Engulfing Emma (The Men on Fire Series)

by Samantha Christy

  I spend the next hour teasing and toying with her. And taunting Andrew. Who knew this night would turn out to be so much fun?

  The elevator attendant smiles at us when we step into the car. He remembers us from earlier. But this car is full. We won’t be putting on a show this time.

  We back into the far corner, making room for the others. As we start our descent and the others talk about their evening, she becomes uncomfortable again. Not as bad as on the way up, but there is a lot of tension on her face.

  I run my hand sensually down the back of her dress, starting at her shoulders and ending between her legs. I can feel her body heat through the thin material of her dress.

  “Brett,” she whispers in warning.

  Knowing nobody can see, I squeeze one of the globes of her ass and then run a finger between her ass cheeks. I lean close so only she can hear. “Do the others touch you here? Do they make you squirm like I do? I know how you like it. I know every inch of you, and I’m going to make you come so hard, you won’t ever want to scream anyone’s name but mine.”

  She blows out a long, controlled breath and shifts her weight from foot to foot.

  When we reach the lobby, I lead her to the street and hail a cab. After we get in, I ask, “Am I getting off on your side of the street or mine?” I lay a finger across her mouth to silence her before she can answer. “Because either way, I’m getting off.”

  She nibbles her lip and smiles.

  ~ ~ ~

  Forty-five minutes and two Emma orgasms later, I’m once again being kicked out of her bed.

  Before I put my clothes on, I use her bathroom. I leave a lipstick message that I know she’ll erase as soon as I leave.

  BRETT – 2

  ANDY/MONTY/TONY – 0

  I look at what I wrote, knowing it’s tonight’s score, but what about every other night? The nights I’m at work—who is she inviting into her bed then?

  I stand naked in the bathroom doorway. “I don’t think you should go out with anyone else.”

  She pulls her robe on. “Are you having fun with me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then why rock the boat? We don’t need to put a label on anything, do we? I’m not dating anyone. I go out to dinner sometimes. Sometimes I go up in tall buildings. Can we just leave it at that?”

  “I don’t want to leave it at that. We’re obviously into each other. The sex is off-the-charts fantastic. Do you plan to use me until you find the guy you want to marry?”

  “Whoa, who said anything about getting married? I’m not looking for that.”

  “I didn’t say I was either, but I’m also not wild about dipping my stick in the community pot, if you get my drift.”

  “Are you calling me a slut?”

  “If the fuck-me heels fit.”

  I half expect her to slap me. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t even yell at me.

  “Get out, Brett. Just go.”

  “Gladly.”

  I put my clothes on in brooding silence while she makes sure the coast is clear. I almost tell her it doesn’t matter. That Evie is most likely in the kitchen waiting for me.

  But tonight is not one of those times I want to stay for cookies and milk. I just want to go home and be pissed at Emma and angry at myself for being such a goddamn doormat.

  “Bye,” she whispers as I walk past her.

  I don’t bother replying.

  When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I don’t even look around to see if Evie is awake. I go straight to the door.

  “You’re mad at her,” Evie says behind me. “I can tell by the way you stomped down the stairs.”

  “Go back to bed,” I say, opening the door.

  “She doesn’t have other guys over, you know. You’re the only one who’s snuck out of here in months.”

  She has my full attention. I turn around. “Months? Are you sure?”

  She nods. “She really likes you. I’m just not so sure she wants to like you. You know, because of my grandpa and all.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I like you. Grandma likes you. That has to count for something.”

  “I think you’re pretty cool, too.”

  “Stay for milk and cookies?”

  “Not tonight,” I say. “I really need to go.”

  “Promise me you’ll come back. Don’t give up on her.”

  “Evie …” I run my hands through my hair and sigh. “It’s complicated.”

  She sits on the bottom step, pouting. “Well, it shouldn’t be. When two people like each other, they should be together. It’s stupid if they aren’t.”

  I laugh silently. That might be the most twelve-year-old thing she’s ever said.

  But that doesn’t mean she’s not one hundred percent right.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Emma

  It’s been a week since I’ve seen Brett.

  Well, that’s not entirely true. I’ve seen him plenty of times in the window. But never when he’s been able to see me back.

  Since the night of the cocktail party, it’s been complete radio silence. And despite my continued nightmares I have to admit I miss him.

  If you miss him so much, why did you go on two more dates this week? my inner voice asks.

  I put down my coffee. Brett’s right. I am using him until I can find someone else who can make me feel like I do when I’m with him.

  The problem is—no one has even come close.

  But I’m not giving up. There has to be someone out there. Just one man who’s not a firefighter, who can make me feel like he does. I’ve kissed some of them. I even let one put his hands on me, thinking that was what I needed to get over this thing with Brett. If there even is a thing anymore.

  I refuse to buy into the belief that there is only one person out there for everyone. I look up at the ceiling, thinking of my mother. No—it was her choice not to date. She could find someone if she really wanted to.

  I check my phone again as if he would have magically sent me a text in the last ninety seconds. Silly, because I know he’s at work.

  I roll my eyes at myself thinking how I know Brett’s schedule a little too well for a woman who isn’t interested in dating him.

