But she couldn’t deny that seeing him made her heart slam into her chest like a locomotive veering off the tracks. There was no denying he was a gorgeous man, but he had to have a heart of coal to do what he did. His actions outweighed any attraction she had for him.
She cleared her throat and began typing.
Who Does He Think He Is: The question a lot of women don’t want answered.
I don’t know if I’ll ever understand men, let alone rich men. Who do they think they are? Rich men act as if women will turn the other way when they try to get away with something wretched. And you know what? Too many times, we have. So I guess today, I’ll be asking my own question and attempting to answer it. So here it goes, readers.
Dear Emilia
Just recently, I found myself facing—on live television, no less—my first love. He came there to ask me a question, or so he said. He flew out from where he lived in New York. I should be impressed, right?
While it could have been quite the “Jerry Springer” moment, we were both adults about the encounter. We even went to lunch where his guilt-ridden self decided he needed to confess that he’d been taking advantage of me. I fell right into his trap. Isn’t that fun to be the butt of someone’s joke?
He apparently thought of himself as his own whistle-blower, and I don’t know if he expected me to hop up from the table and wrap my arms around him, proclaiming how happy I was that he came clean to me, or if he truly meant to crush me. I’ll never know because I don’t plan on ever speaking to him again. My question is why do men believe that it’s okay to play games with women?
Completely Deceived,
Unseduced in Silver Ridge
Dear Unseduced in Silver Ridge,
First of all, don’t hold onto the bitterness. I can feel you drowning in it as I type. I’d like to tell you to be happy that he came clean and to cut him some slack, but I think women have been cutting men too much slack over the last several hundred years. Now, what you have to realize is that while this man might have betrayed you, not all men—rich or otherwise—will. There are decent men out there. Where? I don’t know yet. I haven’t actually found them, but when I do, I’ll be the first person to let you know.
Don’t break the faith,
Emilia
P.S. My only request to my readers is if you notice more and more of these posts where I’m not only asking myself questions but answering them and enjoying the conversation, feel free to have me committed.
Emilia let out a happy sigh and submitted her blog post online. She wasn’t sure why she felt so much better, but she did. It didn’t hurt that she guessed Josh would be reading her blog, or once again, that was just her giving him too much credit. Within minutes, she started getting comments, and she loved every second of reading the first few that came in.
She was going to be okay. Her readers made sure of that. Now, if she could just figure out how to earn her seven-figure paycheck.
Standing up in her kitchen, Emilia began pacing back and forth as she thought about topics she could cover. She could compile blog posts and reply to commenters to see how her advice had changed their lives, but that was assuming it had…
So that was out.
Emilia could write about each of her countless dates over the years that she’d taken scrupulous notes on.
Although, if the dates bored Emilia to death, she couldn’t imagine her readers clamoring over those courting details. The dates had most often been as exciting as watching turtles race to the finish line.
She let out a sigh and turned to look out the kitchen window when Josh popped back into her mind. There was no getting around just how sexy he looked. She couldn’t even imagine how many women he’d slept with since arriving in New York. Emilia bet he couldn’t even remember, but she couldn’t blame him. He was single and good-looking.
And his piercing blue eyes were sensational. His dark hair was a little longer than any of the North men’s, and even though he was dressed in a suit, his muscular physique nearly undid Emilia. And she was usually unflappable.
No.
She was unflappable, especially with what Josh had pulled. There wasn’t one part of Josh that could flap her.
He was her boss.
Her publisher in hiding.
Part of her had been tempted to email Suzanne, but she didn’t know her role in all of this. At this point, if she hadn’t actually spoken to Suzanne on the phone, she’d doubt Suzanne even existed. Emilia certainly wouldn’t put that past Josh, pretending he was a woman to get what he wanted out of Emilia.
Her phone buzzed on the table, and she really hoped it wasn’t a text from her drunk parents. That would just be the topper at this point.
She blew a gust of air out of her mouth and shut her eyes in disgust. She hadn’t meant to pull her parents into her angry thoughts about Josh. But they were—no doubt—a part of the equation. After all, life would have been incredibly different had they not abandoned her.
Mama Cam and Papa Jack would probably still be alive. She probably never would have left Silver Ridge, and she’d probably be married to Josh Turner with six kids by now.
And yes, all of that sounded absolutely wonderful. Or at least it had eighteen years ago. One thing Emilia had to continually fight internally was the struggle of wanting children, lots of them, and wanting to be married. Sure, there were other ways to achieve that goal, and she might have to explore them reasonably soon, but it was what she wanted.
Pulling herself up and out of the rabbit hole she just fell in, she blinked her eyes open and glanced at her phone to check out the text.
Believe it or not, I never meant to make you a butt of my joke, but I do confess to wanting to play a game with you because you played and won the best game against me, and I hadn’t even realized it until it was too late. Don’t you think there are two sides to every story? I was willing to hear yours.
