I'd thought she might be too tired to see me, but to my surprise she was on board for another night together. We'd spent as much time as possible together since coming back from the island and while I was enjoying it very much, I wasn't sure how Emmy was handling it. She'd been honest from the beginning that she didn't do relationships well as she was so focused on her work. I sure as shit didn't want to become that guy who was always hanging around and clinging, making her want to peel me off like a vine.
When I showed up at her house with a bag of Chinese takeout though, I was shocked to see just how exhausted she looked. Her hair was scraped up into a messy bun on top of her head and there were dark circles under her eyes. She must have already had that hot bath she'd talked about because her skin was pink and she smelled of vanilla and coconut. Wearing a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt, she looked beautiful but far too fragile for my liking. What she needed was someone to take care of her every now and then. Nothing over the top. Just a hot meal and a shoulder rub. I kind of hoped she might return the favor someday.
She threw up her hands when I walked in and rolled her eyes. "Sorry, I'm such a frump. I couldn't help myself after my bath. I thought about getting dressed again but I found myself pulling on these old things."
Leaning down, I dropped a kiss on her lips. Sweet. "It's fine. I like that you feel comfortable enough to let your hair down...metaphorically speaking."
Sniffing at the air, she reached for the paper bag. "Chinese? That sounds delicious. I'm starving."
I let her take the bag and followed her into the kitchen. "Don't they feed you at these fancy shindigs?"
She wrinkled her nose as she pulled two plates from the cabinet. "I rarely have time to actually eat a meal. I usually make do with a few canapés and some cake. They had a lemon cake and it was delicious."
"That's all you had to eat all day?" I marveled. "It's a wonder that you don't pass out on the job."
"I have a strong constitution." She held up two forks. "Are you ready to eat?"
I was hungry too, although not as much as she was. We sat at her tiny breakfast table and chatted while we ate. She told me about the couple that had tied the knot today and I told her about my day and then the movie that I'd fallen asleep while watching.
"You should finish it," she urged. "It's quite good. You must have been tired to fall asleep."
I waggled my eyebrows and grinned. "Someone kept me up last night."
"Someone could have stayed in bed instead of running around town buying bacon and eggs."
"And then what would have eaten for breakfast?"
"Peanut butter," she answered immediately. "It's good for you. Lots of protein."
"I'll pass. Do you ever cook for yourself? Even your pots and pans looked pristine. Like they were only there for show and not actual use."
She placed her fork on the edge of her plate and wiped her hands on one of the paper napkins. "I can see we've come to this portion of the relationship where I admit that I can barely cook. I can make a few things under close supervision but on my own I can barely boil water."
Her admission surprised me. She was so competent at everything that it was weird that she couldn't cook for herself.
"I bet you can cook but you just don't like to."
"You would lose that bet. I've cooked in the past but it's about one rung above salmonella poisoning. There is one thing I can make, though. Bread. My grandma taught me."
Picturing Emmy elbow deep in flour made me smile. "Will you make me bread one of these days?"
"Since you made me breakfast...sure. But I usually do it on one of my days off. It takes a long time."
"I'm worth it."
"You're certainly filled with self-confidence," she teased. "I guess you are worth it."
It was good to see that we could agree on it.
"How about I clean this food up and put the leftovers away, and then we curl up on the couch and I'll give you that back rub that I promised you?"
Honestly, it was going to be as pleasurable for me as it would be for her.
"That sounds–"
Emmy's phone vibrated in the pocket of her sweatpants, interrupting what would surely have been an affirmative answer. Scowling, she read her message, a rather long one since she had to scroll down to finish it.
"I think I'm going to have to take a rain check on that back rub, although I wish I didn't."
I didn't like the worried expression on her face. Now I was concerned as well.
"What's going on? Has something happened?"
"Maybe." She tapped out an answer to the sender. "Ashlyn says she hasn't been able to get Shelby all day long. Neither one of us have actually spoken to her since Wednesday."
