Yours to Keep by Serena Bell Page B

Ernie’s apartment for the past year or so, and there was a new heft to his shoulders. Those shoulders were rigid now; she knew that he was working hard to hold his temper, or some emotion, in check. “I could have killed him,” he said to the window.
    He might have, too, if he’d known where to find Walt. She’d refused to tell him anything, even Walt’s last name.
    “I never want to see you hurt like that again.”
    She could feel the fight going out of her. “He’s just some guy I work for, Ricky.”
    “Good.” His eyes stayed on her, worried, quizzical, even as he backed out of the room and toward the boys’ bedroom to catch some sleep before his shift at the Sleekers factory.
    When he was gone, she sat down at the round drop-leaf table, folded her arms, and rested her head there.
    This was her life. No matter what her brother said, no matter how tempting it was to sink back into letting him make decisions for her, she had to live it.
    She couldn’t run away from it forever.

Chapter 10
    Ethan stomped up the basement stairs, his heart already pounding with anticipation. His blood sang as he braced himself for an eyeful of Ana. He was going to do whatever it took to get her alone. No more she-works-for-me, no more onion goggles, no more lost moments—only him and Ana.
    She and Theo weren’t in the kitchen. He could hear them in the—in the bathroom?
    He went down the hall to the small downstairs bathroom. Most of the contents of the medicine cabinet sat on the edge of the sink, and Ana and Theo chattered at each other in Spanish. Ana held a hairbrush, and she stood in front of the mirror, slowly drawing the brush through the long, heavy strands of her hair. “Me cepillo,” Ana told Theo. “No digas ‘me cepillo el pelo,’ ” she warned him. “Es redundante.” The strands of hair left the brush and trickled back onto her shoulders. Ethan’s fingers itched. He wanted to gather her hair in his hands, spill it over her naked shoulders. He wanted to grab it, yank it, pin her—
    She turned and saw him. “Hola.” She let the brush drop to her side. “We were just—”
    He cut in. “You’re really good at your job, aren’t you?”
    She smiled.
    Theo looked from his father to Ana. “I gotta run upstairs for something.”
    Ethan felt a surge of fellowship and gratitude as his son pushed past him in the doorway. Theo’s footsteps pounded up the stairs.
    This was it. “Have dinner with me Saturday night.”
    She looked shocked, and a little afraid. She set the hairbrush down on the sink counter and took a step back. “I don’t know.”
    Well, that was better than no. He tried to channel James, not the lewd, crude, disgusting part of James but the part that went after what he wanted and assumed he’d get it. “Nope. Wrong answer. Say yes.”
    One side of her mouth lifted. “Why would you want to go out with someone like me?”
    Someone like me. It caught him off guard. Was that how she saw herself? Outside the realm of women who could be liked and coveted and lusted after?
    She seemed to realize it was an impossible question. “Why do you want to go out with me ?”
    The reasons he wanted to be with her filled him like a balloon inflating in his chest, but it was surprisingly difficult to put them into words. He didn’t want to be corny, and he didn’t want to scare the hell out of her. And how to explain, without insulting her, that her lack of polish, the realness of her, was part of her allure? Or that one reason he wanted to have dinner with her was that he wanted to delve into the choking, overwhelming, physical need that she’d wrestled out of him?
    She waited. Patiently. She wore a thin blue sweater that clung to her curves. The tiniest edge of blue lace peeked over the neckline of the sweater—maybe her bra, maybe a camisole. He wanted to take the three steps that separated them and put his lips to that edge of lace. He wanted to push down the sweater and take her breasts in his