“Psst,” Trick whispered with a grin, “it’s not you. He’s just got a lot on his mind. Just give him one of your pretty little smiles and he’ll get over it.”
Emmie grinned and rolled her eyes as she headed into the den.
“If ya kiss him, he might even forget about it, eh?” He winked.
“Shut up, Trick,” she repeated one of Silas’s phrases but her smirk took the sting out of the words.
Silas had moved to the rocking chair nearest the fireplace and was toying with a lighter. She put the coffees on the small table nearest him.
“Thanks,” he muttered, never looking up at her.
She took the lighter from his hands and set it next to the coffee. Then she balanced on the edge of the rocker. When he looked up at her she gave him her best smile. It was a full-tooth Hollywood-magazine sort of smile that she was pretty sure she’d never given anyone. She figured maybe Trick was right. How many times had she had bad days and just needed a smile only to come home to grouchy Ronnie.
Whatever Silas had expected, it hadn’t been that. He belly laughed on impulse and then quickly fought to regain his composure, rubbing his eyes to hide their amusement from her. When he stole a glance a few seconds later she smiled again. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and looked up at her.
“Emmie, what in the hell are you doing?” he asked.
She answered honestly. “Trick said if I smiled at you, you’d just forget about whatever it is your all mad about so…” She smiled again.
“Ugh…” Silas shook his head, “Don’t take advice from Trick.”
“Okay. So out with it then,” she said, tapping the arm nearest where she was perched on the chair.
“I told you to stay with Ava, Emmie. You’ve got to respect what I say,” he said seriously.
“But you asked me to do that before we knew Ava was going to Chicago. I was not going to stay at her house by myself. That would be weird. Plus, it’s been good to be back here.”
“You could have told me.”
“I didn’t know how to talk to you. You could have called me.” Her voice came out a bit louder than she had intended.
“I’ve tried,” he shouted. “You’re never home.”
“Oh.” She frowned.
“Speaking of which, where have you been?” he asked with an arched brow.
Her heart pounded. She couldn’t tell him about Max and the moonshine plan yet. Not until she’d worked out the details. She wasn’t going to keep it from him. She just couldn’t tell him yet. Besides, as it looked right now there was no plan for her making apple pie. That gave her an idea. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it yet. Of course, Silas could be the missing piece. He had connections to the shine and the speaks. She bet he even knew how well her goods had sold. She would just need to think of a way to ask for his help. But as she took in his irritated expression she decided tonight wasn’t the time to ask him to help her get back into bootlegging.
“Well, I’ve had dinner with Walter’s family and I had to get some supplies for the house. Things were pretty dirty here… and I had almost no food.” She put her arm out to acknowledge the house. “It had been empty for over a month while I stayed with you at Ava’s,” she answered with as much of the truth as she could tell him right now.
He nodded and took this all in. A crease settled through his brow. “Food. Emmie, where did you get groceries?”
She bit her lower lip and looked at the fire for a moment while she thought how to answer. Emmie had to own up to this. She wanted to know if Silas had done that to Mr. Thomas. Had he left the man in a wheelchair?
“Damn it, Emmie. Did you go back to that store?” he said annoyed. She shifted her weight to stand but he beat her to it. Only as he stood the chair rocked backward, throwing her off the side and causing her to tumble into the wall.
Her thin white nightgown tangled at her legs as she tried to stand. Embarrassment, emotion, and uncoordinated movements stopped her from making the graceful recovery she attempted. So she sat there for a second and rubbed the back of her head where it had hit the wall.
“Oh God, Emmie.” Silas jumped over to where she was sitting in the floor. “Sweetheart, I didn’t mean to do that. Are you okay?”
She put a hand up to stop him. “I’m fine. Just let me gather my pride for a second and I’ll get up.”