"That's unusual?"
"We've gone longer but there's usually a good reason. The last we heard she sent Ashlyn a text last night that said she'd talk to her later. Now it's later and we can't get her at all. Ashlyn's tried her cell phone, her land line, a direct message on Instagram. Heck, she's even tweeted her. Nothing. She wants us to go over to Shelby's house and check on her. She might be sick or hurt."
"I'll go with you," I offered, sweeping up an armful of food to pack away. "Give me five minutes."
Emmy was already shaking her head no. "Thank you, but you don't have to do that. We'll just make a quick run over there and check on her. Hopefully she just needs chicken soup for a bad cold or something. She might even be working on her book and lost track of time."
"Are you sure?" I didn't want to send Emmy out into the cold. "I can drive you there."
"Ashlyn's coming to pick me up. Really, it's okay." She wrapped her arms around me. "It's sweet that you offered to go, though. I do appreciate it but this shouldn't take long."
I hated to ask the next question but I couldn't stop myself.
"Should I stay and wait?"
She hesitated before shaking her head. "I don't want to ask you to do that."
"I don't mind. It's not a big deal."
"I don't know how long I'll be."
"You said that it shouldn't take long," I reminded her, taking a step away from her to toss the empty cartons in the trash.
"It shouldn't but what if it does?" she replied, tapping her chin. "I'm really sorry about this, Owen. I feel terrible that I'm bailing on our plans."
"I feel terrible that you have to go back out tonight." I cupped her chin and leaned down to press a soft kiss on her full lips. "You need your sleep, honey."
It was my own statement that made up my mind. She needed a good night's rest in her own bed. Preferably without me in it.
"I can sleep in tomorrow," she said. "I guess I should put some socks and shoes on. Did I say that I'm sorry yet? Because I am."
"Yes, you did so you don't have to say it again. We'll have another night for your backrub."
If I had my way, we'd have many, many more.
Emmy
Ashlyn and I could hear the heavy beat of music from Shelby's front lawn. Our friend had it cranked into ear-busting territory. She couldn't be having a party because we were the only vehicle in her driveway. Were she and Brad having some sort of private party?
Ewww.
I was concerned about Shelby but the last thing I needed was to barge in on some major freaky-deaky time between a soon-to-be married couple. I didn't know much of anything about her love life and frankly, I wanted to keep it that way. We all knew the bare bones... Was it good or was it bad? But if anyone wanted to dress up like Little Bo Peep and get shagged, they weren't admitting it to our little friend group.
Thank goodness.
My finger hovered above the doorbell. We had a key for emergencies but if Shelby was inside, we thought we should ring first. "Maybe this isn't the best idea we've ever had. She could be doing anything in there."
Ashlyn was chewing on her bottom lip and looking unsure as well. "Aren't you worried?"
"I am, but... Shit, what if they're having wild monkey sex in there? Do you want to witness th
at? Because I sure as hell don't."
"That's why I'm not using my key," she replied, her chin lifting in resolution. "She's our friend and we're worried about her. If she's dressed in leather and carrying a riding crop, we'll apologize and get the hell out of here. I'll buy the brain bleach."
"There isn't enough brain bleach in the world to get rid of that image but okay, here we go."
I pressed the doorbell and we waited. I couldn't hear anything from inside the house except the overly loud music. No movement. No one yelling that they'd be there in a moment.
"She has to be there," Ashlyn muttered, reaching across me to press the bell again. Several times. "She would never leave her music on that loud and not be home."
My stomach was doing that warning thing again, tightening up and telling me that something here was not good.
"I have a feeling she is here and she's...busy," I said, taking a step backward. "If we leave now, they may never know we were here."
Shelby and Brad were inside that house having sex and that's why she'd been ignoring us. She was getting her freak on.
"You don't know that. She could be in there dead."
"Then she isn't going to be answering the door, Ash."
