big in her small, dark house.
And for reasons she didn't want to name—her pulse jumped.
Ethan followed her up the stairs, his footfalls steady against the creaking wood. The dim glow from her phone barely lit the path ahead, casting long, shifting shadows along the walls.
Jamie could feel his presence at her back—strong, steady, entirely too close. She hated how aware she was of him, how her skin tingled despite the chill in the house.
She reached the laundry room, pushing open the door. "It's in here," she said, stepping aside to let him in.
Ethan barely hesitated as he brushed past her, the scent of rain, soap, and something distinctly him filling the small space. It was infuriating how good he smelled.
He crouched in front of the fuse box, running a hand through his damp hair before flipping it open. His brows pulled together as he inspected the switches, his jaw tightening in thought.
Jamie crossed her arms, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "So?"
He glanced up at her, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Impatient, aren't you?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'd just like not to sit in a dark house all night."
Ethan huffed a small chuckle, then focused back on the fuse box. "Nothing's blown."
"Could be an issue with your main breaker." He reached up and flipped a couple of switches experimentally. Nothing happened.
Jamie groaned. "Great. So what do I do now?"
"You're going to have to check your outside breaker," Ethan said, standing up. "Might've tripped in the storm."
Jamie barely held back another groan. "Outside? In the rain? Again?"
He smirked, leaning slightly closer. "What, afraid of a little water?"
She shot him a glare. "I'm already drenched, Cross. No need to add more."
His smirk deepened. "Well, sweetheart, looks like you don't have a choice."
She clenched her jaw, spinning on her heel before she could say something snappy. He was infuriating.
Ethan followed her back down the stairs, his pace unhurried, like he was enjoying this way too much. When they reached the front door, Jamie hesitated, eyeing the downpour outside.
She sighed and threw the door open. Rain hammered the ground in heavy sheets, and before she could step out, Ace popped open a large black umbrella that had been sitting by the front door—one Jamie had completely forgotten about—and handed it to her, shielding her from the downpour.
He opened the much smaller one he'd brought with him and stepped outside. Jamie followed, heat creeping into her cheeks as she realized she felt like an i***t for not remembering the umbrella at all.
"Where's the breaker?" he asked.
She pointed toward the side of the house. "Over there, I think."
Together, they walked through the muddy grass, staying close under the umbrella as the wind tried to wrench it from their grip. Despite their cover, droplets still managed to splash up from the soaked ground, dampening their jeans.
When they reached the breaker panel, Ethan handed her the umbrella. "Hold this," he said, shaking rain from his sleeves before flicking the box open.
Jamie adjusted her grip, angling the umbrella to keep most of the rain off him while he worked.
"Yep. Looks like it tripped."
He reached in, flipped the main switch, and—
The house flickered back to life.
Jamie exhaled in relief, watching as warm light glowed from the windows. "Thank God."
Ethan stood, pushing the panel closed before turning to her with an easy smirk. "You're welcome."
She rolled her eyes, hugging her free arm around herself. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks."
Before they could head back, a loud crack of thunder boomed above them. The sound made her jolt, and without thinking, she clutched Ethan's sleeve.
He stilled.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Jamie could feel the heat of his body so close to hers, the steady rise and fall of his chest. Her fingers, curled against his damp hoodie, suddenly felt like they were burning.
Slowly, she let go, clearing her throat.
Ethan's gaze was unreadable, but there was something in it—something she didn't want to name.
"You scared of thunderstorms, sweetheart?" His voice was quieter now, lower.
Jamie swallowed, forcing herself to step back. "No," she lied.
A ghost of a smirk played at his lips, but he didn't push. "Come on," he said, tilting the umbrella so they could both fit beneath it again.
They walked back in silence, but Jamie couldn't shake the feeling that something had just shifted between them.
And she wasn't sure if she was ready for it.
- Writer
