Magnetic Love: A Protector Romance (A Surviving Love Novel Book 3)

by Brinda Berry

  I pause before speaking, legitimately attempting to remember the very first time. A vision of one moment—maybe not the first time, but definitely a memorable one—surfaces. “It was the first time I heard you dropping F-bombs while you cleaned my bathroom. Multiple fucks with a goddamn thrown in. I was standing around the corner and listening since you seemed to want me out of your way. The entire time, I hoped you wouldn’t catch me acting like a stalker in my own house.”

  Her mouth twitches, and she shakes her head. “You’re kidding. That’s a sad excuse for a pickup line. ‘Hey girl, I love your dirty mouth.’”

  “I’m serious.” I meet her amused gaze. “I learned something about you that day. About your character. You walked around muttering the entire time about privileged mama’s boys who piss on the floor and use too many towels and own an exorbitant amount of cologne. I was laughing so hard I was sure you’d hear me. But when you finished that day, everything was so clean and organized, and you never said a word to me. It’s like you cared about what you did because you made sure everything was in place and perfect. The towels rolled like I was on a cruise ship or something. You wrote me a note that I needed more shampoo.”

  She snorts and places her face into my comforter before lifting her head to look at me. “You are really weird. You do know that, right? Like you have some fetish for foul-mouthed clean freaks.”

  “Maybe I have a fetish for you.”

  She rolls her eyes and smothers the smile I can see tipping the corner of her lips.

  It’s clear she doesn’t know what to do with all this honesty. I forge ahead, not caring if I push her out of her comfort zone. “I think that’s one example of what’s made me respect you as a person. You didn’t like what you were doing that day. You were cursing like a marine in there, but you took pride in your job and never complained to any of us. And you were so funny. I wanted to poke my head around the corner that day and talk to you, but I also wanted to listen to you being yourself. Because even back then I wanted to know you better. You’re more than a pretty face.”

  Emerson smooths the cotton comforter, her gaze following the movement of her hand instead of looking at me. “That’s a really decent thing to say. If you’re trying to score points with me, you’re not playing fair.” Her voice is low and unhappy, each word pulling at my heart.

  “I’m trying to give you a compliment. It’s all true. You give so much of yourself and the world would be a nicer place if people were more like you.”

  Her unhappy look slays me. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “It’s called repentance. You have no idea.”

  “What’d you do? Steal Gabby’s candy as a kid?”

  She visibly blanches and I regret saying something to trigger her reaction. I lay my hand over hers, stilling it. “I’m not buying that you’ve been some bad person in the past. I know you. Maybe you’ve made some bad decisions, but we all do that.”

  She gives a rueful laugh. “I was a spoiled little girl who grew up into a spoiled teenager. You think you know me? You can’t even imagine the type of girl I was. The ultimate daddy’s girl. I asked for it and he gave it to me. And you know what? Daddy loved me so much he ignored his wife, his younger daughter, his obligations. I knew it, too. Loved it. Kept taking everything he gave until he couldn’t give any more.”

  “Emerson, stop. Stop talking like you think a kid can be responsible for the things a parent does. You can try to paint yourself as selfish and try to push me away, but it isn’t going to work. You didn’t force your dad to do anything. He was a grown man.” I want to grab her by the shoulders and give her a good shake, but of course I don’t.

  Her face is flushed and she lies back, looking at the ceiling while she steadies her breath. “So, you see...baggage. Lots and lots of baggage.”

  I take her hand and thread my fingers through hers. My body is pressed close to her side and I bring her hand to my lips to press a kiss against her knuckles. Her body stiffens. “People grow. We change the way we think about things, what we want, who we want.”

  “Yeah,” she says with an almost imperceptible nod. “I’ve changed. I’m never going to be that selfish girl again. I do know what I want. I also know what’s realistic.”

  “Good. Can you be honest then? Honest with me?” My voice is calm but my heartbeat drums in my ears. I was so in control a minute ago and now I’m afraid of what she’s going to say.

  “Okay.”

  “Do you trust me when I ask you to give us a chance?”

