His cocky smirk appears and he starts to snicker. “John and his wife were at the same restaurant Sunday night, saw you and Emi.”
“It was a public restaurant, Marcus. You knew I was taking her to dinner. Not surprised someone saw us.”
“He said you became a little possessive when the waiter smiled at her. His words were, ‘Walker Scott growled loud enough for the whole place to hear’.”
“You guys actually are a bunch of gossip whores. That shit is ridiculous.” I try to mask my irritation, but the waiter’s face pops in my head and I find myself growling again. “And for your knowledge, that shithead did more than smile at her.”
“How about the fact his wife described you as ‘glued to her side’? Last time I checked, tables have four sides.”
“Are you shitting me? You’re going to bust my ass about how close to her I sat?”
“Not busting your ass, just telling you what I heard.”
“Is that why you’re really here, to fill me in on useless news that means nothing?”
His eyes study my face, and he bursts into laughter again. “This is going to be fun.”
“I don’t even want to know what that means.”
“I may tell you over breakfast tomorrow.”
It’s my turn to laugh as I toss him to the side, open the door, and climb into my seat. I switch on the engine and close the door, rolling down the window. “No can do on breakfast, either. I have plans.”
His humor fades instantly. “She’s staying the night?”
“If I’m lucky.” I enjoy his look of disbelief as I back out.
He was right about one thing; this thing with Emi, it’s definitely going to be fun.
“Did you kill all these?” Emi points to the mounted deer heads on the wall.
“Yeah, babe, I wouldn’t hang someone else’s.”
“Oh.” She shrugs, continuing to glance around the room. “It’s very masculine.”
“That’s good, considering I’m a man.”
My house is almost completely opposite of Emi’s. Beige walls, dark leather couches and recliners, white molding, there’s not a pop of color anywhere. The only real decorating I did was hang the mounts on the wall. To me, that was all I needed. But seeing her standing in the middle of my living room with a bright pink sweater, I realize how bland it is.
She flashes me a small grin and walks to my mantle, picking up one of the only pictures framed in my house. “Are these your Army friends?”
“A few of them. My mom had that made for me last Christmas. She took the original picture and had the American flag imposed in the background.”
“I think it’s wonderful.” She places it down and looks at my television and then back to me. “I see your priorities are in order.”
“Don’t mess with a man and his TV.”
“Could it get any bigger?” She props a hand on her hip and shakes her head. “Boys and their toys. You can probably see this from my house.”
“Now you’re calling me a boy? Thought we just established I was a man.” I take the two steps to her side and tug her close until our chests are pressed together. She tips her head back and gives me a playful grin.
“No, you’re definitely not a boy.”
I lean in and run my lips along hers softly. “You got a problem with my TV?”
“N-n-not at all, it's very big,” she stutters against my mouth
“I like big things. They serve a purpose. I think you'll find you like them, too."
“Are we still talking about your TV?"
"I'm not."
Her breath hitches, and I feel the intake of air on my own lips. No words are shared as my meaning sinks in. I take advantage of my position and kiss along the outside of her mouth.
She melts into me, slanting her head and parting her lips to give me full access. My tongue slides in slowly, teasing at first then moving deeper.
Her hands glide up my chest, linking together around my neck. The skin beneath her fingers heats at her touch, and I drop my hands to her ass, pulling her hips flush to mine.
We stay like this, kissing lazily, until my lungs are out of breath.
She lets out a whimper when I break away, making me want to pick her up and carry her straight to my bed.
Her eyes flutter open, shining brightly. The memory of the first time I saw her flashes in my mind.
This time, the gorgeous radiance is directed only at me.
"Been thinking about that since I left your place Sunday."
"Me too." Suddenly, she stiffens, the dreamy expression fading into unease.
“What’s wrong?”
Her eyes dart around the room nervously, her hands falling from my neck. “I feel like we’re being watched,” she whispers as if someone else can hear.
