by Devney Perry
“So are Silas and Maisy a couple?” I asked Nick. At the party, they’d seemed close but I hadn’t seen them touch and I didn’t want to make any wrong assumptions.
“They’re just friends,” Nick said.
I didn’t get the chance to prod for more because the second we crossed the threshold into the café and joined Silas and Maisy in a booth, they jumped right into questioning me about the break-in.
“They didn’t find any tracks or anything in the woods?” Maisy asked.
“No.” I frowned. “Sam looked all over the next day and didn’t find a thing. He thinks that someone must have walked to the house along the driveway where the snow had been plowed. There weren’t footprints anywhere except right by the edge of the garage.”
“Creepy,” she said. “And you don’t have any idea who might have wanted to get into your house?”
“None.”
Jess had stopped by yesterday to tell me that they were at a dead end. I was deflated and scared. It terrified me that the criminal was still at large.
“What do you think?” Silas asked Nick.
“I don’t know. Jess, Emmy and I did some guessing but didn’t come up with much. It might be a random burglary, someone breaking into a fancy house on the mountain to score a load of pricey pawn items. Though, I doubt a common thief would come at night when someone was likely to be home or have the skill to disarm her security system.”
“What about kids?” Silas asked. “Some of those high schoolers are fairly tech savvy. Could it have been a prank?”
“Maybe. I could see some of them getting past her security panel. But to leave no trace, wipe prints, think about footprints? It seems a bit too sophisticated and way over the top for a prank. We’re thinking this was professional,” Nick said.
“Like a professional thief?” Maisy asked. “Why?”
“Money,” I said. “I’m from a well-off family and someone may have broken in hoping to get a big payday. Scare me into handing over a wad of cash and fancy jewelry.”
“Oh my god!” Maisy yelled. “You can’t stay there then! What if someone wants to kidnap you for ransom? You’re in danger, Emmeline!”
“Maze, calm down,” Nick said.
“Calm down? How can I calm down? How are you not taking this more seriously?” she asked.
“We’re all taking this seriously,” he said.
We were so wrapped up in our conversation that none of us heard a woman approach our booth. “Nick Slater and Silas Grant. It’s my lucky day.”
I looked up to see the woman who had pressed herself up against Nick months ago when he had taken me to The Black Bull.
“Go away, Andrea,” Nick said.
“Blech,” Maisy said.
Silas ignored her presence completely.
“There’s no reason to be rude, Nick. I just wanted to see how you two were doing. See if you needed anything? Anything at all.” Her words were filled with innuendo and her breasts were thrust out as far as she could manage.
This woman was an absolute wench. “He doesn’t need anything,” I said.
She laughed. “Do you think that just because you’re eating dinner with Nick and his friends that he’ll actually be interested in you? It’s a well-known fact around here that Nick doesn’t go for redheads. I hope you haven’t gotten your hopes up.”
“I think you’re mistaken. He doesn’t think redheads are repulsive. After all, he married me.”
The smug grin fell off her face as her eyes darted between Nick and me. “You’re married?”
“Yes. Go away, Andrea,” Nick repeated.
This woman was not only a wench, she was also a bitch because she didn’t do as Nick asked. Instead, she opened her mouth and out spewed pure venom.
“That’s okay. I think Silas is more my type anyway,” she said. Bending down and shoving her fake cleavage in Silas’s face, she whispered, “You can do better than Maisy Holt. Don’t forget, she killed the last man she fucked.”
Maisy’s head flew up in utter disbelief as the men shot out of the booth with clenched fists, forcing Andrea back a few steps.
“You need to leave. Immediately,” I said, my voice firm and loud. I slid out of the booth and stepped between Nick and Silas, getting directly into Andrea’s space.
I’d dealt with my fair share of skanks before; I was a former New York socialite after all. So if this slut wanted to be a bitch, she’d met her match.
“You reek of desperation. Find someone that appreciates your brand of fake and leave us alone. What did you actually think would happen tonight? You’d come over here, jiggle those implants and one of these two men would fawn all over you?” Reaching back for my purse in the booth, I yanked out my wallet and pulled out the first bill my fingers touched. “Here,” I said, shoving a one-hundred-dollar bill in her face. “Buy yourself a clue.”
Andrea stared down at the money in my hand with wide eyes. Her shock soon turned to anger and she gave me an evil sneer. But I stood my ground. Her snarl was like a warm caress compared to those my father doled out. She could give me that look all day long and I’d never budge.
A slow clap started in the background. I glanced over my shoulder to see that Maisy had a huge smile on her face and had started the clap.
Before my head could swivel back around, the entire café burst into applause and laughter. People were standing up from their chairs, roaring hysterically at Andrea’s now bright red face. She didn’t stick around long before turning on her designer imposter heels and stomping out the door.
The second she was gone, Nick spun me around and slammed his mouth down on mine.
The noise in the restaurant vanished as my whole world became about Nick. His lips were hard and rough against mine. His hands cradled my face, pulling me toward him. As quickly as it started, it was over.
“That was fucking awesome, Wife.”
I pulled in a deep breath and smiled. “It absolutely was.”
