by Emery Jacobs
She nods toward my keys on her desk. “The guy from the automotive place. He dropped your Jeep off.”
“He left without saying anything?” I immediately head toward the door. “Did he say what was wrong with it? I haven’t even paid them anything. This is an odd way to do business.” I continue to mumble, mostly to myself, as I charge through the front door. My heels click along the sidewalk, rushing toward the man walking ahead of me. He’s tall with brown hair and I immediately recognize him from this morning—it’s Beau, Leo’s brother—only now I’m getting a better look. He’s still wearing those dirty oil-stained jeans from earlier, and his ass still looks amazing. Actually, better than before, because now I’m not having to look through a smudged window. God, I need to focus on something other than his ass, but that’s proving to be rather difficult.
I continue to follow behind him, trying to get his attention, but his stride is long and swift, and he’s moving quickly toward an older model truck idling at the end of the drive.
“Excuse me, excuse me,” I call out. What the hell is wrong with this guy? I know he hears me, but he continues to walk away without even a glance back.
“Hey!” I holler, my voice sounding irritated. This gets his attention; he finally stops walking and slowly turns to face me.
Piercing silver eyes meet my gaze before his right hand grips the back of his neck. He shakes his head a couple of times and then rubs his jaw.
We stand here in the middle of a mostly empty parking lot without either of us saying a word. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, I pull my eyes away from his. My gaze travels quickly to his hand on his jaw and it’s quite impressive. Normally, I’m not a hands kind of girl, but for some reason, I’m entranced by his. It’s huge and most likely strong. The calluses on his fingers reveal many years of manual labor. God, I bet he’s good with those hands. I push that thought from my mind as I allow my eyes to drift over his body, which is a mistake, because his jeans are not only snug around his ass, but also around his…. I immediately drop my eyes toward the ground. My face flushes as heat shoots through me. What’s wrong with me? I obviously don’t get out enough. This is the reason I need to have sex—it’s been far too long and it’s starting to show.
I quickly jerk my head up, so my eyes are back on his face.
“Hi.” I fold my arms across my chest and take in a deep breath.
He nods while still rubbing his jaw. Can he not speak?
“I’m Emmie Carmichael, and you are…?” Even though I know exactly who he is, I’m still going to press him to introduce himself to me.
“Beau Matson.” His voice is deep and gruff. So, there is a voice to go with that handsome face. Silver eyes watch me as I continue to force this uncomfortable conversation.
“Oh, you must be Leo’s brother.” For some odd reason, I keep up the charade of not knowing who he is, and then I move closer to look for any resemblance between him and his brother, but there is none. Beau is tall and broad, where Leo is thin and lanky. Beau’s skin is more of an olive color, and Leo is fair. Beau’s hair is short and brown where Leo’s is long, dark, and messy.
“Yep, unfortunately.” He smirks, or is it a grin? Whatever it is, it sends a chill up my spine.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. Leo was courteous this morning when he picked up my Jeep. He was a perfect gentleman. Well, except for the cigarette hanging from his lips. But I ignored it, because I needed his help. Anyway, I like your brother. And it seems like he’s good at his job. At least from what I could tell.” Oh, crap. Now I’m rambling, and he probably thinks I’ve got a thing for his brother. Which I don’t. Dammit! I’m so bad at this. Or maybe I’m just bad at this with him. Because normally people don’t have this kind of effect on me.
“I’ll be sure to let Leo know he needs to lose the cigarette.”
Geez, I hope I didn’t get him in trouble. I need to shut up and go back inside where I can function without making a fool out of myself.
“No, I didn’t mean it like that. The cigarette was fine. Really, it wasn’t a big deal.” I smile and then continue. “So, what was the problem?” He looks over his shoulder at the truck waiting for him at the curb, and I catch a glimpse of his profile. Strong jawline, slight bump in his nose, and just enough scruff to give him a rugged sexy look. For some reason, he looks oddly familiar.
His gaze returns to mine before he answers my question with a question. “The problem?” He narrows his eyes.
“My Jeep? What was wrong with it?”
“Right, your Jeep. It was the battery.” He steps back, distancing himself from me. It’s obvious that he’s itching to leave.
“It’s fixed—new battery? Oh, wait, I need to pay you. Hold on just a sec.” I turn to head back into the office to grab my… Dammit! All I have is a credit card, and that’s not going to work. I stop after just a couple of steps and glance back toward Beau. “Can I stop by the shop in the morning and pay you for your services? I don’t have any cash.”
“Yes, new battery, and there’s no need to go out of your way. I left the bill and keys with your receptionist, so you can put a check in the mail.”
“Are you sure? It’s really not out of the way.”