I start to ask what she’s talking about, then it hits me. The deer.
“Are you shitting me?” I try to hide my amusement. “They’re not alive, babe.”
“I know, but they have these shiny eyes that are staring right at us.”
“Have you ever seen animals on walls before?”
Her body jolts, eyes narrowing. “Of course I have, but never in the main room of the house. Mom made Dad put his in the office.”
Several things come out of this statement. First, I need to make Emi comfortable in here because no way am I relocating my trophies. Second, her dad’s a hunter, which means we have something in common.
Did I just think that? Do I want to have something in common with her dad? Hell yeah, I do. It’s gonna make my life a lot easier.
I skim my hands from her ass up her back and along her arms until our hands cup together. “We’ll work on getting you used to it. But for now, let’s get started on dinner.”
She loses the attitude and grins, letting me lead her to the kitchen. This room is much the same as the rest: bland. I can see her eyeing it with curiosity.
“You’re really into the rustic vibe, huh?”
I scoot out a stool, help her sit, and lean down, trapping her in with arms. “This place was as rustic as you can get until about ten minutes ago when you walked in. Now, it has a certain brightness.”
Her expression turns into a happy glow, and she rewards me with a quick kiss.
“What would you like to drink?” I move out of her space.
“I’ll have what you’re having.”
“You want a beer?” Somehow, I don’t see Emi being a beer drinker.
“Sure, if that’s what you have.”
“How about I make you a lemon drop?”
“You know how?”
“Not saying I’m as good as the fancy stuff you had the other night, but I’ll try.”
“I’d love that.”
I go to the cabinet and take out all the items the man at the liquor store told me I’d need. He was extremely helpful when I explained I needed a lesson on making these fucking things.
I feel her eyes on my back as I fill the cocktail shaker exactly as directed, adding crushed ice and then running a slice of lemon along the rim of the glass before coating it with the citrus sugar concoction the man described as the absolute best.
She stares at me in appreciation when I serve her. I watch her take a sip, her eyes closing as she swallows.
“This is delicious.” She hums approvingly, licking the sugar on her upper lip.
Satisfaction streams through me as I grab myself a beer and take the ingredients for dinner out.
“Can I help?”
“Nope.”
“How about letting me do the salad?” She brings her drink and stands beside me.
“Because I asked you to dinner, you relax and talk to me.”
“Seems hardly fair, seeing as you had a much more demanding work day. I’m sure the gambling bust was a huge deal.”
I freeze. “How’d you hear about that?”
Her face goes pale, and she turns to the side to avoid my stare. “Umm, I, umm, well, it’s…” she rambles, and it occurs to m
e exactly how she knows.
“Nina?”
She exhales loudly, relief on her face. “Nina.”
“I guess it’s not a secret, but I’m surprised it reached all the way to you. However, the connection with Nina explains it. I am sorry about canceling last night. Couldn’t be helped.”
She turns into me and gives me a smile. “It’s okay.”
“Hopefully, you’ll let me make it up to you tonight.”
“You already have.” She lays a hand on mine and squeezes. “So far, it’s awesome.”
I foil the potatoes and gather all the things for the grill. “Come on, let me show you one of the benefits of having that large TV.”
She follows behind and stops when she gets to my back porch. Her laughter fills the space as she realizes the straight line of sight. “You can watch television from your grill?”
“Hell yeah. If I’m not at the hunting camp on the weekends in the fall, I’m right here with the games. That was the point.”
“I totally get it now. How silly of me,” she teases, her eyes dancing with humor.
While I prep the grill and start the potatoes, she questions me all about the bust last night, me answering what I can without jeopardizing the case. Then she goes on to safer subjects.
“Tell me more,” she insists, as I recap my hunting trip a few weekends ago.
