“Have a seat. let me show you what happened.”
I do as she says and take her phone when she offers it, pressing play on the video.
A group of mostly women stand around in a circle as an incredibly skilled woman, who I assume is the instructor, demonstrates what she wants the class to do. A few people line up and attempt to follow her lead. That’s when I spot Emi on the far side, away from most people, looking panicked. She’s shaking her head rapidly, mouthing ‘no’ to the instructor.
When I found her on the floor earlier, I didn’t notice her outfit, but now, I take the time to appreciate the form-fitting black yoga pants and matching tank. Every curve is on display, and if she’d just tilt to the left, I could see her ass fully. My dick starts to swell, thinking about peeling her out of the outfit.
There’s always next time.
“Don’t be a sissy, Em! Try it, I dare you!” Maren’s voice rings out on the recording, bringing me back to the class.
Emi flashes her eyes to the camera, fire blazing, and flips Maren off, then starts to crouch. She’s unsteady on her feet; even from a distance, I see her calves twitching. Arms cross in front of her as she goes to balance on one foot, stretching the other horizontally. Then it happens. She loses balance, starts to wobble, and her balancing foot slips. She lands awkwardly on the extended leg in a one-sided split and howls.
“Oh, shit,” Maren is heard muttering just before the video cuts off.
“Fuck,” I cringe, cupping my cock and groin with sympathy pains shooting down my leg. “Why were you taping this?”
“To show her afterwards she could do it.”
“That didn’t work out too well,” I point out.
“I know, that’s why I’m plying her with wine, making your dinner, and giving you an out. I’ll stay so you aren’t subjected to the endless torture of her tonight.” She starts rolling pizza dough onto a round stone.
“I’m not going anywhere.” She stops mid-roll and flashes me an approving smile.
“Good answer.”
“What kind of fucking men have you women dated?” I may not be the poster child for relationships, but I know how to treat a woman.
“Well, as you know, I dated the limp-dick of all assholes. She told me she told you about him. Emi’s never dated. I mean, she’s had dates, she’d had sex—”
“Stop right there,” I growl, not interested in hearing more.
“Oooh, the possessive type?”
I start to tell her exactly how possessive I can be, but take a large slug of beer instead.
“Help me!” Emi screams, and I leap up, the chair falling back, ready to get to her.
“Let me.” Maren puts a hand to my chest. “She’s naked and embarrassed.”
“I’ve seen naked women before,” I protest.
“Yes, but we both know this is different.”
“Call me when she’s dressed and I’ll come get her.”
She nods and I follow her out of the kitchen. She goes to Emi’s room, while I go to clear the couch for Emi to lay. A few minutes later, they appear in the hallway, Emi leaning on Maren’s shoulder, hobbling in.
I go to her, lifting her and laying her down on the chaise until she assures me she’s comfortable. Maren disappears, leaving us alone.
“I’m going to rub some arnica in the area, and then we’re going to alternate between ice packs and heating pads for most of the night.” I prop her leg on my knee and massage the ointment on the injured area tenderly. When I get to the ligament, she inhales sharply and I go slower, feeling the tightening beneath my fingers.
“Do you have your gun?” She whimpers.
“I always have my gun.”
“Can I shoot Maren? This is all her fault.”
“You’ll be fine soon. No need for first degree murder.”
“How about manslaughter?” she asks so seriously, I stop rubbing to stare at her.
“How about a kiss instead?” I position her leg back and shift to her side, sliding my arm around her shoulders.
“Thank you, Walker,” she says softly, cupping my cheek and bringing her lips to mine.
“Always, Emi.”
I sweep her hair off her forehead and pat the back of her head lightly. “Time to move, gorgeous.”
