So yeah, this being ignored sucked about as much as the rest of the choices he would have to make about going home soon.
* * *
Emily was angry baking, something she did when she was upset and couldn’t sleep. She liked to bake bread because she could give the dough a good pounding and release a lot of frustration that way. She was craving chocolate, and after the day she’d had, she deserved a stress treat, so she was also baking brownies. Her dad was tucked into bed upstairs, well medicated and asleep, and she assumed Parker was in his bedroom. They’d each headed to their own rooms after they’d finally gotten home with her dad, eaten dinner they’d picked up on the way home, and turned in upstairs.
It was awkward between them and she hated it. She smacked the dough for good measure, then began using her favorite marble rolling pin, flattening the dough into a nine-by-twelve rectangle, then rolling it and molding it into a French loaf.
She also hated how much she felt like she was stuck between the proverbial rock and hard place with her dad. She understood how much he wanted to keep and run this inn. She was just truly afraid it was too much for him, and a big part of her was afraid of losing him the way she’d lost her mom.
She repeated the process with more dough. A glance at both loaves, and she added a few diagonal cuts with a knife, then placed them on a greased baking sheet, leaving them to rise.
Her thoughts immediately returned to her dad. Her fears. It didn’t help that she’d been mired in grief over her baby at the same time her mother had passed away. It’d been difficult to separate the two losses. She was still getting over them both. So yes, maybe she overreacted with her dad. Maybe she was irrational. But feelings were feelings, right?
She blew out a long breath and turned her attention to the brownies, which she already had in a bowl. They just needed to be poured into the pan and slid into the oven. She’d been at this awhile.
Then she’d lick that bowl clean. She wouldn’t have solved her problems but she’d have eaten chocolate … and that was something, right?
* * *
Parker listened in vain for any noise coming from Emily’s room but he didn’t hear anything. He didn’t for a second think she’d gone to sleep. She had as much on her mind as he did. Maybe more.
He knocked on her door, and when she didn’t answer, he headed downstairs to the second most obvious place to find her. Sure enough, she was muttering to herself in the kitchen while stirring what looked like chocolate in a large bowl.
He pulled up a stool and slid onto it, watching her while she worked. He had no doubt she’d heard and seen him come in. So he took in the unbaked loaves rising on the counter and he inhaled the delicious smell of chocolate.
“My mother used to bake.” The words were out before he could even think them. He hadn’t even realized he’d had the sensory memory but it warmed him inside. “She liked to include me and my brothers when we were little.”
Emily stilled in her mixing, her soft gaze coming to his. “What did she make?”
“Well, brownies in a pinch, of course.” He nodded toward her bowl. “And Snickerdoodles. Those were my favorite.” He smiled, almost able to smell the cinnamon.
“I like the dreamy look on your face.”
“It isn’t often I’m thrown into a good memory of my mom,” he admitted.
More often than not, he thought about the bitter ones of his dad and his lack of attention, his many wives, and losing the one parent who loved him unconditionally.
“Do you know the key ingredient that differentiates a Snickerdoodle from a sugar cookie?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Can’t say that I do.” That memory escaped him.
“Cream of tartar. It’s a leavening agent that gives the cookie its signature tangy flavor and chewy texture.”
“She made them every Christmas,” he said, hearing his own wistful tone. “We left them out for Santa.”
Emily smiled at his memory. “I’ll make them for you one day if–” She shook her head.
If you’re still here went unsaid.
“Can I take this to mean you’re not mad at me anymore?” he asked, leaning in on one arm.
She poured the brownie mix into the pan and sighed. “I was never mad at you. At first I was just scared to death. Then I was frustrated with Dad and the situation. You being here, supporting his dream doesn’t help. But I’m not angry at you.”
The heaviness in his chest eased. But he was going to throw her an even more difficult question. He wasn’t sure if he expected an answer, and given he didn’t know if he could answer in return, it wasn’t exactly fair.
“Okay then, good. What about before we came back? Are you still running from what we felt?”
She’d stuck a chocolate-covered finger into her mouth, and at the question, her eyes opened wide. The question had been bad timing on his part because his dick hardened at the sight of that finger in her mouth. He wanted her lips wrapped around his cock.
But they had important things to discuss. “Running?” she asked on a squeak.
He pushed himself to standing and strode around the island, coming up to her and pushing her back against the counter. “Running,” he confirmed. “Not physically but emotionally.”
“I can’t let myself get too attached to you, Parker. You’re leaving. Sooner not later. Just because we don’t discuss it doesn’t make it not true. I need to protect myself.”
Her words sliced through him because they were true. Because he hated them. Because she was right and he didn’t want her to be. So he did the only thing he could do in the moment.
“But we have now.” He reached for the bowl and slid his finger through the chocolate.
Then, pulling up her tee shirt, he found her braless, which worked for what he had planned. He coated both of her nipples with the mixture, smearing it over the buds and her areolas, then dipped his head and began to lick her clean.
