by Brisa Starr
I exit the messaging app on my phone. I can’t help but go back to thinking about Emma. I’m definitely interested in her. Who wouldn’t be? I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. I think about when our hands brushed earlier. I swear I felt something like electricity coursing through me in a split second. I know she felt it too. The look on her face said it all.
My thoughts are disrupted when I hear her call for me from the kitchen.
“Landon?” I like the way my name sounds coming from her mouth. I jump up and go inside.
“Yeah?” I ask her.
“As you know, I’m here to write my book,” she says in that warning tone I’m starting to recognize. This time though she’s even squinting her eyes at me.
“I know,” I reply.
Satisfied, her shoulders relax. “So I want to find a place where I can write and work where I won’t be disruptive to you, and you won’t disrupt me,” she says. “I love the courtyard off my bedroom, and I know I’ll be able to enjoy working out there. But sometimes I like to mix it up.”
Shit. I’ll never see her if she’s always in the courtyard off her bedroom.
“Or you can work in the back yard,” I reply quickly. “Let me show you.”
She follows me as I lead her out of the kitchen and through the living room to the back door that takes us to the back yard.
We step outside, and I hear her inhale sharply.
Mom poured her heart into making this yard someplace special, and it seems that Emma is taken aback by it.
We’re surrounded by citrus trees, plus peach, apple, and fig trees. There’s inviting and colorful patio furniture, with many options for working — on a couch, a double-sized sun chair, a patio swing, or any of three tables with large umbrellas to shield the sun. There’s also a pool, a hot tub, and a gazebo next to a small waterfall feature that flows into the pool. Hmmm. I wonder if I could practice meditating in the gazebo, with the relaxing sound of the waterfall?
“See?” I ask her. “You have tons of places where you can set up shop, and plenty of shade.” I gesture exaggeratedly like I’m a model on The Price Is Right.
Emma slowly walks around, following the brick pavers like they’re a yellow brick road. She turns around, taking it all in. “This is unbelievable.”
“It sure is.” I step toward her, and we share a quiet moment of appreciation. “My parents loved spending time out here, and they liked having the neighbors over for happy hour all the time.”
“That’s cute,” she says and then turns toward the pool, with a hopeful look. “Is the pool heated?”
“Yes. Sadie turned the heater on last week because she knew you’d be coming.”
“Great. I packed my bathing suit even though I wasn’t sure if it’d be heated. I was hoping though.” She smiles like a kid who just got a bag of gummy bears.
Knowing the answer, but wanting to keep the conversation going, I ask her, “Do you like to swim?” I look her up and down as inconspicuously as I can, imagining her in a string bikini.
“Very much. I was a competitive swimmer in middle school, but I didn’t do much with it in high school.” She walks to the pool and bends down to put her hand in it, feeling the temperature. “This pool is awesome. I love the waterfall!”
“The hot tub is over there,” I say, pointing toward the end of the pool.
“Oh god!” She exclaims, “I looooove hot tubs.”
She takes a breath, “Oh, this is all just perfect!”
I’m thrilled to see her excitement for the back yard, and I feel like I just won a prize. I’ll get to see her a lot more than if she were cloistered away in her private courtyard.
As I head to the other end of the back yard to water the trees with the hose, I tell her, “Well, the place is yours for the month so enjoy everything here.” I emphasize the word “everything.” What can I say? I can’t help myself.
She doesn’t take the bait. She is one serious woman to even attempt resisting my charms. “Great. I’ll do that. Thanks for showing me around,” she says casually. She turns to go into the house. “I’d better get started writing... the clock is ticking. I’m gonna go get my laptop to work out here right now.”
“Sounds like a plan. I won’t be in your w-.” I call out as she heads inside, but the door closes on me mid-sentence.
Well, at least I convinced her to work outside where I can see her. Who am I kidding? I didn’t convince her, Mom’s yard did. It’s amazing. Damn romantic, too. Hummingbirds flit about, and even the Peach-Faced Lovebirds make regular appearances. The spring blossoms make the air smell sweet, and the warm, sunny weather means spending all hours, day or night, out here. She’s going to love it. And I’m going to love having her.