She lets out a mix between a huff and a snort, clutching my forearm and nuzzling into my neck. My arm tingles where it long ago fell asleep when Emi laid across me. I may have protested that her lounger was too small when she begged me to lay with her, but I was wrong. It’s a tight squeeze, but we fit. That is if you count her lying basically on top of me. I didn’t mind, and she passed out almost immediately, her small snores vibrating on my chest as I watched TV. Every hour, I alternated between placing ice and heat on her groin for twenty minutes. She slept through most of it, murmuring something indiscernible each time I got up, then quickly making herself comfortable.
“Emerson?” I circle my thumb on the skin below her ear. “Let’s see if I can get you to bed.”
“Don’t you ever sleep?” she mumbles groggily.
“I’ll sleep much better once we get to a bed.”
“I think Maren drugged me. She put drugs in our pizza.”
“I ate the same pizza and I’m fine.”
“Yeah, but you’re a big guy. You probably wouldn’t notice.”
“I can assure you I’d notice. Besides, if you were drugged, I doubt you’d wake up every hour to let me take care of your leg.”
“Ummmmm, that felt nice.” Her moan sends a direct message to my dick, which starts to stir. It’s been an uphill battle all night with her situated on me, but I’ve kept reminding myself she’s hurt. But when she moans like that, all bets are off.
“Up we go.” I bend at the waist, sitting us up, careful of her position.
“No, wait.” She flattens the hand that’s holding my forearm, and braces. “I think I can walk.”
“Tomorrow, you’ll walk. Tonight, I’ve got you.” I untangle our bodies, my arm shooting with fiery prickles as the circulation flows. Ignoring the discomfort, I get to my feet, bringing her with me.
“I like this.” She places a hand on my shoulder to hold on. “It’s hot that you can carry me like I weigh nothing and take care of me.”
“Hot, huh?” I peek down at her and stop mid step. Her eyes are glazed over with sleep, but she’s staring at me so adoringly my stomach gets the familiar buzz that only she can cause.
“Hot, Walker Scott, you are so hot. I’ve hit the jackpot.”
“There’s still a lot you have to learn about me, Emi. I can assure you I’m not a jackpot.”
“You are to me.” Her eyes flutter closed again and she lets out a breath, falling back asleep.
“Emi?” She doesn’t answer or stir, even when I bend to put her in bed. Thankfully, Maren pulled back her sheets before she left, leaving me to tuck her in.
I kiss her cheek before going to turn off the lights and make sure the doors are locked. There’s a bottle on the counter I didn’t notice when I cleaned the kitchen. I look closer at the label and laugh quietly. Maren didn’t exactly drug Emi, unless you count Aleve PM mixed with two large glasses of white wine.
I pick up the duffle bag I dropped earlier and make my way to her bathroom to get ready for bed. My watch reads four a.m., which means I usually need to get up soon to work out, but seeing as I missed today and Emi’s condition, looks like I’ll miss again. Quickly, I change and brush my teeth then head back to her.
She’s sitting up in bed, looking around, confused until her eyes meet mine. They soften immediately, and she pats the spot next to her. I crawl in, careful of her position until she plops across me and starts running her fingers along my tattoo again.
“I love your tattoos,” she whispers.
“I’m glad.”
“I want one now.” She slurs a bit.
“Where?”
“I don’t know. I’ll let you decide.”
My heart beat races and I star
t to ask more, but her warm breath coats my chest and she’s back asleep.
I reach over and turn off the lamp, my mind spinning with so many things, all of them revolving around Emerson.
The rebel rouser from Summerville that caused trouble every chance he got. The Army grunt who was a sure bet to drop out. The soldier who proved everyone wrong and became an officer of the law.
The same man who has Emerson in his arms, her sweet body wrapped around me in her bed. The man she thinks is hot, piercing me with those honey brown eyes that could bring me to my knees.
Never has a woman gotten to me from only one look—until her.
I know she’s a handful, she’s lived up to her reputation, but from this point on, she’s mine.
