by Jaci J
“I’m expecting to be wowed, Mr. Moore.”
We fall into a good routine, Em working on potatoes (she offered to get them ready) and me on the grill. It feels good. Nadia didn’t spend much time here with me, and when she did, it was a lot of complaining about the shitty cell service and the dirt. She’s nothing like Emerson, and I’m starting to remember that that is a damn good thing.
“You good in there?” I holler from the deck a little bit later.
Poking her head around the door, she frowns, spatula in hand. “Of course I am.”
Holding my hands up, I smile. “Just checkin’, babe.”
“You worry about not burning the chops. I’ve got my potatoes handled.”
“Yes, boss.”
~~~~~~
“You writin’ about me?” I ask her. I’m half joking and half worried I’m still a huge part of her music, and if that’s a good or bad thing.
After she left, I stopped listening to it. Everything about it was too raw, too real, and too painful. I wasn’t real interested in hearing her sing about her broken heart, her long lost love, or her hometown. Hearing them over and over was just reliving what I had already lived through and I was done with it. It’s been ten years and I’ve not heard a damn word she’s written or sang since then. Part of me regrets it, and the other part believes it was the only way to deal.
She turns and flashes me a smile. “How’d you know?”
This is one of her spots. On top of that train-bridge, on her grandparents’ front porch, and on the dock is where I’d always find her with a pad in hand and a massacred pen between her lips.
“Just a wild guess.” I don’t tell her it’s because even though I lost a lot of her over the years, I still remember everything there was to know. The important things.
“You know, I haven’t written much in the last few years. The words seemed to have just faded away. When I started, I wrote about you, first love, and all those teenage emotions. Then I wrote about heartache and heartbreak. But a few years after that, I just lost it all. I was numb.”
“And now?” I ask her, even though I already know the answer. I’m feeling it too. I’m overwhelmed with it.
“Now I feel it all. I want to write about it all—love, loss, and everything in between.”
It’s an indescribable comfort. A deep, satisfying contentment. It’s coming home from a long trip. A bad day solved by walking through that familiar front door to strong arms and a solid shoulder.
Being here with Zac feels like home.
It all feels too good to be true, but I’m holding onto the feelings by my fingernails, refusing to give them up again without a fucking fight.
“Emerson,” Zac murmurs softly, holding a hand out to me through the bedroom window. “Come back inside.”
I don’t have to think about it. I just take his hand.
Stumbling in through the window, Zac catches me, hands on my hips.
“You’re cold.” Am I? I can’t feel anything other than his warm hands on my body. I bite my lip and he groans. “Don’t do that.”
“Zac.”
“Emerson,” he says carefully.
“Kiss me.” And he does. His lips are soft and careful at first, until I push into him, leaning in for more. The kiss becomes urgent, needy, his tongue tangling with mine.
“Come here,” he growls against my lips, tugging me towards the bed. Pulling away, he looks at me. “Still the sexiest woman I’ve ever met.”
Tugging my shirt over my head, I drop it on the floor at my feet, then my jeans follow. “Even sexier now?” I tease him. Standing in my bra and panties, he doesn’t wait, tossing me onto the bed. I bounce, and a giggle escapes me. “That’s one way to do.”
“I’m done waitin’. Waited ten years. A man can only take so much of watchin’ you, Emerson.”
“You watched me?”
Settling himself between my thighs, he kisses my collarbone. “You know I did,” he murmurs against my skin.
Rough hands run up and down the skin of my stomach, my chest, and my arms.
I feel restless. I need more.
I can feel his hard length pressing against my thigh and I squirm. It’s been ten long years, but I remember every detail of being with him. Every soft touch and hard look. Every need and every feeling.
“Yes,” My voice comes out breathless when he kisses the underside of my breast. “You’re not the only one that had to wait.”
Kissing a path down my stomach, my body clenches when he runs his tongue under the waist of my panties.
