Ethan's Everything: Latimer's Legacy, #2

By Lynn Jenssen

ETHAN LATIMER, captain of Li'l Legacy, should clearly stick to fishing. Any hopes of a happy family of his own tanked when his wife ran off with the plumber while he was off-shore for a two week stint. Drowning himself in the bottle hadn't fixed anything either. Now clean, sober, and owner of his own boat, Ethan helps his mother and plays uncle to his sister's children. He figures that's as close as he'll ever get to kids and a family of his own. What he doesn't figure on is his sister's childhood friend reappearing in his life. Bridget (Bree), as beautiful as the legendary sea nymphs, alluring yet innocent. Can he hope for a second chance at love and family, or will his past sink his future?

BRIDGET has loved him forever. She used to swoon after him as only a teenager in love can, back when she hung around with his sister, Kate. But Kate had gone off to school, Ethan had sailed off to fish the southern waters and learn the business, and her life had…spiraled down, scarring her, leaving her with secrets better kept hidden, and a bakery to run.

Kate's wedding brings Ethan and Bree together, but will their pasts keep them apart?  Can they cut away the fishnets of guilt pulling them down? And by healing each other's hurts, can they help heal others?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lynn Jenssen
• Release date: Oct 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393887171

Book preview

Table of Contents

About Ethan’s Everything

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Letter to My Readers

Other Books by Lynn Jenssen

Dedication & Acknowledgements

Author’s Bio

Copyright

~  Acknowledgements  ~

Thank you to my dear friend and writing sister, Christine Mazurk. The Universe put us together in an elevator in New York at a national conference. Thank you for the laughter, tears, phone calls, and visits. I’m blessed to be able to call you friend. Let the journey continue!

Thank you to Julie Smith at Lost In Translation Photography for the awesome cover, and to her support staff for setting up the location shoot.

Finally, thank you to Nina Pierce at Seashore Publications for helping with the technical side of this adventure.

~  Dedication  ~

To my husband Bill, for his unending love and support. I love you.

To my two sons, Will and Nick, and their families who keep me smiling.

To my siblings- Rick, Krista, and Cathi- who encourage, laugh, and cry with me. The sense of family in this book is a product of what we have always shared. Thank you.

To Mom, the spirit within this series, who taught us to value each other and to love.

To Dad who poked around the Southeastern Connecticut coast with me and helps me appreciate the history of the area. He keeps Captain Adrian alive!

Chapter 1

Life stunk—like the chum he scooped from his bait barrels.

Now that he finally understood what he wanted in life, he also understood why it would never be his. Ethan Latimer, captain of Li’l Legacy, pushed the throttle wide open. At least he had an engine with guts. ’Bout all he had.

The feel of the boat beneath him and the wind whipping around him—like the feel of a woman beneath him her fingers stroking through his hair…God help him—the ocean was not his mistress. Maybe he should climb back in the bottle—and numb the ache in his heart…and lower.

His two man crew steered clear. When his mood stormed, like now, they battened down the hatches and rode it out…worked the nets, but not their mouths. And he was running—runnin’ on the high seas, runnin’ from his past, runnin’ from the jealousy, guilt, lust—churnin’ his stomach.

He throttled down at the sight of his marker buoy. He’d pull the short line of pots he kept for the family. Lobsters to celebrate Kate and Mike’s return from their family honeymoon—the kids would be back too. He couldn’t wait to hear their Disney stories—Uncle Ethan.

Jealousy? He’d gotten so damn attached to those kids since he’d helped foster care them with Kate and Mom. He’d still be part of their everyday routine. But Kate and Mike had adopted them. Uncle Ethan—as close as he’d ever come to having kids. He’d blown his chance.

