by Tessa Layne
“Bring it, hotshot.” Her eyes had lit. As if she was going to enjoy putting him in his place. And she had. He’d underestimated her entirely. She’d hit the ball over the outfielder’s heads, all the way to the back fence. Game on. He’d spent the next six years and then some, doing whatever he could to show her up, secretly admiring it when she beat him. When he reached West Point, the space in his heart where she’d been transformed into a black hole. He’d never admit it, but he missed her with an intensity that took his breath away. Eventually, the hole closed and only a small ache remained. And by the time he graduated, the ache was nothing more than an occasional twinge. But watching her walk away just now, the ache returned with a vengeance.
What the hell was he supposed to do with that? If this was his idea of avoiding emotional entanglements, he was doing a shit job of it. But surely he could have a little fun with Emma and not go all in the way Johnny had? He wasn’t looking for anything permanent. He was simply following the thread of chemistry spinning out between them. Shaking his head, he grabbed Bingo’s reins and led her into the stable.
Cash walked out of the tack room. “We need one more for poker tonight. Want to join?”
He didn’t usually play, but weekly poker was a ritual with many of the locals. He’d joined a couple of the circles when an extra was needed. But he didn’t much feel like playing tonight. “What’s the buy-in?”
“Fifty.”
Usually his limit was twenty-five. “Who’s hosting?”
“Sinclaires.”
A slow grin spread across his face. “Count me in. What time?”
“Six?”
Perfect. Time enough for him to finish his to-do list and still clean up. “I’ll meet you there.”
Sterling parked in front of the enormous limestone house at five minutes to six. So this is where Emma grew up? He let out a low whistle. A far cry from his parents’ modest craftsman in town. For a moment it felt like he was entering the lion’s den, but he shook it off. The Sinclaires might be the oldest family in town, but they were still human. And he’d grown up hearing the stories of Wild Jake. Just like everyone in Prairie, the Sinclaires had endured their fair share of hard times. He stretched his arms over the steering wheel, cracking his knuckles. This felt more like meeting potential in-laws than a poker game, only worse. Brothers were always worse than parents.
“Just a friendly game. Nothing more,” he muttered as he hopped out of his truck and took the porch steps by two.
A moment after he knocked, the door swung wide to reveal Emma’s surprised face. “What are you doing here?”
This was too good to be true. Plans at home in Kansas City, huh? He was going to have fun with this. “Hello, Goldilocks,” he practically crowed.
His elation crashed the second his eyes drifted to the blonde toddler in her arms. A kid? What in the hell? Disappointment pummeled him like a fist to the gut. It never occurred to him that she might have had a child. Something twisted deep inside of him and squeezed the air out of his chest. His face must have given away his shock, because she rolled her eyes. “This is Henry? My nephew? Who I told you about this afternoon?”
Of course. How had he missed that? It must have been one of those times he’d been staring at her mouth. He braced an arm against the doorjamb. “I knew that. Decide to stick around on the off-chance you’d see me?” He arched a brow.
Two bright spots of pink colored her cheekbones. “Look. I’m sorry. I really was supposed to head home tonight.”
“So you stayed because you secretly can’t resist me.” He winked at her.
She snorted, but her eyes sparkled. “Keep telling yourself that. You’re nothing more than a player and I’m not interested.”
“I’m not a player.”
“Puhleeze. Maybe in a parallel universe. I was in every class with you in junior high and high school. I saw you at all the parties. I know how you operate.” She shifted Henry from one hip to the other.
A vision of her holding her own child flashed before him. Again, something twisted deep inside of him. Something he was better off ignoring. “And how is that?”
“You love the chase. You can’t stand it that someone might not fall at your feet and worship your hotness. And as soon as you’ve put another notch in your belt-loop–”
“Bed-post.” She never could get her analogies right. “It’s a notch on the bed-post.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. As soon as you’ve tallied your victory, you move on to your next target. No thanks.”
