Welcome to Blissville

by Walker, Aimee Nicole

  “Do you know what a black aura means?”

  “No, but it sounds ominous.”

  “It can be,” I replied, thinking of the grief and repressed anger the color represented, “and you do have some black mixed in with the bright and murkier shades of silver.”

  “You’re saying that I have a spiritual or physical awakening inside me, Emory?” I noticed that he didn’t deny or doubt the other parts.

  “It’s a small part, but it’s there.”

  “Back to us,” Jonathon said, clearly uncomfortable with the thoughts of spiritual and physical awakenings.

  “There is no us,” I corrected.

  “Emory,” Jonathon said with a sigh, “you said you had a vision about us. Care to tell me what it was about?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, I think I can guess.” He smiled wolfishly at me, and my body reacted on its own accord. “Emory, I don’t have the advantage of psychic premonitions, but I don’t need them when it comes to you and me.” I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up his hand. “Let me say what I need to then I’ll go.” I nodded my head for him to continue. “I felt the way your body reacted to my touch, and I have never felt that in the twenty-four years that I’ve been sexually active. I know that you felt it too. I’m also aware that the thought of us together terrifies you and I understand why.”

  Jonathon inhaled a shaky breath and released it slowly like he was trying to calm a racing heart too. “It scares me too, Emory. You see, I’ve never had someone to call my own and my soul tells me that you’re the one it’s waited for all these years.” I had to fight the urge to cover my ears. I just told myself to listen to what he had to say so he would go home. Listening didn’t mean I had to take it to heart. “I don’t know when or how, but someday I will call you mine, and you will turn to me instead of away. You’re the answer to everything that’s been missing in my life. I’m not psychic, but I know it’s true.”

  I tore my gaze away from his because I saw the truth in his eyes. No matter how much I wanted to deny it, our lives were put on a path to intersect.

  Jonathon rose slowly to his feet and made his way to the door. “Emory, do you want me to stop coming around Josh and Gabe’s house? They were your friends first.”

  As much as I wanted to say yes, I couldn’t. Loneliness clung to Jonathon like a cheap cologne, and I would never deprive him of friendship. Yet, I couldn’t form the words to answer his question, so I just shook my head.

  “I gave you an out, but you didn’t take it. I think part of you wants what I can give you, but you’re still too far in denial to accept it.” I couldn’t look away from Jon’s face as his blue eyes darkened with desire that burned hot enough to singe me where I sat. “One day, I’m going to learn every part of your body with my hands, mouth, and my cock. There will be no parts of yourself that you keep from me, Emory. Until then, take care of yourself.”

  I slumped over the kitchen table when I heard the door click softly behind him. I willed my heart not to listen to his words, even if my body was jonesing for a chance to take him up on his sexy offer. I was physically and emotionally exhausted and knew there was no way in hell I could return to the barbecue across the alley. I groaned when I remembered the childish way I acted. I bet their tongues would be wagging for days. Josh and Gabe would probably ban me from attending their dinners for making an ass of myself in front of Gabe’s colleagues and friends.

  I didn’t think the day could get any worse, so I didn’t even bother checking the caller ID on my phone when it rang. I kept my forehead pressed to the table while I pulled the phone out of my pocket and blindly slid my thumb across the phone as I brought it up to my ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Are you ready to stop this nonsense now, Emory?”

  I was wrong. My day definitely took a turn for the worse when I heard my mother’s voice. You know, the same mother who wanted to reconcile but couldn’t take my call and waited over two months to return it. I responded by hanging up on her without uttering a single word.

  One of the perks of being the heir to the Whelan Whiskey empire was that I never ran out of liquor. I rose to my feet and grabbed a bottle from the cabinet. I didn’t bother getting a glass or ice. The kind of day I had was enough to drive anyone to drink, but the biggest reason was the unshakeable belief that Jonathon Silver was right.