He suckled on the sweet treat, pulling the beaded tip into his mouth and releasing it with a pop, swirling his tongue around and around until one side was clear. Afterward, he turned his attention to the other side, giving it the same treatment, reveling in the soft sighs of pleasure and outright moans of delight that came from the back of her throat as he aroused her with his mouth and tongue.
Her hips rocked from side to side along with his licks and caresses, and he pressed his hips against hers, grinding himself against her sex. She hooked one leg around his thigh and thrust herself against him, rubbing into him until she came on a cry. He captured the sound in his mouth, and dammit if he didn’t come, too, in his pants like he was fucking sixteen years old.
Cheeks flushed, she slid off him. “Well, that was something.” She laughed. “Did we really just…?”
“Yeah. We did.”
Grinning, he walked over to the sink and turned on the water. “You wash your hands. I’m running to the bathroom. Then I’ll come back and help you clean up the mess in here.”
He walked out and she rinsed off her hands and got the baked goods into the oven. Parker returned and they took care of the baking tins and flour that was everywhere, cleaning up and talking while the bread and brownies baked, falling into bed late and sleeping in the next day.
Together.
* * *
The next morning, her baking for Harper’s shop complete, Emily rushed around the kitchen, finishing up last-minute details before she could leave to go into town. Harper had texted her that she needed to talk to her – alone – and it was important. So she wanted to get moving.
But it was her father’s first morning after his fall and she needed to see for herself that he was okay. He still had the white bandage on his head but he seemed to be mobile and doing well. He tipped back his coffee mug and looked ready to rise.
“Dad, don’t get up. I’ll get you more coffee,” Emily said, grabbing his mug and walking over to the Keurig.
“She knows I’m not an invalid, right?” James asked Parker, who sat besi
de him at the kitchen table, sipping his own cup in silence.
“She’s worried about you after your fall. Humor her,” Parker suggested.
He was right. She was concerned. But that didn’t mean they needed to talk about her like she wasn’t in the room.
“She is right here and doesn’t appreciate being talked about in the third person.” After pushing the brew button, she finished wrapping the last of her muffins she needed to take over to Harper’s for the breakfast rush.
“Do you know how much easier your baking routine would be if you’d just look into leasing the space next door to Harper’s Coffee? No more loading up the car, no more getting up extra early because you only have one oven…”
“Dad, really? You want to have this discussion now?” She braced her hands on the counter and faced her father. “I’m still working on getting you to see reason about yourself and this inn.”
He rolled his eyes. “I am seeing reason. I took a tumble anyone in my position could have taken. Should I have waited until someone was home to climb the ladder? Yes. I won’t make that mistake again. Lesson learned.” He rose from his seat and walked over to the coffee machine and took the cup she’d forgotten, added milk, and took a sip. “See? Perfectly capable of doing things for myself.”
She blew out a breath. “I need to get into town. I’m glad you’re feeling better, Dad. Really. If you need anything–”
“I’m here. You didn’t want help taking your muffins to town, so I’m hanging here with James.”
“We’re going to discuss what remains to be done on renovations,” her father said, clearly excited and pleased with himself.
Parker shook his head. “Not helping,” he muttered and she couldn’t help but chuckle under her breath. Her dad was a stubborn man.
And she didn’t wonder where her own personality had come from.
“Which reminds me, you need to look into hiring a decorator to redo the inside of the place. We’re going to change it all up and I want you to feel like you’re picking what you want,” her father said, sipping from his mug.
“Why do I feel like you’re ignoring me?” she asked.
“Maybe because I am? This is happening,” he informed her.
She knew when to give up the fight at least for now. “Okay, you two. See you later.”
Later, after the morning rush, during which Emily helped out because Harper was short-staffed, they were able to sit down at a quiet table to talk.
“Whew. That was a busy morning,” Emily said.
“It was. And I’m grateful for it. Which is why what I have to tell you is so important.” Harper fidgeted in her seat and it was obvious she had something on her mind.
“Talk to me.”
“Okay.” She looked around, obviously making sure they were alone. “My landlord called. He got an offer. Not just on the store we have our eye on but he offered to buy out my lease because they want to purchase the entire block.” Harper’s eyes opened wide. “I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.”
Neither could Emily and her stomach twisted painfully. She’d been putting off this decision because she could. Because the perfect store was there waiting for her to come around or not. “What did you tell him?”
“That the coffee shop is my life and I had no desire to walk away. I said I had a lease he couldn’t break and that I’d get back to him about an offer on the place next door. Oh hell, I broke down and begged him not to sell. I don’t want a landlord who’s going to make my life hell and evict me!”
Emily pinched the bridge of her nose, a headache beginning to form there. “What can we do?”
“Don’t be mad.”
She narrowed her gaze. “What did you do?”
“I made us an appointment with the bank,” Harper said on a rush. “In” – she glanced at her phone – “fifteen minutes so we could apply for a small-business loan.”
Emily bit down on the inside of her cheek. “Don’t you already have a small-business loan?”
“Yes, but I’m making my payments. Look, we have to try. This is our dream, right? Well, it’s going to dissolve in front of our eyes if we don’t at least attempt to do something to stop it.”
