by Noelle Adams
She sucked in an outraged breath. “So now you know more than Frank about art? I guess you really do know everything.”
It looked like she would say something else. It looked like she wanted to pummel him. But instead, she gave her body a little shake. She whirled around and strode toward the door. Before she did, she stopped, turned on her heel, and walked back.
She was scowling as she said, “Don’t forget your apples.” She handed him the bag before she stormed back to the door.
“Em, wait!”
She didn’t wait. She was gone before Ward could do or say anything else.
EM SHOULD HAVE ENJOYED dinner, but she didn’t.
Both Frank and Riot were in fine form, telling stories and laughing a lot. The food and wine was good, and they lingered over dinner for a couple of hours. But Em was faking her good mood most of the time, and she was relieved when she finally said goodbye to the other two.
It was harder than it should have been to get rid of Frank. He drove her back to Pemberley House and walked her to the door, and she couldn’t get him to leave until she said that her father was in bed and couldn’t be disturbed.
Finally she was alone with her flurried thoughts. She took a long shower and changed into her pajamas and texted Liz for a while and then got into bed.
But she couldn’t sleep.
She kept replaying her conversation with Ward, and it kept making her angrier and angrier.
Why was he acting that way? It was becoming more and more frequent lately. Like she was still a child and he knew everything and she could never make a good decision.
She didn’t deserve it.
After an hour, she jumped out of bed. She had to do something about it. Right now. She’d never be able to sleep otherwise.
She was wearing a red silk camisole and matching pants, and it was too cold to go outside in just that. So she put on slippers and a long, thick sweater, belting it as she made her way out of the condo and downstairs until she was walking out into the brisk night air.
She knew her way to Ward’s cottage. She walked swiftly. Soon she was banging on his door.
It was almost midnight. Not the normal time to pay a visit. She could have called him first, but she hadn’t even thought about it. Half the time, he had his phone silenced anyway.
The door swung open abruptly, and Ward stood in front of her in flannel sleep pants, a bare chest, rumpled hair, and an urgent expression. “Em, what’s wrong?” he demanded.
“Nothing.” She should have known he’d assume this was an emergency.
“Then what the hell are you doing here?”
Her eyes kept dropping to his bare chest. He had chest hair and well-defined muscles. He did a lot of manual labor, and it showed in his body. “I wanted to talk to you,” she managed to say.
“What? Talk? In the middle of the night? Why couldn’t it wait until tomorrow?”
All her grievances hit her in a wave again. She glared. “Because I have some things to say to you, and I want to say them now.”
“Say what?”
“Can I at least come inside? It’s cold out.”
He made a gruff sound and stepped out of the way so she could enter. He’d managed to keep the place fairly neat since they’d rearranged the furniture last week. There were a few piles of books scattered around and a sweatshirt draped over a chair but no dirty dishes or clutter.
“Now what the hell, Em?”
“Don’t what the hell me,” she snapped, refusing to let herself get distracted by his home or his bare chest. “You were an asshole, and I deserve to tell you so.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were too an asshole. When I was a kid, maybe I did some stupid things and deserved the little lectures you gave me, but I’m not a kid anymore, and you can’t treat me like I am.”
“I don’t treat you like a—”
“Yes, you do. Every time I see you now, you’re telling me all the things I’m doing wrong.”
“I’m just trying to help. You don’t have much family and—”
“You are not my family,” she gritted out. She hated the idea of him being her family, although she couldn’t fully explain why. She was way too riled up about this, but there was nothing she could do about it. All these feelings had to come out. “You’re a family friend. And I hope you always will be. But you’re not my father or my big brother or in any position to tell me what to do. I’m an adult woman. An adult woman, Ward. You need to treat me like a woman.”
Something changed in his expression as she spoke. His features tightened. His muscles tensed. He was almost shaking, like he was holding back something very strong. “Em,” he rasped. “I can’t treat you...”
He trailed off, leaving her gaping. “You can’t treat me like a woman? Why not? I’m twenty-six. And no matter what you think, I’ve done just fine managing my life up until this point. So tell me exactly why you’re incapable of treating me like a woman and not a child.”
He didn’t answer. He just stood there, his hands clenched at his sides. Something was smoldering in his blue eyes, but she didn’t understand it.
It left her breathless though. She swayed toward him unconsciously, suddenly needing to put her hands on his bare chest. Feel the dark bristles on his jaw. Run her fingers through his thick hair.
Ward jerked back abruptly. “Em, you need to leave. Right now.”
“I don’t want to leave.” She felt like she’d been slapped, but she tried to return to her previous indignation. “I want to have this conversation.”
“We can have it. I promise we can. But we can’t have it right now. We can’t have it like this.”
“Like what?” Stupidly she really thought he would answer her.
He didn’t. He opened the front door, letting in a blast of cold air. “We can talk later.”
“I don’t want to talk later. I want to talk now.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe you can get what you want most of the time, but you can’t get it right now. Get out of here, Em.”