“Not much more to tell. He shot the thing and has bragging rights until next season opens. Marcus is one lucky son of a bitch. He stopped by the station this afternoon with more good news.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah, said he had angels on his side. Something about two divorce cases falling in his lap with no room for argument. The evidence is solid, videos full adultery.”
She starts to choke and turns pale, her hand flying to her mouth. I spin her around and gently tap her back. “You okay?”
“O-o-okay,” she rasps, setting the drink down. “Went down wrong.”
She clears her throat a few times and turns back in my arms. “Marcus is a divorce lawyer?”
“He is. Why?”
“No reason. I knew he was a lawyer, but I didn’t know his specialty.” Her eyes are wide, face still pale.
“Babe, why do you look spooked?”
“I’m not.” She recovers quickly, color returning to her face.
“You sure?”
“Absolutely,” she answers unconvincingly.
There’s a stir of suspicion in my gut, but I force it aside, telling myself I’m being ridiculous.
“I saw your car parked in your lot when I picked you up.” I change the subject and catch the reprieve in her eyes.
“Jerry delivered it today and took my rental car back for me.”
“Least he could do.”
“You say that like it was expected.” She narrows her eyes at me curiously.
“It was expected. I told him to make it convenient for you.”
“You did?”
“Hell yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t like the thought of you being inconvenienced.”
“Thank you, Walker. That means a lot to me,” she says softly, staring at me with appreciation.
“You seem very fond of your car.”
“I am, it was my first big purchase. Everyone knows I love it. That’s why Carlton defaced it. He knew it was the only way to get to me.”
At the mention of his name, my gut rolls. “He won’t be bothering you again, Emi.”
“I heard what you did at his office. I meant to thank you for that.”
“No need to thank me. He needed to be put in his place. How’d Maren get hooked up with him anyway?”
“She lost her mind for years, and after a home-performed lobectomy, her senses returned,” Emi tells me with a straight face, not even cracking a smile.
“Care to elaborate?”
“Short story is they met the last year of college. Carlton is from around here, but we never knew him. His parents are well-to-do, and he went to school in the north. But he didn’t have the grades for his Ivy League choice and ended up at Clemson. He wasn’t a total dick-lord when she met him, but shortly after they started dating, he made it known he didn’t approve of me. Said I was wild and a bad influence. Maren and I had a few rough patches, but I vowed not to lose my best friend. Through the years, I tried to make nice, but it never amounted to much. Carlton and I just didn’t mesh. When he proposed, I cried. But she seemed happy so I faked a brave face.”
Hearing her admission reconfirms what I already knew. She loves her friend unconditionally. “Must have been hard.”
“Yes, it was. Maren was a two-dimensional person. With me, she was fun and goofy. We still had our weekly standing dates, our monthly mani-pedis, our other circle of friends. But when she was with Carlton, she was quieter and reserved. He took the spotlight. Finally, one day, something broke.”
“Something broke?”
“Yes, she came to me in tears, spilling her guts. She didn’t want to be a socialite. She wanted to be herself, and Carlton told her to get a grip. That was the beginning of the end. He blames me, but she was falling out of love with him for months and grappling with her feelings and emotions.”
“Why did he blame you?”
“Because there was no one else to blame. He’s an asshole and couldn’t accept she was coming to this conclusion on her own. She was looking at a fight either way with him, then his cheating fell into her lap. That was her clean break. But he still blames me.”
“Did you force him to fuck other women?”
“No.” She crinkles her nose. “He’s disgusting.”
The term narcissist floats in my head, and I press her close, sliding my hands down her back to cup her ass. “I mean it, Emi. He gives you any problems, tell me immediately.”
“I doubt he’ll bother me again, Walker, but if he does, I can handle it.”
“But you don’t need to handle it. You have me now.”
A soft glimmering takes over her features, and she leans up to place her forehead on mine. “Thank you.”
The air around us cracks and sizzles as I stare into her eyes, feeling her heartbeat against my chest. My own heart starts to race as I close in, placing my lips on hers.