Guilt? He should feel nothing but happy for Kate. She knew him better than anyone. His big sister, his hard-ass champion, his friend—now with a family of her own. She deserved happy. He didn’t. He hadn’t made his ex happy, and Kate had pulled him out of the bottle during the worst time of his life. She’d hauled his sorry ass out of the bar, supporting him as he stumbled in a drunken stupor. She dragged him down to his dock and doused him in the frigid March waters, cursing him for his stupidity and hugging him with tough love. She took him back to his cottage, brewed strong coffee, lectured, listened to his slurred reasoning, held his forehead as he puked up his guts, and cleaned him up. She cleaned his house and made more coffee while he slept off the rest of his drunk.

And his lust? His horny body rubbin’ salt in the wound of his broken heart. Okay, so he’d gotten over his wife’s betrayal, leavin’ him nothing but a letter on the table after two weeks at sea. He got that she wasn’t worth drownin’ in a bottle. He’d been dry for thirty months, fishin’, helpin’ his mom out, helpin’ with the kids. But now…Bree.

He and his brother had stood up for Kate at her wedding as groomsmen. And Bridget—Bree? His sister’s best friend from childhood—a bridesmaid. The kid with freckles and pigtails had morphed—dear Lord—into a woman as beautiful as legendary sea nymphs. And built like…don’t go there. So now that he knew what he wanted from life…frustration pricked. And life stunk. He blew it the first time around. No second chances.

The last pot pulled—not a great haul. Good thing his mother wasn’t counting on lobsters for dinner. He’d throw these couple in the holding pot. Maybe after his next haul there’d be enough. Personally, he preferred Mom’s spaghetti and meatballs—so did the kids.

He pulled up to the dock at the processing plant. Terry and Jerry, the Frick and Frack of the fishnet set, hurried to unload the catch, stow their gear in their truck, and get the hell out’a his way. Guess he’d scared them away with his foul mood.

He motored back to his dock across the harbor from the plant. He grabbed his cooler from the cabin and headed for the shower—God, he was ripe. Twenty minutes later, clean shaven and smelling of Irish Spring, he deemed himself human again. The reflection in the mirror smiled back at him. He’d been a cranky bastard all day but tonight promised to be better. The house would be filled with family noise—Louie and Elsie.

The aroma of meatballs and sauce simmering caused his stomach to growl protesting the lack of food since morning. He wandered into the kitchen to see if he could wheel and deal a meatball from his mother. Poor starving boy routine might work.

Mmm, smells great Mom. You must need a taste tester. I’m here to help. He put his arm around her as he lifted the cover to the pot on the back burner with his other hand. Oh, sausage too! Pullin’ out all the stops for the honeymoonin’ family. He reached for the fork lying on the counter next to the stove.

Keep out of there, Ethan. You’re always into the pot before dinner. His mother gave him a hug and pushed him away from the stove.

I’m starving. I didn’t get lunch, and I’m working on a bowl of oatmeal at 5:00 this morning.

Ethan. Why didn’t you say something before? You’re going to end up with low sugar problems like your sister if you aren’t careful. She poked the fork into the pot and pulled out a large meatball. She put it on a saucer and reached for the loaf of sandwich bread.

I’ll make you a quick meatball sandwich if you’ll run down to Bridget’s bakery and pick up a loaf of fresh Italian bread. I meant to stop there this afternoon but I got sidetracked. Do you mind? She handed him the sandwich on a napkin. The warmth of the meatball seeped through the bread and napkin and sauce dribbled out the side.

I’d travel to the ends of the earth for one of your meatballs, Mom. He grabbed a second napkin and bit into his late lunch. Even better than expected. One of the perks of moving back home. Mom’s cookin’.

While you’re there, see if Bridget is doing anything for dinner? It’d be nice to include her in our welcome home celebration since she was in the wedding party too.

His mouth went dry, his chest winched tight.

Bree—coming to dinner?

Damn. He’d almost succeeded at keeping his mind off her. Well, sometimes he succeeded, sorta. Not really. Hence—his foul mood today. He couldn’t get her out of his mind, he wanted to be with her…there went those thoughts again…soft body, hint of vanilla, wisps of hair framing her peaches and cream face…but he couldn’t, he shouldn’t. Life stunk, but he had no one to blame but himself.