Digging in her purse, Ashlyn pulled out a small keyring with a little pink bow attached to it. I knew it well because I had one just like it, only the bow was red. Shelby's housekey.
"You're going in."
"Nope, we're going in. Together. If we interrupt an intimate moment, well...she should have called us back. You know she'd do the same exact thing to us and then spend thirty minutes telling us how it was our own fault."
Shelby would do that. Fuck yes, let's do this.
Ashlyn slipped the key into the lock and turned it to the right. We heard the click and then the door swung open.
No one. The living room and foyer were deserted. Ashlyn strode in and headed straight for the music dock, flipping it off. Then she pointed to an item on the coffee table.
"Shelby's bag is here so she has to be."
Shelby carried around this huge designer leather bag, and her sister Mia always compared it to the Mary Poppins purse where the inside was far larger than the outside. If it was here, so was Shelby. She never went anywhere without it.
"I'll check the kitchen."
Because I didn't want to check the bedrooms. No sirree, I did not. I didn't hear any moaning or sex noises now that the music was turned off, but maybe they were taking a break.
When I first stepped into the kitchen it looked empty as well, but then my gaze skittered over to the sliding glass door area and that's when I saw a pair of legs. More specifically a pair of legs clad in Shelby's black yoga pants with the bright yellow stripe down the side. My heart began to pound and I broke out into a cold sweat when those legs didn't move. Our worst fears had been realized. Shelby was dead. How long had she been like this?
Clutching my chest and reminding myself to breathe, I walked around the kitchen island and found our best friend slumped against the sliding glass doors, her head pillowed on the trash can.
She was cradling an almost empty liquor bottle. Was she...?
"Shelby!" I yelled at the top of my lungs while somehow simultaneously holding my breath. "Wake up!"
Please let her wake up. Please let her wake up.
For a moment she didn't move and I was sure she was dead. But then her body jerked and one eyelid opened slightly. Grabbing onto the kitchen counter, my body sagged in relief. My knees were wobbly and there were spots in front of my eyes. Dear heavens, Shelby was alive and we–
Shelby was alive.
"In here, Ashlyn!"
I wasn't sure what to do. I'd never seen Shelby in this sort of state before. Sure, we'd all had a little too much every now and then but nothing like this. The only thing we'd ever hugged was the toilet when it all came back up.
But I'm practical and efficient.
Kneeling down on the floor next to her, I reached for the bottle but Shelby's grip tightened.
"Hey Shel, how about handing over the hooch? I think you've probably had enough."
Ashlyn's shoes came into my line of vision. "What in the ever-loving hell?"
"She's three sheets to the wind," I announced loudly, getting the reaction that I had hoped for. Shelby's eyes fluttered open again and she yawned loudly, sending the aroma of booze straight into my face. Lovely. Thanks, Shel. "She's going to need some water. If she drank all of this she's got to be dehydrated."
"Leave me alone," Shelby muttered, hugging the bottle more tightly to her chest. "Go away. I said I'd call you."
"But you didn't," Ashlyn replied crisply, snagging a plastic sports cup from the upper cabinet. Good thinking. I wouldn't trust Shelby with glass right now, either. "And we got worried, rightly so from the looks of things. Why are you drunk?"
Scowling, Shelby's eyes opened completely this time. "I'm not drunk."
"Then you're doing an amazing impression of it. You should get an Oscar," I replied.
"I'm not drunk."
Shelby's voice had risen but she grimaced at the decibel level of her own voice.
"If you're not drunk, can you explain why you're sitting on the tile floor holding a whisky bottle and smelling like a distillery?"
Her brows pulled together, Shelby appeared to be contemplating my question. "I was drinking earlier and I got hungry."
My gaze flickered over to Ashlyn who shrugged at the cryptic answer.
"And?" I prompted. "You got hungry and...?"
Shelby nodded. "I remembered there was a chocolate donut in the trash can so I came over here to get it. I must have fallen asleep."