  She eyes me without answering. I can see the quick flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat.

  “Emerson? I’m asking you to trust me. I know you want to be with me. I can’t promise it will work forever. Hell, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do that with anyone. But I can tell you I’m going to try hard to make this work. And if it doesn’t, and you don’t want to work here because you decide you don’t want to be around me, I swear I’ll find you another job. If that’s what is holding you back, then it’s not an issue.”

  She closes her eyes and wrinkles her nose like she’s tasted something sour. “No other women. No former girlfriends hanging around. If we are together, then it’s only me.”

  “No threesomes then.” I try to keep a straight face.

  Emerson smacks my chest. “You are pushing your luck.”

  “Gorgeous Girl, I’ve got it. No threesome, twosomes that don’t involve you, or any combination to risk your trust. I’ll take care to be on my best behavior. You won’t regret it.”

  “Okay. The fact you felt it necessary to say that already makes me regret it. Let’s stop talking.”

  “Good idea.” I bend my head and slant my mouth across her smiling one.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hot Boy

  Emerson

  I’m sitting on the edge of Dylan’s bed, buttoning my shirt with shaky hands. That’s as far as he got with his deft fingers—fingers a sculptor would envy. I chide myself for getting so worked up over a little kissing.

  Bra still fastened? Check. Buttons lined up in correct buttonholes? Check. Panties damp? Oh, hell.

  If I hadn’t put the brakes on, I’m sure I’d be calling him my lover instead of employer.

  He stares at me with his velvety brown eyes, a gaze that warms me to the core and makes me want to jump on top of him like a nymphomaniac. Why does he have to be so hot? And what’s wrong with me? I stopped acting like some virginal flower when I was sixteen.

  These days, my chastity belt squeaks with rust...until I look at Dylan. The amount of want coursing through my veins is obscene. Obscene and terrifying.

  Dylan continues to stare, gaze flicking from my eyes, to my mouth, and down to follow my hands as I dress.

  “Quit looking at me.” I flip my hair outside the collar of my shirt. My lips feel bruised from the intensity of kissing and my heart feels giddy from the pure joy of feeling treasured. Of forgetting the mundane things that make up my life—work, school, more work. Those things are only the tip of the iceberg I call responsibility.

  “Can’t stop. I like the view too much,” he says, a low and totally sexual purr in his voice.

  He takes a step toward me and I hold up a hand and shake my head. My heartbeat quickens to a mambo beat. I suck in air and lick my dry lips.

  “How long have we been in here?” I ask. He grabs his phone and glances at the screen. “I don’t know. It’s six o’clock. You sure we can’t lock ourselves in here a while longer?”

  “No,” I answer dryly. “I told Veronica and Malerie I’d help them downstairs.”

  Dylan’s mouth kicks up at the corner. “You hanging out with those two now?”

  “Not really.” I run a hand through my tangled hair, hoping I don’t look like I’ve been rolling around on Dylan’s bed. “Malerie had a wreck and I gave them a ride here.”

  “Ah. You’re not helping with the party setup, are you?”

  “I guess. Jelly Bean Queen will really show
up?”

  “Yeah. Malerie and Collin know them. Playing in Springfield on Friday and then heading over here.”

  “Oh. I’m impressed. That’s a big deal.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re into rock stars. I’ll have to chain you to me.”

  I give him a skeptical look and grab the boots I discarded earlier. “Not into rock gods, and I won’t be here.”

  “You’re kidding. Most women would jump at the chance to hang out with JBQ.”

  “Not me.” I shove one foot into my boot and stand to wiggle into it. Dylan eyes my bouncing with interest.

  His heated gaze makes me lose concentration and I hobble on one foot. He leans forward to steady me. “Putting stuff on, taking it off...it’s all sexy as hell when it comes to you.”

  “Ha. Ha.” I shove my other foot in the remaining boot and he steadies me by grabbing me at the waist.

  “You’re killing me,” he says with a light squeeze of my hips. “I’ll help with this stuff downstairs. Then maybe I can lure you back into my spider’s web up here.” His eyes sparkle like a kid spying his favorite toy.

