First Choice, Second Chance

by Lynn Rae

  “With the goal of moving up the tourism ladder to Marfield after Palmer.” Paul’s careful tone made her wince, and she shifted her body to face him. He watched her with a neutral expression. Was he wondering when she’d leave?

  “They probably already have someone local in mind. Right now, I have to keep working hard here no matter how little it seems to matter.”

  He sighed, and she knew he was thinking of his sister. Now, Emily was, and the idea that bossy Shelly had invaded their private moment made her angry. She twisted in his arms and rose on an elbow to face him, willing herself not to be distracted from enjoying him by any outside force. Paul eased his hold on her until she settled and then rolled her closer, aligning her belly with his.

  “Do you want me to talk with her?” Paul said. He raised one eyebrow.

  Emily shook her head. She needed to fight her battles. “I’ll get there.”

  Paul nodded and appeared satisfied with her answer. “You do good work. I’ve looked at what you’ve done online, and I’m impressed.”

  “You looked at the website?” Emily broke in, excited he’d been interested enough to bother.

  “I have.” His hands wandered across her body, and she wriggled closer to him. Oh, if only she could sleep tonight, sleep with him beside her. It wouldn’t be so bad to wake up at three in the morning to worry about things if he was there, keeping her company in the dark. He’d have to invite her to stay, of course, but judging by his contented grin, he would, soon.

  “It looks great and so does the Facebook page. She shouldn’t be so hard on you.”

  She shrugged and stroked at his shoulders as she pressed her feet against his. “I think she pushes more because I’m a woman, and she thinks I need to toughen up in order to succeed.”

  “Sounds like her.” Paul’s nose bumped into her cheek, and he huffed out a soft laugh until he found her mouth for a slow, simple kiss. “I like you the way you are.”

  Warm affection filled her. Being around this man was like a tonic; she felt more content and energized than she had in years.

  “I bought you a toothbrush today.” Paul maneuvered himself up on an elbow and slid one of his legs between hers. That was quite all right; the tickle of his leg hairs made her shiver.

  “That’s thoughtful. More practical than flowers.” Emily smiled at his subtle maneuver.

  “It’s not intended as a gift like that. You get flowers tomorrow. Big, beautiful, clichéd flowers. The toothbrush is for you while you’re here.”

  All Emily could say was a muffled, “Oh.” Paul had stopped kissing her shoulder and was peering down at her, his mouth curved into a smile, but hesitancy filled his eyes. She tried to breathe as she absorbed his intentions.

  “Do you want me to brush my teeth now?” She danced away from acknowledging his invitation directly. It seemed better that way, less meaningful.

  “Aren’t you hungry for dinner?”

  Emily stopped short, completely shocked she’d forgotten about eating. “You distracted me.”

  “I’m sorry.” He sounded anything but as his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’ll feed you, I promise. But, about that toothbrush…”

  He trailed off and waited for her, studying her intently as his gently stroking hands stilled on her back. She read hope and caution in equal parts, a match to her own heart.

  “What color is it?”

  “Green.”

  “My favorite.”

  “So you’ll stay?” As she nodded her agreement to his question, Paul let out a rush of breath and smiled.

  Emily swallowed, a lump of some emotion tightening her throat. “But, I have to warn you…” She paused and decided on full disclosure rather than pretending she was normal. She didn’t have her prescriptions, her chamomile tea, her favorite soothing books, or her white-noise machine, so this sleepover might be painful for both of them. “I wake up a lot. I might not be the easiest person to sleep with.”

  He grinned at her, and she swallowed when she realized how it had sounded. “Unless you already think I’m easy.”

  Paul’s eyebrows rose at her taunt, and she bit her lip to stop the smile she was repressing. “I’m not going near that. Tell me what you need to help you sleep.”

