Under the Moon's Shadow by T. L. Haddix Read Free Book Online Page B

can kick back and relax.” She wiped the salt off his hand with the damp towel and switched to his left.
    He hmmm’d. “I thought you liked the whole parties and dinners thing.”
    “I – well, sort of. I mean, I enjoy talking to people, learning about them, that sort of thing, but it gets old after a while. After so many times when you’re invited here or there, or when you have to cover this event or that one, you really start to wonder if the people you’re with would have anything to do with you if it wasn’t your job.” His hand tightened around hers, and when she looked up, he was frowning. “What?”
    “I just didn’t expect you to feel that way.”
    She laughed and wiped his left hand down, then used the water to rinse her own hands off. “Why not?”
    “I don’t know. Because you always seem to be so… comfortable with who you are when I see you working, or out somewhere.”
    Beth didn’t know how to respond. Getting out oatmeal-almond scented lotion, she went back to his right hand and started massaging. “I do love my job, don’t get me wrong. But sometimes, it would be nice to be asked out or have someone want to spend time with me the person, not me the reporter.”
    “That just blows my mind, that you say that. All this time, I’ve thought you just liked dating.”
    Her hands stopped moving on his. “Excuse me?”
    He groaned. “That didn’t come out right. I just can’t imagine anyone not going out with you for any reason other than they wanted to be with you.”
    “Okay, you prettied that up well enough, so I guess I can forgive you,” she said, blushing at the intense study he was giving her. “And some guys are nice. I don’t mean to imply that they aren’t. But most of the people I go out with, they see that I’m blonde, that I’m ‘upbeat,’ and they think ‘oh, bet she’s a load of fun, loves to party.’ They don’t think ‘bet she’s smart and capable, loves to curl up and read.’ When they find out who I really am, you can see the trail of dust spiraling up behind them, they run so fast. They don’t want someone who has a thinking brain in her head.”
    “That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?” he asked.
    She got more lotion and started on his other hand. “Maybe a little. It just all gets so old, Ethan. Is it too much to ask to find someone who looks beyond the surface?” When he was quiet, she looked up, surprised by the somber expression on his face, and she remembered what Stacy had said to her a few days earlier. His next words confirmed what the other detective had theorized.
    “Yeah, sometimes I think it is. People look at me and they see the badge, or they see I’m Hispanic, and that’s all they see. It does get old.”
    Ethan’s father had been a first-generation American, with his grandparents having immigrated to Texas from Mexico just before his father’s birth. With his dark hair and olive complexion, Beth knew Ethan had found growing up in a small town in southern Indiana to be something of a challenge, and had endured a good amount of snide comments about his heritage through the years.
    Beth tilted her head to the side. “Not everyone sees you that way, you know.” He just looked at her, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “They don’t. I don’t. None of your friends do.”
    “I guess not.” When she finished with the lotion, he pulled his hands back and looked at them. “That was nice. Thank you.”
    She could see him withdrawing into himself, and she suppressed a sigh of disappointment. This was the first time in perhaps years that she and Ethan had spent any time together alone, and it had been a tantalizing glimpse into the man that not a lot of people got to see. She decided to not push him any further, and started putting the manicure supplies up while he wandered over to the living room windows to look out.
    “The couch folds out into a queen-sized bed,” she told him. “I washed the linens earlier, so you’ll have clean