by Anya Summers
“Hey Emmett, it’s Colt. Got your message on the prognosis on the shoulder. That’s great news. We can work around the PT. Why don’t you come to my office after you’re done on Monday, and we can figure out a loose schedule for you. And while the rest of the morons we call friends pestered me like little girls, I didn’t say anything about the bet with Grace.”
“What bet is he talking about, Emmett?” Grace asked behind him.
Emmett swore.
He should have waited to listen to the voicemail. He shouldn’t have listened to it on speaker phone. All of these should haves ran through his mind as he laid the tongs down and turned toward Grace.
Fury lit her features. She was wearing her satin robe. At any other time, he would have tugged her into his arms. But from the way she looked now, with her arms crossed defensively in front of her chest and with a stony expression on her face, he had the feeling she would do him bodily harm should he try anything.
“Grace, let me explain—”
“Lie, you mean.”
He shoved a hand through his hair. “No, not lie. I haven’t lied to you, about anything. I may have omitted but I didn’t lie.”
“It’s semantics to make yourself feel better. You have five seconds to start explaining what Colt meant about the bet with me,” she fumed.
Regret filled him when he spied the hurt in her eyes. It was the last thing he had ever wanted to do. Treading carefully, he said, “Remember that first weekend, when you did your house call, and you ran out after we kissed? Colt was here that night. We foolishly made a bet on who would get you into bed first. I blame it on the painkillers. I never would have made the bet otherwise. It was stupid and foolish. I’m so sorry.”
Grace muttered, “You son of a bitch! How could you? And to think, I let you touch me. I fell right into your hands, didn’t I?” She swiped at angry tears with a murderous expression.
He approached with his hands up and replied, as calmly as he was able, “Grace, it was made before I got to know you. It was a stupid, idiotic male thing. We called it off—I called it off—because I care about you. It wasn’t meant to hurt you.”
“No? You don’t think it’s embarrassing for me? That it doesn’t make me question everything that has happened between us? Don’t give me the it’s because I care for you bullshit speech. I’ve heard it before. Not when the truth is that I was just a bet to you, a convenient screw while you’re laid up.” Grace backed away, her stance defensive.
Emmett couldn’t blame her; he’d been an idiot, and needed her to understand. He strode toward her. “Grace, please. I’m sorry. You were not convenient, not to me. I care about you. I want to claim you as my submissive. I never should have made that bet. I was all tangled up from that kiss.”
“And that way you win the bet completely? No thanks, I’ll pass on the whole claiming bit. So what was the prize? Bragging rights? Cash prize? What was fucking me worth to you?”
“It wasn’t like that,” he denied.
“No, then what was it like?”
“It was a mistake, a big one that I’m trying to apologize for.” Panic eviscerated him, and his stomach dropped into his toes.
“Yeah, well, you’re not forgiven. If I hadn’t heard that message, would you have come clean and told me about the bet?”
He could see all the steps he had taken since she entered his life, and knew that if he wanted a chance in hell of garnering her forgiveness for his idiotic blunder, he had to be honest, even when he understood the answer could doom him. “No. I’d planned to move on from it, forget about it.”
“I see. This thing between us, whatever this freak show was, is done.” She retreated and held up her hands when he started to follow. “No. You do not get to touch me. You do not have my permission to do so, and I don’t give a good goddamn if you’re a Dom or the Dalai Lama. I’m getting my things and leaving. Don’t try to stop me.” Then she raced into the bedroom, and slammed the door shut.
Emmett heard the click of the lock as he approached, and stood in front of the closed door.
“Grace, please hear me out.” He knocked.
For the next five minutes, he stood talking through the door as the panic escalated in his chest. Then the door was wrenched open to reveal Grace, fully dressed, with her overnight bag slung over her shoulder.
“Step aside, Emmett.”
“Grace, if you’ll just cool your jets for a moment, we can talk this through.”
She jerked her head. “No. I’m done talking. Lay a finger on me at this point, and I will consider it assault. Back away and let me pass.”
The rigid lines of tension in her body, the stiffness in her shoulders, the way her hands were balled into fists, all screamed back the hell off. Dejected, Emmett was about to try another tactic when the smoke detector in the kitchen screeched.
Shit.
He raced back into the kitchen. Smoke was billowing from the frying pan he’d left on the stove, which now contained the charred remains of bacon. Turning the burner off, he set the smoking pan in the sink and flipped on the water. Grabbing a towel, he waved it in front of the smoke alarm.
His front door slammed shut just as the alarm stopped blasting.
Emmett snarled and ran to the front door, throwing it open just in time to see Grace’s taillights as she drove away.
Fuck.
He should have restrained her, gotten her to listen. He should have told her why the bet had stopped mattering: because she mattered. He needed to explain what she meant to him, that he loved her.
Yet he knew if he tried right now, she would shut him out and not listen. He’d give her today to fume and get past her anger.
Running on his own steam, he dressed, and headed out, driving his truck with fury and fear raging through every fiber of his being. Emmett pulled into the parking lot near the stables and spied his quarry. He marched across the expanse of pavement to where Colt stood talking with Duncan and Mav.