I’m sure he was talking about Andrea. I was referring to the kiss.
We left the café not long after eating our meals as Maisy needed to pick up Coby from her parents’ house. After buying dinner and saying our good-byes, Nick decided to stop at the grocery store for breakfast supplies.
So now we were strolling the aisles of Jamison Foods at eight o’clock on a Saturday night, picking up eggs and a plethora of vegetables for his “fucking awesome” quiche.
“Is it necessary for you to replace all of the items I put into the cart with the exact same thing? It seems quite inefficient,” I said as Nick lifted out the onion I had just grabbed and chose another. So far he hadn’t liked my tomato, avocado or pepper selections.
“Yeah. When you get the wrong thing,” he said.
“That onion looks exactly like the one I just had.”
“The one you picked was a yellow onion. I want a sweet onion. They look the same but taste different.”
“How about I push the cart?” I suggested. “Then you can pick out whatever you want.”
“Works for me,” he said.
I took his place in front of the cart and started to push but stopped when he pressed against my back. His hands rested on the handlebar outside of mine as he trapped me between the cart and his hard chest.
“Really?” I asked.
He smirked. “Let’s go.”
I gave him an eye roll but started walking. “I could do without seeing your friend Andrea ever again.”
“Me too.”
What was she to Nick? Had he slept with her before? Was that the reason she was so desperate to get his attention? Or was it all just a game to toy with me?
She had jumped at the chance to intimidate and embarrass me, even if her attempt had backfired. She was a complete stranger but I knew her type. Possessive. Jealous. Shallow.
“I hate to ask,” I said. “What’s the history with you and her?”
Nick abruptly stopped the cart, forcing my stomach into the handlebar. His hands grabbed m
y shoulders and spun me around in the tight space.
“I wish I could tell you there weren’t women in my life these last nine years, but I can’t. I can tell you that there wasn’t anyone serious. And never once did I go there with Andrea.”
I wasn’t dumb. There had to have been women in his life, just like there had been men in mine. But thus far in our second chance, I’d been able to pretend he didn’t have a past. Since we hadn’t talked about it, his history wasn’t real.
Now it was and I did not like the way my stomach twisted at the thought of Nick with another woman.
“Okay,” I said. “The grocery story is not the place for this conversation. Can we go?”
“You asked, Emmy.”
“I know.” I nodded and looked to the floor. “And I shouldn’t be upset. But I am.”
Nick’s chin dropped to the top of my head. “And that shouldn’t make me feel good, but it does. I about crawled out of my skin that day I saw you on the street with your ex. Thinking you took him home and were kissing him. That you might be fucking him. I drank a whole bottle of whiskey that night just so I could sleep.”
Somehow his statement eased the sickness in my stomach. It wasn’t that I was glad he had been upset about me and Logan. It was that we could both openly admit we were jealous.
And I was elated that he hadn’t been with Andrea and she couldn’t throw a past sexual encounter in my face.
I lifted my arms from my sides and wrapped them around his waist, giving him a brief squeeze before I tipped my chin way back to meet his eyes.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here,” I said. “Maybe you can make me cookies when we get to the house.”
Without a word, he steered us to the refrigerator aisle and grabbed a long tube of premixed cookie dough. Peanut butter, chocolate chip. My favorite.
“We’ve got eight minutes before those are done,” I said after sliding a cookie sheet into the oven.
I was proud of myself for taking over the cookie baking while Nick unloaded the groceries. Not that making premade cookies was difficult, but still, a year ago I wouldn’t have had a clue what to do with that tube of dough. I was making slow strides toward one day becoming a decent cook.
Nick’s hard chest pressed against my back and startled me. “Then we’ve got seven minutes to do something else.”
The feel of his warm breath against my skin and the pressure of his fingertips at my hips had my body instantly trembling.
“Nick, what are—” His mouth dropped to my neck and his soft lips traveled up and down my skin.
“Nick.” I inhaled as one of his hands moved around my hip and to the front of my jeans. My stomach dipped as his fingers lightly caressed under the hem of my sweater.
My heart started pounding as his fingertips slid under the waistband of my jeans.
“Nick, I don’t think—” I couldn’t finish that sentence either. My mind was torn. I should put on the brakes but at the same time, I really wanted to see what Nick was going to do.
“Shh, Emmy,” he whispered. “Stop thinking. Just feel it.”
A small moan escaped my mouth. I was feeling, all right. I was feeling Nick everywhere. His strong chest against my back. His lips behind my ear. One hand kneading my hip. The other’s fingers unbuttoning my jeans and sliding down the zipper.
When his hand slid into my purple lace panties, I groaned and closed my eyes. I laid my head against his shoulder so he had better access to my neck.
His mouth latched on while his fingers moved further into my panties.
“Oh my god,” I gasped when his middle finger found my center. It circled around and around, spreading my wetness.
Nick’s arm banded across my stomach when my legs started to shake and buckle. His mouth and hand never once paused as he kept me from falling.
His finger at my core dipped inside and pressed against my inner walls. In and out, over and over.
“Nick, please,” I begged.
