Chapter 2

On Friday morning, rain hammered down. Ethan woke to the sound of a downpour. He groaned. Rolling out of bed, he decided against going to work. The thought of Maria braving the storm didn’t sit well. He poured a second cup of coffee, hoping to shake off the gloom. Then came the sound of sandals slapping against the porch steps. Wet and hurried. She burst through the door, dripping water everywhere. Her calf-length sundress clung to her shins. Without a word, Ethan tossed her a towel.

She caught it midair, rubbing her arms. “Ay, qué tormenta,” she said, shaking her head like a drenched dog.

The rain roared louder.

“You didn’t have to come today,” he said.

Maria wrung out her hair. Water dripped onto the floor. “It’s okay, Señor,” she said.

Ethan noticed her bare feet. They looked cold and blue. She made her way to the kitchen; wet footprints imprinted on her path.

“Why don’t you change into some dry clothes first?” he suggested. “I’ll make you a coffee while you do that,” he added.

Maria stopped. She blinked away the rainwater from her lashes and nodded. She padded to the bedroom, her damp dress clinging to her thighs. She rummaged through his closet. Among the flannel shirts and wornout jeans, she spotted Caroline’s old clothes. They were neatly folded, untouched. Her fingers lingered over a baby doll pink mini dress. It felt soft against her calloused fingertips. Without thinking, she slipped it on. The faint scent of lavender-scented fabric softener was still there. The hem brushed the mid-thigh. The neckline dipped just enough to look bold.

When Maria entered the kitchen, Ethan turned from the coffeepot. He froze when he saw her. His grip tightened around the coffee mug. The pink stood out on her olive skin. It hugged her curves perfectly. The dress was unmistakable—Caroline’s favorite. She wore it on lazy Sundays, curled up beside him. His chest tightened.

Maria noticed his stare. She crossed her arms self-consciously, feeling uncertain. “I found it in the closet,” she murmured. “Is ... this okay?”

Ethan exhaled through his nose and stepped closer. “It’s fine,” he said with a smile as he handed her a steaming cup of coffee.

Maria grabbed the mug, feeling its heat seep into her fingers. “Gracias,” she said quietly, offering a shy smile. Outside, the rain hammered against the windows.

Ethan cleared his throat. “You wanna sit?” he asked, gesturing to the living room.

Maria nodded and smoothed her pink dress as she followed him. Outside, the rain hammered against the windows. The rain blurred the windows, casting a soft gray light over the room. Maria sank into the corner of the couch, cradling her steaming coffee.

After a moment, “You kept her things.” Maria said as her fingers traced the hem of her dress.

Ethan looked at her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Yeah. Couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them.”

Maria looked down at the dress, then back up at him. “Do you miss her?” The words escaped before she could hold them back.

Ethan’s jaw tightened. He stared out at the rain-soaked window. “Every day,” he admitted and stood up from the couch.

Ethan walked to his room, leaving Maria alone in the quiet living room. Sadness and guilt washed over her. She hadn’t realized her bringing up his ex-wife could affect him so deeply. Maria took a deep breath. She pushed the feelings aside and focused on her work. Dusting the shelves and mopping the house.

When Ethan walked back into the living room. He saw her bending to pick up the mop she had dropped. Her pink dress rode up slightly, revealing the smooth back of her thighs. His heart skipped a beat. Maria turned, catching him staring. Quickly, he looked away, pretending to adjust his shirt cuff. Ethan decided to leave her alone. He sat on the couch and busied himself with the magazines.

Maria’s lips parted slightly and turned into a grin. She straightened up, letting the hem of her dress fall back into place. While mopping the floor, she noticed Ethan on the couch. He pretended to be focused on the magazines. She couldn’t help but smile at his effort to act casual.

“Hey,” she said, “could you lift your legs for a moment? I need to clean under there.”

Ethan blinked, surprised. But he lifted his legs.

Maria knelt down, reaching under the couch. As she worked, she caught him stealing glances. She could feel his eyes on her. She peeked at him through her lashes. He gripped the armrest, jaw tight.

“I’m almost done, Señor,” she murmured. She adjusted her dress, revealing more cleavage.

Ethan swallowed hard. “Take your time,” he replied, his voice rough.

Maria turned back to her mopping. As she mopped the rest of the floor, the hem of her dress rode higher. She noticed his breath hitch. A thrill ran through her. Ethan’s eyes stayed on the back of her thighs.

When she finished and stood up, Maria stretched her arms overhead, lifting the dress higher. The fabric tightened against her chest. Ethan could see the outline of her nipples through the thin pink material. A slow smirk crept onto her lips as she noticed Ethan’s pupils dilate. Outside, the rain pounded against the windows. It drowned out the thick silence hanging between them.

Ethan cleared his throat. Then he stood up abruptly. “I’m going to shower,” he muttered, brushing past her.

Maria watched him walk down the hall. Then she turned toward the kitchen. The fridge door groaned as she yanked it open. She scanned the shelves, and her fingers hovered over a bundle of fresh cilantro.

In the bathroom, the shower hissed to life. Ethan supported one hand against the tiles in the shower; the other was around his erection. The hot water didn’t help him to cool off at all. He pictured Maria, the way her nipples had pressed against the cloth, the dress riding up her thighs. He thought to himself—if she weren’t another man’s wife, he would have her bent over the counter already.

Maria chopped tomatoes, and the knife tapped the chopping board in a steady rhythm. Her thoughts wandered to Ethan, naked under the shower, water flowing down his wide shoulders. She imagined his hard, thick cock gripped in her hand. Her spine tingled, the knife slipped, and she cut her fingertip. Her pulse thudding between her thighs. She sucked the bead of blood away, a cunning smile appearing on her face.