by Tia Souders
He stared down at her, the color of his eyes deepening to a fiery amber. “I know because, when we touch, your pulse races.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he beat her to it.
“You argue with everything I say. The slightest thing I do makes you angry, irritates you. Even a smile from me has you clenching your fists.”
“That’s ridic—” She stopped abruptly as his gaze darted down to her hands, which were clenched at her side. She loosened them, flexing the tight muscles.
“And when I kissed you”—he stepped forward and placed a hand on the side of her face—“you responded. You’re attracted to me. I can see it in your eyes. Everything else is either an act or apprehension.”
“No. It’s not. I hat—”
He silenced her with his mouth.
Her body hummed, and all thought ceased. Before she knew what was happening, she was kissing him back, turning herself into a complete liar.
Her hands fisted the soft cotton of his t-shirt while she tilted her head, gaining a better angle on his mouth. Her brain turned to mush as he parted her mouth with his and deepened the kiss with a groan, sending her heart into a tailspin.
When he pulled away, his heavy gaze drank her in. “Face it, Jinny. You don’t hate me. You never did.”
She started to protest, but he placed a finger over her lips, silencing her. “Give me the week to show you how good we could be together.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because I’m different than you thought. Because I surprised you these last few days. And if you’d admit it to yourself, you’re as curious as I am to see if we would actually work.”
She stared at him. This was her moment of truth. She could rebuff him and pretend like her heart didn’t threaten to beat out of her chest every time he was near. Pretend like a little piece of her didn’t fall for him with every second she spent with him. Pretend that she couldn’t stand being around him. Or she could admit she felt something toward him. Something more than hate. Something more than attraction. Things had changed during the car ride, leaving her scrambling to catch up, but maybe it was time she did.
He was right. He had surprised her, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to see what they might be like together.
“It would never work,” she muttered. It was a pathetic attempt at convincing him this was a bad idea.
“Or we might just surprise you,” he said, trailing a thumb over her cheek.
“We’re nothing alike…we’re fire and ice…we’re…” She trailed off, out of excuses.
“Where fire and ice meet, the ice melts. Then you get steam.”
She stared at him, knowing she wouldn’t say no. She couldn’t. For some reason, she was incapable. She only hoped for both their sakes that this wasn’t a mistake, because if things went sideways, their careers may be at stake.
Giving Emmett Hall a chance, lending him even a piece of her heart, felt a whole lot like running into gunfire while everything inside her screamed to turn and head the other way.
∞∞∞
What in the ever-loving world did she do?
She swallowed down the ball of nerves that settled in the back of her throat and stared at her reflection. This was her first time in Vegas. She had no idea what kind of clothes one wore when out and about in Sin City, but the silky blue romper was the only thing she had packed, other than jean shorts and work attire. She had planned on hanging out with the team and going out with Dean to the casinos, maybe a decent restaurant or two, but she had not prepared for a date. And even if she had, she would still be ill-prepared for one with Emmett Hall.
How one planned for a date with a man they’d once loathed was beyond her. She should be wearing armor, a hard hat, a musket strapped to her waist. Anything would suit her better than the thin, silky fabric that clung to her petite frame.
She pinched her eyes closed and turned away from the mirror, asking herself what she had been thinking for the millionth time since that afternoon in the Neon Boneyard.
She’d promised him a chance. But a chance at what? Squashing her heart? Making her look like a fool?
She inhaled a cleansing breath and headed for the door, grabbing her purse on the way out.
She could do this.
CHAPTER twenty-two
Jinny
Jinny stared at Emmett from across the table. He had that look on his face again. The same expression he wore when she appeared in the lobby—equal parts awe and determination, both of which made her uncomfortable. Somewhere along the way, he had clearly decided to win her over, and Jinny hadn’t yet acclimated to the change of plan. With Emmett, she couldn’t keep up.
“Stop that,” she said.
“Stop what?” He grinned. His teeth were so perfectly straight and white they nearly blinded her. Ugh.
“Looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m a giant steak you’re determined to devour.”
Emmett smirked and played with the straw in his ice water. “Does it make you uncomfortable? My looking at you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Jinny sighed. He was as exasperating on a date as he was when they were sparring. Actually, this date felt much like their usual verbal sparring, only more tactful.
“I don’t know, but it’s making me nervous,” she said.
“Nervous is good.”
She raised a brow, but kept her mouth closed. He’d turn anything she said around to his favor. If she wanted to win at whatever game he was playing, she’d need to sit through the rest of dinner mute.
Emmett leaned forward and took a sip of his water. Her stomach clenched with the gesture. “Why didn’t you order a drink?” she asked, taking a sip of wine.
“Well, you see, I’m on this date with a lady that I really want to impress. She’s wearing the most beautiful ice blue silk, and she has the most beautiful features—a sharp jaw, chiseled cheekbones, and a slim, graceful neck that leads to warm eyes and hair so soft it could bring a grown man to his knees. So, if I want to impress her, I need to have all my wits about me. I’ll need every tool in my arsenal, which means”—he shook his glass—“strictly water for me.”
