by Amelia Shea
“You coming?” She heard Roxanne from outside the car.
“Yeah.” She stepped out of the car and closed the door at the same time her phone alerted her of a text.
Looking, down, she saw Ethan’s name. Her stomach dropped.
Ethan: No sweeter sound, than you moaning my name, Em.
Emory froze. Oh my God!
Another text popped up on her phone. It was Ethan again.
Ethan: Tomorrow, Emory.
Even from just reading it, those words held so much. It was a promise, a warning, and as her heart beat faster she realized, a threat. It was a threat to her heart. She had waited and wanted him for so long—to notice her, to see her, and now she had it. But she didn’t. She couldn’t just have a fling with Ethan, it couldn’t be just sex. Could it?
No, of course not! He had meant too much to her, for too long, to just be sex. Although, her heart wasn’t the only part of her that desired him badly. Maybe, she could fuck him out of her system. Who was she kidding? Her shoulders slumped. No, she couldn’t. She mentally cursed, “fuck you”, to her whiny ass heart screaming, “But we love him.”
Emory flinched when she felt a touch on her arm. Roxanne stood in front of her, concern all over her face.
“You okay?”
Emory released a nervous awkward laugh. “Yeah.”
Roxanne’s face read doubt. “You sure because you look pale all of a sudden.”
She snorted. “Rox, I’m Irish, I’m always pale.”
“You know what I mean. You look off.”
If it had been any other guy, she would have already showed the texts to her best friend and they’d be in the restaurant, ordering drinks and discussing the pros and cons of just sex versus love. But Ethan wasn’t just some guy.
From the time she was small, Emory rarely backed down from anything or anyone. She handled her shit, sometimes taking on others, too. She lived and breathed, “She was Emory fucking Kern, she was woman, hear her roar.” She owned that motto, most times in her life.
This was not one of those times. This was too much to deal with, she needed to get away from Ethan, and fast. Her heart began to race. Was she having a panic attack? He wouldn’t be back until tomorrow but she couldn’t chance him getting home early. The only way to guarantee she didn’t have to deal with Ethan was to leave now.
“Yeah, um…” She stared back at Roxanne, feeling guilty for what she was about to do.
Then she did it, she lied. “It’s a text from my boss, they need me back by morning.”
“What? Why?”
“Office emergency.”
“You’re on vacation, can’t someone else handle it?”
“It’s my client. I gotta go back tonight.”
“Tonight? But…” Roxanne looked as though she might cry. Emory’s guilty conscience threatened to blurt out, “Just kidding.” She didn’t though, the words wouldn’t come out.
Hooking her arm around Roxanne, Emory squeezed her into her side. “Look, let’s have drinks and we’ll plan your next visit, okay? It sucks I gotta go home early…”
“This is your home.” Roxanne spewed, her anger showing.
Emory nodded. “I know, Rox.” She smiled, trying to calm Roxanne. “C’mon, we have three hours, let’s get our drink on.”
She pulled her toward the entrance at Peachtree’s.
They stayed for three hours and Emory spent that time dodging more questions about work. She knew Roxanne was upset and even more so, suspicious. She had no choice, though, she had to get back and as far away from Ethan Barrett as she could. She hated missing time with the girls but she couldn’t risk him coming home early.
They parted ways, three hours later, Roxanne meeting up with her clients, and Emory heading back to retrieve her bags at the Garrisons’.
By six-thirty she was pulling into the parking lot of the hotel near the airport. She would bunker down and hide there until her flight the next night. Changing her tickets would cost way too much and this trip had cleared out her savings.
After getting her key, she took the elevator to the third floor and walked into her hotel room. Her eyes scanned the dark and dimly lit room. Fuck, it didn’t even have a mini bar? It would be a long twenty-four hours. She dropped her bag next to the dresser. Dragging her feet to the bed, she slumped down.
Coward.
*
Ethan unlocked the door to his apartment. It had been a long night. They had flown to Oregon, done the job and flew back, all in less than eighteen hours. Dropping his bag to the marble floor in his foyer, he closed the door and walked into his living room.
He’d lived in the high rise in downtown Houston for almost six years. It was more of a statement rather than a home. The best of the best apartments were all above the twentieth floor. He was on the twenty-seventh. He had wanted a one bedroom but at the time, only a two was available so he took it. His place consisted of his master with full bath at the end of the hall. The second bedroom served as his office, the first door on the right of the hallway, and a bathroom across the hall. The kitchen, living room, and dining area were an open floor plan. Floor to ceiling windows aligned the main living space. His view was spectacular, though he was rarely home to enjoy it.
There was nothing warm or welcoming about his place. Black leather couches surrounded the room. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually sat on them. He had art on the walls but he didn’t have knickknacks or anything personal. It could have been anyone’s apartment. Roxanne hated it. She said it was cold and constantly begged him to let her put a female touch on it. He refused.
On his glass coffee table, he saw the cards piled up from his party, along with a box that contained a few bottles of wine. He could use a drink. He strolled over and pulled out a bottle. His eyes caught a flat rectangular present with shiny blue and silver balloon wrapping paper. He dug in and pulled out the heavy present. A small card attached read “Ethan”.
