by Jill Shalvis
Darcy’s voice. She was in the attic, her face level with his as she peeked out the window she’d opened. “Jesus,” he said. “What are you doing up here?”
She shrugged.
“How did you even get up here?”
“I have my ways,” she said.
She’d walked. Or crawled. Or hell, maybe she’d flown her broom. The woman had amazing staying powers when she set her mind to something.
“So why’s Emily here?” she asked.
“Dunno,” he said. “How did you get Zoe kicked out of Target?”
“Shockingly easy,” Zoe said from behind Darcy as she came into the attic as well. “She grabbed a case of condoms and randomly dropped individual boxes into people’s carts when they weren’t looking.”
Behind Zoe came Woodrow. Attached to the end of his leash was Emily, and she choked out what sounded like a horrified laugh.
Wyatt, on his knees on the roof, shook his head.
“That’s not why,” Darcy said.
“True,” Zoe said. “It was because you also set every alarm clock in Housewares to go off at five minute intervals.”
Darcy smiled. “Still not why.”
Emily stared at her. “How long were you in there?”
“Half an hour,” Zoe said, tossing her hands up. “I was grocery shopping!”
“You weren’t,” Darcy said. “You were lingerie shopping. And I don’t know why, he’s not worth it.”
Wyatt blinked. “He who?”
“Never you mind,” Zoe said, and pointed to Darcy. “This is about her. When the manager put an announcement over the loud speaker to watch out for the crazy chick in the motorized wheelchair wreaking havoc on the store, Darcy put her hands over her ears and screamed ‘The voices are back!’”
“Hey,” Darcy said. “This is what we do, we humiliate each other in public, it keeps us humble. And I humiliate Wyatt, too. Remember the last time he had a date over? We told her how he didn’t potty train until third grade?”
“Which was a lie,” Wyatt said.
“I don’t remember that,” Zoe said. “I remember telling someone that he slept with Petey the Bear until he was twelve.”
Wyatt locked gazes with Emily, who was soaking this all up with avid shock. “Hi,” he said. “Welcome to the house for the criminally insane.”
“So what’s the party for?” Darcy asked.
They all looked at Emily.
She clearly forced a smile. “I just came by to bring Wyatt his latest casserole dish from the Casserole Brigade.”
“Who’s it from?” Darcy asked. “Tell me it’s from Rachel Masters. She makes a great enchilada casserole. I keep telling Wyatt to flirt with her, or better yet, take one for the team and sleep with her so that she’ll make more enchiladas.”
Emily gave another slow blink. “Um, no. It’s not from Rachel.”
“Damn, Wy,” Darcy said. “You’re falling down on the job.”
Emily gestured behind her. “I’ll just be going now.”
“Oh, don’t leave on our account,” Darcy said. “Not when you made up such a good excuse to come out here and take advantage of my brother.”
Emily’s cheeks went red. “What? I didn’t—”
“Sure you did,” Darcy said. “But there’s no need to be embarrassed. All the women in Sunshine go to great lengths to take advantage of him. So far he hasn’t been real good at letting them, but there’s always a shot, and we all know he has a thing for you. So go ahead, take advantage all you want—”
“Out,” Wyatt said, pointing at his sisters. “Both of you.”
“I—”
“Now,” he said, ignoring Darcy entirely and giving the I-Swear-To-God eyes to Zoe.
She correctly interpreted the look and hauled Darcy to the door. “We’re going out to dinner. We’ll be late. Real late. So just carry on with . . . whatever.”
Emily’s gaze locked on Wyatt’s. She nibbled her lower lip and went beet red, but she didn’t turn tail and run. Neither of them moved, not until the front door shut far below them and Zoe’s car started up and pulled out of the driveway.
“I didn’t come to take advantage of you,” Emily said into the silence.
He crawled through the window and into the attic. She was in black slacks and a soft sweater the exact color of her eyes. She was dusted in dog and cat hair, her own hair was falling out of its ponytail and framing her face, which was lined with exhaustion.
She’d never looked more beautiful to him. “Did you really come out here to bring me a casserole?”
“Yeah.” She stared at his Adam’s apple like she wanted to lick it. “It’s in the car.”