“Stay the night with me, Emi.” I kiss her tenderly. “I want to wake up with you in my bed.”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Okay.”
Chapter 8
Emi
A dull buzzing sound rings in my ears, and I swat at the nightstand to stop it. Instead of coming into contact with the hard wood, I whack something warm.
“Shit, Emi!” There’s a hiss, waking me fully.
I jolt up and push the hair off my face, looking around at the unfamiliar surroundings. There’s another loud grunt, and I squeak when the foundation under my elbow shifts and I fall back.
“Jesus, do you always wake up violently?” Walker’s face comes into my line of sight, his hand cupping my cheek.
“Walker,” I whisper, remembering where I am.
“I sure as fuck hope so, considering it’s my bed,” he quips.
“I forgot where I was for a second. The buzzing disrupted my dream, and I was trying to make it stop,” I explain.
His expression softens, his eyes roaming over my face. “You’re even more beautiful in the morning.”
Dread sets in because I know exactly what I look like when I wake up. My hair’s a nest, considering I twist my head a hundred times during the night. I’m certain there’s make-up rimming my eyes since I didn’t thoroughly wash my face, and the sour taste of my last lemon drop is on my tongue.
He, on the other hand, looks amazing. His dark hair is ruffled in a deliciously sexy way, his hazel eyes bright, and the scruff on his face looks fuller than when we fell asleep. My eyes run along the design of his tattoo, and my heart starts to race. I stare at him, momentarily forgetting my hot mess.
“Good morning.” He leans in to kiss me, and I stop him by
slamming my hand over my mouth.
“Morning breath,” I garble.
“I don’t give a shit about morning breath. I want a kiss.”
My head shakes back and forth. “Too gross.” I swallow the nasty taste.
His eyes start to dance with humor as he stares, waiting for me to relent. When I don’t, he kisses the back of my hand and rolls to the side, taking me with him.
“There’s a toothbrush in the bathroom drawer. It’s hot pink. You can’t miss it. I bought it for you yesterday.”
I remove my hand and nuzzle into his shoulder, soaking in his warmth. “You bought me a toothbrush?”
“I did.”
“What if I’d insisted on going home last night?”
“I knew, eventually, it would come in handy.”
The buzzing returns, and I lift up looking around. “What is that?”
“My alarm.”
“Can you make it stop? It’s horrible.”
He chuckles, his chest vibrating under my hand, as he twists and grabs his phone. “We need to get up, babe. It’s almost six-thirty.”
“Oh my God, no, it’s too early.” I dig deeper into his side.
“There’s nothing I’d like more than to lay in bed with you all day, but I have shit to do at work, and I need to take you home.”
“Next time, we’re staying at my house. This is ungodly.” Realization of what I’ve said strikes me, and I suck in a deep breath.
He doesn’t miss a beat, scooting down to eye-level and tucking my hair behind my ear. “Okay, beautiful, tonight we’ll stay at your place.” He kisses my nose and rolls out of bed. “Twenty minutes and I’m coming back to get you.”
He goes to his bathroom, my eyes trained on him until he disappears behind the door. The water starts, and I sigh, snuggling in and stealing his pillow. The whole bed smells like him, and I wonder if he’ll think I’m a nutcase if I refuse to leave. My eyes drift closed, but I don’t sleep; instead, I replay last night over and over in my head.
He didn’t have to try hard to convince me to stay. I was an easy sell. There was no hesitation.
“Stay the night with me, Emi,” he said, holding me close. “I want to wake up with you in my bed.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
See? Easy sell. No girl in her right mind would turn down the chance to spend the night in Walker Scott’s arms. After we cleaned up his kitchen, we moved to his sofa for another drink until he led me to his room and handed me a t-shirt to sleep in. You’d think I would have thought about a toothbrush right then, but instead, I shed my clothes easily, ran cold water over my face, and crawled in his gigantic bed.
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