Colt shot him a glance. “You’re up early, didn’t figure you’d be up yet after reserving Cabin X.”
As a response, riding the fury, Emmett’s right fist shot out and clocked Colt across the jaw, snapping the man’s head back. “You fucker!”
Mav and Duncan jumped in, and grabbed him by his arms. His left shoulder throbbed with pain. Mav derided him, “Settle down, Emmett, or you’re going to hurt yourself more.”
Colt, holding his jaw, shouted, “What the fuck, dude? I knew you were unhinged, but this is bullshit.”
“What’s bullshit is you leaving a message that Grace could hear, mentioning the bet!” he snarled, wanting another shot at Colt’s pretty boy face.
“Well, why the hell did you listen to it with her around?”
“Because I didn’t think you’d be so stupid as to mention it, not unless you wanted to cause a rift. Are you sure there’s nothing there? That you’re not still figuring out a way to claim her?” Emmett snapped.
With his hands on his hips, Colt snorted and shook his head. “You’re a fucking idiot. I told you over a week ago that I was out of the running, that there was nothing there but friendship between the doc and me.”
“Yeah, well, she heard your message loud and clear.”
“What’s this about the doctor and a bet? Is it something I can get in on? She does have the sweetest ass,” Mav said casually.
Emmett rounded on him with a snarl.
Mav held his hands up and backed away. “Never mind, dude. I won’t poach.”
“What’s the big deal, anyway?” Duncan asked.
“This moron here is hip-deep in love with the little doctor, and fucked it up,” Colt explained to their friends.
“It was going just fine until your goddamn interference. I planned on collaring her.”
Duncan’s eyes bulged. “You? Collar a submissive?”
Mav whistled and shook his head with a grin. “You’re right, Colt, he is an idiot. Now that she’s available…”
“Try it, and there won
’t be enough pieces left for mountain lions to scrounge up a mouthful,” Emmett blasted with dead seriousness.
Colt ordered, “You need to go on home, Emmett.”
“Fuck you,” he snarled, still riding the wave of rage.
“That wasn’t a suggestion. Take your contrary ass home. Stop causing a scene, or you’re fired. I’m sorry that Grace heard the message about the bet. But who are you really angry with, here? Me for bringing it up, or yourself for not being honest with your sub?” Colt derided him.
Colt had hit the nail on the head. Emmett wasn’t angry at Colt, but at himself, for making the bet in the first place, and then not having the balls to admit it to Grace. The anger deflated inside him. “Fine.”
He strode away without a backward glance, and headed home. His hand and shoulder ached like a son of a bitch. It wasn’t until he walked back into his cabin and could still smell that wildflower scent of hers in his place, that the impact, the consequences of keeping the bet a secret, hit home.
Fuck. He was angrier with himself than anyone else. If he’d been honest with Grace when it had started getting serious, and confessed his sins surrounding the defunct bet, it might have made a difference.
But now he worried that she might not forgive him. She’d driven away; left before he could explain the most important reason why she should listen… because he loved her.
20
She cried the entire drive home.
She sobbed in the shower as she washed away his scent still clinging to her body.
Her tears fell unimpeded as she studied the bruises marring her skin from their sexual exploits the night before. Physical reminders that she had been played for a fool. God, he must have laughed a riot.
She’d begun to believe she was really building something here. A life that wasn’t all about work. But she’d been fooling herself. How could he do this to her?
When she had woken up this morning, her heart, her most unused body part, had been damn near singing. And why was that? Because she loved: fully, deeply, and without reservation. Finding herself alone, she’d gone in search of her love, wanting to see if she could convince him to come back to bed.
But upon hearing Colt’s voice on the recording, her ears had perked up. And her heart had dropped into her toes at the mention of the bet. She swiped at the tears, livid with herself for believing in Emmett, for hoping that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t going to have to face the world on her own anymore.
Yes, she was fiercely independent, but she was also lonely. Grace didn’t need a man to take care of things for her. She had the day to day living thing down pat. But she needed someone to love her, a man she could lean on when life grew strained and the difficulties of the world dragged her down, and one she could trust enough to submit to in the bedroom. Because after last night, she didn’t think she would ever be able to go back to straight vanilla sex.
She let herself cry until she felt numb.
Uncaring of the time, she opened a bottle of wine and sat down with a box of her grandpa’s things to sort through. Inside, there were photographs. Piles of them.
Grace withdrew a stack and began looking through them. There were candid shots of her grandpa with her grandma when they were young—as young as her parents had been when they died. Grandma had died when Grace’s dad was just a boy. That was the first time Grandpa had been tasked with raising a child on his own.
Grace resembled her grandma in her silhouette, the hair, the shape of the eyes, and mouth. She wished she could have met her. Grace wished for a lot of things when it came to her relatives. That she had a sibling so she wasn’t the last surviving member of her family. That her parents hadn’t died a continent away from their daughter. That her grandpa was still around to give her some advice on how to fix her life.