He smirked and ignored her, leaning down and scooping her up into his arms. She tried not to notice how strong he was or the way his muscles felt as he lifted her against his body. She tried not to notice how tall he was when he pulled her to his eye level, her toes still inches from the floor. She tried not to notice the way he made her feel like no more than a feather. She tried not to notice the way his concerned eyes bore into hers. He balanced her weight on one arm and ran a hand through her hair. He should have put her down by now.
He licked his lips. “You okay?”
She nodded. “It was dumb to go there. I’m not going back. But you’ve got to trust me,” she whispered, trying really hard to focus on the conversation… and everything else she was feeling… and seeing… and jeez, he smelled good.
He closed his eyes and took a breath. “I know.”
She hadn’t expected that.
“I do trust you. I just need to know your safe,” he whispered.
She smiled. “I feel pretty safe right now.”
Silas laughed and put his forehead to hers. “Yeah, I guess you do.”
Emmie leaned forward and kissed him. Her house had never felt more like a home than it did now. And Trick was right. It was the kiss that made them both forget all about the argument that had seemed so important a few minutes earlier.
Chapter Twenty-four
Silas fell asleep quickly and Emmie was amazed how peaceful he looked. She’d never seen him tire out so quickly. He must have been exhausted. She tiptoed out of bed and pulled the quilt up around his shoulders. Emmie heard Trick snoring downstairs. A pang of guilt hit her as she realized she hadn’t so much as offered him a blanket before coming upstairs with Silas. Well, she hadn’t exactly come upstairs had she? He’d carried her upstairs. It was different than that night at the hotel with peacock feathers lying in piles around the room. Tonight it was more normal. Just them. No feathers. No moonshine or whiskey drinks. No fancy clothes. No fancy underwear either.
Emmie snorted and covered her mouth at the memory. Embarrassment shaded her cheeks even though the moment had happened hours earlier. The minute they’d hit the loft he had dropped her down onto the bed while he had made quick work of undoing his holster. She had watched his movements intently, her heart pounding in her chest. She had stood on the bed. It was low to the ground and had been the perfect height to put her at eye level with Silas. She had run her hands through his hair, down his neck, and over his chest.
“You are so beautiful, Emmie,” he’d said without looking up at her face.
She hadn’t been quite sure what to say, so she had kept quiet for the moment. Finally she’d reached her arm down and had run her fingers through his hair, his eyes meeting hers. “You are too, ya know. I love you, Silas.”
“Mo chuisle.” He had smiled and had shaken his head as he looked down her body.
He had pulled at her nightgown. The cool night air had come into contact with the skin on her stomach. Self-consciously she’d made an attempt to cover herself with her hands. His hand moved on top of hers and covered the width of her hips. But his touch had changed. He’d pulled back from her and had given her one of his rare, wide smiles.
“Emmie. What in the world are you wearing?” he’d asked, leaning in for a closer look.
“What?” she’d asked, sitting up.
“My little… Gold Medal gal?” he’d said, leaning forward and kissing her on the lips.
She had realized too late the kiss was only a distraction from his real intention. He’d grabbed her hips, spun her around and had bent down quickly to look at the back of her underpants.
“Flour?” he’d read aloud.
Oh dear lord. Emmie had grabbed her nightgown in an attempt to pull it back over her flour sack underclothes. Why couldn’t she have been wearing some fancy silk underwear? He’d stopped her by holding her arms at her waist.
“Emmie are you wearing a flour sack on your fanny?” he’d laughed, making his way up her bed and pulling her into his body. Her arms had been pinned as he had wrapped his arms tightly around her middle. She had felt his breath on the back of her ear.
“Are you making fun of my drawers, Silas? Because I wasn’t exactly expecting anyone to be seeing them tonight.” she’d asked with a snort and had tried to move away from him.
He had rested his mouth against her shoulder and went stone still. “I guess that’s good news,” he’d said with dry humor and then had finished, “No. I’m not making fun of you. You just never cease to amaze me.”
“I think you mean amuse you,” she’d retorted.
“Both maybe.” He’d leaned in and kissed the back of her neck and she had sighed.