He pulled his truck into the parking space outside the bakery. Through the front window, he saw her smiling at a customer as she filled a pastry box with treats from the case. He waited, timing his entry with the departure of the customer. She looked up as the bell above the door rang and smiled. She seemed happy to see him. Go figure. His mouth dry, he couldn’t think of anything to say. So beautiful.

Hi.

Hi yourself! How ya doin’? Recovered from the festivities last weekend? Her hair was pulled back in some kind of knot thing, wisps falling around her face, just like when he held her in his arms dancing. He swallowed hard.

Yah, but it’s taken all week. The ‘family’ is returning from their honeymoon. Mom sent me to pick up bread and she wondered if you wanted to come over for a spaghetti dinner. Mike and Kate and the kids should be there around 5:00. Mom says dinner at 6:00. He only managed to get that all out by looking at the treats in the case. His tongue stopped working when he looked into her eyes.

Bridget had been like one of his sisters—always around when they were growing up. Pigtails and freckles. He could always get a reaction when he pulled her braids and called them oinky-tails.

He’d nearly fallen over at the way she filled out that low cut gown at Kate’s wedding. Her auburn hair pulled back in a fancy hairdo, a teal ribbon woven through. Her face smiling up at him as they walked back down the aisle, her freckles barely showing through her makeup. Her bare shoulders and creamy white cleavage peeking through the lace wrap. She wasn’t the little girl with pigtails anymore.

When had she grown up? Where had he been? In the bottle somewhere most likely. He shook his head in self-disgust. Yup, he was a screw-up okay. Stick to fishin’ and boats, that’s what he needed to remember.

Oooo, MamaBeth’s sketti…How many times have I been invited for that? Always one of my favorites. I’d love to come. She picked out a loaf of bread while they talked. One loaf or two?

He held up two fingers and watched as she reached for another loaf and put them in bags.

I’ll stop and get a couple bottles of wine to enjoy. She stopped suddenly and turned to look at him. Oh, maybe not. Her peaches and cream complexion stained strawberry red, and she dropped her gaze away from his.

Great…my reputation precedes me. Chalk one more up for the screw-up.

No, Bridget that’s fine. I’m sure Mom and Kate and Mike would enjoy having a glass of wine with dinner. I’ll just stick to milk. Remember how we used to see who could make the biggest milk mustache? Maybe I’ll teach the kids a new trick tonight. He just wanted her to look at him and smile again.

I’m sorry Ethan. That was stupid of me.

Don’t worry about it. I’m not. He took a five dollar bill out of his wallet and put it on the counter.

No, no. The bread’s my treat.

Oh, don’t do that. The wrath of MamaBeth is fierce. You’ll be in big trouble if you don’t let me pay… He tried his killer smile and was rewarded with one from her. Bet she didn’t even realize her smile was a knock-out. Sure took his breath away.

Okay, you win. I’ll see you right after I close up shop. I’ll be there about quarter of six. She rang up the sale and gave him his change. Her cheeks matched the bright pink tee she had on under her apron, freckles popping across her nose and along her cheeks. She smiled at him and looked away quickly, busy with details behind the counter.

I’ll tell Mom. See ya tonight. He got out the door and tried to take a deep breath.

Whooh! That was weird. Why couldn’t he catch his breath? Maybe he was allergic to flour or something.

***

She hurried to close the shop a little early so she could clean up before going to the Latimers’. Cashing out the register could wait until later. Bridget slipped several large sugar cookies into a bag, smiling in anticipation of Louie’s squeal of delight at the sweet treat.

With the door locked, the kids’ cookies in hand, and the cash drawer under her arm, she scooted upstairs to the apartment she’d always known as home. It was bright and airy, especially since she’d spent a little money to have several large windows put in, overlooking the view of the harbor at the back of the building. Her parents had retired comfortably to Arizona, leaving her the business and the building that housed it. Once she’d gotten used to the idea it was hers, she’d redecorated, getting rid of the dark furniture and rugs. Natural stained hardwood floors and a fresh coat of paint had lightened the living area. A cream colored sofa with forest green throw pillows invited one to sit and enjoy the view. Green houseplants and a maroon glider added to the soothing calm atmosphere she’d created.

