Emma managed a faint smile, then freed herself from Brogan’s gaze only to see everyone in the pub staring at the two of them. Had the whole world frozen along with them? How long had they been standing there with everyone watching? Her face flamed under their scrutiny. The urge to flee welled up behind her embarrassment, and she gritted her teeth against her flight instinct. She couldn’t give in. She might not be sure of much, but this time she was sure. She didn’t want to run or hide anymore.
“I bought a car.” She blurted out the only thing that came to mind, but it worked. The simple statement brought a round of cheers and exclamations ranging from praise to surprise, and all at once conversations returned all around her.
Diane’s husband, Tom, grabbed a chair from another table and put it between him and the bar, then motioned for her to join him.
Emma managed to make her shaky legs take her to the table before flopping rather ungracefully into the seat.
“Tell us about the car,” Ciara said.
“It’s a Mercedes A-Class.” Emma found her voice. “Sort of like a little crossover, half-car, half-SUV thing.”
Ciara shrugged.
“I think you’d better go a little more basic for my sister here,” Charlie teased. “What color is it?”
“Shut up.” Ciara slapped her brother playfully. “Get me a drink. Get Emma one, too.”
“Hey Brogan,” Charlie called, without moving from his spot on the booth’s bench seat. “Give Ciara another glass of wine, and ask Emma what she wants to drink.”
Emma’s face flamed once more as every person turned to her. Why couldn’t this be easy? Or better yet, why couldn’t she be invisible?
“Sure, um, Emma,” Brogan said behind her. “What can I get for you?”
“Water,” Emma managed, then turning toward her, tried to smile, but the way all the color had drained from Brogan’s complexion made her stomach turn.
“Sure, I’ll, um, actually—” Brogan turned almost frantically to her brother, “Actually, Charlie, will you man the bar for a bit while I run out to the storage room?”
Charlie frowned. “For a water?”
Brogan closed her eyes, and then nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
Then before waiting for an answer, she walked at a pace just short of a jog out the door.
Emma’s heart broke at her retreat. The only thing harder than being close to her was watching the pain send her away. She knew what that felt like, and no matter what had happened, she didn’t wish it on someone she loved.
Loved?
Why had it gotten so hot in this tiny room? Or so hard to breathe? Or so dizzy? No, the room wasn’t dizzy. That was just her. She didn’t love Brogan. Or maybe she loved her in that hypothetical way, or like a friend, or like a lost love.
She shook her head. The last option was too much, and it must have shown because Ciara reached across the table and patted her hand.
“Give her time.”
Emma shook her head again, still unable to find her voice. Brogan’s eyes haunted her. She understood pain like that. She recognized the doubt and regret in them. Time didn’t make those things go away. It made them fester, it made them grow, it made them move and shift like an emotional cancer.
“Well, I really need the loo.” Ciara got up from the booth, everyone at the table watching her go.
Emma realized she shouldn’t be here when they Brogan back. She couldn’t take this. She didn’t want to run or hide, but she was strong enough to face her life alone. All her progress came into sharp contrast with what she felt for Brogan now. She could handle cooking and writing and car buying on her own if she had to, but she wasn’t strong enough to cause Brogan pain.
“I should go.” Without waiting for an argument, she rose and headed for the door, but before she’d taken two steps, Tom spoke.
“I told you all this was a bad idea.”
“Not now,” Diane snapped.
“I’m just saying, you shouldn’t meddle in other people’s lives.”
“That’s not what you said,” Esther shot back. “You said Brogan couldn’t keep her, and you were right about that, but you were as keen as the rest of us to make her happy.”
“No,” the other man, Will maybe, said softly. “Happy was never part of the equation as far as I heard.”
“Right,” Diane said indignantly. “You didn’t care about her happiness. You just wanted to keep her here, and you got poor Brogan mixed up in it all, too. Now they’re both heartsick.”