Knowing this was it, that she either jumped on opportunity or regretted it forever, she looked at her best friend and nodded. “Okay. Let’s go apply for a loan. I have to warn you, I don’t have any collateral.”
“Goodwill goes a long way in small towns. I hope,” Harper muttered, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of her chair.
They headed to the bank to meet with the loan officer. Emily didn’t leave overly optimistic but she knew she’d tried. She had statements and paperwork she had to forward to them and she decided to hold on to hope.
But she swore Harper to secrecy. She didn’t want to tell Parker she’d applied for a loan. She knew he was wealthy and he clearly had the money to fund the inn. For sure, he’d offer her a similar deal to the one he’d made with her father. She didn’t want to owe him money.
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. It wasn’t that she put him in the same category as Rex or thought he’d try to control her even if she did take a loan from him. It was that she didn’t want him to feel like he had to keep propping up her family because he felt bad for them. Or because he liked her. Or was sleeping with her. He wasn’t a bank. And that was that.
So she hugged Harper and they parted ways, fingers crossed, and promised to keep in touch and get the needed information to the bank.
Chapter Eight
Emily was holding something back. Parker wouldn’t outright call it lying. She was too sweet for that. But she was vague about her morning and she’d been gone longer than a typical time delivering her goodies to Harper, even if he included her helping out and talk time with her best friend.
Then there was the noise coming from her father’s study … it sounded like a fax machine running, and since James was busy with the people who would be replacing the windows at the inn, meeting at their warehouse, he wasn’t the one using it. He’d slipped out while Emily was in town so she couldn’t hover and insist he wasn’t up to driving. The doctor had said he could do what he felt he could handle.
And now, when she wasn’t in the office with the door closed, she was on the computer.
“Everything okay?” he asked from his seat on the sofa in front of the fireplace.
She glanced over, looking up from where she’d been staring at the screen. “Sure is!” she said too brightly.
He narrowed his gaze but let her have her privacy.
He was about to turn his attention to his life and when he was going to go back to New York, something he didn’t want to face, but he couldn’t stay in Colorado forever. He glanced over at Emily, bent over her laptop, blonde hair falling in her face, covering her expression, and his heart gave a kick in his chest.
He wasn’t ready to go.
But Ethan would need him back soon. He couldn’t just check out of life indefinitely.
The sound of a car door slamming startled them both and they jumped at the noise. “Expecting anyone?” he asked her.
She shook her head. “Maybe Dad’s back early.” She jumped up from her seat at the same time the front door opened and her asshole almost-ex walked in like he owned the place.
Parker stood, pissed, before the man opened his mouth and said a word. If it were up to him, he didn’t care how small this town was, the front door to this place needed to be locked.
“Rex. What are you doing here?”
“At some point, aren’t you going to admit you’re happy to see me?”
Parker coughed. “Is your head really that far up your ass?” Parker wasn’t going to start out being nice.
Rex scowled at him. “You’re still here?”
Folding his arms across his chest, Parker grinned. “Haven’t left.”
Parker took in the other man’s outfit. He’d been in a suit during his last visit and he’d learned his surroundings because now R
ex was wearing a pair of jeans, pressed like Parker’s had been when he arrived, which Parker had quickly realized didn’t fly out here in Colorado. Relaxed comfort was key and Parker had adapted accordingly, wanting to fit in where Emily lived and, in doing so, finding more of himself.
He had a hunch that Rex’s change of clothes had everything to do with the fact that Rex now had competition for Emily and he wanted to make the point that he, too, could adapt. Rex was full of shit, Parker thought. He only wanted Emily to fall for his crap long enough to get her back to Chicago and begin his subtle brainwashing all over again.
Rex glanced around the inn. “The roof looks good,” he noted. “Better than all the construction going on last time. Should help you raise the sale price,” he said, looking around.
“What makes you think we’re going to sell?” Emily asked. “This is my family’s legacy. You’re out of your mind if you think we’re going to hand it over to developers to destroy the beauty of the inn and the town.”
Parker wondered if she heard her own words or realized the import of what she’d just admitted. She might fight her father’s desire to keep this place alive and vital, fear for his health driving her, but she loved it as much as he did. She loved the town. She wasn’t going to let it be destroyed.
As he thought about Rex’s words, Parker narrowed his gaze. “What would make you even ask such a thing?”
The other man shrugged off the question. “People who renovate the old often do it with resale value in mind,” Rex said to Parker, as if he were an imbecile for not knowing those things himself. “I just assumed.”
That let Parker smirk. “You know what they say about people who assume.”
Rex frowned and looked away from him. “Emily, can we talk privately? I have news you’re going to want to hear,” he said, sounding excited by whatever he had to tell her.
“You can say anything you have to in front of Parker. We have no secrets.” She didn’t glance Parker’s way and he knew for sure they had one. He just didn’t know what it was yet. He wasn’t all that concerned, though he wished she’d trust him with her secrets since she clearly had that trust when it came to dealing with her almost ex-asshole.
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