Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

Ethan

In general, I hate dressing up, but as CEO of Blackburn Farms, I need to do so on occasion. I'm most comfortable in jeans and work boots but admittedly, I took extra care in picking out my suit for tonight's date with Marcie. I chose a dark navy with the most subtle gray pinstripes and paired it with a white shirt and silver tie. I resist the urge to tug on the knot because I know that's nothing more than nerves.

I wasn't underselling it to Marcie last weekend when I asked her out. I don't have a lot of experience with dating. It's not that I'm shy or relationship averse, but since adolescence, I've been groomed to become the next patriarch of Blackburn Farms. One might think that means to become the father of the family's legacy by furthering our lineage, but to my modern family, it means keeping our operations not only going but growing and expanding. It's an eighty-hour-a-week job, fifty-two weeks a year, and marriage has been the last thing on my mind.

Granted, things eased up as my younger siblings reached adulthood and became solid spokes in the familial business wheel, but the personal responsibility and drive to succeed never relented.

If you ask my sister Abby, it's why I was an ornery son of a bitch much of the time, an affliction she cured me of a few years ago by finally calling me on the carpet about it. While I can be shrewd and cutthroat in business, I've learned to become the softer, gentler Ethan Blackburn when it comes to my family relationships.

And now… that is extending to Marcie DeLeon, the first woman I've ever been interested in for something other than a quick tumble.

I'm sure I'll figure it out quickly enough, this whole dating thing, because Marcie is so easy to be around. I'm definitely more excited than nervous to spend time with her on a personal level, but I still have doubts about whether I'm doing the right thing. When I impulsively asked her out, I was only thinking about my own wants and desires. And that is to get to know her better because she intrigues me like no other woman ever has.

Most of my uncertainty comes from the fact that Marcie is Sylvie's principal and I didn't consider that last night when I extended the invite. Sylvie sees Marcie as a trusted ally and I don't want to take that away from her. It's why I didn't tell my daughter about my date tonight, but I didn't tell anyone for that matter. The entire Blackburn family—minus Sylvie, who is staying home with Miranda—will be there tonight and I know I'll probably have some explaining to do when I show up with Marcie on my arm.

I want to make a good impression on her, so in addition to the finely cut suit, I ditch my work truck and take my mom's Mercedes. She didn't ask me why, but she'll find out soon enough.

The GPS leads me to Marcie's street, just two blocks off the main thoroughfare of Shelbyville, and I'm absolutely charmed when I pull alongside the curb to take in her small house. A concrete path extends from the home to the street, flanked by low-lying shrubs blooming with pink flowers. The house is quaint with shingled siding in the palest mint green done in fiber cement, which puts the house most likely built in the fifties or sixties, as are most of the downtown homes. The centered front door has been done in a beautiful walnut stain and sits between two equally spaced, double-hung windows with matching shutters in the same warm, brown tint. A gabled porch roof is supported by four Craftsman columns that shade a flat, concrete porch. The metal roof is steeply pitched with a redbrick chimney extending from the left side and matching brick skirts the base of the house. Two steps extend down from the porch, also done in redbrick and decorated by pots overflowing with blooming petunias.

It's totally Marcie and I couldn't imagine her living anywhere that would suit her better. If I hadn't had her address but knew she lived on this street, I would've picked this house as being hers. It's beautiful and charming, just like she is.

My nerves snap a bit tighter as I turn off the engine. Inside is the woman who makes me want to step out of my comfort zone. I'm not sure if it's because of the many kindnesses she extends to Sylvie, or the fact that she's been hurt, which makes me feel protective. Maybe it's just that I am unbelievably attracted to her, but one thing is clear… I know I want more than one date with her.

Last night, we stayed in the show barn outside Squid's stall talking about anything and everything. The conversation was easy and I love her laugh. It's deep and raspy, like the promise of something big getting ready to unfurl from that brilliant smile.