She had felt the shades of embarrassment moving up her shoulders and face. He must have noticed.
“I’ve never seen a flour sack look better. Honestly… from now on I won’t be able to go into a grocery without thinking of your rear,” he’d laughed in her ear.
“Silas.” She’d broken free of his hold, had turned to face him, and had smacked his bare arms.
He’d pulled her into him and had laughed again. They had lain there in the quiet of the moment for a bit. It hadn’t escaped her notice that all touching had stopped since the arrival of the Gold Medal flour underwear.
“Sorry if my flour underwear ruined it,” she’d whispered quickly before she’d lost the nerve to bring it up.
“What do you mean ruined it?” he’d asked.
“Well, you know.” She’d nodded in an attempt to finish her thought. She hadn’t found the words to say. Thankfully he’d seemed to catch on. His eyebrows had lifted in surprise.
“You think I’m not…” he’d mocked her nodding, “because of your flour sack drawers?”
“Well, yeah,” she’d said honestly.
He had shaken his head and had laughed. “I don’t give a damn what kind of underwear you have on… or if you wear any at all. This isn’t about your underwear.”
“Well, what is it then?” she’d asked curiously.
Silas had leaned over and had pulled a cigarette from his vest pocket and had lit it slowly. She’d known him well enough to know he’d been stalling. He hadn’t known how to answer. After a draw he’d exhaled away from her and had spoken. “It’s just… I don’t know Emmie. You’re a good girl.”
“Silas. That’s not an answer.” She’d smiled. “And I’m not sure I’m a good girl. You forgot—I made moonshine.”
He’d frowned at her comment… that hadn’t made her feel too confident about asking for his help later with the Max-needs-money-apple-pie-moonshine situation. She’d pushed that problem out of her mind. She’d have to think about that tomorrow.
“You are a good girl that just made a naïve choice,” he’d said with an arched brow.
“Okay, well, it’s still not an answer,” she’d argued with a frown.
“Are you mad because I’m not rolling you around in this bed, Emmie?” he’d asked, genuinely surprised.
“No,” she’d said quickly. “I just… thought maybe it was the underwear. Just never mind. Let’s just go back to lying down. Pretend I said nothing.” She’d crossed her arms in front of her body wishing she’d kept her mouth shut.
“See there,” he’d taken another draw of his cigarette and had nodded “See how you reacted to what I said. You are a good girl, Emmie. It’s got to be different with you.”
“Okay, fine,” she’d said, eager to end the conversation when something had clicked about his words. “Different with me? You mean you’ve been with other girls. Like this?” She’d motioned to his bare chest and how close their bodies had been in the covers.
He had stalled before he’d answered, trying to decide how honest to be. “You really want to know the answer to that, Emmie?”
“Yeah,” she’d said, sticking her chin out.
“Have I been with girls? Yeah. But was I with them like I’m with you? No,” he’d answered honestly.
She’d thought on his words for a minute. She hadn’t loved the answer but she hadn’t exactly been surprised either.
“Anyone since you met me?” she’d asked again.
“Do you really have to ask me that? Of course not,” he’d answered.
She’d guessed that’s what had mattered. He had pulled her in and had rested his chin on her shoulder.
“Well, aren’t you interested in my history?” she’d asked him.
“I’m pretty sure I know yours.” He’d leaned back, finishing his smoke.
“Oh.” She’d frowned.
“Had you ever even kissed someone before me?” Silas had asked curiously.
“Yep.” She’d smiled.
“Who?” he’d asked.
“You really want to know?” she’d asked, repeating his words.
“Emmie, just tell me,” he’d said annoyed.
“Bo Johnson. He was my beau when we were sixteen for a little bit.” she’d said smugly. At least she had had a little bit of history to share.
She had expected him to make some snide comment about Bo. Question her judgment. Call him a hick. But he hadn’t. He’d just nodded.
“What?” she’d asked.
“Nothing. Did you kiss him like you’d kiss Walter or like you kiss me?”