Emilia’s stare turned into a glare as she read Josh’s text. How in the world could he just turn it around like that? She’d been the one who was betrayed less than forty-eight hours ago, and now she was supposed to admit to what? Playing a game when she left Silver Ridge? She tossed the phone back on the table. The text didn’t even warrant a response, but her phone buzzed again.
Emilia almost didn’t look at it, but she thought better of it and saw a message from her agent informing her that another set of interviews had been scheduled. A bit of fire flamed in her belly as she wondered if her agent had been in on this as well, so she wrote a quick text in his direction.
Are you serious?
He quickly responded.
Very serious. It was part of the contract you signed. This publishing house is known for getting their writers out in front of the press well before the book has even been published. You’ll be earning your money with the schedules they expect.
She swallowed her anger but realized her agent didn’t have any idea. Emilia texted a quick okay and decided to shut down her laptop and go to town.
After all, how much worse could today get?
Emilia grabbed her purse, keys, and jacket and hopped in her car. She needed some retail therapy. She still had some unpacking left to do, but her house still severely lacked some basics. Coming from an apartment to a home had left many rooms pretty bare.
Finding the perfect parking spot on the street of shops she’d intended on browsing, she took it as a sign that she was meant to get outside of her house and her head.
There were a couple of antique stores she wanted to visit, including the one Mama Cam’s best friend worked at. Or maybe she owned it. Emilia didn’t actually know, but either way, Emilia needed some caffeine, and Beverly knew how to make the perfect latte.
Before making her way into Beverly’s antique store, Emilia popped into a small kitchen store. She definitely needed to get some plates. Most of hers had been chipped, so she’d tossed them instead of bringing them up with her, and she was getting tired of eating on paper plates.
“
Afternoon,” a female clerk behind the counter called out to her.
“Hi.” Emilia waved, taking in the delicious smell of apple cider.
“Anything, in particular, I can help you find?” the woman asked, coming around the counter.
“I’m actually just looking for some plates and maybe a tablecloth or something.”
“Right this way.” The woman’s friendly face seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place her and just continued on. She thanked the woman and stared at the seemingly endless selection of dinnerware. Emilia had absolutely no idea what kind she wanted to get.
“Boy, leave town, and you forget us little people, huh?”
The moment she heard his voice, she froze in place.
You had to be kidding.
How in the world was Josh Turner at the kitchen store in the middle of Silver Ridge?
Emilia turned to dismiss him as quickly as she could without causing a scene in public.
But the moment Josh smiled, his eyes crinkling along the edges, her breath hitched deep in her chest. He looked even more attractive than she remembered. Maybe it was the temporary kindness she spotted, but she wouldn’t let herself get swayed.
He was a bad man.
“What are you talking about?” she snapped, turning over an ivory plate to see the price.
Without answering her question, he leaned over and whispered, “You’re a millionaire now. You can afford it.”
A shiver ran through her, but she straightened up and glared at him as she put the plate back. Feeling his breath against her skin elicited a reaction she hadn’t bargained on.
“I am not.”
Now he was being as infuriating as his sixteen-year-old self.
“You will be. I know the story you have to tell will be sensational.” Mischief flicked through his gaze. “That advance is only the beginning.”
“What are you doing here, anyway? Don’t you have some books to print or something back in New York?” She put her hand on her hip and stared at him incredulously.
“Believe it or not, there are computers that do most of the work now.” He winked at her, which only infuriated her more. “And I have people to push the buttons.”
Boy, was he pushing hers.
Emilia let out a huff under her breath and moved down the aisle past him. Only his fingers brushed hers, and Emilia’s entire body awoke with memories of being caressed by those very same hands so many years ago.
She nearly stumbled backward as images crashed into her of him holding her close, kissing intimate parts of her, telling her he loved her more than she’d ever know.
Emilia pushed the warring emotions aside and picked up a red plate and turned it over to check the price, but this time, the numbers were a blur.
Almost as much of a blur as Josh’s mouth hovering next to her ear, whispering that he loved her and always would.
She spun around quickly, but he wasn’t behind her.
Josh was standing at a section of coffee mugs, blindly staring at a colorful sea of cups and tumblers. She knew he wasn’t actually looking at any of them because she held the same vacant expression.
All it took was one touch to have all the chemistry come steaming back full force ahead, but Emilia refused to forget his conniving, manipulative, and downright dirty behavior. It was one thing to hold onto resentment. It was quite another to mess with her livelihood.
Emilia shut her eyes and took a deep breath, determined to gain control of her emotions, but when her eyes blinked open, Josh was standing next to her.
“You okay?” His voice low.
“Completely.” She put the red plate down and turned away to look at patterns instead of solids.
Anything to get away from him.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked over her shoulder.
“I doubt you expected to run into me in a kitchen store, and I undoubtedly put you through a lot.”
“Don’t give yourself so much credit,” she shot back.
“Well, I wouldn’t, but I did see your blog post talking amongst yourself and, well, yourself.”