  I said I would leave him alone, yet I stood on Emory’s front porch not even three months later. I had a legitimate reason for being there, but I wasn’t sure he would believe me. We’d seen each other a few times since the chat in his kitchen, and we were always cautiously civil to one another. I was always aware of where he was in a room or even a crowd, but I knew he didn’t want to hear that from me.

  I had never been much for dancing, but on the night of Josh and Gabe’s bachelor party, I wanted nothing more in my life than to hold Emory in my arms while we moved to music. I didn’t care if it was fast or slow; I just wanted to feel his body close to mine. Emory never got on the dance floor even with his friends, and I didn’t have the nerve to ask him. He went back to his hotel room early, and I retreated to my office because I wasn’t sure what else to do with myself anymore.

  The phone conversation I had with Beau the morning after the bachelor party prompted me to drive to Emory’s house and ask him for a favor he had every right to refuse. Hell, I didn’t even expect him to answer the door, but he surprised me.

  “Jonathon,” he said flatly. He sounded like some stuffy schoolmaster or something, not that I had fancy schools in my background. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to make this easy on me, but that was okay because nothing had ever come easily to me in life. “What are you doing here?”

  Okay, maybe I was hoping for a little friendlier reception. Damn, Emory’s attitude annoyed me. I’d given him space and left him alone when all I wanted to do was hold him close. Did he think this was easy for me? I had never wanted to hold on to a man long enough to let the sweat dry on our bodies after a bout of hot, rough sex. Not Emory; I wanted to hold on tight and not let go. It really pissed me off too.

  “Forget it.” I turned away headed for the porch steps.

  “Jon, wait!” The way he shortened my name stopped me more than his words he chose or the resigned tone of voice he used. “If you drove an hour to my house then it must be important.”

  I turned slowly to look at him once more. Emory smiled hesitantly and opened the door for me. “I didn’t come for myself; I came for a friend.”

  “Is it Gabe or Josh?” he asked.

  “No, Emory. I didn’t mean to worry you.” I took a seat on his couch, and he sat in the chair on the opposite end, which was as far away from me as he could get without standing across the room. He acted like a prim spinster too afraid to sit next to the big bad wolf for fear of losing his virtue. It rankled my nerves, but I needed his help. “My friend is a sheriff in Big Timber, Montana, and he’s working a cold case that doesn’t look too promising.” I knew there was more at play, but Beau wasn’t ready to talk about it. I didn’t pressure him because I knew he’d talk when he was ready. “I think he could use your help if you were willing.”

  “You’re asking for a friend, huh?” Emory asked. Was that a little bit of humor I detected? Was Emory letting his guard down enough to make a joke? I felt like I walked on eggshells around Emory all the time and wasn’t sure how to answer him. “How good of a friend are we talking?”

  “I don’t think I follow where you’re going with this line of questioning, Emory.”

  Emory shrugged his shoulders casually then diverted his eyes away from mine. “He must be special if you’re showing up at my door asking for favors. That was all that I meant.” Was he jealous?

  Over the years, I’d had my fair share of run-ins with percussion grenades that left my ears ringing, my head spinning, and severe disorientation, but none of them compared to the upheaval that Emory caused in me. I wanted to tell him it was none of his fucking business what k
ind of friend Beau was, but I would be lying to both of us. I didn’t have the luxury of living in a state of denial because one of us needed to accept the inevitable. When put like that, it sounded like I was comparing our eventual something to death, but that wasn’t what I meant.

  A part of me said to get up and walk out of there and never look back, while the rest said to stand my ground. I wanted to yell that I didn’t owe Emory an explanation, but I did if I wanted his help. Were his questions that unreasonable? I was about to ask him to get on a plane and fly to Montana to help a man who was a stranger to him. When the silence between us stretched to an uncomfortable length, Emory raised his head and looked at me.

  “I’ve known Beau for twenty years. He’s the best kind of friend,” I said in the way of explanation. I could tell that my answer only made Emory more curious, but I also knew that he wasn’t going to ask me additional personal questions.

  “What can you tell me about the case?” Emory asked.