She dropped her things on the light wood coffee table and dashed to the bathroom, stripping off her tee-shirt as she went. She quickly doused her face with cool water, wishing she had time to take a quick shower. Why had she said quarter of six? She could have given herself a little more time. Always too anxious to be at the Latimers’. She took a breath and tried to settle herself. Ethan’s smile appeared in her mind’s eye.

He was so damn good looking. It should be illegal to be such a hunk. He’d always been attractive to her, but seeing him in a tuxedo at Kate’s wedding had almost sent her to her knees groveling for his attention. Fortunately, she hadn’t behaved quite that shamelessly. She had learned something over the years. She wouldn’t think about that now.

Bridget pulled a long sleeve button up white oxford from her closet and held it up. No stains. Oh, spaghetti—maybe not white. She looked in her drawers for another choice. A kelly green polo shirt with her black cardigan. Quickly slipping it on, she adjusted herself in front of the mirror. Well, at least the sweater covered up a myriad of faults. Too big on the top, too broad a backside. At least her waist was thin and her tummy flat. She looked from all sides and shook her head. Nothing to do about it now. She pulled out her ponytail and quickly ran a brush through her full head of hair. She clipped it back on each side of her head with whimsical silver butterfly barrettes. Okay, ready.

She dashed back through the living room, remembered the cookies, and left through the back door that opened onto a small deck, and descended to the harbor front below. On the way to her car, she heard a catcall from the deck of the tavern just a few buildings away. She tried to ignore it, but the heat from her face told her she was probably beet red with embarrassment. She didn’t have to look to know who it was…Rusty Davenport. They’d gone to school together years ago. He’d been nasty to her since the time she’d smacked him across the face, leaving a hand mark for squeezing her ample boobs in his sweaty hands. He’d had an obnoxious comment for her every time he saw her ever since. And today he visited the bar at the Harborside Tavern. Damn.

She slipped behind the wheel of her car and turned it on, blaring the radio and turning up the cool air. Drown out his comments and cool off her face. She might just look normal by the time she reached the sanctuary of MamaBeth’s kitchen. Now if she could just stop her heart from racing. She wished desperately she could find a way not to let Rusty’s rude comments bother her. But they did.

She pulled into the Latimers’ driveway and parked next to Ethan’s truck. The parking lot was full, with both Kate and Mike’s cars and MamaBeth’s car as well. But just like the house, always room for one more. It’s the way it had always been. Thank God. The Latimers had been more a family to her than her own. As much as her parents had loved her, they hadn’t given her what she really needed and had always wanted. Their attention, their time. They had always been too busy to be involved in her life, listen to her worries. But Kate, her best friend, and the Latimers had been her family, and MamaBeth had always been there to listen. Even to her worst secret—the one no one else knew. Leave it buried Bree.

As she got out of the car, Ethan came toward her carrying Louie. Louie wiggled in his arms as though trying to get down.

Louie, no more running around. We need to get washed up before dinner, big guy. Look, here’s Bridget. Dinner’s going to be soon. The two year old continued to wiggle.

Okay, sack of potatoes over my shoulder! Ethan winked at her as he hefted the toddler over his shoulder amidst squeals and laughter. Kate and Mike walked across the lawn swinging Elsie between them.

Bridget was immediately immersed in the family camaraderie. The group bustled into the house to be greeted by the tangy aroma of MamaBeth’s spaghetti and meatballs. Bridget’s spirits lifted and warmth filled her. Home.

Chapter 2

He watched her listening intently as Elsie chattered about her adventures in Disney and laughing with his family at his antics with the kids at the dinner table. The milk mustache was a big hit with Louie, much less with his mother. Bridget giggled as Louie tried his best to mustache himself, ending up with milk dribbling down his chin. Finally Mom put a ban on playing with drinks and wagged a finger at him. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen it.

