“What the hell are fairy lights?”
“This.” She pulled out her phone, tapped a few words, and held it up for him to see the screen. “It would be beautiful, right?”
It would be. He could imagine it all. A warm July night, delicate strings of lights like dew on a spider web, Emma in a sundress that showed plenty of skin.
Stupid. Emma didn’t wear dresses.
That was fine, because the image in his mind changed to Emma in a pair of jeans that molded to her gorgeous ass like second skin. He could live with that. More than live with that. He could—shit.
It was annoying how spending time with Emma left him constantly on the verge of being uncomfortably hard.
“What do you think?” she asked, completely unaware that a truthful answer to that question would make her run screaming from the barn. Or kick him in the nuts. It could go either way.
“I think—” His voice was rough. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I think that’s a good idea. Do you have a band in mind?” She was still carrying the paper bag from their donuts, now empty, he realized. He took it from her, crumpled it into a small ball, and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans, hoping she didn’t notice that he used the opportunity to create more space in the crotch region.
“Well, I only thought of the whole dance idea two minutes ago, so no. I mean, there are a few local to Asheville that are pretty good. Maybe the Lady Killers? It depends on who’s available.”
“Right.”
She took another look around the barn and then nodded. “I think we’re done here. Let’s walk around the rest of the property.”
He gestured for her to go first. “After you, Ms. Andrews.”
***
Emma gritted her teeth so hard her jaw ached. If he called her Ms. Andrews one more time, she would...she would...Well, she would do something terrible, to be determined later.
Why was he so goddamn polite all the time? With his Ms. Andrews and his ma’am and bringing her coffee and a donut? It made her feel feral. She wanted to scream and yell, muss up his hair, wrestle him to the ground until his ironed clothes were every bit as wrinkled as hers, bring him down to her level. He had no right to be so kind to her. Why couldn’t he make it easy to hate him? Why did he have to be so damn perfect? It was infuriating.
She followed him out of the darkness and into the sunlight, squinting until her eyes adjusted. He slid the door closed behind them, the roped muscles of his forearm tensing under the strain, and a bolt of lust sent her insides quivering in response. No. No, no, no. How dare her body betray her like this? It was worse than infuriating. It was repulsive that her body refused to be repulsed by him.
Before she could stop herself, she reached out, brushing the length of his forearm with her fingertips. He froze.
“Sorry.” A lie. She wasn’t sorry at all. “I thought I saw a spider.” There was no spider.
Her fingers tingled. She could still feel the warmth of his skin, the soft tickle of hair. Touching him had been a mistake. She clenched her hands into fists so she wouldn’t repeat it.
He still hadn’t moved, hadn’t said a word. It was beginning to scare her.
“Eli...” She hesitated, not knowing where to go from there.
“Tell me why you don’t want me to be mayor,” he said, his voice low.
“You know why.”
“I want you to say it.” He moved toward her, a determined glint in his eyes.
She took a step back, expecting he would take the hint and give her space. Like he always did. When he didn’t, she took another step back, and another. Her spine hit the wall of the barn. She had nowhere to go. He crowded into her space, braced one arm against the wall next to her head, and leaned in.
“Say it.”
She raised her chin, meeting his gaze squarely, ignoring the sudden heat in her belly. “No.”
For some reason, this seemed to amuse him. The corners of his mouth tilted up, and the fire in his eyes licked hotter. “What’s the matter, Ms. Andrews?” His voice was a low, seductive growl. “Chicken?”
Ms. Andrews. Again! The absolute nerve of this man. Fury and lust swirled into a tornado inside her until she couldn’t tell which was which. She grabbed his face with both hands, bringing him even closer. The stubble of his beard scraped against her palms and she dug her nails against his skin in retaliation, enough to leave temporary marks, but not draw blood.
“Because I can’t stand to look at your face every damn day, that’s why. Is that what you want to hear? Because when I look at your face, I want to kick you or kiss you, and I don’t ever seem to know which urge will win. Do you have any idea what that’s like?” she demanded.
His gaze burned into hers. “Yeah. I know what that’s like.”
Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure he could feel the vibrations. What the hell was happening to her? She knew lust. She knew hate. But having them mingled into a single storm entirely focused on Eli Carter was something that genuinely shook her to her core. She couldn’t begin to process it. All she could think was that his mouth was inches from hers, and maybe someone should do something about it.
And then he did.
He dipped his head and his lips crashed against hers.
Eight years ago, ten years ago, twelve years ago...she had, on occasion, allowed herself to imagine what it would be like if Eli kissed her. Sweet, she always thought. Gentle. Maybe a little shy. A tentative question of a kiss.
This wasn’t anything like she had imagined all those years ago. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. There was no question to be answered here, only demands with which she eagerly complied. It was a struck match hitting gasoline and the explosion was instantaneous. They didn’t ease their way into it. The kiss burned out of control from the moment of first contact.
She released his face only so she could get a better grip on him by digging her fingers into his thick, dark hair. She angled her head, parting his lips with her own before sliding her tongue into his mouth. He groaned, a rough, fierce sound unlike anything she had ever heard from him. He had always been so gentle with her. So careful.