Emma turned slowly, unable to break away from the conversation, but also not quite sure she understood.
“Ahem.” Charlie did the fake throat-clearing sound that couldn’t have been more obvious, and everyone turned to look at her.
“Oh honey,” Diane said soothingly to Emma. “It’s not your fault.”
“What’s not my fault?”
“Whatever happened with you and Brogan. It was a bad idea from the outset.”
“A bad idea?”
“Throwing the two of you together.”
“Who threw us together?”
“No one,” Esther said. “We merely talked about the possibility of you and Brogan as a couple.”
“When?” Emma asked, afraid of the answer.
“The first time we met you,” Diane admitted, “months ago.”
Months ago. The words echoed through her brain. Why was this the first she’d heard of it? Had the secret also been kept from Brogan, or worse, had she been in on the plan? Was that all it had been, a plan? Humiliation caused the acidic taste of bile to rise in her throat, and her knees wobbled. Several people reached out to steady her, but she righted herself on her own.
“You have to understand, this was all before we knew you,” Esther said. “We thought you might be lonely or need someone to help you, but as soon as we got to know you, we realized it would never work.”
“I said you were too good for her all along,” Tom grumbled.
“Hey now,” Charlie cut in.
“No offense, Charles.” Tom waved him off. “Brogan’s a fine person, but she’s not the settling kind. She doesn’t have any staying power. She’s attractive enough, though.”
“She’s more than that,” Will defended. “She makes people feel safe and comfortable.”
“For a weekend,” Tom cut in. “We all know she’s good for that long, but no one’s ever seen her manage more.”
Emma winced.
“Stop it right now,” Diane said sharply.
“I’m sorry,” Tom muttered. “No one meant any harm. We only wanted you to stay here, and Brogan’s women always leave. They throw themselves at her for a few days, but Monday rolls around and they go back to their real lives, their real homes, their real jobs, their real relationships. She must be doing something wrong.”
Emma’s face burned red hot now, but this time not from shame. Her insides felt like water coming to a boil in a kettle as she heard the echo of Brogan’s own words in Tom’s condemnation.
“Maybe Brogan’s a different sort,” Will offered.
“A different sort than what Emma deserves, and there’s nothing wrong with that. We’ve all got our types, and Brogan’s a good type. Pretty, sweet, short-term entertainment. She’s like most of the town, really, a holiday let.”
“How dare you?” Emma seethed. “How can you even think that, much less say it, in front of her brother, in front of me? Dear God, have you said it in front of her?” She looked helplessly from person to person, but their averted eyes confirmed her suspicions. “I can’t believe this.”
“Honey,” Diane whispered. “This all came out wrong. We all love Brogan.”
“You should,” Emma shot back. “Brogan McKay is the kindest, steadiest, most generous person I’ve ever met. She singlehandedly pulled me out of a sea of grief when all I wanted to do was swim down. She helped restart my career. She helped me regain my sense of self. She gave me my life back.”
The whole weight of the truth hit her
only after she’d spoken the words, and she swayed again, but this time her righteous indignation kept her upright. “The only reason I am not curled in a ball on my couch right now is because Brogan convinced me I would do better. Why didn’t I understand that sooner? Everything good I’ve done in the last few weeks can be tied directly back to Brogan.”
“Now don’t give all the credit away,” Diane said. “You’ve both got your strengths.”
“Yes, but because of her strength, her faith, her example, I remembered who I was, or at least who I wanted to be. My money didn’t do that. My talent didn’t do that. My fame has never done anything to save me from a crushing loss of self-worth. Brogan did. She showed me who I am, who I could be, again.” Saying that felt freeing and painful all at once. How could both emotions take up so much space inside her heart at the same time? She felt like she might crack down the middle if she didn’t rein herself in, but she didn’t want to stop now. Not when she’d finally found her passion again, not when she knew at her very core she was right.