Taking a deep breath, I exit the car and stroll up to the front porch. I spare a glance at the petunias in pink, white and purple. I don't know much about flowers or gardening in particular, but petunias are a favorite of my mom's, so I recognize them. There is no doorbell, so I knock on the heavy wooden door and as I'm waiting for Marcie to open it, I notice that one of the shutters hangs at an angle. I step over, look more closely and notice one of the large screws has come out and is nowhere to be seen.

I hear the clicking of high heels on hardwood and my pulse kicks up a notch as I turn back toward the door. Because I've only ever seen Marcie in casual or work clothes, my imagination is in overdrive.

When she swings the door open, I am not prepared for the sex appeal standing in front of me. She chose an elegant black cocktail dress that is off the shoulder and cut into a deep V, exposing a hint of cleavage. A rhinestone-studded brooch sits right in the center and it takes all my will not to stare at it. The dress is formfitting and comes down just to her knees, her legs clad in silky black stockings. The high heels add a good four inches, bringing the top of her head nearly to my chin. Her red hair is styled in loose curls that hang just over the tops of her bare shoulders and Christ, if I don't love the freckles splattered there. They are markings on a woman that I could spend a lot of time exploring with my mouth.

I take all of it in with a cursory glance but it's her vivid blue eyes roaming over me that captivates me by the time her gaze locks with mine.

"Wow… Ethan Blackburn in a suit. You look amazing."

Fuck. I should've said that first, but I was honestly tongue-tied. I manage to loosen it, giving myself grace to let my eyes roam her body one more time. "You look more than amazing. I think stunning is the right word."

Pretty words have never been my forte but with Marcie it's easy to speak the truth. I'm not sure why, but I feel a small measure of victory that a blush creeps up her chest and neck before staining those high cheekbones.

That tells me that Marcie DeLeon is not used to compliments like that. I'm sure as hell not used to giving them out and I make a mental note to do it to her often. I like seeing her a bit flustered.

Marcie turns and grabs a black velvet handbag off the table, along with her keys. I step back from the door so she can exit, allowing her to close and lock it behind her. She places the keys in her purse and beams a smile at me. "Ready."

I cock out an elbow, indicating she should take it, and when her hand threads through to rest in the crook, the heat of her touch is both exhilarating and comforting.

She feels right.

I escort her down the two porch steps, careful to note that she's in sky-high pegged heels and her walkway is a little uneven with cracks due to age and roots from the nearby oak trees.

"I noticed your shutter needs fixing. I'll come by in a few days and handle that for you."

Marcie looks back at the front of her house and I'm assuming she hadn't noticed it. "Oh, you don't have to do that. I can hire—"

"I'll be glad to do it for you," I say, cutting her off. "I'm quite handy and I've heard a rumor that chicks dig that."

Marcie laughs and then her gaze falls on my car. "Oooh… Mercedes. Riding in style."

I grin down at her before opening the passenger door. "If I'd brought my work truck, I would've had to toss you inside given how formfitting that dress is."

As expected, she blushes again, and I wonder if I'm perverted in some way that her reaction brings me pleasure.

She's a good sport and far too sharp for me to battle with. "I would've just had to hike my skirt up a little higher."

The thought of her doing that threatens to make my body react in an embarrassing way. I want to tell her I'm looking forward to that day, but I'm not sure if I can handle sexual banter right now. This woman has me wound tight and it wouldn't take much for her to test my control.

I gently close the door behind her and move to the driver's side.

As we pull away from her house, Marcie asks, "So, what can I expect from this evening? I've never been to a bachelor auction before and I'm not sure if I brought enough money to bid on the selections."

I whip my head her way and find her grinning slyly. I ignore the fact that I don't like the thought of her being interested in other men. The surge of jealousy rises so fast that it's hard for me to process.

Still, I pull out a smooth response. "Save your money. Nothing but scoundrels will be up on that stage for bidding."

That earns me one of her husky laughs, which punches straight through my body. "I have a feeling you're the biggest scoundrel of all."

"Oh, you have no idea," I tease.

"But seriously… we just stand around and women bid on men?"

"Pretty much. There will be speeches and the auctioneer will try to drive the money up higher. It's all in good fun. I don't think half the people ever even do the dates. It's really about donating money. There will be food and drink. Oh," I say, changing the direction of the conversation, "and my family doesn't know that I'm bringing you as a date. So we might have a bit of explaining to do."