She flushed and fidgeted with the napkin in her lap. “You almost looked convincing when you said all of that. Did you rehearse it in front of the mirror in your hotel room?”
Emmett smiled and reached out, plucking the napkin out of her fingers and clasping her hand in his own. He leaned closer until she could smell the scent of his bodywash and make out the shadow of stubble coating his jaw. “I meant every word.”
The band around her chest constricted. “Do you really want to impress me?”
He nodded soundlessly.
“Maybe you already have.” Maybe that’s why I’m resisting so much, she wanted to say, but the waitress interrupted them.
Turning her attention to the plate the waitress set in front of her, the tension dissipated as Jinny stared at the monstrosity in front of her.
“What in the world is this?” she asked with wide eyes.
“This,” Emmett said, grabbing his fork and knife, “is Hash House a Go Go’s famous sage fried chicken and waffles. I dare you to eat it and not think you’ve died and gone to heaven.”
The plate in front of her was stacked with giant waffles and bacon, piled high with huge pieces of fried chicken, and topped with sugary maple syrup. The sweet and savory scents combined to form a mouthwatering combination.
She smirked. “Instead of taking me to some yuppie black-tie restaurant and ordering fancy food I can’t pronounce, you bring me here and get me this. It’s like you’ve implanted yourself in my brain and stolen my thoughts. It’s disturbing. I would thank you, but it’s too humbling.”
“So, I did good?”
“Uh, yeah,” Jinny said as she retrieved her utensils and made a move toward her plate.
She paused, glancing at Emmett for direct
ion. She had no clue how to go about attacking this thing.
“There’s no right way. You just have to go for it.”
She nodded and sliced into her tower, toppling over a piece of chicken and cutting off a portion of everything. She shoved it into her mouth. The moan that escaped the back of her throat was just shy of embarrassing.
She chewed, savoring every bite.
Once she swallowed, she stared at him like he’d given her the cure to cancer. She knew he was a ladies’ man, but this… “This. Is. Amazing. I take back every bad word I ever said about you. Every single thing.”
“Whoever said the path to a man’s heart was through his stomach didn’t know Jinny Kimball.” He winked then returned to his own plate, and she couldn’t even be mad. She didn’t care. The food was just that good.
They ate their meals with occasional small talk about the area and the things they’d like to do and see before the end of the week. Once their plates were cleared and Jinny’s stomach felt like it might explode, she turned to him.
“So, the guys won their game this afternoon. They have one tomorrow, and Dean was asking about us all going out afterwards.”
The flash of disappointment on Emmett’s face was not lost on her.
“How are you holding up with not being able to play?” she asked.
Emmett sighed and threw his napkin on the table. “I try not to be negative or think about it too much, but it’s sort of unavoidable, you know. You can’t sit there and watch, when normally you’re the one on the court, and not let it eat you alive. But I guess I’d better get used to it since I’m going to be out a while.”
Jinny nodded, understanding. “You’ll be out there again. You just need to put in your time first and heal. It’ll go fast.”
“Yeah, especially since I have this hot therapist.”
She glared at him, but the blush in her cheeks contradicted her scowl.
Emmett chuckled, then almost instantly sobered. “Growing up, it was always me and my brothers and my dad. He worked a lot. He had to. With three teenage boys in the house and no mother, our grocery bill was huge. Not to mention all the other expenses. He sacrificed a lot. All the basketball camps, the shoes, the equipment and lessons. He did it all and never complained.”
“Of course he did. He loved you.”
Emmett nodded. “Whenever he wasn’t working, he didn’t do something for himself or go out with friends. He played ball with us. It was our thing. The six of us. It’s what we did to pass the time. Weekends, holidays, birthdays, celebrations, when we needed cheering up. It didn’t matter what season it was or how tired he was. If one of us was upset, or we’d just broke up with a girlfriend, we played. All my brothers were good. You can’t play basketball every day of your life and not be. But I always had that extra something. My dad always pulled me aside, told me I was special.”
He smiled. “I swear the day I told him I had gone pro was the only day I ever saw him cry. He was that proud. So, it’s not just me I’m playing for. It’s him. It’s for all those years he came home from work exhausted, but he still dragged his tired butt outside to our makeshift court in the gravel lot and played with me. It’s for all the times he could’ve been doing something else but wasn’t. All the things he could’ve bought himself but didn’t. Basketball is a part of me. It always has been and it always will be. But it’s not just about me.”
Jinny thought back to the Fourth of July, how Emmett hadn’t wanted to go home because, as Dean said, playing basketball was “their thing,” and he didn’t want to sit on the sidelines and watch. She thought he had used it as an excuse to wreck their party. Now she knew he hadn’t, and her heart ached for him. Something deep inside her twisted as she thought of how at a time when he had nowhere to go, she’d been rude to him, so uninviting, when he was clearly hurting.