Sitting back on his unused couch he opened the card.
“Happy Birthday, Ethan! What do you get the guy who has everything? Something you’re sure he doesn’t own. Love, Emory”
He stared at the card, rereading, “Love, Emory.” Placing the card to the side, he ripped off the wrapping paper and stared down at his gift. It was a rectangular plaque. Obviously meant to be hung on a wall. Reading the inscription, a smile spread across his face and he laughed.
“On this site in 1897, Nothing Happened.”
Typical Emory, giving a gift that made him laugh. Not a gift of money or an expensive wine to impress him. This gift was thoughtful. It was an Emory gift.
“Had her right in front of me for years and I didn’t see her. Fuck!”
Pulling out his phone, he read the group text Roxanne had sent to him and his brothers about an hour ago. This was the fourth time he had read it, each time getting angrier.
Roxanne: Dinner is at five but no Emory, she had to leave early.
All the guys had been in T’s truck when they got the message. Bogs went back and forth with Roxanne, finally calling her when he deemed her text messages too vague. Ethan was in the front passenger seat staring out the window, not saying a word. He just listened to Bogs in the backseat.
“What the fuck? Why’d she leave?” Bogs shouted. He was angry. His dad had insisted they all have Sunday dinner at his place. They’d all been looking forward to it. It had been almost a year since all of them, including Emory, had been at their childhood table together.
The car was silent.
“So, just out of the blue, her boss calls and tells her to come back?”
Seconds passed by.
“When did she leave?”
More silence.
“All right. T’s dropping everyone off now. We’ll be there by five. Later.” Bogs ended the call and Ethan waited.
“What the fuck happened?” T asked from the driver’s seat.
“Rox said she got a te
xt from her boss yesterday, some emergency with her client. She left last night.”
Ethan continued to stare out the window in silence. He could feel eyes on him but he refused to make contact. He clenched his fist in anger, thinking that she was running from him. There was a small possibility that her story was true but he was doubtful. T had dropped Ethan off first at his apartment which was closest from the airport. No one said a word when he left, neither did he.
Placing the gift back on the couch, he got up. Making his way down the hall to his office and he sat down at his desk. There was one way to find out if Emory was lying. He tapped on his computer, pulling up the site that would give him at least a few answers. He found what he was looking for, scrolling down the page. His eyes scowled at the screen in front of him.
He sat back in his chair, bringing his hand to his mouth, staring at the truth laid out in front of him.
There were no flights last night. She lied. She ran from him.
Glancing down at the clock, he decided if she wanted to run then he’d just have to chase her. He closed down his computer and rushed out of his office. There were only a few hotels near the airport. He’d find her.
*
Emory was grabbing her toiletry bag from the bathroom when she heard the knock on the hotel room door. That was odd. She had turned down maid service this morning. And she had paid extra for a later check out. Her flight home wasn’t scheduled until eight tonight and she didn’t want to be stuck in the airport for several hours waiting.
Peeking her head out of the bathroom she glanced at the door when she heard the soft knock again. She walked to the door and reached up on her toes giving her access to the peep hole. She gasped and jumped back from the door. What was he doing here?
Panicked she looked around the room. She didn’t know what she was looking for, maybe a hiding place? Her heart started to beat faster and she placed a hand over her chest. She didn’t want to see him, hell, he was the reason she had been holed up in this crappy room for the last twenty-four hours. Staring at the door, almost anticipating it flying open. She stepped back into the room.
He was on the other side and there was no way she was opening it.
The knock sounded again causing Emory to flinch. Shit! Why was he still there?
“Emory, I know you’re in there.”
Her eyes widened and she crouched down to the floor. It was ridiculous. Realistically, she knew he couldn’t see her. Wait, could he? Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes. Of course, he couldn’t see her.
“I’ve got nothing but time,” she heard him mutter through the door.
Her face paled. Would he seriously wait outside her room? She leaned back, looking around the bed from the floor at the clock. She had to leave for the airport in the next twenty minutes or she’d miss her flight. And she could not miss her flight. She needed to get the hell out of here.
He knocked again.
He wasn’t going to leave. Fuck! She stood up from the floor, tossing her bag that she had been clutching, onto the bed. It just became clear, he’d wait which incensed her. He was making her a prisoner in her own friggin room. Who did he think he was? The great and perfect Ethan, making people do what he wanted. She left for a reason and she didn’t have to talk to him. But here he was, trying to make her.
Well, fuck him.
What did he think? That he could make her come once and she’d pathetically fall at his feet. Was this some kind of game to him? She straightened her back, tension streaming through her. She walked to the door, looking through the peephole again.
He stood tall, his dark hair styled perfectly. His head bowed down to the floor.
“Go away, Ethan, I got nothing to say.”
She watched his head spike up, his blue eyes focused on the door, staring back at her as though he could see her. The corner of his mouth quirked up.
“Then you can just listen.”
Cocky bastard.
“Leave or I’ll call security.”