"Well, I told Michelle I was going with you. She loaned me the dress since I didn't have anything appropriate."

"And what does your sister think of you going out with the reclusive Ethan Blackburn?"

"She's gloating. She's actually been wanting me to approach you for a date."

"Really?"

"She's been trying hard to get me back into the dating world. And she's mentioned your name a few times. But she knows I'm not the type who would ever make a move."

"It's a good thing I took the initiative then."

"A very good thing. Like I said, be prepared for her to have a smug expression on her face tonight." She pauses before asking. "Did you tell Sylvie that we were going to this event together?"

I shake my head. "I didn't. But I will. There just wasn't an opportunity today and it felt weird bringing it up out of the blue."

"Because this could just be one date and that's it," Marcie suggests.

"I'm already going to ask you for a second date so that's not it," I respond, glancing at her quickly and noting the pleased smile on her face. "It's just sometimes hard to initiate conversation with her about personal things. I'm always afraid I'll overstep the tenuous trust that we're building. You don't think there's anything wrong with you and I going out, at least as far as Sylvie goes, do you?"

"That's a good question. And I guess Sylvie is the one who's going to have to answer that."

"If she hates the idea…" I let that thought hang in the air because I don't know the answer.

Marcie does, though. "If she's against it, we don't date."

I don't like the way that makes me feel, but I know Marcie is right. Nothing matters except Sylvie's feelings. Deference has to be given to the little girl who has far too many stressors in her life as it is. "I'll talk to her tomorrow."

The country club is only a few miles outside of town and when we arrive, the sun has already set on the majestic, three-story white stucco building with stately columns supporting the wide porch spanning the length of the clubhouse. The roof is done in deep blue shingles, and large windows are lit up from the massive chandeliers inside. We walk up to the large double French doors which are opened by an attendant and we are directed to the grand ballroom.

Without hesitation, I reach for Marcie's hand, tucking it back into the crook of my elbow. I know there are going to be a lot of questions simply because we entered together, but I figure I can knock fifty percent of them out by having her tucked into my side in a clear display of our togetherness for the evening.

The ballroom is filled with elegantly dressed patrons. Membership in the country club isn't cheap and the people attending this auction are ready to spend money. This area of Kentucky is rich with bourbon and horse money. The saddlebred farms, such as Blackburn, may actually be the smallest portion of that demographic. The real money is in liquor and racehorses. The thoroughbred industry generates massive money, more than saddlebreds ever could, and while we're multimillionaires, some of the thoroughbred farm owners have billions.

I know the Mardraggons will be here tonight. While they're inherent assholes, they do give of their money to the community, but I also know they give expecting favors in return, so it's not all that altruistic. The women will bid, making substantial donations under the guise of buying a bachelor for an evening. It really is a fun event and there will be a lot of laughter tonight as the men get silly on stage, flaunting their prowess to drive up the competition. Trey and Wade will probably be among the biggest fools.

"Let's get this over with where my family is concerned," I say.

Marcie digs her heels into the thick carpet, causing me to stop and glance down at her. "Are they going to have a problem with me being here?"

I chuckle and pat the top of her hand. "On the contrary, they will be thrilled by this. Expect doe eyes from my mother."

Marcie laughs nervously. "Oh… good."

In addition to the money raised on bachelor bidding, each table in the grand ballroom is sold for an outrageous sum. The Blackburns bought a table that seats eight, so with my parents and siblings, Marcie and I make seven.

I spot my family standing near said table and I start to head that way, but Marcie tugs on my arm. "There's Michelle. Let me say hello."

This I have no qualms with because I find it amusing as hell that her sister had been wanting to set me and Marcie up. As we walk over to her, I can't decide if I should thank her or chastise her for not pushing on this harder.

Michelle DeLeon is as beautiful as Marcie but in a different way. She's more graceful and sophisticated, cool and sharp at the same time. Marcie vibrates with energy and seems on the verge of wanting to give you a hug. Regardless of the differences, I've learned enough to know that the sisters are tight.