“So you think I’m hot?” he goaded. A comment like that would light her up like a Christmas tree.
She groaned and shook her head, but it came out more like a strangled laugh, and he puffed up. He loved teasing her like that.
“I see you’ve met my boy.” Blake Sinclaire joined them, taking Henry from Emma. “I’m hoping he’ll grow up to be like you and lead the Mustangs to another state championship, and then go on to be an All-American.”
“I’m sure he will, sir.”
“Please. Call me Blake. I was long out of the house by the time you were in high school, but I’m not that old. Come on upstairs.” He motioned Sterling into the house.
Sterling followed him through the great room and up the stairs, winking at Emma as he passed. “See you after the game?” He couldn’t resist asking.
“Jamey will be up with snacks later,” Emma called after them.
Six pairs of expectant eyes turned his way as he entered the attic. Cash and Travis leaned against an enormous pool table, beers in hand. Blake’s brother Brodie, sat at the makeshift poker table, shuffling cards. Gunnar Hansen and Blake’s other brother Ben, stood pouring beer from a tap behind a bar in the corner.
“Glad you could join us.” Gunnar lifted a beer. “Want one?”
“You bet.”
Ben handed him a glass of dark beer.
He took a sip. Holy smokes, it was good. Guinness-like, but with a note of vanilla. He’d developed a fondness for Guinness thanks to a fellow classmate from New York City. “What is this?”
“Tallgrass Brewing from Manhattan. Buffalo Sweat.”
Figured the Sinclaires would keep a keg like that on hand. “Love it.”
Brodie eyed him and began to deal cards. “Good. ’Cause that’s all we’ve got.”
An hour later, his jitters about the Sinclaire men had dissipated entirely. But he could tell where Emma got her sass from. Her brothers gave no quarter. In time, the table talk turned from animal husbandry to local gossip, landing on Army-Navy rivalries and Resolution Ranch.
Brodie piped up. “I want to know what he thinks of our sister.”
All eyes turned to Sterling. He squirmed in his seat, heat racing up his spine. “Emma’s a go-getter.”
“And?” Brodie prodded.
Drop dead gorgeous, but he’d never admit that to any of her brothers. Not if he wanted to leave unscathed. He cast about for something safe to say that wouldn’t offend her brothers. “And she’s smart, too. She’d probably kick my ass at Monopoly.”
Laughter raced around the table.
Brodie continued his grilling. “Travis said you’re going to be point on this fundraiser. I think that’s good. You always did give Emma a run for her money.”
“And she always gave me a run for mine.” Even during Beast. Every time he’d reached a low point, he’d ask himself if Emma would quit. He knew she wouldn’t, so he’d pushed himself through. “She never quits. Never gives up. She’d have made a great soldier.”
Brodie slapped his hand on the table, looking at his brothers. “Which is why she needs someone to challenge her. She’s used to getting her own way.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” Blake reprimanded wryly, giving Brodie a fatherly look.
“What you need, Brodie, is a good spanking.” Brodie’s wife, Jamey stood at the top of the stairs with a tray loaded with burgers. “Don’t talk about your sister that way. There’s a reason she’s on track to b
e the youngest VP Royal Fountain has ever seen.”
That caught Sterling’s attention. “No kidding?” Add humble to her list of traits. It didn’t surprise him at all that she was on the fast track to the top of her profession. He’d expect nothing less of her. But funny she hadn’t mentioned it once.
Jamey turned to Brodie once she’d placed the burgers on the food table. “Emma’s used to getting her own way because her ideas are brilliant.” Then she turned to him. “Don’t listen to my husband. What Emma needs is a partner. Not someone to boss her.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmured.
Then it hit him. The perfect idea for the Resolution Ranch fundraiser. Something uniquely Prairie and sure to be a hit. He couldn’t wait to share it with Emma.