She could sense he was smiling, and she wanted to laugh herself, but she kept it in and her steely persona firmly in place.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than stalk an old flame?” she retorted. “I only just put that blog post up there.”
“I apparently do not have anything better to do.” He walked over to Emilia and stood next to her. “This is a nice pattern.”
“It’s polka-dots.” Emilia shot him a sideways glance.
“What’s wrong with polka-dots? Are you more of a stripe person?”
Emilia wanted to laugh, but she didn’t dare.
“I don’t think it’s any of your business.”
“Yeah,” Josh agreed. “It’s kind of a personal question.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
Emilia sucked in her breath, but the action sounded louder in the quiet store than she expected and her cheeks flushed. She was doing an awful job of staying mad at Josh, but she indeed was angry with him.
This was the problem. Men like Josh Turner knew how to manipulate themselves right out of trouble, but she wasn’t going to let him off the hook.
“You think I might be able to convince you to have lunch with me? Maybe start again? It’s my turn to apologize, and I have a lot to say sorry for. I really do.” His eyes locked on hers, and every cell in her body was pulled to him, which only made her angrier.
At herself.
And certainly at him.
“You don’t have to forgive me, but I’d appreciate another chance to explain myself.”
Emilia silently let out a breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding in and reached for a saucer.
“And why’s that?” she asked. “So you’ll feel better while I feel worse? I’d like to just move on, get my book done, and collect the checks, to be honest.”
“Honesty is a good start,” he agreed.
“Yeah. It would have been,” Emilia replied, her foot tapping as she clutched the periwinkle polka-dot porcelain saucer.
“I get that you’re mad.”
“Really?” she asked. “You can sense that?”
Josh’s lip curled slightly. “I deserve that.”
“You think?” Her brow arched, and she set the polka-dot saucer back on the shelf.
Emilia next looked at an ornate floral pattern with brilliant green vines and vivid red flowers. It was perfect and perfectly within reach to grab the box and run. Whether she wanted that pattern or not, she’d honestly never know because it provided the ideal exit strategy.
Except that as she struggled with the box, he immediately came to her rescue and carried it to the front counter with Emilia following right behind him, muttering the entire time that she could have handled it.
The saleswoman began ringing her up, and Josh put his debit card on the counter.
“Don’t even think about it,” Emilia stated.
“It’s the least I can do,” he countered.
“No.”
“You’re really into short answers, aren’t you?”
Emilia shot him a dirty look.
“Give me one good reason you shouldn’t let me buy this for you.”
“Maybe I don’t want to think about you every time I go to eat a plate of enchiladas or lasagna.”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “That couldn’t be it.”
The woman behind the counter giggled, and that was when Emilia realized who she was, Carrie Smith. Carrie was a year older than Emilia and had been homecoming queen. She’d always been kind to Emilia and included her in high school functions that most wouldn’t have considered Emilia for, like decorating the gym for school spirit week or helping to get Emilia on the cheer squad.
Had Emilia failed to mention she was a cheerleader? Well, she had been, much to Papa Jack’s dismay. He always feared that kind of fast lifestyle would lead to Emilia’s demise. She had t
o chuckle thinking about how old-fashioned her Papa Jack was. It took Mama Cam to talk him off the ledge the first time Emilia came down the stairs in her cheerleading outfit with school-colored ribbons streaming down her ponytail.
“Carrie?” Emilia asked.
“Oh, Hailee. I was worried you wouldn’t remember me, so I didn’t want to say anything.” She beamed, inserting Josh’s card in the reader. “It’s so good to see you.”
“You too.” Emilia smiled and shoved her way in front of Josh. “You want to do lunch sometime? I just bought my grandparents’ home and don’t really know many people in town anymore.” Emilia was surprised at her own honesty.
Carrie glanced at Josh and smiled before returning her gaze back to Emilia’s. “I’d love to.”
“I have to go out of town in the next few days, but I’ll swing by when I return.”
“Sounds great.” Carrie waved as Emilia booted Josh out of the way and struggled out the door with the box, only he was right on her heels.
“Let me buy you lunch,” he called to her.
“No.” She kept walking, clutching her new set of dishes, and headed to the car.
It took every ounce of self-control not to agree to his offer, but she reminded herself of the women across the globe who’d fallen into traps set by men like Josh, and she was staying strong for them.
Exactly.
Emilia was going to lead by example, even if it meant ignoring the only man she’d ever loved.
Chapter Sixteen
It wasn’t like Josh Turner wanted to instantly stoke the fire they’d shared from so long ago. He would settle for a slow burn ending in a wild inferno.
Yet one thing was for sure. After running into Hailee at the kitchen store, he was entirely head over heels for her. She was still the Hailee he remembered, but with far more intensity and…
Rage?
Whatever it was, he couldn’t get over the emotions stirring inside him since he’d come face-to-face with her.
A Funny Thing About Love (Silver Ridge Series Book 3) Page 11