Emmie had giggled. “Well, not like I would kiss Walter. That’s a disgusting question.”
“So like you kiss me then?” Silas had asked, keeping his tone neutral.
“Well I don’t know. He sure as heck never saw my flour sack if that’s what you’re asking.”
Silas had laughed and had pulled her into his body again. “Good. Because I think I’d shoot anyone that saw your flour.” He’d patted her hip. After a few minutes of quiet she’d noticed his breathing had slowed. She’d thought he might be asleep. Emmie had pulled his rough hand up to her mouth and had kissed it.
“Love you,” she’d whispered.
She had been surprised when he’d moved behind her. “I love you… my flour.” His reply had been tired and throaty. She hadn’t been able to stop the laugh that bubbled up inside her.
Chapter Twenty-five
Trick was spread out on the floor with his head on one of the tiny decorative pillows he’d pulled from her sofa. He had an afghan wrapped around his shoulders but most had fallen to the side. Spotty was curled up at his legs. The dog opened his eyes and looked at Emmie as she walked by, thumping his long tail on the ground. She scratched his ears as she bent down. Emmie laid a hand on Trick’s shoulder. He didn’t wake. She didn’t want to startle him, especially since she noticed his gun was only a foot away. Tilting her head to the side she took in the sight of him. The relaxed features on his face weren’t such a drastic change for him. Trick almost never looked anything other than relaxed. Emmie noticed how much Trick and Silas actually favored each other when they were asleep.
“Hey,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Trick, let’s get you to bed.”
He awoke with a jerk. Instinctively his arm reached for the gun as he tried to take in his surroundings. “Trick. It’s me, Emmie.”
“Oh, shit. Sorry.” His voice was thick with sleep and his eyes were barely open.
“Why don’t you come to bed? You can sleep in my folks’ old room.” She kept her hand on his arm and led him to the bedroom.
When the door opened they were met with a burst of cold air. The room had been shut off and was freezing. “I’ll go grab you another blanket, you get yourself settled.”
On her way back out the bedroom door she noticed the broken glass. She had forgotten that she’d not cleaned up the mess before heading to Walter’s the o
ther day. After she had given Trick enough time to get in the bed she grabbed a broom and a stack of extra blankets and headed back into the bedroom. He was already asleep again. She covered him with the extra blankets and quickly cleaned up the mess. She had considered leaving it but was afraid he might wake in the middle of the night and step on the broken glass.
Emmie glanced outside and noticed the sun was rising. She couldn’t believe that she hadn’t been asleep yet but with all the excitement of the day, she hadn’t been able to wind down. No doubt she’d crash soon. Just as Emmie was turning to head up the stairs, she noticed the pans and dishes by the sink. Trick might have cooked his meal but he clearly didn’t feel it necessary to clean it up. She scrubbed the dishes as quietly as possible, trying not to wake the boys. Emmie grabbed their coats and hats and took them to the small coat rack near the door. When she picked up Silas’s coat she noticed he had two newspapers stuck in the inside pocket. He had them all rolled up. That wasn’t like him to keep things in disarray. She pulled them out and flattened them on the kitchen table. He’d probably want to see them when he woke.
Finally she made her way back up the stairs, curled into bed, and fell asleep before her head even hit the pillow.
“Good afternoon, Emmie.” She felt Silas’s near hers as he spoke quietly. She heard his heavy footsteps moving around her bed to her small vanity table near the stairs. Slowly the world came into focus. Bright sunlight was shining in through the window, nearly blinding her tired eyes.
“It’s already afternoon?” she asked, her voice hoarse from the cold air.
“Yep. I’ve got a cup of coffee for you downstairs.”
She noticed he was already completely dressed and was shrugging into the leather holster he was so fond of. Why did he feel the need to be always armed? She didn’t know anyone else that walked around this town like they lived in the Wild West.
“Do you really need that, today? I mean where are you going, the office?” she asked, propping up on her elbows.
Rise and Shine (Shine On Series, Book 2) Page 13