He wasn’t careful now. And, God, she couldn’t get enough of it. Finally, finally, he was on her level, down in the mud with all the rage and need and things she couldn’t say out loud.
He put one hand on her hip, gripping her hard enough that pain mingled with pleasure, holding her still so he could press his hard body against her. She knew she could tell him to stop, that it was enough now, and he would. But it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t sure it ever would be. How could she ever get enough of this? Enough of him?
Pleasure rocked through her, and she arched her hips, grinding shamelessly against him. The scrape of his shirt buttons against her chest tightened her nipples into hard points. She could feel the hard ridge of his arousal between her legs, sending a shock wave of need straight down to her core. No, she could never get enough of this. Of him.
He shifted, breaking some of the contact, and she growled—a sound so feral she was shocked it came from herself—and dragged him back to her mouth.
Suddenly everything changed. The hand on her hip gentled, the ferocious press of his lips turned sweet.
“Emma-bear,” he whispered, before lightly nipping her earlobe with his teeth.
The sudden onslaught of emotion slapped her in the face like a stinging wind, making her eyes smart. Oh, hell no. She was not going to cry. She was not. This wasn’t rage or lust or even the storm of them combined. This was so much worse than that. It was...it was...Well, it didn’t matter what it was. It was bad. She could take whatever heat he brought and more, but the tenderness... Oh, God. The tenderness nearly undid her.
Her heart squeezed tight, and suddenly she felt herself letting go, pulling back, pushing him away. It didn’t take much. He went easily. So damn easily. She tried not to let that hurt too much. After all, she had been the one to tell him to go. Always, it had been her.
But he never ar
gued.
She was shaking. Her hands that had held him close, her knees that had still not recovered from that first explosive touch, and everywhere in between. Was she shaking because they had kissed, or because they had stopped? She wasn’t sure. Both, probably.
“We should take a look at where the Ferris wheel will go,” Eli said. “I had an idea that if we move it to the other side of the field, to the west of the barn instead of the east, people might get a good view of the sunset over Hart Mountain while they’re up there.”
Calm. Cool. Polite.
Just like always.
Damn him.
“Right,” she said. “Right. Good idea. The whole site is pretty flat, but we should check out where you want to move it. See if there’s anything that might cause a problem.”
Like kissing. Maybe she would feel as compelled to kiss him there as she had against the barn wall. Kissing was definitely a problem.
“Eli, that can’t happen again,” she blurted out. “The kiss. It can’t happen again. Just so we’re clear on that.”
“Yeah, I know.” He sounded so weary. So...beaten. “It won’t.”
“You shouldn’t have kissed me.”
He came to a standstill, his hands clenching into fists before he relaxed them and rounded on her. “Don’t make me say it.”
She blinked, startled. “Say what?”
“This might be an asshole thing to say. A nice guy would let it go. But I’m not nice. I’m a good man, but I’m not nice. And the truth is you wanted that kiss. You just didn’t want to be responsible for it. Don’t blame me for something that we did together.”
Shame lashed at her. She had grabbed him by the face. What, exactly, had she thought he would do about it? Boop her on the nose? “You know...you know how I feel about you.”
He shook his head, started walking again. “Honey, I don’t think even you know you feel about me.”
The truth of that statement left her breathless. She couldn’t speak for fear she would scream.
But he wasn’t done.
“You’re right, though. It was a mistake for me to kiss you. It won’t happen again. Because next time, you’re going to kiss me.”
Chapter Eight
Eli had always wondered what would have happened if he had actually grown a pair and kissed Emma Andrews all those years ago. In his mind, it would go one of two ways. Maybe she would have immediately pulled back, with some line or other about how they were better off friends.
Or maybe she would have kissed him back and they would have been happy for a few months before everything went to hell and he was left without even her friendship. Even if everything had gone right, and he hadn’t arrested her dad, it wouldn’t have lasted with them. Such was the way of high school relationships, after all.
Even before the shit with her dad, before either of them could even imagine what the future held, he had suspected things between them couldn’t end well if he kissed her.
Now he knew for sure, because he had kissed her and it had not ended well.
To say the least.
But before the ending, in those explosive moments between the first crash of their lips to when she pushed him away...Christ. Good didn’t begin to describe it. He didn’t have words for what that was. It was so far outside his realm of experience, he genuinely didn’t know what to make of it. Sure, he had felt lust before. He had felt anger. But he had never felt them at the same time and so thoroughly consumed with one object. The combination was a potent blend that had made him somehow both forceful and needy.
That wasn’t him. He wasn’t forceful with women. He wasn’t needy with sex. He didn’t give angry kisses that left his own lips tender for hours after—God only knew what he had done to hers.
And now he was hard again just thinking about it. There was something wrong with him. There had to be. He had spent the last three days since their kiss in a near constant state of arousal and fury, and the only thing that kept him from hunting her down and finishing what they had started was his promise to her.
He wouldn’t kiss her again. She would have to kiss him.