I chuckle and a short exhale huffs out of my nose. Yup, this time of year in Arizona is perfect, and I’m glad I decided to come here. And? I’m definitely glad Emma is here with me.
I need a cold shower, if only to cool my head from thoughts of Emma. I head to the bathroom, grabbing a towel along the way. I undress, leaving my clothes in a heap on the floor, and turn on the water.
I step inside, not waiting for it to warm up. The icy water hits my chest and abdomen and stings with cold, making my whole body tense reflexively. But the pain quickly passes, and I begin to feel the built-up heat draining from my body. I was serious about needing the cold water. I needed to clear my head, and it’s working.
I wonder if my fascination with Emma is just the chase — because she’s resisting — or is there something special about her? She repeated her story about not wanting distractions, but all I can think about is distracting her. I’d like to taste her and kiss her sexy mouth. My thoughts turn dirty as I imagine a compromise we could make. She can work on her book, and I’ll get on my knees under the table, spread her legs, and lick her senseless while she’s working.
Damn, that’s hot. She’s hot. Really fucking hot. Long, dark hair, beautiful face with full lips, perky breasts. I remember the image of her bending over the trunk of the Uber. Her ass is tight, her legs are long and lean, and I want them wrapped around my waist while I fuck the hell out of her.
This shower isn’t helping.
Make a plan, Landon.
I’ve got two weeks to get her in my bed and make her mine. No problem.
I step out of the cold shower and wrap a towel around my waist. Then, I walk to my bedroom and throw on some workout shorts. Maybe I’ll walk over to the golf course this afternoon and practice putting before settling in for the night. I lace up my running shoes, grab my shirt and opt not to put it on yet so I can finish drying first. I head to the back yard to tell Emma my plans before I leave.
When I open the door and walk out, she raises her head and gasps. She’s looking at my chest, and I realize I startled her by going shirtless. I give her a moment before saying, “I’m going to practice putting over at the golf course for an hour or so. Did you have plans for dinner?”
Her eyes flick to mine and she replies, “I ate before leaving the airport, and I brought some granola bars and beef jerky.”
“Sounds delicious,” I say. She doesn’t seem to notice the jab.
I can tell she likes what she sees, though she tries to hide it. She can pretend all she wants, but it’s undeniably there.
“OK,” I continue, “well if you get hungry, Sadie put a few things in the fridge to tide us over until we can get to the store.”
I pause to give her a couple more seconds to look me over, but her heated green eyes stay focused on mine.
On that cue, I leave and put on my shirt before heading out. I reflect on the day as I walk to the golf course, with my putter in hand. I’ve been so enthralled with Emma that I haven’t had one stressful thought all day. What a nice change.
After a couple of hours practicing — I stayed longer than I intended — I pick up the golf balls, grab my putter, and head home. I take the long way back, enjoying the transition from afternoon to evening. It’s one of my favorite times of d
ay in the desert and makes for some incredible sunsets, with insane colors blazing on the horizon like the sky is on fire.
It’s a bit late by the time I finally get home. I got a little hot during the walk, so I take my shirt off and throw it into the hamper in the laundry room. I’m hungry, too. A protein shake sounds perfect. So I head to my room and dig out my whey protein powder, creatine powder, and shaker cup from my suitcase. I guess I can’t give Emma too much shit for bringing her supplements when she travels.
I walk to the kitchen and use the filtered water to make my shake. I put the lid on it and then shake shake shake it up and drink it down. It doesn’t taste great, but I’m hardcore, and I like what it does for my muscles. I’m getting ready to leave the kitchen, and I see Emma is in her room, door closed, but still awake. I see the light is on beneath her door.
I wonder what she sleeps in.
Maybe nothing.
Hopefully.
The thought stirs me, and I feel my cock getting thick.