  Chapter 7

  Paul woke slowly, an uncustomary lethargy filling him. With a warm flush of satisfaction, he remembered Emily. Remembered what they’d done. Remembered the two times she’d awoken him by accident in the night and how apologetic she’d been. With relief, he realized she was still there, her sleeping body close at hand and still, except for her deep breathing.

  Turning his head as slowly as he could, Paul allowed himself the indulgence of studying her as she slept. Her red-brown hair curled across the pillow, and her face, normally so carefully held, relaxed into soft curves. She drew in a deep breath and wrinkled her nose before scrunching herself farther under the blanket with a little grunt.

  Debating whether he should slide away and start some coffee for him and tea for her, or stay and watch her as long as he could, Paul realized underneath the pleasure was a worrisome thread of impending loss. Not only would she be leaving his bed soon, she’d leave the house, leave him, and if circumstances intervened, she might never return. Second thoughts or pressure from disapproving friends and family could end things between them before they’d even begun.

  He must have sighed too loudly, because the lump under the blankets next to him moved a few times and then a tousled head emerged and sleepy green eyes blinked.

  “Morning,” Emily croaked with a smile, and the worry in his heart eased. He returned her greeting with kiss, and she slid his way, her soft arms and thighs brushing against his own, her breasts pressed to his chest as she nuzzled his neck and made little purring sounds in her throat. Emily was a morning person, it seemed, despite her insomnia. “I actually slept well, for me. Sorry I woke you.”

  Paul hadn’t minded the interruption; the emergency statue-committee meeting was in the afternoon, so sleeping in wasn’t a problem. She’d been so sweet to him with her soft words and gentle touches it was worth a few minutes of waking in the dark. He stroked his hands down her back and brought them to the upper swell of her buttocks.

  “Go ahead, I know you want to.” Emily made a soft and happy sound as he squeezed her tight to him. He hadn’t wanted to make her feel like an object last night, but she had to sense how much he liked her body. Outside the Playboy magazines he’d studied as a teen, he’d never seen such a beautifully shaped woman. Emily was curve after fragrant, feminine curve, and he felt like he could stare at her for hours. Stroke her for days on end. He rolled onto his back and pulled her on top where she squeaked and squirmed against him. The bed thumped against the wall like it had the night before, and he reminded himself to check the frame before she came over again.

  “What would you like to do?”

  “You mean, right now?”

  Now, for breakfast, this afternoon, the rest of the week, Paul wanted to say as he looked up at the flushed and drowsy woman straddling him. Because he couldn’t resist, he slid his hands up her arms and reached to cup her breasts. Sucking in a breath, Emily arched and flung her head back as he ran his thumbs across her firm nipples. Okay, so this was a great way to start the day. With a pulse of warmth in his groin, Paul was pleased to discover exactly what he’d like to do at the moment. She was so tender and sweet he didn’t know where to start.

  A sudden banging noise startled him, and he released his hold on Emily to rise off the bed. As Emily turned toward the noise, he looked over her shoulder to see Courtney standing in the doorway, eyes wide, and her mouth hanging open in shock. Emily was stiff against him as her fingers dug into his biceps, and for a breath, Paul didn’t know what to do. Cover Emily, was his first coherent thought.

  “Out, Courtney, now,” he ordered his daughter as he pulled the blanket over Emily’s bare body. He shifted out from under her, bunching more blanket over his erection.

  Courtney s
hook her head once, her mouth turning down into a wobbling frown. “Dad! How could you?”

  Tucking the blanket around Emily’s shoulders, Paul met her gaze. Her green eyes were wide with shock and glittered with new tears; she pressed her lips together and lowered her head. Instead of comforting her as he longed to do, he slid to the edge of the mattress and cast about for his underwear.

  “Courtney, I said, out. You have no right—”

  “I have every right! What are you doing bringing this woman into Mom’s bed?” His daughter’s face reddened as she stared at Emily crouched against the headboard.

  Paul stood up with a bit of bunched sheet held in front of his waist, his distress overtaking his wish for modesty. “This isn’t your mother’s bed. I bought it last year. My bedroom is none of your business. Get out, Courtney.”