“You’re really kicking me out?” It was like her favorite dog had suddenly given her a painful bite. It hurt that much.
“Yes, I’m kicking you out. Get out. We’ll talk later.”
She didn’t remember moving, but she was outside nonetheless. Ward was closing the door in her face.
He’d really kicked her out.
And she had absolutely no idea why.
He must really be angry with her if he’d treated her like that. He never had before. But she couldn’t imagine what she’d done to upset him that way.
It was terrible.
It felt terrible.
Everything was terrible.
But she couldn’t do anything about it. She could pound on his door, but he wasn’t going to open it again.
She had no choice left but to walk back home.
She cried a little bit along the way.
Three
THE FOLLOWING DAY, Em was feeling better. At least she was more in control.
She was in that thick, hard haze where you’ve convinced yourself you’re just fine and you’re not going to let someone else get you down, but beneath the veneer of cheerfulness was a well of unresolved emotion.
But that was better than wanting to cry all the time.
She was fine. She was a nice person and she had a good life, and Ward Knightley wasn’t going to change that.
She didn’t care about him that much anyway.
She knew that wasn’t true. She had very few people in her life who knew her beyond the surface. Ward was one of them.
And if he knew her and didn’t like what he knew, then there was nothing she could do about that.
So she was going to be happy. And she was going to be herself. And Ward’s disapproval wasn’t going to turn her into someone she wasn’t.
She had plenty of other things to think about. Today she was hosting a brunch to celebrate Jane’s and Liz’s engagements.
She’d inv
ited mostly people from Pemberley House since it wasn’t supposed to be a huge affair. But Liz and Jane’s family was invited—including Riot—and Vince’s mother and Charlie’s parents. And she’d also invited Frank since she’d seen him the day before and she wanted to make sure he thought positively of Riot. So she was having more than thirty people over at ten this morning, and there was a lot to do in preparation.
She’d had Stella’s, her favorite local bakery and restaurant, cater the meal, and their staff came early to set up the tables and lay out the buffet. And Riot came early as well, helping to arrange the flowers and fix everything up.
Em had to admit she was really good at it. She probably would have been great as a party planner.
But that didn’t mean Ward was right—about anything.
Em felt hassled and discombobulated even after the guests arrived and everyone started to eat. The food was delicious, and everyone was having a good time.
But Ward was sitting there at a table next to Em’s father, looking gravely over the proceedings. Occasionally, when she looked over, his eyes would be moving from her face, so he was evidently watching her.
Disapproving of her again.
She’d done everything she could do to be a good, substantial person. To contribute to the world. To not be a spoiled princess who had everything handed to her on a silver platter and thought of nothing but buying new shoes.
But it was evidently not enough for Ward.
He still thought she was forever lacking.
“What’s the matter, Em?” The voice belonged to Anne, the other of Em’s best friends, and it came up behind her as Em was staring blankly out a window in the kitchen on the pretense of checking her stock of champagne.
Em turned around with a bright smile. “Nothing. Just taking a breather.”
Anne was short and curvy with auburn hair and thoughtful brown eyes. She was the quietest of their group of friends, and she was out of town a lot traveling for her job. “You really think I’m going to believe that?”
Em sighed and made a face. “It’s really nothing major. Just...”
“Just what?”
“Ward.”
“What did he do now?”
“The same as usual. Lecture me and make me feel like I’m always doing something wrong.”
“You know he doesn’t think that. He loves you like family.”
Something inside Em resisted that statement. She wasn’t even sure why. Her mouth twisted, and she glanced away.
“You don’t think he loves you?” Anne asked, stepping closer and speaking even more softly.
“I don’t know. I’m sure he does. You just don’t know what it’s like to have someone think everything you do is wrong.”
Anne gave a soft huff of amusement. “Yes, I do.”
Em turned quickly toward her friend, immediately distracted by the dryness of her tone. Anne was a good friend, but she was also a very private person. She didn’t share deeply about her feelings. “Who thinks everything you do is—”
“It’s not a big deal, Em. I have issues with my father and sister. I’m pretty much over them now. But my point is that everyone has to deal with that occasionally. If it’s your family, you just deal with it and try to love them anyway.”
“I know. But Ward isn’t my family.”
Anne was frowning as she glanced into the main room to give the party a quick glance. “What’s really going on, Em? Why is this bothering you so much? Hasn’t Knightley given you little lectures all your life?”
“Yes. He has. When I was a kid, it bothered me but didn’t seem like a big deal. But I’m not a kid anymore, and he’s still...”
Anne’s brown eyes widened. “You don’t want him to treat you like a kid.”
Something in her friend’s tone raised Em’s defenses. “Of course I don’t. Who would? I’m twenty-six.”
“But it’s more than that. It’s Knightley. Are you... are you thinking about him as... more?”
“No!” The word was sharp, and it startled Em herself. “Don’t be silly. I just want him to think I’m a decent person, and he doesn’t.”