He stood to clear his plate and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. Sorry, Mom. I’ll behave at the table from now on. Then with his best serious face, and a wink to Bree, he told the kids, Always listen to your mother and do what she says.

No playin’ at the table, Uncle Efan.

That’s right, buddy. We’ll have to save it for outside. He mussed the toddler’s hair and used a napkin to clean up the little guy.

He always got us in trouble at the table, remember Bree? Kate helped get Louie and Elsie down from the table.

Yes. Your poor mother. How’d you ever put up with all of us? Bree smiled over to Beth who shook her head at the whole discussion.

I laughed on the inside, but I didn’t want my darlings going out into the world with poor table manners so I had to at least sound stern. And their father was no help. He’d get you all started and leave the table in the middle of it all. He’d get his lecture later. She smiled at the memory.

Ethan watched as the twinkle in her eyes turned to a glitter of a tear. She still missed him, though he’d died five years earlier. He gave her a quick squeeze before anyone else could pick up on the shift in her eyes and volunteered to do KP.

I’ll give you a hand, Ethan. It’s the least I can do after such a wonderful meal. Thank you for including me Beth. Why don’t you go put your feet up in the living room, and I’ll make you a cup of tea. Bree rose from the table and stacked dirty plates to carry to the sink.

Oh, that sounds wonderful.

Kate and Mike herded the children upstairs to bath and bedtime stories, and Beth went to turn on the television. Ethan ran the water in the dishpan to rinse the plates before loading them into the dishwasher. Frequently his chore, he’d become accustomed to the quiet routine after dinner.

She still misses your dad, doesn’t she? Bree stood close behind him, holding dishes for him to take. So close he could feel her warmth, smell her scent, light and flowery.

They were an unbelievable couple. Together all the time. And I rarely heard cross words between them. Always considerate of each other’s feelings, always taking care of each other. They had a good marriage. Unlike his own. Flawed, floundering, failed—almost from the start. He still didn’t know what he’d been thinking when he’d married that woman. Deaf, dumb, and blind with lust was his only defense. It had cost him. It had cost him a lot.

A light touch on his arm called him back to the present.

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you melancholy. I just saw your mother’s eyes at the mention of your father.

Yah, I did too. That’s why I volunteered to do dishes, move the conversation along, you know.

She nodded her understanding.

The kids seemed to have a great time at Disney. I didn’t think Elsie talked that much but she couldn’t talk fast enough—telling us all about visiting the castle. And Louie…he’s just so cute. A chuckle rose from deep within her, and her smile touched her eyes. They are doing so well. It’s hard to believe they are the same two children I met three months ago.

Really makes you wonder about their life before the fire in their apartment. Someone was watching over them, that’s for sure. He remembered back to the two blond waifs he had first seen in the hospital where Kate had been treating them for burns, abuse, and an accidental drug overdose. He shook his head to get the picture out of his mind.

The kettle whistled, and Bree worked at fixing his mother’s tea. She made one for each of them as well. After bringing the tea in to his mom, she returned to dry the pans he’d washed. Working side by side with her proved to be more difficult than he thought. They’d done the dishes before, loads of times. His heightened awareness of her surprised him not just a little.

He was sweating. Must be from his hands in hot water. I’m taking my cup of tea out on the back porch to cool down. It’s awfully warm in here. Want to join me? He dried his hands on the cloth she held and bumped her arm. Her face pinked, probably from the heat in the kitchen.

Sure, let me put this away. She hung up the towel and reached for her tea. As she went through the door he held open for her, he caught a whiff of that perfume again. Lily of the Valley? Something like that. The scent stayed with him, filling him. It pushed at him just as the smell of chocolate chip cookies baking made him hungry—he was hungry for something else.