  With a squeal of frustration, his daughter whirled away, the sound of stomping marking her progress back into the house. Christ, what a mess. Stooping to pick up his underwear from the haphazard pile of their clothing he’d assembled the night before, Paul quickly pulled them on and turned to Emily.

  Tears trickled down her face, and she sniffed as she tightened the coverings around her like she could ward off the unkind words.

  “I’m so sorry.” He reached out a hand to her, and she grasped it firmly.

  “Go talk with her. She’s upset.”

  “So are you. We’ll go out there together.” Paul dressed silently and kept an eye on Emily as she reassembled her outfit from the night before. She struggled to untangle her underwear, and when she dropped her hands in defeat, he reached over and took them from her shaking fingers. After smoothing out the seams, he handed them back as she whispered, thanks. This was not at all what he’d imagined when he’d fantasized about their first morning together. Within a minute they were dressed. Emily’s face was pale but composed as she exited the bedroom, and they walked toward the kitchen where Courtney likely waited.

  His daughter had left a broken picture and an overturned chair in her wake and as Paul entered the family room, he saw Courtney at the kitchen counter as she held up Emily’s bag. The embarrassment and anger he’d been feeling morphed into outrage.

  “Courtney! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Who is she, Dad? Forget it, I definitely don’t want to know.” His daughter slid the purse across the counter in their direction as if it was contaminated. Emily stepped forward and grasped at her bag, pulling it to her chest like a buffer.

  “I-I want to leave,” Emily said, turning tear-filled eyes his way. She had to feel utterly humiliated, and Paul’s earlier sense of foreboding returned in force. Emily would never want to see him again after this. Shutting down painful regret, Paul asked her to make sure she had everything, and at Emily’s small nod, he escorted her to the door and followed her outside. His car, the one Courtney had taken the night before, was parked close enough to Emily’s small sedan she had to struggle to open her door and not hit it. Courtney hadn’t been so careful; his Tesla had a brand-new dent in the fender. Christ.

  “Emily, I don’t know what to say other than I’m so sorry.”

  “I know. Go talk to her, she’s upset.” With jerky movements, Emily dropped her bag on the passenger seat and got behind the wheel, all without looking up. Loss filled him.

  “I’ll call you later.” He offered up a feeble assurance, and Emily turned her head up to peer at him, tears already streaking her cheeks as she nodded once and backed her car away. He watched as Emily disappeared down the street, more than likely to disappear from his life as well. A stab of grief chilled him, and he turned back to his house to deal with his child.

  As he returned to the kitchen, he saw Courtney was busy with her smartphone and a terrible thought intruded. “You aren’t posting anything about this, are you?”

  “Are you kidding? Why would I embarrass myself like that?”

  His self-imposed parental rules cracked apart as he looked at her sour face. Karen had always said it wasn’t fair when a parent attacked a child because of the inherent power imbalance, but Paul was tired of maneuvering around Courtney’s bad behavior. “You mean, embarrass yourself more than you already have?”

  “What? I’m not the one screwing some fat skank. I mean, disgusting, Dad.”

  Paul’s peripheral vision vanished in a reddening cloud of anger. “Don’t speak that way about her. You’re so out of line I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “Jeesh, I brought the car back, saw some strange car in the drive, and thought someone might have killed you. Excuse me for caring.”

  “Right. Because murderers just park in plain sight on a Sunday morning. And by the way, no more taking my car. Next time, I report it stolen.” The declaration felt like a pin stuck in his side for hours had suddenly been removed, the relief was so great.

  Courtney’s eyes widened, and she grimaced. “Stolen? Are you kidding me? Just because you’re mad I broke up your gross sex party?”

  Her disrespect shattered the last bit of control he had. “And while we’re on the subject of keys, hand the house ones over.”

  She shook her head once. “The keys to the house, you want me to turn over the keys to my house?”