Tom opened his mouth, but Emma raised her hand and cut him off. “Brogan is literally the best thing that’s happened to me in years. I’m sorry she let ideas like yours undercut her sense of self, and I’m sorry I didn’t understand what sort of insecurities she was having fed to her, but now that I do, I won’t listen to anyone repeat the trash Brogan so painfully internalized.”
She turned to go, prepared to storm out of the pub, but she didn’t even take a full step before she saw Brogan standing behind her, eyes wide and wounded, lips parted, and clutching a bottle of water in each hand.
Emma’s heart seized in her chest. How much had she heard? It didn’t matter. It wasn’t enough. She hadn’t ever done enough for Brogan. The thought hurt, but she didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t know what to do. The anger and helplessness she’d directed around the room moments earlier all turned inward now.
She hated that people made Brogan believe these awful things that couldn’t be further from the truth, but she hated it more that she’d confirmed them by pulling her close in one minute and pushing her away the next. She must have made Brogan feel like that’s all she’d wanted, a moment. Emma had been so insecure about what she’d wanted, she’d fed Brogan’s worst fears. As much as she wanted to blame everyone sitting around that table, she couldn’t deny she’d done as much, if not more, to put the shadows of doubt in Brogan’s eyes, and she couldn’t live with that anymore.
Reaching out on impulse, in need, she cupped Brogan’s face and kissed her full on the mouth. Hard and fast, Emma poured all her emotions into the kiss, hoping it could express what she had failed to. Then, before she had a chance to linger in a place she didn’t deserve, she broke away.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “For everything. You’re better than the whole lot of us.”
And then she ran.
£ £ £
Brogan stood there, mouth agape, head spinning, as Emma flew out the door, her blond hair merely a blur by the time Brogan managed to even blink.
What the hell had just happened?
Her face burned, her lips tingled, her heart hammered, so clearly all her nerve endings were firing, and yet her brain couldn’t make any sense of the mixed signals they were sending. Everything had happened so fast. She’d only meant to take a moment to compose herself, to get a little fresh air, but when she’d slipped back in, Emma had launched into a tirade aimed at the entire Friday Club. The tone, her body language, the wording, everything about it seemed discordant with everything Brogan knew about Emma. For several seconds she couldn’t figure out what Emma was so passionate about. Then it hit her. Emma was defending her.
All the things Emma had said swirled in her head. She’d said Brogan had pulled her out of a sea of grief, helped restart her career, helped her regain her sense of self. Was that true? The force in Emma’s delivery hadn’t left much room for doubt, but all the things she’d said today flew in direct opposition to everything Brogan had heard from her the last time they’d spoken. That conversation had been laced with pain and regret and betrayal.
But the kiss still burned on her lips. Even as the rest of her body had gone cold with confusion, the kiss still burned. What was she going to do with it all? What was she going to do with herself?
She blinked away the red tint from her vision, desperate for clarity, and noticed everyone staring at her. The weight of their expectations bore down on her, but she couldn’t decipher them any more than her own indecision. Finally, the emotions overcame her, and she shouted, “What can I do?”
The answer was unanimous and full of force as her friends and neighbors took up one voice and shouted, “Go after her!”
This time Brogan didn’t argue or even hesitate. Still clutching both water bottles, she sprinted out the door and down Northland street. She reached Emma’s cottage just as Emma was closing the door, and practically hurled herself into the house. Emma let loose a little yelp of surprise, and Brogan doubled over at the near perfect reversal of their first meeting.
Or maybe she’d doubled over because she was out of breath and at a loss for words, but either way, when she straightened up and met Emma’s eyes, so beautiful and so beautifully open, she no longer felt the need to say anything. Instead, she kissed her.
She barely had the time to process Emma’s initial surprise before it disappeared. First she relaxed, melting into Brogan, so supple and soft in her surrender. Then, as if someone had ignited a flame too close to paper, the fire rose up between them, consuming and uninhibited.