Where did that come from? Bree was like a sister to him. Why was he reacting to her like this now? The slideshow in his mind clicked off pictures from the wedding and reception after. Bree smiling, Bree laughing, Bree dancing with him. He had a sudden urge to kiss her. It must be the perfume triggering all this. What the hell?

She sat in one of the wicker chairs, and he moved to the edge of the porch, leaning up against the railing. A little distance, that was a good thing. The moon had risen, and the stars were just starting to appear. The October evening was cool but not cold. She pulled her sweater closed, accentuating her curves. He looked away and took a deep breath. She had no idea…

It’s beautiful out tonight. I love this time of the evening, especially when the weather is so mild. She looked out toward the water where his boat gently rocked near the dock.

You must enjoy your new deck overlooking the river. What a great idea putting that on. Ethan could just picture her lying on a chaise, the late afternoon sun pinking her peaches and cream complexion.

I don’t enjoy it as much as I’d like to. I’m usually in the shop until 6:00, then I am so tired and have to think about dinner. Sometimes I’ll eat outside, especially in the summer while it’s still light out. Something in her voice had changed. She held something back, a tinge of anxiety or fear had seeped into her tone.

You made some great improvements on your building though. Kate said you added some big windows—tell me about it. He wanted to hear about her apartment, but he really just wanted to hear her voice, a soft joyful voice, happy most of the time.

I decided since I don’t have a rent, and the business is doing well enough, I could invest some money into my part of the building—my home. It took me a while to realize it’s not my parents’ place anymore. So I’ve made it mine. You know what I mean? She looked into his eyes, and his pulse quickened. He nodded.

So, I stripped out all the rugs, had hardwood flooring put in, had the whole apartment painted, lived like a nomad for a couple of weeks. Fortunately, the crew that did the work cleaned up every night when they finished. That was the worst part—living there while they worked on it. She shook her head as though she wondered why she’d done it that way.

She looked toward the shore again.

Come on. Let’s walk down there, and I’ll show you what I’ve been dumping my money into. He set his empty mug on the patio table and reached for her hand. Her eyes met his, then she slipped her hand into his. Warm, petite, soft in his big callused paw. But her warmth filled him, his heart raced, his tongue knotted, words could not pass. It seemed his brain was too overloaded by her nearness to put together a simple sentence. So they walked in silence, hand in hand, toward his fishing boat.

You have your bakery, I have my boat. It needed a bunch of repairs last winter in order to keep it afloat. I’d neglected it for a while. I ended up probably spending more money than if I had been keeping it up right along. Sometimes you have to learn the hard way. Boy, was that an understatement. So what was he doing holding hands and thinking…things about Bree?

Maybe you just needed to figure out what you wanted out of life. I know it took me a while to figure out that running the bakery was okay. Mom and Dad had just always assumed I’d take it over when they were ready to retire. But it’s okay now. Like I said, I’ve made it my own. Business and home.

He watched her. Clearly she spoke from her experience, but did she know how exactly she’d described his life?

Well, let’s say, I had to realign my priorities. It was a tough time. It took lots of self-examination, and family support—I don’t know where I’d be without my family—but I know what’s what now. Here—let me show you the improvements on the boat. Wow, how’d they get on this topic?

He let go of her hand to pull the boat right up to the dock and stepped on with one foot, held her hand again to help her aboard. He led her to the wheelhouse where his pride and joy sat. State of the art navigation electronics, fish finder, and GPS systems were attached to the counter above the wheel. He flipped the switch for the generator to kick on and turned on the various pieces of equipment. Lights blipped and flashed.

Bree watched, eyes filled with awe. He started to explain what each piece did and how it worked, and…she was interested but confused.

I can’t imagine how you do all this and catch fish too. This seems so complicated. I’m lucky to be able to figure out my DVD player.

"It’s not so bad once you’re out and running. You get used to it. Plus you have the compass to cross check. You always have a second form of navigation. Technology is great, but you’ve got to count on the basics too. Maybe you’d like to go out with me on your next day off?