“Who’s it from?”
She bit her lower lip.
“Emily.” He was smiling. “There’s no casserole, is there.”
“No.”
He put a hand on her hip. The other he slid into her hair, fisted gently, and tipped her face to his, letting his thumb rasp lightly over the pulse at the base of her throat.
She met his gaze, her own a little dazed. “You’re dog-whispering me like you do to your patients at work, where you go all silent and alpha pack leader, and wait for them to surrender to you and tell you all their woes.”
“I like the surrender part,” he said.
She pushed him but she didn’t mean it, and they both knew it.
“Okay,” she murmured. “You were, right, okay? Does that make you happy?”
“Yes, always,” he said. “But for the record, what am I right about, other than everything?”
A second push, and he laughed as he pulled her in against him. He hadn’t laughed in days. Christ, he’d missed her. Even though he’d seen her for eight to ten hours a day, he’d missed this.
Them.
Which meant he was totally screwed, of course, but in that moment, he didn’t care. Yeah, she had one foot out the door, so what. He’d survived it once, he’d survive it again. He pressed his lips to her jaw.
She shivered. “We said we’re not doing this anymore.”
“Actually, you said that. I didn’t sign on to the not doing this anymore program.” It was just about as revealing a statement as he could make without manipulating her into making a decision.
And he wasn’t about to do that.
Ever.
She went still, then dropped her head to his chest and banged it a few times.
“You could take it back,” he said.
She paused, like she really wanted to, but in the end she shook her head. “I can’t because Darcy was right. I’m wrong for you, Wyatt. And even if I wasn’t, I’m leaving.” Her face was a mask of misery. “I’m sorry but I’ve got to go.”
Twenty-four
At the morning’s staff meeting, Darcy brought donuts. She was working the rest of the week, helping Jade catch up. Everyone dug in including Emily.
Wyatt knew this because he was watching her, unable to take his eyes off her. She was currently two fisting matching chocolate donuts, digging into them like they might solve her problems.
After she’d left him the night before, he’d gone to AJ’s gym and worked himself into a near early grave. He’d needed to be beyond exhausted to sleep.
He hadn’t examined his feelings too closely, and he could tell by the way Emily was avoiding eye contact that she wasn’t any more eager to do so than him.
Which meant that they were just as messed up as ever.
The meeting covered the usual items on the itinerary, and at the end, when they’d all stood to head for the door, Dell looked at Emily.
“I took another call from the Beverly Hills animal center,” he said. “The head vet there wanted to remind me that her intern’s still unhappy. I reiterated how well you’ve worked out, and how lucky we are to have you.”
Wyatt looked at Emily, waiting for her to say how she’d give up her right nut, if she’d had one, to switch.
But she said nothing.
And he didn’t know what to make of
that either, or the relief that swamped him.
* * *
That night, Emily made her weekly call to her dad. He’d apparently finally found his iPod, but then had gone on to lose his keys, having to call a locksmith to make a new set. He and the locksmith had traded services, and her father was going to give the guy’s three cats a checkup.
He’d also lost his wallet, and had bribed the lady at the DMV to putting him to the front of the line if he immunized her dog as a trade.
“Maybe you could actually charge people for your services sometime,” Emily said.
“But then I wouldn’t have a new key or my license.”
Emily didn’t know how to fight that logic. “Dad, what if I said I could come home sooner. I could help you out more.”
He laughed. “I think I’m beyond help.”
“But if I could—”
“Honey, you can’t. You know I’d love to have you here, and you will be. After you put in your time. Don’t worry about me. As long as my head’s still attached, I can’t lose that at least. But do you happen to know where my Kindle might be?”
After they hung up, Emily went to her computer. She wasted a few minutes with the usual time-wasting techniques like Facebook, and then the charity auction. She was still top bidder for Wyatt.
Since this made her feel like she was on a boat at sea, she closed her browser and brought up her e-mail.
She started a new e-mail to Dell. It took her an hour to get it right and even then she stared at it for a long time before she hit Send.
She went to bed, but instead of sleeping, she found herself staring at the ceiling while her gut churned.
Finally she tossed the covers back and headed to the kitchen, going for the frozen cookie dough in the freezer.