His finger stopped plunging and went to my swollen clit. His strokes started soft and slow, my hips rocking back and forth to match his movements. I started panting as his finger worked faster and harder between my legs.
When my orgasm hit, a loud moan came from deep in my chest, filling the kitchen as my body trembled. Nick kept working his finger until I was limp in his arms.
I took a few ragged breaths and put pressure back on my feet. The beeping oven timer caused my eyes to fly open.
I had just let Nick finger fuck me in my kitchen. Even though he had once explored every inch of my body, I was embarrassed. We had just crossed the sexual boundary. How was I supposed to act?
Pushing at his arms, I tried to get out of his embrace but the more I struggled, the tighter he hugged me.
“Emmy,” he said. “Stop fighting me.”
“I’m not. I just need to get the cookies out of the oven before they burn,” I lied.
“We can make another sheet.”
“Let me go. Please.”
He didn’t let me go but his frame relaxed and his forehead dropped to my hair. “You’re not ready yet.”
I let out a long breath and my shoulders fell. “No. Can I get the cookies?”
He let me go and grabbed a beer from the fridge.
Shit.
Transferring cookies onto a cooling rack, I got my head together. I didn’t want to hurt Nick’s feelings or lead him on and I wasn’t trying to push him away or bruise his ego.
I just didn’t want to go too fast. We still had so far to go. Adding sex into the mix was bound to make this harder than it already was.
“I’m sorry,” I said to the cookies.
The beer bottle hit the island and his footsteps came my way. “Don’t be sorry,” he said, wrapping his arms around me. “That was the hottest moment I’ve had in nine years. We’ll go as fast or slow as you want. I can wait. Even if it takes another nine.”
Wow, that felt good. Nearly as good as the orgasm he’d given me.
I smiled and lifted my hands to his forearms. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, my sweet Emmy.”
“Hello,” I said into my phone while curled up in a living room chair.
My father had been calling me repeatedly for the last week and I had yet to take his calls. He had called mostly while I had been teaching and hadn’t been able to talk. And I had ignored one of his calls because Nick and I had been watching another Western.
Presumably, he wanted to scold me about breaking up with Logan, so I hadn’t been in a big hurry to call him back.
But it was now an early Sunday morning and I had no good excuse for dodging another call. Nick was still sleeping in my bed upstairs and it was better to get this call over with sooner rather than later.
“It is extremely rude not to return a phone call, Emmeline,” my father said.
“I agree and apologize. This has been a busy week but I understand that is not a valid excuse.”
“It is not. Your manners are dwindling. Likely because of your new environment. Are the uncivilized rural country folk rubbing off on you?”
Normally, I would let that insult slide but I was still half asleep and had yet to consume any caffeine, so my retort slipped out easily.
“Now who has forgotten their manners?”
“Do not speak to me in that tone!”
I winced and held the phone away from my ear. “May I please ask the reason for this early morning phone call, Father? It is, after all, barely six in the morning in Montana. Surely, you recall I am in a different time zone.”
“Mind your attitude, Emmeline,” he said. “I am calling because I ran into Logan last weekend at a benefit for the Met.”
My intuition had been correct. He had called because of Logan. I was surprised it had taken him this long. It was early February and we had broken up back in November.
“And?”
“And he was with a friend of yours from college. An Alice Leys.”
That stung a littl
e, but I wasn’t terribly surprised. I had no doubt that when Alice had learned Logan was once again single, she’d immediately moved in. I just hoped that she had genuine feelings for him, not just his wallet.
But I certainly wasn’t going to let my father in on any of this. I just hoped that his call was only to berate me about Logan and that Steffie hadn’t slipped and told him about Nick.
“And?” I asked again.
“And!” he yelled.
I don’t know why I’d jumped. It shouldn’t have surprised me that he was shouting.
This time I didn’t put the phone back to my ear. He kept on screaming and for the sake of my eardrum, I listened to it from a few inches away.
“How could you be so foolish? You’ve chosen to live in a backwoods hick town for what? To teach the dunce children of adult halfwits? You get your ass back here and make this right with Logan. That alleged friend of yours was hanging all over him. If you’re lucky, you may still have a chance to get him back. I am sending a plane. Now, Emmeline.”
“I’m not returning to the city,” I said. My voice was steady though my pulse was racing and my fingers were shaking.
“You are,” he ordered.
“I am not.”
The shouting stopped, which meant things were about to get much worse. Whenever Trent Austin wanted to make a point with his children, he did it with vicious, but quiet attacks. When he was shouting, I stood a chance.
“I’m surprised at you, Emmeline.” His tone was normal, likely the same one he used with his yachting buddies or his suit tailor. “Even when I think you can’t possibly disappoint me further, you sink so far beneath my expectations it’s a wonder I set them at all. It’s no surprise that you had to trade sexual favors to be a successful fundraiser. Tell me. Is that why your team was always so far ahead? Because you were fucking our wealthiest contributors?”
I closed my eyes and sank further into the chair. He knew that I would never prostitute myself for campaign donations, but he was throwing the lie out there as a reminder that he could still smear my reputation.