She had always thought that if you worked hard and treated people with respect, good things would happen. But that didn’t seem to be the case for her. She did those things, and still found herself facing life alone. Maybe that was the lesson: to not hope for things, and stick with what she knew. She was good at her job, at helping her patients. Maybe she needed to make that enough.
And perhaps moving here had been the wrong direction for her life. Maybe she needed to be back in the thick of things in the emergency room where her world made sense. She still had her apartment in Denver. The lease was good for two more months. She had movers slated to go in and pack up the place in a week. Maybe she should put that on hold until she was firm about staying here.
And she was going to need to cancel that celebration of life deal. She didn’t want to see Emmett—or Colt, for that matter. The rest of the cowboys she had met when she’d had dinner at the ranch also likely knew about the bet. Hell, they were likely all in on it—a sort of make fun of the newcomer gig.
The pealing ring of her phone startled her, jerking her out of her oppressive thoughts. It wasn’t Emmett. It was a Denver number, though. Thinking it might be the movers, she picked up.
“Hello.”
“Grace O’Neal?”
“Yes.” She tried to place the voice.
“It’s Phil Waterson.”
Ah, yes. He had been an attending when she was still a resident. “Phil, how are you? I haven’t talked to you since you left Denver Memorial two years ago.”
“I’m great. Love working at Saint John’s Hospital.”
Now she remembered how he’d left, and her department had scrambled to find a suitable replacement. They still hadn’t. “That’s wonderful to hear, but I admit I’m curious about getting your call.”
“Well, I tried reaching you at Denver Memorial and they told me the scoop, that you were in Podunk Colorado practicing family medicine.”
“Yep, inherited my grandfather’s practice when he died a few weeks back.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, truly. Are you sure that’s the right spot for you, though? You were one of the best ER physicians I’ve ever worked with, even better than me.”
Was that the question of the day? Was this place right for her? Hell if she knew. “Maybe. I’m not sure. It’s definitely taken some getting used to—the slower pace.”
“Well, perhaps this might be of interest to you then. The brass here are making me the department head of the ER, leaving my post of Head Emergency Medical Physician unfilled. They’ve asked that I find a candidate to replace me. I want you.”
Shocked pleasure filtered through the crud in her mind. “Wow. That’s quite the offer.”
“It’s well deserved, and rather lucrative. I’d like to email you the formal offer, and set up an interview for you to come see the team. Although that would really be nothing more than a formality, because I already know how brilliant you are,” Phil said, schmoozing Grace with the best of them.
“Er, sure. I have a packed week this week, but what about the following Monday?” Grace figured she could drive down next Sunday, stay at her apartment, and if she felt the position was something that would work for her, there would be no reason to have the movers come that Tuesday to pack up her things.
“That would be great. Let’s say ten thirty in the morning, if that works for you. I’ll treat you to lunch afterward, even if you turn me down, but I’m betting you won’t.”
“Send the offer and I will consider it,” Grace replied. This might just be the ticket she needed to get her act in gear and figure out what was right for her.
“Fantastic. This is my cell; call me if you have any questions. And I will see you next Monday.”
“Thanks, Phil, really. I appreciate it.”
Well, there is that, if I want it, she thought as she hung up. If she wanted to leave Winter Park, and sell her grandpa’s practice and house, she could go back to her life in Denver—put her life, her career, back on the fast track to bigger and better things.
And never see Emmett again.
Her heart broke a little more at the thought of never touching him, never seeing him again, never sitting beside him o
n a porch swing and talking about her day. She fought back the wave of tears. One day, she would get to the point where thinking about him wouldn’t rip her heart to shreds—it just wasn’t this day.
She glanced at the job offer when the email dinged on her phone, and her eyebrows rose. It was a very generous salary. After three to four years on a salary like that, she could look at buying her own house in Arvada or one of the other well-to-do neighborhoods. Perhaps not even that long, if she factored in the sale of her grandfather’s practice and this house.
Her phone rang again. This time, it was Emmett. She ignored the call. Grace had nothing to say to him.
She spent the remainder of the day going through boxes of her grandpa’s things, boxing items up that she wanted to get rid of, putting aside some that she would keep. And she did her best not to focus on her broken heart.
Grace’s week started off with a bang. A patient had an emergency case of kidney stones and had to be transported to the nearby hospital. Her new assistant started. Grace liked Dawn, and thought that if she decided to stay in town, the young woman would make a great, enthusiastic member of the team.
Between a packed schedule with patients, she fielded calls from Emmett. It had gotten so bad, she turned her phone off during the day, and only had the main line to deal with at her practice. And her new assistant made sure to tell Emmett that Grace was in with a patient and unavailable any time he called.
Did he really think she was going to forgive him, just like that? As if it was no big deal? As if what he had done wasn’t a big deal?
By Thursday, Grace knew she was going to need to deal with Emmett. The calls to her office needed to stop.
She was taking five minutes to look over the specifics, to decide if she wanted to sell the practice, when the intercom feature buzzed on her desk phone. She pressed the button and listened.
“I’m sorry, Doctor O’Neal, truly. I tried to tell him to stop.”