Marcie pulls free and hugs Michelle, who returns the embrace and holds tightly. When they break apart, Michelle looks Marcie up and down and says, "You are a vision." Her eyes slide to me and she asks, "Am I right?"

"You are absolutely right," I reply, taking Marcie's hand and putting it back to my elbow. "You look lovely too, Michelle."

She inclines her head, a smile on her face, but there's a message in her eyes that I am picking up loud and clear. Treat my sister well or else.

I don't know what or else might be. She's wealthy by rights in her divorce, but not the type of money that could ever derail the Blackburns. Still, that hard glint tells me she might not be above shanking me if the situation called for it, but I have no intention of getting on her bad side.

"Darling," I hear from behind me just as a hand lands on my shoulder. I tense up, knowing Diane's southern drawl all too well.

I take a step away, tugging Marcie with me and turning to face the one person I did not want to interact with tonight. In fact, I think I'd actually prefer to be stuck at a Mardraggon table all night than to have to converse with Diane.

We spoke only yesterday and it was a call that had to be made. Because after I asked Marcie out on a date, that meant Diane was no longer a part of my life, even if she had only been a casual good time. The conversation did not go well and she cursed, bitched and whined before hanging up on me.

As I face her now though, she is staring at me as if we're long-lost loves reuniting. I prepare for the worst. "You look so handsome tonight, Ethan." Her cool eyes slide over to Marcie and I tense as her fingers dig down into my arm, and I know she knows exactly who Diane is. I fucking hate that and I don't know how much damage control I'll need to do later.

Diane waits and I'm wondering if she's expecting a return compliment, which I will not be offering. I don't want to encourage conversation.

I immediately regret that decision as Diane's eyes shimmer wickedly. She flicks a quick, dismissive glance to Marcie before saying, "This is why you broke up with me?"

Teeth gritted in anger over the mischaracterization, I set the record straight. "I didn't break up with you because we were not a couple nor were we committed. I told you yesterday that I no longer wanted to see you anymore."

Diane lifts her hand, studies her fingernails before saying, "Like I said. You broke up with me."

I want to tell her she was nothing more than a convenience. An outlet. But my mother would beat the tar out of me if I ever said that to a lady, even if it was true. So I merely incline my head at her. "I hope you have a good evening, Diane."

I'm relieved when, as I walk away, Marcie easily walks by my side. She glances over her shoulder, and waves to her sister, calling out, "We'll talk later."

"I'm so sorry," I say, glancing down at Marcie as we wind around the tables. "That was ugly and you shouldn't have had to witness it."

Marcie stops, forcing me to do the same and then angles her body toward me. Tipping her head back, her blue eyes lock with mine. "Ethan, your past is your past. I can't fault you for that, not if it doesn't affect me."

"That just affected you," I mutter.

"That was a spiteful woman lashing out. You broke things off, I presume because you asked me out. That was the right thing to do."

"Actually, I've been wanting to break things off for a while, but I never got around to it. Asking you out made it a priority."

"Then don't apologize," she says softly.

"It wasn't serious, Marcie." I let out a breath of frustration, twisting to look over at my family who have caught sight of us before turning back to the beautiful redhead before me. "Diane was… there. It wasn't often and we weren't serious. It was just easy, and now it's not."

"Duly informed. Can we move on?"

The weight on my chest releases and I smile at her. I jerk my head toward my family's table. "Let's get this part over with. I'm sure my family are crazed with the need for information."

Brand me the luckiest guy in the world, but it helps that my parents and siblings are the best anyone could hope for. We might squabble and rail at one another at times, but we always have each other's backs. On top of that, we all only want what's best for each other, and there's been no higher wish on my parents' agenda, or my siblings, for that matter, than for the eldest son to settle down.

Not that Marcie represents a permanent future, but the fact I'm actually showing interest in a woman and that I think enough of her to bring her to a function to sit with my family speaks volumes.