His smirk became a full grown grin. His smile was confident when he tilted his head to the side. “Marcus works here part time. Let me save you the trouble and call him myself.”
“Shit!” she whispered, her teeth clamped together in frustration watching him reach into his pocket and pull out his phone.
His fingers scrolled over the phone then bringing it to his ear. He glanced up through his lashes, smirking at her through the peephole.
Then he had the nerve to wink at her. Her anger boiling over at the smug bastard, she gripped the door and yanked it open coming face to face with him.
“You’re an asshole!” she shouted, drawing attention from other guests as they passed by. Her face heated in humiliation. This whole scene was embarrassing and it was all his fault. She backed into her room, grasping the door to close it but his hand jolted out.
“Not going to invite me in?” he asked, then pushed forward, forcing her to step back from the door. He strolled past her, her glare following his back until he stopped at the bed and turned around.
To look at Ethan, most people would believe it was his looks that made her fall in love with him so long ago. He was gorgeous and not in the way some thought he was handsome and others could take him or leave him. Everyone took notice when he entered the room. No, Ethan was beautiful in the most manly sense of the word.
Oddly enough, at six, she even noticed his looks. However, it was his kindness that she remembered most about “wanting to marry a boy like Ethan Barrett.” It was his sweet words that had “made her fall in love with him even more.” It was the way he treated and protected his sister and her when she needed it.
He was perfect.
And now it was time to finally…let go. She wanted him, she loved him, and now she had to give up on him. For her own self-preservation, she had to let go.
She thought her heart couldn’t possibly hurt any more than it already had in the last year and a half but she was wrong. It was breaking, he was breaking her all over again.
*
Ethan inhaled a deep breath, leaning back against the wall, watching Emory scurry around the room. This was not how he saw this going when he was driving over. He knew she’d be upset, possibly angry and inevitably resistant, at first. But he was fairly confident that he could make her hear him out.
People listened to Ethan when he spoke, it was something he was used to. It’s what allowed him to get his way, not only professionally but in his personal life. It had always been that way. Until now.
She had ignored him since he walked into her room. She refused to make eye contact and packed her things. He’d remained silent, giving her time to cool off. It didn’t seem to be working.
Pushing off the wall, he stepped in front of her as she made her way to the door. He had stood in silence watching her anger rise while packing her suitcase. He thought remaining quiet would ease some tension in the room but it only seemed to catapult her fury. Directed solely at him.
She tried to side step him so he reached out for her arms to stop her. She flinched back from his hold but he tightened his grip on her arms. He just needed her to listen, to understand.
“Let go of me.”
“No. I need five minutes and you’re going to give it to me.” Keeping his voice firm, he glared down at her. She was going to listen.
“No, I won’t. I have nothing to say.”
“But I do.”
“Nothing I want to hear.”
His hands slid up her arms to her neck to cup her jaw. He stared down at her eyes burning with fury. She was livid and probably about to lose it on him but he wasn’t letting her go. He could handle the fury of Emory as long as he got to say what he needed to say. Her face changed to a shade of red, prominently showing her freckles scattered across his nose. God, she was beautiful! Even when she looked like she would happily gut him and leave him for dead.
Without thought or rationalization, he lowered his head, sweep
ing his lips across hers. His idea was to talk, not kiss her but holding her against him, her scent invading his senses, he couldn’t stop himself. It became clear, quickly, she was not giving in to him this time. His tongue stroked the seam of her mouth, begging for entrance but was met with resistance.
Pulling away from her slightly, he saw the fire in her eyes. He also saw the confliction. She wanted him too. His smile was met with her changing eyes taking on a hard glare.
“Fine.” She stepped back, and he allowed her retreat releasing her from his hold. She dropped her suitcase on the floor, her eyes never leaving his. She reached up to the top button on her shirt, yanking it open. Then another and another.
What the hell was she doing?
He could see the swell of her breasts and a glimpse of her black bra. She was undressing. For him. Her eyes were hard. He did not like where this was going.
“Stop.” He knew exactly what she was doing and it pissed him off.
“Why? Isn’t this what you want Ethan? To fuck me?” She pulled hard at her shirt, a button flying across the bed. She now stood with her shirt gaping open giving him a clear view of her breasts. If he wasn’t so infuriated, he’d probably be hard with desire.
“Or do you just want me down on my knees?” She inched forward about to drop to her knees when he stalked over, gripping her wrist tight, pulling her into his body. He could feel the heat course through him in fury.
“Emory.” His growl was meant as a warning.
“What, E? You got me off yesterday, I’ll get you off now, then we can call it even. Sound good?” Her tone was mocking.
“No, it doesn’t fucking sound good. You think I’m here to get off, is that what you think?”
She shrugged. “Why else would you be here?”
“You’d be smart to shut your mouth. You are pissing me off!” he snarled.
Her laugh was bitter. “Oh well, then I should shut my mouth, wouldn’t want to piss you off. God, no, can’t have you upset, now can we?” She looked over her shoulder, then gazing back at him. “Bed or floor, where we doing this?”
“I am not here to fuck you.”