Emma was on her, all over her, in an instant. With one hand behind Brogan’s neck and the other clutching her T-shirt, Emma yanked her fully inside. Brogan dropped the water bottles she’d absurdly clung to, and they hit the carpet with a heavy thud. Or maybe that sound came from Brogan’s heart hitting her ribs when Emma’s tongue slipped into her mouth.
Kicking the door shut as she moved, or rather let herself be dragged into the living room, Brogan refused to break the kiss. Emma’s lips tasted amazing, sweet and hot, and soft and demanding all at once, embodying the world of contradictions that made Emma so alluring. Why had Brogan ever tried to resist this?
She took hold of Emma with both hands, sliding them up over slender hips until they settled in the subtle curve of her waist. Brogan’s head spun, either from the lack of air or the high of finally touching the body she’d craved for so long. She couldn’t process anything but her need. It pulsed through her now, no weaker for being satisfied.
She’d known it would feel like this. No amount of Emma would ever be enough. No kiss, no caress, no amount of making love could fill the soul-deep need for this woman.
Emma broke away from Brogan’s mouth and ran her parted lips across Brogan’s cheek, her breath hot and rapid against already flushed skin. Then with gentle pressure on the back of Brogan’s neck, Emma bowed her low enough to take an earlobe between her teeth before rasping, “I want you.”
Brogan’s knees almost buckled at the simple statement of fact, delivered with such certainty. Emma’s tone, combined with the press of possessively strong fingers, vanquished Brogan’s remaining doubts, or at least replaced them with a certainty that whatever was happening between them was stronger than her fears. There would be time for conversations and explanations and apologies later, but for now, a dam had burst inside her, and all the desire she’d held back for months rolled forth.
She turned her head toward the heat of Emma’s mouth until they were kissing frantically once more. The passion ran away with her as their tongues tangled. She placed a hand firmly at the small of Emma’s back, pressing them together until they couldn’t find a clear line of separation between their bodies. The fit was intoxicating, Emma’s slightly smaller frame folding flush into her embrace. She wanted to cover her, surround her, press into her. Drunk with desire, Brogan slowly walked Emma through the living room until her back hit the wall to the dining room. Brogan should’ve turned, should’ve pulled herself to
gether enough to make a plan, or at least make it to a bedroom, but her brain couldn’t process should anymore. Her body had only one gear, and it screamed go.
She pushed up Emma’s shirt, sliding her hands over smooth skin until she reached the satin that barely managed to restrain Emma’s breasts. Palming them with one hand, she felt a hard nipple pressing through. She used her thumb to tease, and thrilled as Emma arched her chest into the touch. She moved over the other, eager for the same response, but as she rolled the nipple through the thin cover, Emma upped the stakes by taking hold of Brogan’s shirt and tugging it over her head in one fluid movement.
Brogan barely had the chance to comprehend the separation between them before Emma had a skillful finger under her sport bra, pausing only a second to place warm hands over taut skin before continuing to remove the barrier entirely. Brogan groaned at the fleeting nature of the touch, but her frustration faded instantly as Emma replaced her hand with her mouth. With a slight pull on her nipple, Emma elicited another moan from Brogan, who let her head roll back as she arched into the pleasure.
Emma moved to the other side, this time growing bolder, and gently grazing her teeth along hypersensitive skin. Brogan’s body bypassed her brain in its response as her hips rocked forward, pinning Emma to the wall as she pulled away from her mouth only far enough to slide down her body. Dragging her parted lips down the center of Emma’s torso, she skipped over the navy-blue silk of the bra, then sank to her knees and kissed a line to the clasp of Emma’s gray slacks. She flipped open the top button and kissed the newly exposed skin before drawing the zipper down, until the trousers were loose enough to fall, revealing the perfect navy bikinis matched to the bra above.
Smiling mischievously, she raised her eyes to meet Emma’s. “Please tell me you haven’t been dressed like this for four months, and I’ve missed out.”
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