“Jesus, Em. Keep squirmin’ like that and this is gonna be over quicker than either of us wants. I need a taste. Don’t push me.”
“I need you inside of me now.” All the other fun stuff in between can wait until our next go, and there will be another.
Peeling my panties down my legs, he drags his fingers along my skin. Lifting my foot, he pulls them off, tossing them on the floor.
“Zac,” I plead.
Knowing I won’t rest until I get my way, he abandons his pursuit and positions himself between my knees. Pushing into me slowly, my back bows and my breath catches.
“Never get tired of hearing you say my name like that.”
Rocking in and out of my body, he holds me tight, his lips teasing my skin. He pulls me closer, getting deeper, one hand on my hip holding me against him.
My eyes start to roll and my toes curl.
“That’s the face. Fuck, I missed it,” he growls, his lips at my ear.
He does it again and again, pounding into me, thrusting deeper and deeper.
“Don’t stop,” I gasp.
Zac worships my body and I let him, lost in need.
Zac works me like he only knows how until I’m falling over the edge, him following close behind.
“Jesus Christ, Emerson.” With his head on my chest, he collapses. “I’ve missed you baby.”
My eyes start to drift, but I smile, happy as hell.
~~~~~~
Walking out onto the porch, I squint against the blazing sun. The sky is bright and the breeze is warm against my bare legs. Looking out into the field, I catch sight of Zac and I stop to appreciate him.
In a pair of old faded jeans and a white tee, he’s working on the barbed wire fence a few yards away.
Bringing a hand up, he pushes his sweat-slicked hair off his forehead and I swear to God my ovaries damn near crawl out of my body towards him. Age has been damn good to the man. He’s only gotten sexier.
“Mornin’, you sexy lumber-sexual,” I holler from the porch, waving like a moron.
Zac stops what he’s doing and stares for a moment. Dropping the wire, he makes a beeline for me with a look on his face that screams make my day.
He’s on me before I have the chance to react. Wrapping his arms around me, he buries his face in my neck.
“What the fuck is a lumber-whatever you just said?”
“Ya know, a lumber-sexual. Like a sexy lumberjack.” My voice gets breathy and needy.
“I’m not a lumberjack. That term was dead in the early nineteen hundreds.”
“Okay, Paul Bunyan.”
I can hear the frown in his sexy voice when he growls, “I’m not Paul fucking Bunyan, Em.”
“Yes you are. You wear flannel, dirty Carhartts, boots, and there’s usual an ax in your hand.” I laugh, picturing a blue ox following him around the yard. “Oh, and I’ve seen you wear those suspenders too.”
“You’re so goddamn weird, babe.”
“No I’m not.”
He laughs. “And she’s still so goddamn defiant.”
“Some things just never change.”
Jumping up, I wrap my legs around his waist. His boots kick open the front door, and he carries me inside.
To be wrapped up in Zac’s arms is the best feeling in the world. I’m happy. So damn happy I might explode.
“Me and you, were doin’ this?” I ask him as he places my ass on the kitchen table. Lookin
g down at me, eyebrows drawn, he looks confused. “If by this you mean me fucking you on this table, then yes, we’re doin’ this.”
Shaking my head, I laugh. “No…this.” I motion between us. I know what I want, but what he wants it a bit of a mystery to me at the moment.
He stops what he’s doing and backs away from me, suddenly serious.
“What would you have done if you came back and I was married, with kids?”
His question is a no-brainer. “But you don’t. I knew that.” Now he really looks confused. “I always asked about you,” I clarify, trying to ease his confusion. “I knew you didn’t know anything about me in that ten years, but I kept tabs on you.”
“You kept tabs on me?”
“Yes.”
“Stalking me?”
“Call it what you want, but I had to know. Row and my mom kept me up-to-date.” I couldn’t help myself. Living without Zac was hard, but not knowing would have been damn near impossible for me. “Zac, I’m gonna be real weird right now, okay?”
“Okay?” he chuckles, kissing my lips softly.
