Chained? He hadn’t felt so free in ages. “You’re wrong.”
Mom’s lips disappeared in disapproval.
“Emily is soft, gentle, and kind when it comes to my artistic eccentricities, as Dad likes to call them. And when I’m—” He suddenly became self-conscious, feeling like a kid telling his mom about his first crush. “—silly, she plays along and makes me laugh. We spend a lot of time laughing.” He stared off into the brush, the memories sweet.
Mom worked her mouth as if her words were a large piece of gum she couldn’t get a handle on.
He patted her arm, and she closed her lips. “Come on, you need to try Emily’s chocolate dump cake—it’s almost sinful.”
Mom didn’t argue. And he hoped once she tasted the cake, she’d be open to eating Emily’s food. Her refusal of dinner had hurt Emily’s feelings. She hadn’t said as much, but he knew she’d put her hopes into the meal—work she’d done out of the goodness of her heart.
Maybe she’d done it for him too, in an effort to make the transition with his parents smoother. That was the kind of thing she thought of. And that was why he was in love with her.
Whoa! Love?
The word was like a bass drum reverberating through his soul and making his bones tingle. He fought against the feeling, the very idea that he could actually be in love with Emily. He’d spent the last 20 minutes telling his mother they had a relationship beyond the four-letter word, so it was ridiculous to believe the thought was any more than a slip of the tongue.
He’d had love once. This didn’t feel like that. He’d probably just thought the word because his Mom used it so much in their conversation.
Whatever he and Emily shared, it felt wonderful, and he intended to spend his life enjoying her laughter and writing music to accompany their story.
Love? Who needed love when you had what he and Emily had?
18
Emily
Two nights later, Emily stood on the back deck, watching the sun filter through the thirty-foot-tall pine trees. It made beautiful patterns and sparkled like jewels on the pool. She took a deep breath, enjoying the mixture of scents that came from the forest.
Xavier joined her. His parents had left that afternoon, and he’d offered to read with Cody so she could have some time to herself. It was a sweet gesture, considering he hadn’t been in the studio much while his parents were here and he could use the time to write.
“Hey.” She eyed him over her shoulder as he joined her at the banister. His hair was slightly mussed, like he’d fallen asleep on the couch. She looked closer and found a pillow crease on his cheek.
His mom had been better the second day—eating meals with them and asking questions about Emily as if she truly wanted to get to know her. Emily had no idea what brought about the change, but she was grateful for it. Spending several days with a hostile houseguest would have been difficult.
“Cody crashed hard. He might sleep until tomorrow morning.” Xavier’s soft smile was pretty tempting.
Emily yanked her gaze away from his mouth. He had a three-day beard that caught the fading sunlight, beckoning her to run her fingers over it. She would have felt self-conscious about staring, but he was drinking her in, so she continued to study him, allowing attraction to pulse between them. It made her head feel fuzzy and her arms feel light.
“You were a superstar. Thank you for being a gracious hostess.”
She relaxed into his gaze. “I don’t mean to brag or anything, but dinner tonight was top notch.” She’d made lasagna and homemade garlic bread. Nothing too fancy, but it came out perfect.
“Dinner. Dessert. Your sparkling conversation.” He placed his hand on her neck and began kneading the tight muscles there. She hadn’t realized she was so tense until he started loosening things. She moaned softly and tipped her head to the side, giving him better access to the sore spots.
“Your dad liked the cheesecake.” It had tickled her that Zayne had made such a big deal about her cooking. Eleanor had eaten her slice as well, picking up every crumb.
“He took half of it home.”
“I hope he shares.” She rolled her neck to the other side.
“Hmmm.” Xavier’s lips met her sensitive skin, and she gasped. He didn’t stop kneading, and she melted into his body. He’d meant to kiss her, meant to put his warm lips on her skin. Did that also mean that he was looking for more? The last time they’d kissed out here, he’d apologized. She didn’t want to go through that again.
He put a hand on her hip and turned her to face him. “I should be in working, but all I could think about was coming out here to be with you.”
She smiled tentatively. Hope popped up like a rabbit out of its hole, testing the air for danger. “Really?”
His eyes dropped to her lips. “I’m afraid you’re becoming a distraction.”
She held still, afraid she’d scare him off or bring him to his senses. Being in his arms was like stepping into a hot tub: it raised her temperature and made her feel like she was floating on bubbles. “Is that a good thing?”
“No.” He breathed the word. “But I’m not sure I can stop what is happening between us. You feel this too, don’t you?”
The vulnerability in his eyes overwhelmed her. “I do.” She slid her hands up his arms and wrapped them around his neck.
“I’m kind of freaking out inside,” he confessed, hovering above her lips.
She lifted onto her tiptoes, and her lips brushed his. “You hide it well.” She pressed her lips to his again, bringing her hands forward to finally feel his stubble against her palms. It was rough and soft at the same time. Exciting and everyday. She reveled in the ability to touch him, to be close, to finally share the feelings that were crowding inside of her.
He groaned, deepening the kiss. She allowed herself to fall into the experience of being held, being lifted up on wings of desire, of being desirable.