“Of course he does. He knows you’re a decent person. He knows you’re generous and thoughtful and kind. He knows you always try to take care of people, and he knows you’d do anything for the people you love. He knows all that about you, just like everyone else who knows you does.”
Ridiculously, Em’s eyes burned with emotion. “You make me sound better than I am.”
“No, I don’t. I make you sound exactly as you are. I know it. Liz and Jane know it. Your father knows it. And Knightley knows it too. He probably just thinks the lectures are his way of caring about you—no matter how annoying they are. I know you’ve always fought against the image of yourself as a useless spoiled princess, but you aren’t that. And no one who really knows you thinks you are.”
Em sniffed and gave her friend a little smile. “You shouldn’t make me all weepy when I have a house full of guests.”
Anne laughed and reached out for a quick hug. “Well, I didn’t mean to. Just trying to be a good friend.”
Em extended the hug a little longer. “You are a good friend. Thank you.”
“And don’t worry about Knightley. Whatever happened can be fixed the way it always has before.”
“I hope so.” Em straightened up and shook herself off. “Okay. We can’t linger in here all morning. Ward might shake his head disapprovingly at me again.” Her tone was light so Anne wouldn’t think she was serious.
She wasn’t sure why she was so uptight about Ward recently. He wasn’t acting all that different than he had all her life. Anne was right. He’d always given her lectures, tried to make sure she followed his advice.
She’d always shrugged it off before.
He’d been so gruff and abrupt last night, practically pushing her out of his house. He’d never acted like that before.
It had really upset her. She could pretend she was fine, that she was happy. But she couldn’t shrug it off this time.
WARD WASN’T HAVING a good time at the brunch.
In fact, he wished he could be anywhere else in the world.
He normally liked to hang out at the Woodsons’. It felt like home—both the place and the company. But last night had unsettled him to such an extent he wasn’t sure he could be trusted in Em’s company.
When she’d showed up at his door in the middle of the night, wearing her pajamas and looking delectably rumpled, he’d been so close to dragging her into his bed that he’d been terrified. Traumatized.
He’d wanted her so much. Now that he was conscious of it, he couldn’t make himself forget or ignore it. And it seemed to get stronger every time he saw her.
Pretty soon he’d be incapable of being in her presence. He’d never been a man who struggled with controlling himself, but he was definitely struggling now.
It was hell.
And, as far as he could tell, it wasn’t going to get any better.
Talking to her sweet-natured father at the brunch just made him feel even guiltier. How betrayed would Mr. Woodson feel if he ever discovered that Ward wanted Em in such a wrong way?
Ward couldn’t even process the possibility in his mind.
He had to get over this. He had to avoid Em as much as possible until he had it under control.
Surely there was a safe way of dealing with urges such as this.
Maybe he just needed sex. It had been a long time for him. Maybe that was his problem. Simple, physical needs. And somehow his mind had twisted them and channeled them into the wrong person.
Maybe...
“You’re quieter than usual today.”
Ward blinked when he realized the words were addressed to him. He turned his head and smiled at Mrs. Darcy. He’d met her several times. She owned an antique shop on Main Street, and her son Vince was marrying Liz Berkley. “Oh. I’m sorry. Just lost in my own thoughts.”
“They don’t look like good thoughts.
” Her smile was gracious, but her eyes were observant.
Shit. How much had he betrayed of all his angsty brooding? “Nothing serious.”
If she wasn’t convinced, at least she didn’t pursue the subject. “Every time I visit Pemberley House, it looks more and more beautiful. You do an amazing job.”
“Thank you.” Since Ward had always taken praise of the estate as a personal compliment, his smile was genuine.
“Do you miss living in the house itself? It must be a big change from having the whole house to yourself.”
“It is a change, but I actually like it better. What would I do in a drafty enormous place all by myself? The upkeep cost a fortune, and I prefer for the old house to be lived in for real.”
“That’s lovely. I know my son loves living here and not just because it’s where he met his fiancée.” She was smiling in a way that proved she was delighted by her son’s new relational status. “I think it’s amazing how you’ve given this old place a brand-new life.”
“Thank you. I’m afraid my grandmother doesn’t agree with you.”
“She doesn’t approve of the conversion?”
“No. She wanted it to stay as one property—under Knightley ownership—and I can understand why. But there was no way I could make the money work.” He shrugged, feeling a familiar pull in his chest, the one that always faintly wondered if he’d let his family down. “I did the best I could.”
“You’ve done wonderfully.” Mrs. Darcy reached out and patted his forearm. “Your parents would be so proud of you.”
It meant something to Ward. The kind words. Even from a woman he didn’t know very well and could very well be wrong about his Knightley predecessors’ opinion of his choices. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Now tell me who is that young man talking to Em Woodson?”
Ward had been avoiding looking in Em’s direction, but he had no choice now. His eyes turned to her lovely, laughing face. She wore a scoop-neck rose-colored cashmere sweater and a brown skirt with brown leather boots. She had her hair pulled back in a low bun, but several strands had slipped out to frame her face. His heart lurched ridiculously when he focused on her.