“I’m not letting you go again. You’re stuck with me.”
“And?”
“And nothing. This is happening whether you like it or not. I’m not goin’ through hell again,” I ramble on as Zac laughs. “We’re stuck together now.”
To some this might be fast, a huge leap. But to me, this is just picking up where we left off. This was always going to happen. Zac and me were always meant to be.
“Babe.”
“No, seriously. You’re not gettin’ rid of me.”
“Emerson, shut up, babe. I hear ya.” He’s still laughing, shaking his head. “I’m not lettin’ you go again. So keep being weird because you’re not gettin’ rid of me either.”
I feel light. I feel like I can breathe again. “Good.”
“I’m takin’ you on a date tonight.”
“Yeah?”
“Be ready when I get there.”
“Just be ready and waitin’ for ya, huh?” I tease him, pushing my luck.
“Just be ready for me.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice.
I feel like a fucking asshole. An inconsiderate prick.
I’m running late, and it’s not just an hour late, it’s almost three fucking hours late.
My plan was to pick Em up at six and take her out, make up for lost time, show her a good time. But here it is, almost nine. I’m still in my work clothes, and I’m tearing down the side of a mountain feeling like a fucking chump for standing her up on our first date…well, our first date in over ten years, that is. My cell has no services and the last time I talked to her was at noon, confirming I’d be there at six.
Asshole doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Gripping the wheel, I try to calm down, focus on not killing myself on the way there, but it’s useless.
In a way I feel like we’re starting all over, but in another way, I feel like we’re trying to make up for lost time. Ten years ago something like this would just roll right off her back. She’d smile and say, “It’s no big deal.” And I’d make it up to her, but I don’t know how this Emerson will react. For all I know she’s packed and halfway back to Hollywood, done with me before we even got started.
Making it to my parents’ house in record time, I thank God I don’t have a glove box full of tickets. I broke at least six laws to get here.
I come skidding to a stop and hop out of the truck the second the thing is in park, the engine still running behind me as I take off in a sprint. Rounding the side of the house, I come to a full stop, shocked.
What the hell?
Emerson and my mom are digging holes in the backyard, in the dark, but with flashlights. Emerson is wearing a little white dress, and on her feet are a pair of knee-high brown Xtratufs, that just so happen to be mine.
Scratching my beard, I watch Em jam the shovel into the ground, then fling the dirt over her head into a messy pile behind her.
“Em? Whatcha doin’?” For all I know, they’re digging my grave. I wouldn’t blame them if they were. Her head pops up and a relieved smile breaks out across her pretty face.
“Zac,” she squeals. Dropping the shovel she hurls herself at me, wrapping her arms and legs around me, clinging to me for dear life.
Suddenly I’m the relieved one. So goddamn relieved. Em stayed. She’s still here. She waited.
“I’m sorry I’m so goddamn late.”
“That’s okay,” she breathes out against my neck. “I was diggin’ holes with your mom while I waited.”
“Yeah. Saw that. Why?” I laugh, thinking about her digging holes in my boots with her pretty white dress on. The woman is weird and wild.
“For the garden you promised to help me with,” my mom mutters behind me before she disappears back inside with a little wave. “Night, Zac, and thanks, Em.”
“Your welcome,” Em hollers back.
“So, babe. We still on for tonight?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“You always have such a dirty mouth?” I ask her, kissing the lips I’ve been thinking about all damn day.
“It’s gotten worse,” she mutters, smiling. “But you like it.”
“I do.”
Reluctantly, I set her on her feet in front of me and turn her towards the truck. “Let’s go before you wise up and change your mind.”
“That’s never gonna happen.” I hope and pray that’s true. “You’re stuck with me for life.”
Sweetest words I’ve heard.
~~~~~~
“I watched you on TV one time,” the waitress gushes, starry eyed. “You were so good.”