  “I have to go home soon.”

  “Stay,” he says, pulling my body against his. I’m not a petite girl. Until I hit high school, I always matched guys in my class inch for inch. Dylan’s much taller though, and I love that his broad shoulders and toned pecs are eye level for me.

  It makes me feel protected and sheltered—which is idiotic since I really like taking care of myself.

  He nuzzles the side of my head. “Say you’ll hang around after we finish helping,” he whispers low.

  The sensation of his warm breath makes me close my eyes with dizzy pleasure. “I...um...I don’t think I—”

  Dylan doesn’t move for a couple of seconds and I sense a shift within his mind, a stillness. “No pressure.”

  He releases me and steps back to take my hands. “Let’s see what they need help with.”

  And just like that, he’s leading me to the door. No pouting, cajoling, anger. He’s an enigma in this moment because I think I know the inner-workings of the male mind. It figures that Dylan’s would break the mold.

  I follow him gratefully down the stairs. Things seem to be moving so fast.

  Malerie and Veronica’s voices drift from the basement game room. Those two have been best friends ever since Veronica moved to St. Louis earlier in the year. I’ve heard bits and pieces of both their backgrounds.

  But I honestly don’t know either one of them well. I’ve kept my distance as much as I’ve kept it from the guys. Essentially acting like an impregnable island without any bridge from their world to mine.

  “We’re here to help.” I glide around the new furniture and assess the space. There’s a traditional bar at one end of the room and a pool table in the center. It’s tidy, but gets on my nerves with its frat house overtones.

  A tacky beer light hangs from the ceiling over the table. To my right is an oil painting that must be a leftover from somebody’s garage sale. The low ceiling presses on me whenever I clean the windowless room.

  Both Ace and Collin stand at either end of the bar. Malerie glances to Veronica and there’s a silent exchange of something akin to revolt.

  Veronica pushes blonde hair out of her eyes and smiles at me. “We’re so glad you’re here. Those two are bailing on us.” She turns an accusing gaze to Collin.

  “Fresh troops have arrived.” Dylan says easily. “What do you have left to do?” He looks around at the new furniture lined against one wall.

  Malerie motions to the room. “Veronica and I think the pool table needs to go.”

  My gaze immediately swings to Dylan and his horrified expression. My chest clenches in a sympathetic squeeze. “That seems a little extreme,” I say.

  Veronica nods in agreement. “Maybe you’re right.” She glances at Collin. “I mean, we’re only getting this room ready to host parties, not change their lives.”

  “Emerson.” Malerie diverts my attention from staring at Dylan. “Look around. I’m not saying we need to do anything drastic. But come on. If we have business clients here, then it has to look professional. Classy.” She trails off, letting her gaze flit from the walls, to the light, to the jackalope mounted behind the bar—something I see so often I hardly even notice.

  I give Dylan a lopsided smile. “She’s right. You could always rent a place to host things.”

  Ace, Malerie’s hottie husband of the year, leaves the bar area across the room to saunter toward me. “I need to thank you for stopping today. Mal told me how you rescued them and missed work. She’d have lost it if it weren’t for you being there.” He shoots a worshipful glance toward Malerie. The honeymoon is obviously still in session.

  “If we can ever do anything—and I mean anything—to help you, let us know,” Ace says.

  Well, this is uncomfortable.

  “Anyone would’ve done it,” I say.

  He gives me a doubtful look, eyebrows bunching. “No. You’re wrong. It’s nice to have good friends and we just want you to know how much we appreciate it. So, when you need something just ask. Anything.”

  Ace looks at me as if waiting for me to make a request. Awkwardness abounds tonight.

  Let me see. I need enough to pay off my university fees, pay my upcoming bills, and hire a hitman to knock off the thug stalking me for my non-existent hidden stash of money. If only Ace were a magical leprechaun instead of a nice guy. “Sure,” I answer.

  “Good.” He walks past me to do some guy-handshake-fist-bump combo with Dylan. “You here to help?”