  “Ten years ago, a guy named Kent Jessup disappeared from a ranch in his jurisdiction. Beau told me that one of Kent’s family members was pressuring him to look into the disappearance.”

  “Why now?” Emory asked. “Ten years is like a hundred years in the life of a missing persons investigation—or any for that matter. Why are they suddenly putting pressure on your friend?”

  I couldn’t say he was jealous, but he was definitely curious about Beau. I hoped that curiosity led him to help my friend. “Beau was recently elected sheriff after his predecessor died suddenly.”

  “So the family hopes the new guy will take a look at the case with fresh eyes or at least an open mind.” Emory’s eyes had taken on a faraway look, and his reply had come across as him thinking out loud rather than responding to me directly. Then he nibbled on his bottom lip while he processed things internally. I saw the shift in clarity in his beautiful green gaze the second he returned from wherever he’d gone. Emory’s cheeks flushed pink beneath my stare like he was embarrassed that he zoned out in front of me. He cleared his throat and said, “What’s changed in the case that your sheriff would want to use a psychic?”

  “He’s not my sheriff,” I clarified. “What do you mean by what’s changed?”

  “Well, I’ve worked with law enforcement officials enough to know that they only call in a psychic on a cold case for two reasons: they’re desperate, or they have a new lead and need some guidance. Which category does your friend fall into?”

  “Why don’t you ask me what you want to know?”

  “I believe I just did.” Emory looked confused about the turn our conversation made. “What has changed for your—”

  “—friend.”

  “I didn’t say it like that,” Emory argued.

  “You did, and more than once. You even referred to Beau as my sheriff. He’s not my private sheriff.”

  “That isn’t what I… I meant your sheriff friend.” He blushed when I quirked a brow at his tone. “I’m not implying anything.”

  “Maybe not intentionally, but you’re giving away your subconscious feelings.”

  “Are you going to psychoanalyze me now, Jon?” He used my nickname again, and I loved the natural way it rolled off his tongue, like we’d known each other longer than a few months. Hell, we didn’t know each other at all.

  “Not at all, Em.”

  “Let’s get back to the conversation about your… friend’s missing persons case.” Emory continued like he hadn’t heard me use a nickname for him too, but his eyes had widened slightly, and he had swallowed hard before he spoke again. “You might not have liked my tone, but my question was serious. What has changed?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure. Beau called me this morning to catch up, and he sounded stressed beyond normal. I asked if his new position was creating problems for him in the department since he was the newest member of the group but the one elected to the office of sheriff. Beau denied that there was anything wrong at first, but then he finally admitted it was the Kent Jessup case that had him down.”

  “Why? If nothing has changed, then why the sense of urgency or despondency?”

  “The case might be ten years old, but it isn’t to him. He’s only lived there for a little over a year,” I explained. “Maybe he thought he could approach it with new eyes and make a difference only to come up short like everyone else.”

  “Or there’s more to it,” Emory said absently.

  I sat quietly while he mentally checked out of our conversation again. I used the time to catalog everything about him and store it in my memory because I wasn’t sure how long it would be before I saw him again. I loved the vibrancy of his eyes and the way his bottom lip was slightly fuller than his top one. I found myself staring at the tiny little indentations his teeth left behind in the plump flesh from biting it a moment earlier. I wanted to lick that bottom lip and feel the grooves with my tongue.

  Emory cleared his throat to get my attention, and I realized he caught me staring at his mouth. Did he know what I was thinking or did he suspect my thoughts were far dirtier than tracing his lips with my tongue? Fantasizing about those lips wrapped around my cock would’ve been next. I noticed the familiar way he pressed his hand over his heart. He’d done the same thing the last time I was in his house, and I recognized it as either a sign of distress or comfort. His expression gave nothing away.

  “Do your friends always call you early on Sunday morning?” That was the absolute last thing I expected him to say.