  I look at all the baked goods I’ve made this week. It’s way more than usual. I’ve been trying to keep busy. But the problem is baking keeps the hands busy, not the mind. What am I going to do with all these cookies, muffins, and buns?

  I know what I want to do with them. But that would be giving him the wrong idea.

  Maybe if I go with a purpose. An excuse to be there other than to get him into bed. Because that’s not what I want.

  It’s not.

  “That’s a lot of stuff, Mom,” Evelyn says, coming in the kitchen to collect her sack lunch.

  “The three of us will never eat it all. I was thinking I’d drop it by the local fire station.”

  Her face breaks into a bright smile. I eye her suspiciously, wondering why that would make her happy.

  “I think it’s a great idea,” she says, reining in her overeager smile. “Grandpa would be happy. Did you know Grandma used to take cookies to him when he was at work?”

  “I did know that. That’s why I started baking in the first place.”

  “Really?”

  I nod. “As soon as I was old enough to stir the batter, she let me help, and then once a week, we’d walk over a mile to take them to him. He didn’t work at the fire station around the corner; his was farther away.”

  Would I have been able to walk into Brett’s firehouse if it had been the same one as my dad’s? I haven’t been back there since he died. The memory of Mom and me taking him cookies has always been too painful for me to consider going back.

  “Maybe one day I can help you bake stuff for the firehouse,” she says.

  My mind plays a trick on me, and I see flashes of Evelyn and me taking cookies to Brett, just as Mom and I took them to Dad.

  “We’ll see,” I say, gathering u
p the excess baked goods and putting them in a bag. “Come on. Time to get to camp.”

  Evelyn asks me some strange questions on the way, like did I enjoy dinner last night with Jake, a fellow teacher from my school? And do I like him? And what kind of qualities do I like in a man?

  “What’s up with you and the questions?” I ask, horrified that maybe I haven’t been as discreet as I should have been with the men in my life.

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. Just curious about boys, I guess.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief, but at the same time, my insides twist when I think about her growing up. “Oh, no. Don’t even think about it. You are not allowed to date until you’re sixteen.”

  “That’s actually pretty progressive,” she says. “Kendra and Allie’s moms say they have to be seventeen.”

  “Progressive?” I say with a raise of my brow. “Kind of a big word, Evelyn.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m kind of a big girl.”

  I stop and give her a hug. “I guess you are.”

  “Big enough to go to Germany?”

  “That again?”

  “I really, really, really want to go, Mom. I never ask you for much.”

  “I know, baby. But this is different. I don’t want you to be—”

  “Disappointed,” she says, finishing my thought. “I know. And I won’t be, I promise. I’m just curious.”

  We arrive at camp and I nod to the door. “We’re here. We’ll continue this conversation another time.”

  “That’s what you always say.”

  I give her a kiss. “Have a nice day, Evelyn.”

  She sighs in frustration. “Bye, Mom.”

  On my way down the block, I wonder about my real motives for not taking her overseas. Yes, it’s true, I believe she’ll be disappointed if we go. But is that the real reason I won’t take her? Or is it strictly my fear of flying? In all honesty, it’s possible she could have grandparents who don’t know about her and would love to have her in their lives. Am I selfish for keeping her from that?

  Squad 13 is pulling into the station when I arrive. Brett sees me but doesn’t have any reaction. No wave. No smile. Not even a cordial nod. When he jumps off his truck, I notice he’s covered with soot. My heart sinks. He’s not the one for me. If I think Evelyn will be disappointed when she meets the biological father who doesn’t want her, I can’t even imagine how she’d feel if she got attached to someone like Brett and then lost him.

  He strolls over to me, raising his eyebrows as if to ask why I’m here.

  I shove the bag at him. “I had extra, so I thought I’d bring them.”

  “Okay, thanks.” He takes the bag and starts to walk away.

  I panic. “I think I’m ready,” I blurt out.

  He spins around. “Ready for what?”

  I’m so stupid. He probably thinks I’m saying I’m ready to date. “To go up in the Empire State Building. You said you’d take me by the end of the month. Well, it’s almost the end of the month, and I think I’m ready.”

  “Maybe Andy could take you,” he says spitefully.

  “Brett, please. You started this.”

  He takes a step forward. “Are you going to let me finish it?”

  My insides turn over. “Are we still talking about tall buildings?”

  “I don’t know. Are we?”

  We stare at each other until Denver comes over and snatches the bag from him. “I was hoping you’d be back. We’ve missed your baking, Emma.”

  “Enjoy,” I say.

  “We sure will.”

  “So …?” I say, chewing a fingernail.

  He looks over toward Manhattan and then back at me. He pinches the bridge of his nose and I wonder if he’s having second thoughts about it. “When?” he asks, after what seems like a million agonizing seconds.

  “How about now?”

  “Now?”

  I shrug. “No time like the present. Unless you need to get home to Leo, that is.”

  “Bonnie’s with him. Give me ten minutes to change.” He looks at the dirt and soot caked on his hands. “Better make it twenty.”

