Samantha
I stirred slowly, the warmth and comfort of the bed making it difficult to fully wake up. The events of the previous night were still a bit hazy, but as I blinked my eyes open, the soft light of morning filtering into the room, I became aware of the unusual situation I found myself in. My head was resting on something firm yet comfortable, and as I shifted slightly, I realized I was sprawled across someone's legs and chest—Ethan's legs and chest, to be exact.
A surge of embarrassment flooded through me as I quickly lifted my head, my cheeks flushing as I realized how close I was to him. When was the last time I shared a man's bed? Especially with three other women. Not since college, I think. Oh, that was a dirty thought.
I was having trouble processing what was happening. How did I end up in Ethan's bed? Honestly, I am not entirely sure. I remember falling asleep on the couch. I remember Lily waking up scared. I remember getting up and laying back down. I remember coming to Ethan's room…
Oh damn. I came with these girls and never left.
I glanced over at Victoria, who was just beginning to stir as well. She blinked, looking a bit disoriented, before she realized where she was and who she was with.
Her reaction was immediate—her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink, something I had rarely seen in her before. Honestly. I know the feeling. We exchanged some words, but I was hardly even listening or paying attention again.
"What must Ethan think of us?" Victoria said.
I felt a mix of emotions—embarrassment, amusement, and something I couldn't quite place. I was used to being composed, to maintaining a certain image, but this morning had shattered all of that. I glanced up at Ethan, expecting to see a hint of judgment or maybe a smirk; he is a dude after all—but instead, I saw only a kind smile.
"I think the storm brought everyone together," he said softly, his voice warm and reassuring. "It's good to know that I only need a little thunderstorm to get a women flocking to me. Now there's a well-kept secret. I should write a book."
His words eased some of the tension, and I laughed softly, though the sound was tinged with a bit of self-consciousness.
"Oh, please," I quipped, pushing myself up into a sitting position on the bed, still partially leaning on Ethan. "Aunt Victoria, you're the one always preaching about decorum. I am just a tacky American. What's your excuse?"
Victoria shot me a look that was both playful and chiding. "Ahh, yes, the situation is… unorthodox. But in traditional British fashion, I am going to do what the monarchy does whenever they find themselves in an embarrassing situation."
"What's that?" Ethan said. His smile was warm. I liked it.
Victoria grinned, leaned over, and kissed Ethan on the forehead. "I am going to ignore it."
I laughed hard. The situation was so ridiculous. "I like that plan. Now we should probably disentangle ourselves before the girls get any ideas."
Maya and Lily, who had been lying quietly on either side of Ethan, suddenly burst into giggles, breaking the morning's silence. "Too late!" Lily exclaimed, her voice filled with glee. "We already know what's going on! Clearly, you're both in love with our dad. We are taking applications for new mothers!"
Victoria's blush deepened, and she put on a stern look, trying to maintain her usual composure, but the situation was clearly getting the better of her. "Children have such wild imaginations," she said, though her voice lacked its usual firmness.
I couldn't resist a playful jab, my earlier embarrassment now turning into amusement. "Wild imaginations? Or maybe they're just good at reading between the lines, Lady Harrington."
Victoria sighed, though the slight upturn of her lips betrayed her amusement. "You're incorrigible, Samantha."
"And you're blushing, Victoria," I teased, though there was no malice in my tone—only warmth and affection. "Come on, let's make a graceful exit before we completely lose our dignity."
Victoria shook her head, a small, reluctant smile finally breaking through her composed facade. "I suppose that would be wise."
We carefully extricated ourselves from the tangle of limbs and blankets. I felt a need to glance back at Ethan. He had been the calm center of this storm—both literal and figurative—and I felt a strange sense of gratitude mixed with discomfort. It was a very odd combination of feelings.
With one last look at him, I followed Victoria out of the room, the sound of the girls' giggles trailing after us. This morning had been unexpected, to say the least, but somehow, it felt like the beginning of something new—something that, despite the awkwardness and the laughter, I was curious to explore.
Once I was safely back in the privacy of my room, I leaned against the door and let out a shaky breath. My heart was still racing, and I felt a flush in my cheeks. I didn't know how I was going to face any of them later, but for now, I just needed a moment to collect myself.
I walked over to the small table where I had left my phone the night before. It wasn't my regular phone, only my backup. My normal phone was probably at the bottom of that creek. The screen lit up as I picked it up. My heart sank as I saw the barrage of missed texts from my friends. I had messaged them last night, letting them know briefly what happened and that I was okay, but I hadn't given them any details. Now, they were clearly freaking out.
Grace: "Wait. You almost died? Are you okay? What happened??"
Olivia: "Why aren't you answering? Should we call someone?"
Natalie: "Samantha Harrington, you tell us what is going on before I come to Silver Ridge and put you over my knee!"
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. I should have known they would worry, especially since I hadn't given them much to go on. I quickly typed out a response, trying to keep it as simple as possible.
Me: "Sorry, ! It's been a wild night. As I said last night, we got caught in the storm and ended up stranded in a creek. We're safe now, but it was touch and go for a bit. We are back at the Chateau now. We got checked out last night by Dr. Kingsley. Scary stuff. So… what I DIDN'T say is there's this guy, Ethan, who saved us. His daughters are here too. I didn't sleep well last night. I am wiped out. Need to shower."
I hit send and sat down on the edge of the bed to gather myself. The replies came flying in.