He pulled away, breathing heavily. “I shouldn’t want to kiss you. We had a deal.”
“We can change it,” she offered. His eyebrows climbed his forehead, making her giggle. “Do you want me to sign something?”
He tickled her side. “No.”
She danced away from him. He took her hand and drew her back to his chest. She placed her palms on his shirt, soaking in the warmth of his skin as the temperatures dropped.
He pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
She paused. He sent two different messages, and both of them were clear. His body said that he wanted her close, wanted to kiss her again. His words told her to back away slowly before her heart was broken.
She decided to listen to the latter, because her heart hadn’t steered her wrong before. She took a step back, putting distance between them. He clasped her hands to his chest, trapping her there but not pulling her close. It was like a yo-yo game for him—except there was much more at stake than a toy.
She glanced down, wondering if he was trying to keep her there or just afraid to let go. “I’m—When you figure out what you want—let me know.” She turned, and her hands slipped out of his. She headed for her room, confused and feeling rejected.
The romantic inside of her cried buckets of tears. His sunset kiss had been perfect—exactly what she’d needed after a couple of hard days. She yearned for physical affection. For the first time, she realized that being a mom wasn’t going to be enough for her.
But what did that mean for her marriage if Xavier wasn’t willing to take things to a new level? Could she stay here without having her needs met? Without feeling fulfilled in the most important ways? When she’d taken this job, she’d thought being a mom was going to be enough. She’d planned to give and to love and to serve, but now she understood that giving and giving and giving meant she needed to fill up somewhere else. Yoga could only get her so far. She needed a man to care for her—she needed kisses and caresses.
She changed quickly and threw the covers over her bod
y. She’d give Xavier some time to figure out his head and his heart. How long? She wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like she’d come to this conclusion overnight.
She could wait until her heart either broke or took flight. Either would give her an answer, but only one would be a beginning—the other an end.
19
Xavier
Xavier woke feeling like the world’s biggest heel. He was a horrible, horrible husband, kissing Emily and then telling her he’d need to think about their situation. He’d be lucky if she hadn’t packed up and driven off in the night. No woman should have to put up with a wishy-washy man. He needed to march out there and just tell her how he felt.
How did he feel …?
That was a good question. He liked Emily. He was attracted to Emily. There was a huge pull to her, a draw that kept him hypnotized by her every move when they were together, and when they were apart, he thought about her constantly. But was that love?
He didn’t have much to compare it to, and the sensations Emily elicited inside of him were so different from what he’d experienced with Nora that he wasn’t sure. He was sure of one thing: he wasn’t going to call his dad about this dilemma.
He wandered out to the dining room, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla filling the air. He’d never liked oatmeal, but Emily added all sorts of things, like walnuts and vanilla flavoring and blueberries, that made it taste nothing like the lump of goo his mom had served when he was growing up.
Cody was already at the table, his head resting on his chin.
“Hey, squirt.” He sat down next to him. “Grandpa wear you out yesterday?”
Cody nodded, his eyes heavy.
Xavier laughed. “You tired?” He’d fallen asleep early the night before and still hadn’t recovered.
Cody nodded and yawned wide. He held his spoon in one hand and combed through the oatmeal.
“Oh!” Emily came up short as she entered the room and saw Xavier sitting at the table. She had on a light summer dress, boxy like the rest of her clothing. But he knew that underneath it there were some beautiful curves, and he yearned to hold them close to him.
He ran his hand through his hair, knowing it was sticking straight up in the air. He should have gotten dressed before he came out. His stomach was in knots. He needed to say something brilliant. Words that were better than any song he’d written—ones that would heal a wound, build a bridge, and open doors into her heart. He had to reach into his center and shake his muse awake. Because no moment in time had felt so heavy with expectation.
Just as he opened his mouth, Cody’s head hit the table with a thunk. They both jumped from the noise and turned to stare at him. “Code?” Xavier nudged him. He didn’t lift his head.
“What in the world?” Emily rounded the table. “Is he asleep?”
Xavier brushed Cody’s hair off his forehead. It was sticky with sweat, and his face was red. He cursed. “I think he passed out. He’s hot.”
“I’ll grab the thermometer.” Emily flipped directions and ran for Cody’s bathroom, where they stored a first aid kit and over-the-counter meds.
Xavier picked up Cody and carried him into the front room. The familiar panic of not being able to take care of his son flooded him. He’d spent countless nights walking Cody around the house while he cried. At the time, Xavier had thought his son was mourning his mother, but after a checkup, he’d learned had Cody had acid reflux. His son had suffered needlessly for days and nights because Xavier didn’t know how to care for an infant. The shame filled him again as he held his boy close.
Emily ran the thermometer across his forehead. “One-oh-three.” She placed her palm on Cody’s cheek. “He’s burning up.” She tugged Xavier toward the door. “It’s time to go to the doctor.”
Xavier followed after her, amazed by her calm, composure, and certainty when Cody had a fever so high. He was freaking out, wondering what could possibly be wrong with the kid. A thousand horrible scenarios plagued his thoughts.
She lined up his shoes so he could slip them on without putting Cody down, then put on her own. They were all in pajamas, but she didn’t seem to care. He didn’t either. What was important was Cody. She opened the back door to the car and stepped aside so he could place Cody in his seat.