A five-course meal is served before the auction and I do nothing but sit back, enjoy the food and watch as Marcie charms every single person at the table. While she and I talked about a lot of different things that night I bought her dinner and again at the show barn, our time was limited. It's a joy to sit back and have my family pepper her with questions, eager to know more about this woman who not only grabbed my intense interest but helped Sylvie to push past her distrust to give us all a shot.

By the time the auction is ready to start, I'm relaxed and have forgotten all about Diane Turner confronting me in front of Marcie. It's been a long damn time since I've been truly at ease, even letting go of the long list of tasks I have to accomplish tomorrow to keep the Blackburn machine running.

The emcee for the auction is Harry Hagen, a lovable real estate agent here in Shelbyville who has his face plastered on every billboard in the county. He hams it up to the extreme but he gets the ladies to open their pocketbooks and spend.

There's a stage set up at one end of the ballroom and the lights are turned down low as he takes the mic and strolls out. A warm light illuminates him, making the bald spot on top of his head shine.

"Welcome, welcome, welcome to the twenty-third annual Shelbyville Bachelor Auction. We are here tonight to raise money for literacy awareness and funding for underprivileged kids so that they can share in the wonderful world of books."

I tune him out as he prattles on, having heard this speech every year since I started attending. I glance across the table at Wade and Trey, both of my brothers with wide grins on their faces. They have fun with this and there are times I wish I could be as carefree as them. It's sad to say, but the burden of responsibility has made me quite dull. It's a sacrifice already made.

"I'm going to call the bachelors up here and give you a little information about each one, and once the lineup is set, we'll start bidding from left to right. Now, first up, we have the gorgeous, well-muscled and if I don't say so myself, the most charming bachelor in the county. You all know and love him as a horse trainer extraordinaire and he's been known to make single ladies faint with those crystal green eyes of his. Let's welcome to the stage, Wade Blackburn."

My brother pushes his chair back, he and Trey fist bump, and he struts up on the stage like a peacock. He takes off his suit jacket and dangles it over one shoulder, does a flashy spin when he reaches Harry, and then suavely slides a hand in his pocket before striking a pose.

The women go nuts and start cat-calling. A shrill whistle from the back of the room makes everyone laugh.

I lean left, nudging my shoulder into Marcie's and whisper, "Sure you don't want to bid on my bonehead brother? You could probably get him for cheap."

Marcie giggles and nudges me back. "I'm happy with the current Blackburn, thank you."

That pleases me immensely. We all watch as the bachelors are called up and our family gets in on the cheering action. It whips the crowd into a frenzy, the fun and hilarity of it all, which will only drive up the donations.

The stage is filled with nine bona fide, single Kentucky male specimens. Harry looks down at his card and says, "And the last entry of the evening is a doozy, folks. It's a rarity and I'm thinking he's going to drive the price up really high. Let's hear it for the king of the saddlebreds, Shelbyville's own Ethan Blackburn."

Hearing my name called out sends a shockwave through my body and for a split second, I go almost entirely deaf. The room freezes and when motion starts again, I hear a thunderous roar of cheers.

I whip my head to look at my mom, thinking she's trying to pull one over on me, but I can see she's as surprised as I am. I look at Kat who also seems dumbfounded and up to the stage to see my brothers clearly had no hand in this.

I'm shaking my head no, waving my hands at Harry to indicate no way in hell I'm getting up there.

Harry thinks I'm just playing coy. "Come on up, Ethan. Don't be shy."

I shake my head harder.

Harry lays it on thick. "Come on, everyone… let's show Ethan how much we love him."

People start chanting my name and I look at Marcie helplessly, as if she can save me somehow. She merely gives me a sympathetic smile and shrugs.

"Ethan," Harry bellows into the microphone, "this is for charity. For the love of all the kids who deserve access to great books, get your ass up here."

"For fuck's sake," I mutter, knowing that I've been called out in a way I can't disregard. Putting a hand on the back of Marcie's chair, I start to rise but not before saying, "I'm going to kill whoever did this."

Marcie's eyes twinkle and she pats my shoulder. "I've got about twenty dollars in my purse and it's all going on you."

"Gee, thanks," I drawl, but I find myself smiling in spite of the shitty situation.