Chapter 10
Emi
“No woman, no cry!” Maren sings horribly off-key, bobbing her head to the reggae music. She’s never been a good singer, and usually it’s fun to listen to her butcher songs because I’m right there with her. However, today, I’m staying quiet on pure principle.
I rip my phone out of my purse and text her a message, refusing to talk to her.
SHUT THE FUCK UP!
Her phone is in the car cradle on the dash, and I smile widely when the message flash across.
“Really, Em? How immature can you be?”
I shrug and look out the window, remaining quiet.
“I said I was sorry! What do you want, for me to write it in blood?”
I tip my head to the side as if I’m actually contemplating it.
“How long are you going to give me the silent treatment? It’s been three days.”
Three days? Hardly enough time for her to pay for what she did. She’s lucky I’m still coming to Myrtle Beach with her. I remember leaving Walker’s house this morning, after another night of nothing but kisses. As I think about it, I get more aggravated.
“Technically, it’s only been two and half days. And you deserve it.” I break my silent treatment. “It’s bad enough you dared me to do that stupid pose, knowing I’d try. It’s equally as bad that I got hurt in the process. But showing Walker the video? Why would you do that? Then drugging me with sleep medicine? For the rest of my life, I’ll always remember the very first time Walker spent the night with me as a blur. I woke up on Thursday morning and almost had an anxiety attack wondering if he ran from me.”
“Again, I’m sorry!”
“You’re lucky he didn’t run.”
“That man’s not going anywhere, Em, no matter what crazy shit you do. He’s a keeper.”
“I know that! However, in the future, can we follow the best friend code and NOT show him evidence of my stupidity and lack of grace that results in injury?”
She purses her lips tightly, her cheeks growing flush. Then she barks out a loud laugh, covering her mouth. I glare at her, not finding anything funny.
“Maren!”
“Come on, where’s your sense of humor? If you’d get over your snit long enough to picture the whole situation, you’d laugh, too.”
I yank her phone off the cradle and swipe through, looking for the video I swore I’d never watch, and hit play. Watching the replay sends a shooting pain to my recovering groin. I view it twice more, and both times imagine Maren in my position. Only then does it become comical.
I try to hold back, but a giggle escapes, turning into a full belly laugh. I’ll never say the words out loud, but she’s right. It is kinda funny.
“Fine, I’ll accept your apology.”
“Thank God, it’s boring when you ignore me.”
“I didn’t ignore you. I’ve answered every one of your texts.”
“It’s not the same. I need a good download of your life since I left Wednesday night. How are things with Walker?”
“Perfect.”
“What did you tell him about today?”
“I used the Carlton excuse but did mention you were rewarding me with a few spa treatments.”
“Good one.”
“Well, it’s not totally a lie. I made us appointments for massages and pedicures this afternoon.” I grin smugly at her. “Your treat.”
“Actually, it’s Trixsters’ treat,” she throws back.
“Fair enough.”
“You have everything we need for tonight, right?”
“Triple checked this morning. We are good to go.”
My phone rings, and my stomach flip-flops when I see Walker’s name.
“Hey,” I answer cheerily.
“Hey, how’s the trip?”
“Well, if you don’t count the audiology bill I’m facing because of Maren’s horrible singing, it’s going good. We’re about thirty minutes away.”
“She that bad?”
“Cats in heat have more melody than she does.”
“Hey!” She smacks my thigh. “I’m not that bad.”
“Yes, you are,” I argue.
“Sounds like you two are back to normal.” He chuckles, the husky sound warms me inside.
“I’m calling a truce today. Who knows about tomorrow?”
“Speaking of tomorrow, when will you get back?”
“We should be back mid-afternoon.”
“You want an easy night in or to go out to dinner?”
My heart swells at the question. There’s no pretense, no hesitation, only the understanding that we’ll be together tomorrow night.
“Easy night in,” I answer.
“You got it. I’ll throw something on the grill. Call me when you get home and I’ll come get you.”
“I can drive over. It’s much easier than you having to go out of your way.”