  For twenty minutes I think of all the horrible situations that could have put him in that state. What if one day his truck didn’t pull back into the fire house? What if he was trapped without a way out? What if—I think of Dad—what if the hero one day became the victim?

  I pull out my phone and text Jake, accepting his invitation for a second date. Maybe there isn’t anyone who can make me feel like Brett does, but it’s not worth the risk. Maybe finding someone almost as good is good enough.

  ~ ~ ~

  “How come you’ve never mentioned going to the top of One World Trade Center?” I ask at the entrance to the Empire State Building. “It’s taller than this one, you know.”

  He looks in that direction. “I know. But I figured the Empire State Building wouldn’t evoke as many memories.”

  “You’d be right. I’m not sure I could go there. Have you ever?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Have you been to the memorial?”

  “Dozens of times.” He looks at me sideways. “You have too, right?”

  “Once,” I say.

  “You’ve only been there one time?”

  I nod sadly. “My mom made me go when it opened back in 2011.”

  “She made you go? You didn’t want to?”

  I shake my head.

  “Oh, right,” he says. “This is all about you not forgiving your father, isn’t it?”

  I shrug.

  “Surely you’ve been to his grave.”

  I look at the ground. “He doesn’t have a grave. He was buried in the south tower.”

  He runs a hand through his hair. “Emma, you need to let this go. He did not leave you on purpose. Maybe if you could accept that, you’d be willing to accept other things in your life.”

  “Don’t try and shrink me, Brett. I’m long past that.”

  He laughs disingenuously. “Clearly you’re past that,” he says sarcastically. He motions to the building. “Are we going to do this or what?”

  “Of course. That’s why we’re here.”

  “Well, let’s get on with it.”

  He’s more than a little irritated at me. I’m just not sure I can pick the reason why. Kicking him out of my bed? Dating other guys? Not forgiving my dad? Maybe it’s a combination of all of them.

  At the ticket counter, he pulls out his wallet. I step in front of him. “You are not paying.”

  He puts his wallet away without the slightest hesitation. Although I really do want to pay, him not protesting makes me sad. He always protests.

  He looks at the tickets. “Eighty-sixth floor observatory. I’ve always thought that’s the better one. The higher one is encased in glass.”

  “Someone once told me there’s not that much difference between fifty floors and a hundred, so I figured this’ll do.”

  He smiles. “Listen, Emma. I may not be in a good place right now, but I don’t want that to take away from what you’re doing here. I’m really proud of you.”

  I look over at the line for the elevators to the observatory. “Don’t be proud of me quite yet.”

  He holds out his elbow for me to take. “Let’s kill this bitch.”

  Standing in line gives me too much time to second-guess myself. I almost walk away five times, but each time Brett convinces me to stay. I don’t miss the crazy looks I’m getting from strangers. Neither does Brett.

  “Ignore them,” he says, as we inch closer to the elevators. “They have no idea what your story is, and that gives them no right to judge.”

  The doors open, and it’s our turn to pile in. I start to sweat. Around us are families of tourists, two businessmen, and a single lady checking out Brett.

  “No kissing,” I say to him before the doors close.

  “Wasn’t planning on it.”

  Disappointment courses through me at his curtness.

  When the elev
ator ascends, it feels like my heart is going to stop. I can’t catch my breath.

  “Emma, eyes on me,” he says. “Don’t think about it. Think about something else. Tell me about a good memory. The day Evelyn was born. Tell me about that.”

  “I … I can’t,” I say shakily.

  “Is she going to faint?” the woman next to me asks. “Oh, Lord, she’s not going to be sick, is she?” She pushes her child farther away from me. “People shouldn’t do this unless they can handle it.”

  Brett gives her a quelling look. “She’s fine. I’d appreciate it if you’d mind your own business.”

  I feel the stares of all the people in the elevator. They look at me and whisper amongst themselves. My stomach rolls. Maybe the woman is right. Maybe I am going to be sick.

  Brett looks at a loss. We don’t have alcohol. He can’t kiss me. My knees get weak.

  Brett fusses with his phone. I hear music, and a few seconds later, Brett breaks into song.

  He’s singing Elton John.

  He turns the volume on his phone as high as it will go and sings along loudly. I’m shocked and maybe a little embarrassed, because he’s so off-key.

  “B-B-B-Bennie and the Jets,” he sings, belting out the chorus.

  Everyone in the elevator looks at him, but he doesn’t seem to care.

  After the first verse, a man in the corner sings along. Some of the kids laugh. Then a woman joins in. A minute later, almost all the adults, including the rude woman, are singing the explosive chorus of my happy-place song.

  Before I know it, I’m smiling. I don’t sing along. I’m too shocked to speak. But I do spend the rest of the elevator ride completely floored over what this man will do to distract me.

  The doors open to the observatory and people exit, still singing or humming.

  I pull Brett aside once we’ve cleared the doors. “You’re crazy,” I say, laughing.

  “And you’re laughing,” he says, taking a bow. “Mission accomplished. We’re here.”

  I look around and blow out a deep breath, realizing I’m not as scared as I thought I’d be when I got up here. “I thought you didn’t like Elton John.”