  “Yeah. Put me and Emerson to work.” Dylan winks at me and pulls me to his side with one arm.

  And just like that, we’re a couple. Malerie, Veronica, Ace, and Collin all beam as if we’ve announced we’re engaged. I attempt to tug out of Dylan’s hold, but this only causes him to hug me closer.

  “What can we do to help?” Dylan finally releases me. He glances around the room.

  “We need to class the place up,” Malerie says. “Maybe the pool table can move to a side of the room instead of being a focal point. We could move all this new furniture to one end and the pool stuff to the other near the bar. That picture has to go. And maybe get a rug to go under the seating area.”

  Collin grins. “We get to keep the jackalope and beer light?”

  Veronica shakes her head. “Really? You’re kidding. I can’t marry you if you’re not.”

  “The beer light is mine. The original light is in the attic. Just swap them out,” Dylan says.

  Malerie continues. “The paint is a neutral color and stays since it’s a rental. We could make one shopping trip to take care of the other needs.”

  “No we,” Ace says. “This is not our house to decorate. I think we should stick around here.”

  There’s a weighty silence while Malerie gives Ace the stare that must be patented for husbands and wives.

  “Emerson and I’ll go,” Dylan offers. “We’ll run out to a home store and get things if you can take care of the light. Don’t break my light. It might be an antique.”

  “Antique, my ass. Oh, we’ll take care,” Collin says, his dry tone indicating he’s not that worried about the light.

  “Hey, I’m saving you from a fate worse than death—shopping.” Dylan drapes an arm around my shoulders. “Can you drive? Your car is behind me.”

  “Um...okay.” It’s not that I’m socially inept. Only, I’ve become more of a loner since high school when my friends all whispered behind my back about my felon father.

  Plus, we’ve moved from employer to friend to girlfriend at hypersonic aircraft speed.

  I grab my coat and lead the way outside to my car. The temperature has dropped since I went inside, and air stings my warm face. Dylan opens my door and I settle into the driver’s side. At least he didn’t assume he’d be driving.

  I’ve had all the alpha I can handle for an evening. “Where are we going?”

  “Hardware store, I guess.
I don’t care. A place with rugs and paintings.”

  “I don’t know which hardware store has that sort of thing.” I give him a cynical look. “Maybe a furniture or home decor store.”

  “Your choice. You’re the boss on this.” His tone is unfamiliar to me—light and carefree. Teasing and as appealing as a playful puppy.

  I resist the urge to glare. He’s pushed me to accept him into my life and my heart before I’m ready. It would serve him right if I chose some awful style he’d hate. In the dim light from the dashboard, he flashes me a fond look.

  “You’re looking at me again,” I say, my attention on the road ahead. His gaze tingles on my skin with the buzzing of an electrical current.

  “Why is this so hard for you? Don’t be so nervous. Relax and let yourself go.” Dylan drops a hand to my knee and squeezes.

  I unintentionally goose the gas pedal, accelerating the car in a jolt that startles me. Sweat breaks out on my forehead. “Hands off the driver.” He laughs, the sound low and amused.

  “Emerson. Gorgeous Girl. You seem a little tense.”

  I snort. “Understatement of the year. Yes. I’m a little nervous that Collin and the others know we’re…you know, together. I need more time to get used to the idea. What if we realize this is a bad idea? What if you—“

  “And we’re back to this again.” Dylan sighs dramatically. “Are you attracted to me or not?”

  I slow to take a right turn. I’ll end up like Malerie—in a wreck and crying over my car—if I can’t pull it together. “Attraction has nothing to do with it.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “Yes. Okay. It’s against my will. Yes.” I sense his cocky grin before I glance across the car to witness it.

  “Good. And you like me as a person.”

  Despite the silence, I know he’s still grinning. “What does that have to do with it?”

  “Because I think you’re the sweetest, funniest, most honest girl I’ve met. I really, really like everything about you. I like the way you stopped and helped Malerie today and the way you do things for everyone. The way you do special things for me. I especially like that look you get when you see something that touches your soul.”