CHAPTER 9
Her hammock swung lazily over the sand, a sun-warmed breeze wafting over her, the sound of waves breaking in the distance. She stretched and opened her eyes as a shadow blocked out the sun. Sterling. “Come home.”
“You’re blocking my sun.”
He offered his hand.
Ding.
“Don’t leave me.”
What was that noise? It didn’t belong on a beach. And neither did Sterling, dressed in his shearling and a Stetson.
She woke with a start. Heart racing. What in the hell was he doing in her dreams?
Her phone dinged again. Shaking the sleep from her brain, she glanced at the screen. Jeez. Was the man psychic?
S: Where are you?
She typed a fast reply, sleep pulling at her.
E: Asleep.
S: I have an idea.
E: Let me guess. Does it involve sleep?
S: Are you inviting me over?
She laughed, unable to stop a smile.
E: No
S: Come over tomorrow and I’ll tell you all about it?
E: Can’t
S: Another mystery date?
She deserved that. But she’d had every intention of driving home this afternoon, and then Maddie had begged her to work remotely one more day and stay for dinner. But after Sterling had shown up for the poker game, she’d tucked tail and run home. He was entirely too distracting.
E: I’m back home in KC. Working in the office tomorrow.
He didn’t respond right away. And she shut her eyes, casting about for her beach dream. She could see the white sand. Sleep danced at the edges of her conscious. Ding.
Her eyes flew open and she stared at the ceiling counting to five before she looked at her phone.
S: It’s a really good one. Come out tomorrow?
She groaned and turned to her side. The man was incorrigible. Shameless. Adorable. And totally annoying. Her fingers flew.
E: Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t ask how high when you say jump. I can come out again this weekend. We can talk then.
A minute crept by. Then another, and another. She took a slow breath, letting sleep wash over her. Ding.
She sighed audibly and glanced at the phone, still in her hand.
S: Okay. Looking forward to it.
E: See you then.
She placed the phone on her nightstand, adjusted her pillow and shut her eyes, concentrating on slowing her breath. In her mind’s eye, she conjured the beach imagining she could hear the crash of the waves.
The phone rang.
Would he give her no peace? She rolled over. “No. Not answering.” The phone went silent. A minute later it rang again. She should turn off her notifications and stick her head under her pillow. But who was she kidding? Not only was her sleep shot for the rest of the night, but curiosity got the better of her. She rolled back over and grabbed the phone, punching the screen. “What?” she growled, now fully awake.
Sterling’s voice came through the speaker like liquid sex. Hotter than a lounge singer. “Sorry to wake you.”
“Your sincerity is overwhelming.”
The phone rumbled with his low laugh. “I just had to tell you.”
“And it couldn’t wait, oh I don’t know, until a normal hour?”
“Nope.”
She could hear the unapologetic smile in his voice. Damn him for being so charming. “Lay it on me then.”
“A high stakes poker tournament.”
“WHAT?” She sat bolt up.
“Isn’t that great? A high stakes poker tournament.”
“You woke me up at two in the morning because you think we should have a poker tournament?”
“Mmmhmmm.”
Of all the nerve. “Goodnight, Sterling.”
“Sweet dreams, Emma.”
It shouldn’t send a thrill through her, the way he said sweet dreams. But it did.
And she had no business looking forward to seeing Sterling the rest of the week. But she did. The week moved agonizingly slowly, even though she put in fourteen-hour days. Her whole body seemed to relax as she pulled onto westbound I-70. The entire two-and-a-half-hour drive, she mulled over Sterling’s crazy plan to include a poker tournament in a fundraiser. Whatever direction she went in, an initial fundraiser would set a precedent. It had to be big. Memorable. She wanted those donors to come back year after year, and if they weren’t treated right, or her work was sloppy, they’d turn their backs. There were just too many opportunities to fund.