  “You have your own place now. I want mine back.” He couldn’t believe he was making this demand, couldn’t believe he was cutting them apart like this, but her invasion had broken whatever trust he’d had in her.

  “Mom would never act this way. She’d never be with some foul guy; she’d never yell; she’d never take my home away from me!” Courtney wailed as she stomped from the kitchen, snagging her phone and slouchy bag as she moved. For the first time, Paul was unmoved by her tantrum and guilt-inducing accusations. Maybe Karen would have been more indulgent with Courtney if he’d suddenly passed away, but he had his doubts. It didn’t matter anyway, his daughter had behaved in a terrible manner, and he wanted it to stop.

  He didn’t hold out much hope for the return of his house key as he followed her to the front door. “How are you going to get home?”

  “I’m calling Haylie—”

  “Courtney, no, she just had a baby. I’ll take you.” He could do that at least. Weariness filled him as he looked at his child struggling with something in her bag all while scowling and twisting. She was so unhappy, so easily angered. He didn’t know what had gone so wrong.

  “As if I’d go anywhere with you.” With a hiss, Courtney raised her hand and threw something small and glittering at him. With an instinctive duck, Paul avoided being struck and turned to watch the trajectory of her missile. Whatever it was struck with a metallic ping on the front door, and as he turned back to her, he saw Courtney striding away down the drive without a glance back. Christ, what a mess.

  “She’s wrong for you.” Shelly made her judgment in a reasonable tone of voice as she poured Paul a cup of coffee, while they sat at the counter of her newly renovated French country kitchen. He wanted to see Emily so badly his head hurt, but she hadn’t replied to his calls or texts, and when he’d driven by her home on the way over to his sister’s, her car hadn’t been parked nearby. He couldn’t blame her for avoiding him.

  Shelly had called him over to pick her up for the emergency meeting to discuss Great-Great-Uncle Peter’s lost head, but Paul had suspected she’d learned of his and Emily’s new relationship. Either Courtney had poured her rage out to her cousin Haylie, who’d passed it along to her mother, or his daughter had gone directly to her aunt. Either way, it was clear Shelly knew, disapproved, and was prepared to correct his behavior. Paul wondered again why he hadn’t gotten a little sister who admired him from the start.

  “I’m not discussing it with you, Shelly. It’s none of your business.”

  “Of course it’s my business. You made it my business when you traumatized my niece and when you crossed the line with one of my staff.”

  “Technically, she works for the city commissioners.”

  Shelly drew back, her dark eyes fla
shing a warning. “She’s under my direct supervision. You know the commissioners come in once a week at best. I’m on duty twenty-four-seven even though I’ve been on the sidelines because of this damned knee.”

  Paul took a sip of the excellent coffee and wondered how far he was willing to go against Shelly. Pretty far, if the burning misery in his gut was any indicator. “I repeat, it’s none of your business. And if Courtney feels traumatized, it’s her own fault for invading my, our, privacy.”

  “It’s only natural she considers it her house, too. She grew up there.”

  “And she moved out. We’re both adults. I don’t go in her home uninvited, and I deserve the same courtesy from her.” Paul knew his sister had taken on a more motherly, mentoring approach with Courtney when Karen had passed away, but indulgence and understanding seemed to be backfiring with his daughter.

  Shelly shook her head, unimpressed with his reasoning. “You should have seen her; she was sobbing and nearly hyperventilating.”

  A flare of anger warmed Paul’s gut. “And you should have seen her behavior at my house. Invading my bedroom. Knocking things over. The language she used. She owes me and Emily an apology. Especially Emily.”

  Shelly blinked and raised her eyebrows, clearly unaware of how awful the encounter had been. His daughter had conveniently glossed over her bad behavior as usual. Even though she’d been the wronged party, Emily had nothing but concern and sympathy for his daughter. It was too bad neither Courtney nor Shelly could emulate her. His admiration for Emily grew with every supportive and understanding thing she’d done.