  I let out a frustrated sigh. “As a matter of fact, Sunday mornings are a great day for me to catch up with Beau and Corbin. And before you ask, Corbin is my other best friend. The three of us make one hell of a trio, but it’s never been sexual between us, Emory. I love these men like family, and I’d lay down my life for them. Hell, I’d nearly done that many times in battle just as they had for me. They’re my brothers in arms and two of the finest men I’ve ever had the privilege to know.” I paused to breathe. I needed to stop the temper I felt boiling beneath the surface from rising to the top and spilling over. It would ruin whatever tenuous truce we’d made in the past. I realized that the only way to accomplish that goal was to leave. Too bad it wasn’t working.

  “Maybe you don’t care that they had my back and pulled my ass out of the fire, but it means a hell of a lot to me, Emory. You probably wish they weren’t so damn good at their jobs a few years back when we were outmanned and outgunned. It would make things a lot easier for you, wouldn’t it?”

  Emory loudly sucked in a stunned breath. “How can you say that to me?”

  “You know what? Forget I ever came here, Emory. While you’re at it, try and forget I exist because I’m going to do my damnedest to forget about you.” I rose from the couch and headed to the door.

  “Jon, wait!”

  I ignored his request and walked away without looking back. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d been so fucking furious at someone. I was halfway home before I realized that I wasn’t angry at Emory; I was mad at myself. Emory told me that he couldn’t give me what I wanted. And instead of moving on with my life, I hovered in a holding pattern like a plane circling an airport waiting for permission from the flight tower to land. Emory was never going to give me the go-ahead so it was time to find a new airport that would welcome my approach. Damn, what the fuck was with my lame-ass analogies?

  It had been a while since I’d had sex with a real person and not just a fantasy version of Emory while I jerked off. I ignored the subtle hints Alexander had thrown my way at the bar and ignored every bit of flirtation from hot, horny men who obviously wanted me. Why? Emory was honest with me from the very start. He. Did. Not. Want. Me. Maybe his visions weren’t of things to come but things his body felt deprived of and filled in the blanks. Yes, that was what I needed to keep telling myself, so I could stop jerking off to what could be and start fucking men who were both physically and emotionally willing.

  I went home and worked out my frustrations on the elliptical mac
hine and free weights. I thought I had my shit together until I got to the bar. Alexander sauntered into my office wearing painted-on jeans, and I lost my shit. I knew it was a mistake when I rose swiftly from my desk and went to him. He backed up in alarm at first but then wickedly smiled when he realized it was lust, not anger, etched on my face. He continued to back up, but only to lock the door so we wouldn’t be disturbed.

  It was a fast, furious fuck that left my body satiated but tore my heart to shreds. The combined feeling of guilt for betraying Emory and shame for taking advantage of my employee sent me home without a word to anyone. I didn’t even stick around to shower because I wanted to get away from the scene of my disgrace as fast as I could.

  Even if Emory wanted me, I didn’t deserve a guy like him. Sleep eluded me most of the night, and when I did crash, dreams of a heartbroken Emory invaded my sleep like unwelcomed insurgents. At first, I tried to comfort him over the loss of his husband then I realized that I was the one who made him cry. That was an unforgivable crime.

  The best description for my mood the next morning was somber. My heart was as heavy as the morning of Nate’s funeral, and I realized that I buried my dreams the night before when I buried my dick inside another man. Crude? Yes, but true. I let my pride ruin something great before it even started because I had known that something special would happen between Emory and me.

  My dark mood only got heavier when Beau texted me and let me know that Emory had contacted him to say that he was heading to Big Timber to see if he could help him.

  “Fuck! What have I done?”

  The day after Jon left my house, I walked across the street to say goodbye to Josh and promise that I would be back in time for his wedding on Saturday. Josh, Mere, and Chaz screamed when I knocked on the back door of the salon.

  “Josh, you guys okay in there?” I yelled through the door. Josh immediately opened it and let me in. Meredith was giving Chaz an ass chewing when I walked inside the kitchenette. “Is this a bad time?” I asked, looking over at my friends.