“Thanks.” Em’s the color of cherry pie, her blush damn near down to her toes. The girl loves to sing. She loves to play her guitar and scribble out her lyrics, but all the hoopla that comes with it still seems to make her squirm, unless she’s got that guitar in her hands. That thing is like a shield that protects her and gives her strength to sing her heart out in front of anyone.
“So, you’re like, famous?” The other waitress asks. With her hip propped against the seat next to us she bombards Em with questions. Does she know this person and that person? Has she won any awards? Where’d she travel? All shit I don’t know, all shit I want to know, but just not now. Not when I’m fucking dying to have her to myself. The minute we stepped through the door it’s been nothing but fanfare.
“No,” Emerson laughs. “Absolutely not.”
“Most famous person I know.”
Em’s blush deepens and her eyes plead with me.
“Jenny?” I interrupt, catching the name of the waitress on her nametag. “Mind gettin’ me a beer?”
“Oh, yes…of course,” she stammers, putting a hand to forehead. “Sorry ’bout that you two. What can I get y’all to drink?”
The waitress takes our orders, gushes a little more, then scampers off, back towards the kitchen. Alone, finally, Em mouths a big thank you around her smile.
“Anything for you.”
In the little corner booth at the only place still open in town, Casa Mia Pizzeria, we eat, talk, and laugh, and I realize that this is what I’ve been missing all these years. This is why I was so goddamn mad. I got robbed of her and her time, and that shit pissed me off.
But not tonight. Tonight I’ve got my girl back and I couldn’t be fucking happier.
“Do you remember our first date?” Em asks me around a bite of her crust and sauce only pizza. She’s still the weirdest woman I’ve ever met. “You were so nervous you spilled your drink in your lap,” she adds, laughing so hard she snorts.
I groan, remembering it like it was yesterday, trying not to laugh myself.
I can’t stop staring at Emerson. I also can’t stop my damn hands from shaking. I’m a nervous idiot. I’ve known her for years, but tonight feels new, different.
Of course Em’s not fazed, laughing and smiling as she usually does. Talking to a guy that’s bussing the tab
le behind us, she listens as he tells her some story that I miss because I’m too busy trying to calm the hell down.
I’m sitting across from her, looking like an idiot.
I feel fucking lucky. Lucky she picked me when she could’ve had anyone. Lucky it’s me she loves. Lucky it’s me she’s here with.
Em tosses those messy curls over her shoulder and laughs loudly when the busser says something funny to her about riding the bench all season, being third string, or something like that. I don’t recognize him, but then again, we don’t usually practice with underclassmen.
Em nods along to his story and sips her shake, listening intently. Everyone loves the girl and it’s easy to see why.
“My boyfriend, Zac,” she adds, smiling around her straw at me, “is going to State for football.”
Boyfriend.
Fuck, I love that.
The busser keeps talking, but I keep staring at her, happy as hell I’m with the prettiest girl in town.
Absently, I reach a shaky hand out to grab my water, hoping to clear my dry throat, but I miss. Instead I knock the stupid thing over. I scramble for it, but it’s a lost cause.
The glass hits the table with a crack and everyone chooses that moment to stop talking and look at us. The place is dead silent, except for the dripping of water. Water and ice are everywhere—my lap, the table, and on Emerson.
Shit.
“Shit.” Jumping out of my seat, I grab napkins and dive for her, desperate to save her clothes from my mess. Rounding the table, I see it’s too damn late.
My heart falls straight to my ass.
“Em, I’m so…” The words die on my lips when she busts into laughter. God, she’s beautiful when she laughs like that. She laughs so hard she snorts.
Standing at the end of the table, all I can do is stare at her. Picking up an ice cube from her lap, she pops it into her mouth and chuckles.
“Next time, remind me to bring my raincoat.”
Sliding into the seat next to her, I get ready to beg for forgiveness, but she smiles, kissing my cheek, “Calm down Zac. It’s just you and me. No biggie.”
Leaning over the table, Em pushes the two glasses of water away from me and laughs, “Ya know, just in case.”