I though Ashlyn was going to pass out. I was pretty green myself.
"You were going to eat out of the trash?" Ashlyn asked in a scandalized tone. "Oh my God, Shelby. Are you broke? We would have given you money."
I simply could not imagine Shelby broke. She was very careful with her money and she never seemed to have any financial issues. Did she have a gambling problem, perhaps?
"It's my trash," Shelby muttered, trying to sit up and doing a terrible job of it. "It's not gross if it's your own garbage. I didn't have any other food in the house."
"You could have ordered food," Ashlyn pointed out.
"I just wanted the chocolate. It was my trash."
She had a point but it still turned my stomach. However, now that she wasn't curled into such a tight ball I could get a better look at her.
Shelby looked like hell. I could safely say that I'd never seen her look this bad in the entire time I'd known her. She was always so stylish and neat, but today it looked like she'd been run through a wood chipper and then pieced back together by a five-year-old.
Her auburn hair was a rat's nest on top of her head. There was a pencil stuck in the bun and I wondered if she even remembered that. Her skin was pale to the point that I could see every single freckle on her face. Her eyes were bloodshot, red-rimmed, and glassy, the lids puffy as if she'd been crying for hours. Her shirt had a few stains on it, hopefully not from the donut.
Clearly, she was still drunk and in the middle of sleeping it off when we arrived. Reasoning with her probably wouldn't work. So what did I do?
I tried to reason with her. I didn't know anything else.
"Shelby, you've been drinking. We need to get you up off the floor. Will you let us help you?"
"I don't care."
"You don't care if we help or you don't care if you move?" Ashlyn asked, kneeling down next to us.
"I don't care if I move." Shelby frowned and then unscrewed the lid on the bottle in preparation to take another drink. Oh no. I wasn't going to let that happen. Reaching for the bottle, I managed to pry it out of her fingers. It wasn't easy. She was stronger than she looked.
"I needed that."
"I think you've had enough."
Standing, I placed the bottle on the counter and grabbed the cup of water.
"How about you drink this instea
d? It's good for you."
Shelby wrinkled her nose but did as I asked, which was a relief because I wasn't sure I would win an argument with a drunk woman. When the glass was half-empty she handed it back to me. What a metaphor for this situation.
"Shelby, why are you drunk?" Ashlyn asked. "What's going on? Where's Brad?"
Slumping back against the sliding glass door, Shelby's eyes welled up with tears.
"He's in Las Vegas."
Las Vegas? I didn't realize his bachelor party was this weekend. Was Shelby trying to match him drink for drink?
"When is he coming back?" I asked. We needed to get her sober and cleaned up before he walked through the door. I was absolutely sure he'd never seen her like this.
"He's never coming back. He went to Las Vegas with his assistant."
Never? That was a damn long time.
"What are you talking about?" Ashlyn said, wrapping her arms around Shelby's waist to try and lever her up off the floor. I grabbed her under the arms and reminded myself to lift with my legs. "Of course, he's coming back."
Shelby shook her head as we lifted her halfway up. Just a foot to go. "He's not. He and Kimberly got married last night."
Married? What in the fuck? I almost lost my grip and dropped Shelby, but somehow Ashlyn and I managed to get her into a standing position.
Now what?
Chapter 22
Emmy
It took a hot shower and several cups of coffee to sober Shelby up enough to make any sort of sense. Ashlyn had fixed some toast and was now urging her to eat it.
"It will soak up the alcohol in your stomach," Ashlyn explained patiently. "So be a love and just try to eat some of it. And drink this water, too. Caffeine is a diuretic."
"If I eat anything, I'll be sick," Shelby protested, pushing the saucer farther away. We were all sitting on the couch, Ashlyn on one side and me on the other. "My stomach is not a happy camper."
Lifting the whisky bottle from its spot on the table, I held it up for Shelby's inspection. "I would imagine it's not. Was this brand new?"
Touch Him (ManTrap Book 3) Page 15