Her heart rate kicked up a notch as she pulled into Resolution Ranch. And it beat out of her chest as she trudged across the property to find Sterling working on building one of the tiny houses. His back was to her, and she took a moment to appreciate his physique. Sterling had always been built. And graceful. He’d thrown a football with the ease and elegance of Gene Kelly. He wielded the hammer he held with effortless grace, arm pulling the flannel tight across shoulders with every stroke. Even from several feet away, she could sense his focus. See how he concentrated with every cell in his body. And his backside. She offered a silent prayer of thanks to the universe for a backside as gorgeous as his. It was almost a pity to interrupt him.
She cleared her throat. “Lay it on me, Sterling.”
He spun, lowering his hammer, heat flaring in his eyes as he raked a glance over her.
She gulped. “Your idea. Lay it on me.”
A slow smile brightened his face. “High stakes poker. Everyone will love it.”
“Just because you enjoy a friendly game of poker doesn’t mean it’s a good fundraiser.”
“It’s a great fundraiser.” He laid down his hammer and came to stand in front of her. “And a place for your fancy donors to connect with the people they’re helping.”
“You said high stakes. What are you offering as a prize?”
“That’s for you to figure out, sweetheart. Use all your fancy connections.”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “This is my baby and I am not letting you reduce me to a Girl Friday.”
He stepped closer, jaw tight with impatience. Heat radiated from him, and she caught the fresh tang of hard work underneath his aftershave. “It’s not your project. It’s our project.”
“Right. Just like our AP English project was our project.”
“You did your part, I did mine.”
“Bullshit. You stole my part. Took my idea and railroaded me.”
“All I did was expand on your idea. Improve it.”
“You stole it.” All the old hurt she’d harbored came crashing back. It didn’t matter how much time had passed, some memories reduced her to a teenager, with all the insecurities and hurts. “You couldn’t stand that I might be better, or win anything.”
“Our competition was good for us.”
“Was it? It sure didn’t feel that way when you stuffed the ballot box for Homecoming Queen. Everyone knew you and Queen Bee Nikki had a thing going.” Even now, all these years later. Jealousy snaked through her, black and hot.
He had the audacity to look surprised. “I voted for you,” he swore vehemently.
“Sure you did.” Her body went taut, anger spiraling up through her belly. “And that’s why y
ou never lost an opportunity to make out with her.”
His eyes grew wide. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t act so surprised. You think I didn’t see? You looked right at me before you kissed her behind the homecoming float Sophomore year.” She should let it go, but she couldn’t. Not when he’d flirted so outrageously. Led her to believe he was interested, then kicked her in the stomach. “And then you reconnected,” she made air quotes, “the first Christmas we were all legal at the Trading Post.” Ensuring she stayed far away from there whenever she came home.
He looked confused. If the memory wasn’t so painful, she might laugh. She shook her head in dismay. “You don’t even remember, do you? We talked most of the evening and I thought you were finally ready to let the old competition die. But you were just toying with me like you always do.”
How could he just stand there looking like she’d sprouted a second head? Was he really so clueless? Or self-absorbed? What a fool. She’d been a fool. She held up her hands. “Look. Forget it.” Defeat washed over her. “I’ll figure out how to add poker. But I’m not driving back here again. I’ll send you what I come up with.”
She spun away, heading back the way she’d come.
“Wait.” Sterling caught her arm. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. The only person I wanted to make out with that night was you.”
She turned back. “I don’t believe that for a second.”
“It’s true. But then you left in a huff and I couldn’t figure out why.”
“Because you were kissing another girl,” she yelled, giving into the anger and hurt turning her inside out. “She asked if I was interested in you. Said you wanted to know. And stupidly, I told her yes. And when I came back with punch you were making out with her.”
Understanding dawned on his face. “Wait. You like me?”
“Past tense, Superboy.” She’d gone home and cried into her pillow that night, vowing to never shed a tear over Sterling Walker again.
He raked a hand over his head. “She said that Parker Hansen truth or dared her to kiss me and would I cooperate? That was all.”