Not able to stop myself, I walk to her door and knock on it. I probably shouldn’t, but I want to see her once more. She cracks the door a little and stands there looking at me. She’s wearing small cotton shorts with blue butterflies on them and a matching loose tank top. With the light highlighting her silhouette from behind, I can make out her curves under the thin cotton. Damn.
Irritated at my staring, she crosses her arms attempting to block my view of her figure. “Yes?” she asks.
“I thought I’d give you my phone number. It dawned on me while I was gone that if you’d needed to get a hold of me, you wouldn’t have been able to.” I hold my hand out, “Wanna give me your phone, and I’ll enter my number?”
“Sure, but can you stop looking at me like you’re some kind of alpha wolf?” she snaps and turns back into her bedroom. “Wait there,” she commands.
She comes back and hands me her phone. “Here.”
I take the phone from her and enter my number. I put a red heart emoji by my name. Then I send myself a message from her phone so that I have her number, too. I hand the phone back to her, and she looks at it. Upon seeing the heart, she arches a perfect eyebrow and lets out a barely detectable laugh. I can’t help but smile.
“What?” I ask innocently and shrug.
“Look, Landon,” she starts sternly, “I’m sure you’re a great guy and all.” She waits a breath, her eyes glittering with something. Desire? But she tries to cloud the glitter with flatness and adds, “I’m going to be really busy while you’re here. I don’t have time to play. It’s not a vacation for me. Some people have to work, and I’m one of them. Between my clients and writing the book, I don’t expect to be good company.”
“I know, why are you telling me this again?”
“You know why,” she replies and narrows her eyes at me. “Furthermore, you’re not my type, and I’m not interested anyway.”
“Wha-,” I begin, but she cuts me off.
“Good night,” she says and closes the door.
“Challenge definitely accepted,” I mutter under my breath. “Good night,” I call out. I turn off the kitchen lights and head to my bedroom, going straight to my phone. I save her information to my contacts.
I can’t sleep yet. I turn on the TV in my bedroom, but nothing holds my interest. I settle on the golf channel and pick up my phone to text Emma.
Me: Sweet dreams.
Emma: Good night.
I’m excited to see what tomorrow brings.
4
Emma
I slept so well last night in this amazing bed. It was wonderful leaving the door to the courtyard open with the screen door shut so I could have fresh, night air and cool breezes.
Time to get up though.
I have a busy day and a busy month. First things first, I’ve got to go to the store to buy groceries. Then I’ll come home and dive into writing. I need to work on my book every day. Plus, there’s my freelance work. I need all the time I can get, but I’m sure I can manage it all if I stay focused.
Paige’s words echo in my head, “Your grandmother would be so proud, Em.”
She’s right. I inhale sharply and close my eyes for a minute and imagine Granny smiling at me. I’m filled with warmth. After a moment of basking in this love I’m feeling, and excitement about my project, I reach over to the nightstand and grab my phone. I go to open the Reminders app to start a list for groceries, and I pause, seeing the text from Landon last night. That guy has got to stop. I mean, he’s hot, yes. And that body. Holy crap... hard, lean, and big in all the right places. I wonder if he has a b-... Don’t even go there, Emma. Just close that door and lock it... he lives in another state anyway.
Right.
Food.
Shopping list.
I’m definitely going to make my vanilla cranberry scones while I’m here. Many times, in fact. Scones are my favorite thing in the whole wide world, and Granny’s recipe was the inspiration for my favorite twist on them. So I’ll need butter, flour, sugar, heavy cream, eggs, and coconut oil. Hmmm. I should check the cupboards here for things like salt and baking powder.
I also need to think about what I’ll be eating for the next couple of weeks. I want to keep it simple so I have time to work. Canned tuna, sourdough bread for sandwiches, butter, fresh fruit, and vegetables. Oh, and pickles.
I’ll bet I could roast a chicken and nosh on it for days and then make bone broth with the bones. That’s an idea. Though, I’d probably have to share it with Landon because it’d be kind of rude to make a whole chicken and not share it.
OK, scratch that. No chicken.