She swallowed over the lump in her throat and stared down at the empty space in front of her. “I’m sorry. That’s…” She trailed off. How could words be so inadequate?
She wanted to help him, and she would. In the only way she knew how.
By treating his injury regardless of her feelings for him—negative or otherwise—she had given him her best care up till now, and she’d continue to do so no matter what happened between them. That had to count for something, right?
“It’s okay.” Emmett smiled. “I know I’ll play again. I just need to keep the faith that I won’t get traded and that they’ll keep in mind my record. It still sucks though. You know?”
“Yeah. It does.” She wanted to reach out, to clasp his hand in hers, but it was like she had spent so much time and energy into putting distance between them that she had no idea how. “What about your mom. Do you still see her?”
“She left us. I was four at the time. My brothers were eight, six, two, and one.”
One? Jinny stared, agog. She wasn’t the most maternal, but she could never imagine leaving children so young.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that,” she murmured.
“Nah. It’s okay. It was a long time ago. I’m lucky. I had a parent that really cared. Not everyone can say that.”
While he was right, his attitude was extraordinary. Having no mother couldn’t have been easy, and it made her soften to him. The knowledge that he had no female figure in his life growing up made a whole lot of sense; it explained his rough-around-the-edges demeanor. Growing up in a house full of men had to have been dog-eat-dog.
“He sounds like a good man, your dad. I’d like to meet him,” she said, and she meant it.
“He’d love you.” His easy tone made her feel slightly less foolish for jumping the gun. “And you’d be the first girl I brought home, so.” He shrugged.
Were they really having this conversation? One minute, she was pushing him away, and the next, she was talking about meeting his family. Their relationship had transformed so quickly it made her head spin.
∞∞∞
They left the restaurant, stepping out into the humid Vegas air. Her skin instantly grew sticky with the heat. But she didn’t mind. It somehow took the edge off her nerves at the man walking beside her.
He reached out for her hand, and, though she hesitated, she gave it to him, her movements timid.
The zip of heat from his touch sunk into her skin and straight to her bones. She tried to shake it off, to ignore it, but ignoring him was impossible. His light shined too bright.
“I owe you an apology.”
Jinny’s gaze sharpened on his face as he looked down at her and continued, “At that party last summer, and in your office a few weeks ago, when I said that stuff about your dad and Dean getting you your job, I didn’t mean it.”
“Emmett, you don’t need—”
“No. I do.” He shook his head and squeezed her hand. Coming to a halt on the sidewalk, he turned to her. “I didn’t mean any of it. Not at all.”
Jinny stared at him, unsure of what to say. Hadn’t this been the moment she had been waiting for? An apology. For him to admit he had been wrong. So, why didn’t it feel as victorious as she’d thought it would?
“It was a jerk move because, the truth is, I think you’re amazing. I’ve thought it all along, not just since I’ve worked with you. You deserve this position. You’re incredible at your job.” He smiled. “I mean, look at this gait,” he said, then held his arms out from his body and strutted with an exaggerated swagger.
She laughed, covering her mouth. “That’s some walk ya got there.”
“Isn’t it?” He grinned at her, and she felt something crack open inside her chest, a vulnerability she hated but felt nonetheless.
Her smile faded. “Maybe it’s true, though. Maybe they did get me the job,” she said, all the laughter gone from her voice.
“It’s not. I know it’s not.” He stepped closer, placing his fingers under her chin and tipping her head up to his. “I need you to know that I never meant it, and I’m not just saying that or telling you what you want to hear.”
“It got under my skin,” she admitted. “It’s like you read my mind. I don’t talk about it much, but it’s the one thing I was afraid of all along. That I’d get a position like this on account of my family and not because I deserved it or earned it. It’s like you slipped into my head and stole the one thing that could hurt me. My one insecurity.”
“I regret it.” He exhaled and ran a hand over his face. When he turned his gaze back to her, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “I intended it to hurt. That’s why I said it.”
“But why? We were getting along. We were hitting it off.”
He nodded. “I needed to push you away. I had gotten these glimpses of who you were through Dean, through the time I spent with him and the little time I had been around you. Then when we talked at that party, you were so beautiful, and confident, and funny and…light. And I knew I couldn’t have you. That I shouldn’t, so…” He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Emmett, are you messing with me?” she blurted. She had to know. How did he go from one extreme to the next? It made her dizzy. It made her question her judgement.
“Why would I do that?”
A spurt of laughter spilled from her throat. “Because it’s what we do. Isn’t it? Mess with each other, get one up on each other. Compete. Win.”
“So, you think I’m, what? Playing with you? Screwing with your head? Pretending to be interested in you as some kind of game? Do you think Dean would let me live if I did that?”
She turned her gaze to the ground at her feet. The truth was that she wasn’t sure what to think. A part of her did think he was playing her, but another part of her believed him. Maybe he really did feel something for her. Or maybe it was wishful thinking. And that thought scared her more than anything.