She would do it, too. Maybe it would take days, weeks—oh, good Lord, he hoped it wouldn’t take weeks, he would never survive that and his dick would fall off from depression—but she would come to him eventually. Oh, yes, she would. She had changed somewhat in the last eight years. She took her coffee with cream instead of skim, and her laugh came slower than it once had. But this had held true. Emma Andrews never left a job unfinished.
And he was very much unfinished. Painfully so.
Which was why he was standing on Main Street, watching Emma paint the last of the streetlights, his pants too tight across the crotch and his mind full of impure thoughts. He wanted her to paint his pole with her tongue.
Yes, there was definitely something wrong with him.
“Just what the heck is wrong with you, Eli?” a strangely familiar voice demanded, echoing his own thoughts.
He turned around. “Suzie!” He grinned, genuinely happy to see her. She was close with Emma, but once upon a time she had called him a friend, too. Along with Luke, they had spent their high school years as a tightknit foursome. And then he had arrested Emma’s dad, and the battle lines were drawn right down the middle, boys against girls. That had hurt, even though he wouldn’t have taken Suzie from Emma, not for the world. But still. He had always liked her. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed her until now.
“How are you doing? When is this one coming?” he asked with a nod at her stomach.
Her eyes lit up and she gave her belly a fond rub. “Any day now. A girl.”
“Yeah? Is Michael going to make it back in time?” Michael was Suzie’s older brother. He had been, in Eli’s opinion, a fairly stable, reliable type, until last year when his wife had suddenly filed for divorce. Two days later, he took off for Kilimanjaro.
“No, he’s in Switzerland now. He can’t miss the summer climbing season. But he’s talking about coming home for Christmas, so—” She broke off with a frown. “But I don’t want to talk about Michael. You distracted me!”
“Sorry.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “I was just so happy you were talking to me again.”
“Don’t you try to charm me with those long eyelashes, Eli. I’m not talking to you again. I’m lecturing you. There’s a difference.”
He sighed. He had a pretty good idea of what the lecture would entail. Emma. “Any chance you want to continue the lecture over coffee?”
“No coffee for me, thank you. But I’ll accept a treat from Sweet Things. They have these great lemon candies that I like to suck on. It makes the baby kick.”
“Sure.”
“You’re paying.”
“Of course.”
He held the door for her and then followed her in. It was like stepping into Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory, without the creepy factor. Everything was bright and cheerful, from the pink-and-yellow striped curtains to the jars of colorful candies.
Eli looked around curiously. He hadn’t been here since the grand opening four years ago. Not because he didn’t like candy, but because it had been pretty clear from the way Emma had hugged Kate Gonzales, the owner, that they were good friends, which made this place her domain.
Which meant—
Eli cursed under his breath. It was an ambush. He gave Suzie a reproachful look when Kate popped up from behind the counter like a jack-in-the-box.
“Officer Carter.” Kate’s eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon. Suzie, I have those lemon drops for you.”
“Yay, candy.” Suzie reached into the pink-and-yellow striped paper bag Kate offered her and popped one into her mouth. “I found him on the sidewalk, stalking Emma like a total perv.”
“Hey!” Eli protested. “I wasn’t—” He paused, remembering what his thoughts had been. Definitely a little pervy. Fair enough. “I wasn’t stalking her. I just happened to be patrolling the street at the same time she was pai
nting the lights. You know, doing my job?”
Kate’s head tilted while she studied him. “Does your job also include making our friend angry every time she sees you?”
“Emma is always a little angry. That’s part of her charm.”
“She’s been stomping around town for three days now, bossing the life out of everybody,” Suzie said. “It’s annoying.”
“Three days, huh?” It had been three days since he kissed her, and apparently it had left her in as bad a mood as it had left him. He tried not to look too pleased about that. “Well, ladies, I’m real sorry about that, truly I am, but there’s nothing I can do about it.” Not until she let him, anyway. “So unless there’s something else I can do for you—”
“There is,” Suzie interrupted. She exchanged a look with Kate, who nodded. “You can drop out of the race.”
He should have seen that coming, much like the entire ambush. But he had forgotten how devious Suzie Barnett could be, and how much she loved running people’s lives for them. Helping, she called it. He always heard “helping” in quotation marks.
“Now, why would I do that?” he asked.
“Because if you win, Emma will leave. And we don’t...that can’t happen. We love her. And she loves Hart’s Ridge. This is her home. She’s been through enough, with her mom and her dad. Just let her be happy, already.”
His chest felt like someone had placed a fifty-pound brick on it. Would she really leave Hart’s Ridge if he won? Yes. He knew that in his bones. She had as good as told him that herself, right before he kissed her. And that was what he had wanted, wasn’t it? For her to admit that he wasn’t nothing to her, because hate, at least, was something.
Funny how it hurt just the same.
He had only ever wanted her to be happy...and safe.
But Emma leaving Hart’s Ridge? Over his dead body.
“Then I guess you better make sure I don’t win,” he said.
***
The last three days had been the busiest of Emma’s life. Her mind was made up. She had to defeat Eli in the race for mayor. And since defeating Eli meant proving to the people of Hart’s Ridge that she was the best mayor they ever had, she threw herself into the work heart, body, and soul.
Make Me Love You Page 8