I spend a few more minutes finishing my shopping list and turn to get out of bed. Stretching and yawning once more, I make my way to the bathroom and stand in front of the sink. It’s hammered copper with a beautiful bronze-colored patina. I bend over the sink to splash cold water on my face to wake myself up... I haven’t had coffee yet. I pull the soft orange towel off the towel hanger and dry my face. Next, I brush my teeth with my homemade peppermint toothpaste. This will be one of the star recipes in Granny’s Homemade Herbal Recipes book.
Once I complete my morning routine, I look at my makeup on the counter. Without really thinking, I grab my favorite violet eyeliner and find myself lining my green eyes with it. Next is my blush. Followed by my favorite shimmery lip gloss that plumps my lips.
Wait. Why am I putting on makeup? It’s not like I’m seeing anyone special.
Try as I might to convince myself that I’m just doing this for myself, I know I’m making myself pretty for Landon. Don’t encourage him.
I look at myself in the mirror and shake my head. I can’t help it. I kind of want to look pretty for him, even if I won’t have him.
I walk over to the closet and choose a pretty, feminine tank top to wear with my sexy, short jean shorts. The pale, soft denim has frayed hems, which show off my lean legs nicely. Thanks to my disciplined yoga practice, I’m proud of my body. Though, I am eager to get some sun on my legs. I could be taken for a ghost!
As I head to the kitchen, I keep thinking about Landon. I remember his sexy smile and his fit, muscular body. That strange current of electricity or something when his hand brushed against mine when he grabbed my suitcase. The way his text last night made me smile.
If I hadn’t sworn off men temporarily, I’d be all over him. God, he looked so good without a shirt. No no no. Not gonna do it. I take a breath and redirect my thoughts. I don’t have time or energy for that this month. Stay focused, Emma.
I see he’s already been up and made coffee. It smells good. Maybe that fancy shmancy pot is worth the $300 after all. As I’m pouring coffee into my special cup, the deep aroma hits my nose and I hear him walk in.
“Hey Emma, good morning,” he says. Looking hot as hell. Without a shirt on.
“Oh. Hi, Landon.” I take a sip of coffee and look at him over the rim of my cup. I take in his tempting, attractive male physique. “Do you own any shirts?”
His eyes meet mine, and I feel a little flushed, too warm for this early in the morning, before the Arizona sun has had a chance to heat things up. But his gaze takes me in like he’s seeing me for the first time. Hungry. He stays like that for a long moment, too long, before he lets his eyes roll down my body. He’s not even hiding it! Taking in every inch of me.
I blush again.
He chuckles, “Why? See something you like?”
“Oh my god,” I say, exasperated. “Do you ever quit?”
“Nope.” He smirks. “But I did promise Sadie I’d behave. So, as a proper host, how was your first night? Sleep well?”
Proper host my ass. Even asking me about my sleep comes across as suggestive.
“Yes,” I reply dragging my eyes back to his face, “Actually amazing. One of my best nights ever.”
“That’s great,” he replies, watching me.
Eager to get my head out of the gutter, I turn around to get my phone and say, “Thanks for making coffee, by the way. My day doesn’t officially start until I’ve had a cup. Or three.”
“No problem. I’m an early riser, already on my second cup myself.”
I look at my shopping list on my phone and ask, “Where would I find things like salt or baking powder? I want to see what’s here before I go to the store.”
He points to a cupboard on the far wall. “Everything like spices, condiments, et cetera, are in that wooden cupboard.”
“OK, thanks.” I walk to the cupboard and inventory the contents. “So, I’m eager to dive into my work, but I want to go to the store first. I’ll need to take Bessie.”
“When do you want to go?” he asks.
“I was hoping to head out now,” I say, heading to the laundry room, which leads to the garage. I slide on my flip-flops and grab my purse.
“Alright. Follow me.” He walks past me, more like squeezing by, knowing full well I’m in the doorway, and there’s no way he’ll pass me without our bodies brushing against each other.
I’m not about to take the bait. I follow him into the garage without acknowledging his antics.