“You’re never out of my way. Think you can be ready by five?”
“Five is perfect.”
“Be safe, Emi. You girls stay out of trouble.”
“How much trouble can we get into, getting pampered, drinking copious amounts of alcohol, and talking about boys?”
“For some reason, I think the two of you find trouble.”
“That sounds highly insulting.”
“Emi, in the time I’ve known you, you’ve had your car keyed to shit and sprained your groin, both times with Maren.”
“As you’ve plainly seen, Maren is the troubled one. None of this is my fault.”
She slaps my leg again, mouthing for me to shut up.
“Get back to me in one piece with no problems and I’ll rethink my stance.”
“I’ll try,” I reply snidely.
“Gorgeous, lose the attitude.”
“I don’t have an attitude, but I do think I have plans tomorrow night and am busy.” As soon as I say it, I regret being so childish.
“Yeah, you have plans with me.”
“Maybe.”
“Damn, you’re cute.”
“I’m not cute! I’m being serious.”
“See you at five tomorrow.”
“Maybe,” I repeat.
“Do me a favor and bring that sass home with you.” He disconnects before I can respond.
“Ugh…” I drop the phone in my purse.
“How’d that work out for you?”
“Shut up.”
“Don’t chase him away quite yet.”
“I’m not chasing him away. I just don’t want to be known as trouble.”
“Emi, get real. He knows about your mom’s prayer circle. He’s seen you in action, blasting Oliver at the station, and he’s met our friends, all of this before he paid me a hundred dollars and asked you out. Two dates in and y’all have nightly sleepovers. You are who you are, and he seems to like your version of trouble.”
I think about what she’s said and the real reason for this trip. What would he do if he knew what we are up to?
“He told me to bring my sass home with me.”
“Well, that’s a good sign. Maybe you’ll finally get laid.”
“I know. Can we please make sure I don’t injure anything below the waist on this trip? “
“We can do that.”
“All right then, let’s get a game plan.”
“Twirl it to the right a little,” Maren instructs me, until I have the pen pointing in exactly the right direction. “Got it, I think it’s safe to come back to the room now, give them some privacy.”
I casually gather my magazine and phone, dropping them into my oversized bag, and adjust my fake square-rimmed glasses. Careful not to knock the pen as I leave, I pass the Jacuzzi where Cyndi Trek and her boyfriend are cozied up. My departure leaves them totally alone for the first time since they came down from their room.
We already have several pictures of them, but nothing evidential of cheating. However, it looks like we may get our lucky shot here. The instant I’m out of sight, I hear a girly giggle followed by a moan. By the time I make it to our room, Maren has the video streaming from the camera hidden inside the pen. It gets darker with nightfall, but the area is lit with dim in-ground lights that allow us great visibility. Cyndi and her boyfriend don’t disappoint, giving us everything we need. Their bodies fuse together, her back to the camera rocking up and down. His hands roam up her back, into her hair and pulling her to kiss them. The audio quality isn’t the best, but there are distinct grunts and groans.
I take out my earbud, remove the glasses, and throw my blonde wig in a pile on the bed. “I can’t believe they’re going at it in the open. That’s ballsy.”
“It is, but it’s off season. This hotel is practically vacant. Considering they spent the last four hours holed up in their room, I’m surprised they even have the energy to go at it like this.”
“Maybe voyeurism is a turn on?”
“True, but looks like they’re coming to a finish. Pun intended.”
“Ugh, gross.” I crinkle my nose as Cyndi throws back her head with a moan loud enough for the audio to pick up. Her boyfriend follows soon after with his own groan.
They stay together for several minutes, kissing some more and then righting their suits before getting out. Her diamond wedding set flashes bright on her hand.
I grab my own computer and search for the discovery email from Mr. Trek. Maren told me the basic details, but I never read his story. After witnessing Cyndi’s tryst, my heart bleeds for the man.
Trixsters Anonymous Page 10