Olivia: "OMG, Sam! Are you serious? Who is this Ethan guy? Is he hot??"
Grace: "Please tell us you're okay. And more about Ethan, this sounds like a rom-com waiting to happen."
Natalie: "Safe? Are you sure? I don't like this. You should go to a hospital."
Oh my friends. I just love them. They were always like this, ready to jump into action at a moment's notice, but I could tell they were also dying for details.
Me: "I'm okay, promise. Ethan's a really good guy. Tall, rugged, and definitely the strong, silent type. And yes, I would say he has a certain appeal. His daughters are with us too; Maya is 13 and Lily is 10 almost 11 and absolutely darling. It was wild last night, but everything is okay this morning. Though the storm is still going crazy. And my body is sore as balls. Need some Motrin and yoga."
The responses came in rapid-fire.
Olivia: "I knew it! This is totally going to turn into a movie."
Grace: "Please tell us more about him. We're living vicariously through you right now."
Natalie: "Rugged and a certain appeal? What is this, Night Court? What does that even mean? But even more importantly, are you SURE you're okay? Do we need to head in your direction?"
I bit my lip, trying to find the right words to explain what had happened without sounding completely ridiculous.
Me: "I'm fine, really. It's just been a weird night. We ended up sharing a bed—don't freak out, nothing happened! But I did wake up this morning completely mortified. I am not sure how to face him now."
The responses were immediate.
Olivia: "WHAT?! You woke up in bed with him? Tell us everything! I love it, you skank!"
Grace: "This is too good. I need details, Sam. Spare none."
Natalie: "Mortified? But why? He didn't do anything, did he?"
I snorted at the replies. Leave it to my friends to turn this into something straight out of a romance novel. I typed out a quick response, promising to fill them in later, but for now, I needed to figure out how to face Ethan—and everyone else—without completely dying of shame.
Shame? Really? I was starting to sound like my aunt. What do I have to be ashamed of? I didn't do anything wrong. I just slept in the bed of a man… I hardly knew…with my aunt, and his daughters.
I facepalmed. The whole thing sounded ludicrous.
As I set my phone down, I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. It was time to take back control. That meant for me putting on my game face. It was time to get ready.
I glanced around the room, reminding myself that this wasn't just any guest room; it was practically my second home. I had everything I needed to get ready.
With a determined sigh, I slid out of bed and padded over to the large closet. The last thing I needed was to give Ethan the impression that I was anything less than perfectly put together, even in a situation like this. I flipped through the clothes, my mind racing as I tried to decide what to wear. I didn't want to overdo it—this was just breakfast, after all—but I also couldn't let him see me as anything other than the woman I was.
I finally settled on a fitted red blouse with delicate gold accents that highlighted my eyes, paired with tailored jeans that flattered my figure without being too flashy. The blouse had a classic, sophisticated feel, and the pants were just tight enough to remind me—and anyone who looked—that I was still every bit the supermodel I used to be. I pulled out a pair of low heels—nothing really dressy and quite comfortable—just enough to give me a bit more height without seeming like I was trying too hard.
Next, I focused on my hair. The tousled waves from sleep had a kind of natural beauty to them, but I wasn't about to walk out there looking like I hadn't brushed my hair. I grabbed the brush and smoothed out the waves, letting them fall softly over my shoulders. A quick glance in the mirror told me I was looking more like myself—polished, poised, and ready to face whatever awkwardness might come my way.
I kept the makeup minimal—just enough to highlight my best features without seeming like I was putting in too much effort. A touch of mascara to make my green eyes pop, a light dusting of blush to give me some color, and a swipe of lip gloss to keep my lips looking soft. It was all about balance—enough to show that I cared, but not so much that it looked like I was trying to impress anyone.
When I was satisfied with my appearance, I took a deep breath and straightened my shoulders. I could handle this, just like I'd handled everything else in my life. With that, I stepped out of the room and headed for the kitchen.
I made my way down the hall and heard the sounds of breakfast being prepared—pans clinking, the sizzle of something on the stove, and the low murmur of voices. The closer I got, the more I could smell the delicious aroma of food wafting through the air. It was warm, inviting, and so different from the usual mornings I spent alone in my apartment.
When I entered the kitchen, I paused for a moment to take in the scene. Ethan was at the stove, focused on whatever he was cooking, while Lily and Maya were at the table, chatting animatedly. The sight of them together was… nice. Too nice. And suddenly, I was keenly aware of how little I had in common with this cozy, domestic scene.
Ethan glanced up as I entered, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than usual. I could see the appreciation in his eyes, and that was exactly what I needed.
We exchanged greetings, and I gave Maya and Lily a wink.
"Smells amazing," I commented, moving to the table and taking a seat. "What's on the menu?"
"Traditional English breakfast," Ethan replied, his focus back on the stove. "Nothing too fancy. Hope you're hungry."
I nodded, trying to keep my mind on the food and not on how awkward I felt sitting there, trying to fit into a scene that wasn't mine. The girls continued their conversation, and I found myself half-listening, half-distracted by the way Ethan moved around the kitchen. He was confident, sure of himself, and there was something undeniably attractive about that.
I shook my head, pushing those thoughts aside. This wasn't about attraction. This was about reclaiming my sense of control, of reminding myself who I was. And if that meant making sure Ethan didn't see me as just some damsel in distress, then so be it.
But as I sat there, listening to the laughter and the clatter of dishes, I felt myself relax. This felt really nice. I wondered if this is how mothers and wives feel.