“I’ll sit in the back with him. You drive.” She pushed him out of the way as she climbed in.
“I can sit—”
She cut him off with a slice of her hand giving him a stern look. “I haven’t been to the pediatrician’s office yet. Your job is to get us there safe. We’re counting on you.”
Purpose filled his mind. He was the driver. He was the one who would take them to help. He nodded. “I can do that.”
She gave his arm a pat and shut the door. He ran around. Having a specific job to do when his heart was beating so fast was good for him.
They made good time to the pediatrician’s office and were able to get in right away. Cody woke up enough to answer several questions and act grumpy. Seeing the whites of his eyes was huge for Xavier. He gripped Emily’s hand as they waited for the doctor to return with test results. Cody was curled in her lap, his head tucked between her chin and shoulder. She rocked slightly.
“He’s going to be okay.” She stroked the side of Xavier’s face.
“I know. I know.” He moaned. “Okay, I don’t know that. I want him to be, though. Man, I hate this feeling on my chest.”
“What feeling?”
He rubbed his front. “That it should be me. I should be the sick one.”
Her forehead wrinkled with confusion.
“Well, folks.” Dr. Palmer wasn’t one for a lot of chitchat. She swept into the room and started talking. “Cody has strep. It’s attacking him pretty hard, so I want to give him a shot of antibiotics in the office and a fever reducer. We’ll send you home with more for him to take every twelve hours. If he’s not up in three days, I’d like to see him again.”
Xavier blinked rapidly, trying to absorb all the information she threw at them.
Emily was already on her feet, holding Cody close while the doc stabbed a needle into his leg. He started to cry, and she rocked him back and forth while rubbing his back.
The doc left, and Xavier turned to Emily. “How are you so good at this?”
“Good at what?”
Cody cuddled into her as if she were the softest pillow on the planet.
“At knowing what he needs? At listening to the doctor? At staying calm?”
She smiled. “I guess it’s the mom in me. I’m hyper focused on getting him better.” She kissed his head. “Can you carry him back to the car? We need to stop at the pharmacy to pick up his prescription and some supplies.”
He stared at her in amazement for a moment before reaching for his son. She’d taken a horrible situation and made it … manageable. They ran all the errands and got home in record time, one of them waiting in the car with Cody while the other picked up meds and liquids.
Once home, Cody sipped water at Emily’s gentle insistence. They spent the rest of the day in the front room on the couch, alternating fever reducers and trying to keep Cody hydrated. By dinnertime, they were both exhausted.
Emily stretched, eyeing the waning light through the picture window. “I say we all sleep in here tonight.”
Xavier smiled. “There’s an air mattress in the garage.”
She flushed. “Um …” She glanced around the room. Cody was on the couch, with blankets kicked every which way and his limbs thrown out to the sides. There wasn’t another spot to lie down. “Where are you going to sleep?”
“I’ll take the floor.” He said the words quickly, not wanting her to think he planned on sharing a bed with her tonight.
Perhaps he’d spoken too quickly, because Emily slouched. Had she wanted to share the air mattress? They’d left things unsettled between them the night before, though after the day they’d had, it felt like three weeks ago that he’d held her close enough to smell her shampoo. Yet his plans to tel
l her how he felt, that he liked her, were still in the back of his head. Except like was such a lame word. There had to be a better way to describe his feelings. He wrote love songs, for the love of Pete! He should be able to come up with something smoother and more expressive than I like you.
They spent the next twenty minutes listening to the air pump whirl and finding sheets and bedding for the two of them. They also changed the sheet under Cody. He’d been sweating most of the day, and Emily said a new sheet always made her feel better when she was sick. He filed the information away—hoping he never had to use it, but ready to if she ended up as sick as Cody.
Cody stayed on the couch. His fever was still above a hundred, but it was no longer alarming. He slept better, not moaning or fidgeting. Hopefully they’d all be able to get a few hours of shut-eye.
Xavier had taken the spot next to the couch. They’d shoved the coffee table against the wall to make room for the three of them. He rolled onto his side and stared up at Emily, who was lying on her stomach on the air mattress. The lights were dimmed. Neither of them wanted to stumble around in the dark to get to the switch. In the soft, golden light, Emily’s cheeks were velvety smooth and her blue eyes were an inky blue.
Feeling a connection with her that was different from the one that drew him to her lips, he whispered, “I can’t tell you how much it means to me to have someone to share days like today with.” He reached up and ran his fingers down her arm. “Thank you for marrying me.”
Her eyes crinkled. “You’re welcome. Is it weird to say how crazy happy I am to be here right now? I mean, not that I’m happy he’s sick, but to be able to take care of him and love him—it means so much to me.”
Xavier’s heart thudded loudly, telling him that this was an amazing woman. He’d been so lucky to find her. Or maybe it wasn’t luck at all. Maybe their lives had been written in the stars long before either of them knew what was headed their way. He hoped she was grateful for him. He didn’t know if he’d added anything to her life—certainly not as much as she’d brought to his.
The Cowboy Songwriter's Fake Marriage Page 11