Sara found her half an hour later, eating the dough with a spoon right out of the container. “PMS or SMS?” she asked.
“SMS?” Emily asked.
“Stupid Man Syndrome,” Sara said.
“It’s more like stupid woman syndrome.” She paused. “The Los Angeles intern still wants to trade places.”
“Yeah?” Sara took a big hunk of cookie dough. “She tired of treating the pink Pomeranians and hairless cats of the rich and famous?”
“I guess her family lives in Idaho somewhere, and she misses them, she wants to be closer to home.”
Sara looked up, eyes sharp. “Wait— You’re serious?”
“Yeah.”
Sara set the cookie dough down. “You’re going to do it? You’re going to trade places and go back to L.A.?”
“Hello, have you been listening? She wants to come here for the same reason I wanted to stay in Los Angeles. We miss home. We miss Dad. We want to be closer to home.”
Sara gave a slow shake of her head.
“No?” Emily asked. “What do you mean no?”
“I mean there’s no we. I like Sunshine. You can see the stars at night. And I thought people would judge me, but as it turns out, there’s a huge shortage of lesbians here and I’m in huge demand. Everyone wants the token lesbian friend. And I thought you were coming to like it, too. You’re back with Dr. Sexy—” She broke off at whatever she saw on Emily’s face. “You’re not?”
“No.”
“But on your first date, you came home with your panties in your pocket.”
“It’s not what you think,” she said softly.
“Emily.” Sara looked distressed, for her. “Are you sure?”
She thought of what Wyatt had said that first night they’d gone to dinner: You’re not the only one thrown off their axis here, Emily. We never intended to see each other again. Hell we didn’t even know each other’s last names. And that worked for me.
It had been a month and a half, and never once in all that time had he alluded to changing his mind. There was no future for them. It wasn’t because he was a commitment-phobe either—he’d been engaged. Which brought her to her last problem—the expression on his face every time Caitlin’s name came up. He’d loved her. Maybe still did for all she knew. He hadn’t let Emily in enough to discuss it with her. “Yes,” she said. “I’m sure.”
“You really shouldn’t make any hasty decisions on this. Give it some time before you talk to your boss—”
“I e-mailed him.” Emily gestured to the laptop sitting so innocuously on the kitchen table. “I told him I’d switch.”
Sara just stared at her, disappointment and frustration clear. And worry.
“I know,” Emily said. “It’s risky.”
“No,” Sara said with a slow shake of her head. “The risk would’ve been to stay.”
* * *
Dell was gone when Emily got into work, working one of the ranches he’d contracted with up north. She waited for Wyatt to say something about the internship, about the switch, but he didn’t.
The reason for that didn’t feel good. She wasn’t sure if he was relieved, happy, or just plain indifferent about her decision. He’d been damn careful to keep things in the moment.
She needed to do the same.
When she got home that night, she fed Sammy, Q-Tip, and Woodrow, and then opened the fridge for herself. She was standing there staring at its contents when Woodrow went to the back door and whined.
“Now?” Emily asked. “I just let you out.”
Woodrow pawed at the door.
“Okay, okay, hang on.” She heard Sara come in the front door. “Hurry,” she called out to her sister. “We’re going for a walk!”
“We?” Sara asked, coming into the kitchen. “I hope that’s the royal we. Or you and the mutt. Not me.”
“You.” Emily grabbed the leash. “It’s almost dark, I need an escort.”
“Oh sure, take the butch lesbian, she’ll save you.”
“Accusing me of profiling isn’t going to get you out of this.”
Sara sighed and out they went, heading down the street. Woodrow paused at every single bush and tree, but made no deposits.
“What, do you need an invitation?” Sara asked him.
When they got to the next property over, the ranch house where Emily had first thought maybe Woodrow had come from, the dog hunched in the middle of the grass.
“Crap,” Emily said.
“Literally,” Sara said, and fanned the air. “At least it’s dark now.”
“No, I mean crap, I didn’t bring a baggie to scoop that up with—” She broke off when a long, unhappy howl of a dog sounded.
And then another.
At Emily’s feet, Woodrow whined.
“Our neighbors have dogs?” Sara asked.