“Yeah, mailing it will be good.” He turns to walk away—again—and I notice someone in the passenger seat waiting on him. Maybe that’s why he’s in such a big hurry—because he’s not alone.
“Wait, just one more second,” I plead, because I need to know if we’ve met before… other than me checking out his ass earlier today at the automotive shop. That doesn’t count. I mean, it does, but he doesn’t need to know I think he has an amazing ass.
“Yeah?” he says as he glances back at me.
“Do I know you from somewhere? I mean, have we met before? Because you look kinda—”
“No, Ms. Carmichael. We’ve never met,” he cuts me off without hesitation.
“Please call me Emmie,” I tell him as I scan his face one more time. I tap my finger on my chin and then continue, “Are you sure? Because I swear I’ve seen you somewhere before.”
“I’m positive,” he says before cutting his eyes away from me. He rubs his jaw and shakes his head again before doing something very unexpected. Beau moves swiftly toward me and leans in close to my face with his mouth so near I can feel the warmth of his breath on my neck. “I’d never forget your face, Emmie,” he says smoothly. And oh, how I love the way my name falls from his lips. I close my eyes and take in his nearness. I quietly inhale all that is Beau Matson—the smell of motor oil combined with a deep woodsy scent. His slow, steady breaths continue to brush against my skin, and as he pulls away from me, the roughness of his five o’clock shadow grazes my face.
“I’m sure you’re right.” My voice is shaky—barely audible. My heart flip-flops in my chest as I fight to regain composure.
My eyes flutter open in time to see him walking across the parking lot, leaving me feeling breathless and confused. What just happened?
“Thank you again!” I yell as he walks away from me. God, I’m such an idiot. What am I thanking him for? Dropping off my Jeep, or nearly giving me an orgasm from just leaning into me and whispering my name?
He throws his arm up and gives me a backward wave before climbing into the driver’s side of the truck. He drives away without another look. Yeah, it’s obvious that I made quite an impression on Mr. Matson.
I shake my head as I turn and walk away from Beau Matson. He’s so not my type anyway. Not even close.
5
Emmie
“For Christ’s sake, Jane, we’re just going to Vic’s Place. Why does it even matter what I wear?” I rest the phone between my shoulder and ear as I slip on my strappy brown sandals.
“You know I need a visual. Send me a pic,” she demands.
“I’ve already told you I’m wearing the brown skirt with the silver buttons that hits mid-thigh and the white off-the-shoulder blouse. You’ve seen it a hundred times.”
I love
my friend and she means well, but sometimes she can be quite overbearing. Tonight is my sixth date with Andrew and the first time he’s meeting my friends. Jane and her husband, Tristan, are meeting us at Vic’s Place, a local bar downtown on the square. The atmosphere is great: laid back and usually not too crowded or noisy.
“I love you, girly, and I’m only concerned because I know you really like this guy, so I want you to make a good impression. I mean, you’re beautiful no matter what you’re wearing. I guess I’m just nervous for you is all.”
“I do like Andrew, but I made a first impression six dates ago and he’s still hanging around. That’s got to mean something, right?”
“Of course it does. I’m sorry I’m being so pushy.”
The chime of the doorbell grabs my attention. He’s here. This shouldn’t be a big deal, but it kind of is. This is our first real date where he’s picking me up at my house. Normally, I meet him somewhere. It just felt safer in the beginning since I didn’t know him, but now that we’ve spent some time together and I’m confident he’s probably not a serial killer, I’m comfortable with him knowing where I live.
“Gotta go! Andrew’s here. See you two later,” I tell her before ending the call.
I grab my purse from the dresser and shove my phone inside. Then I head downstairs as the doorbell chimes again. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” I mumble while making my way to the front door. My hand trembles slightly, but that doesn’t stop me from firmly grasping the handle and pulling the door open.
“Hey!” I smile, hoping to receive the same gesture in return, but for some odd reason, I’m met with the top of Andrew’s blond head. Those blue eyes I’ve grown to like so much are focused on something on my porch. So, I drop my eyes toward the ground to determine what he’s looking at. There’s nothing there, just concrete and my welcome mat. “Hey, Andrew, I’m up here.” I snap my fingers in front of his face, but he doesn’t move. I throw my purse over my shoulder before smoothing down my skirt. Now I’m nervous. Something’s wrong.
I fiddle with my purse strap while I anxiously wait for him to make a move. Anything. A few seconds pass before he slowly lifts his head and looks me square in the eye.
“I can’t go tonight.”
“Is everything okay?”
He glances away from me for a moment then returns his gaze to mine before I repeat my question. “Is everything okay?”
Andrew draws in an audible breath and then slowly releases it. “I like you, Emmie, probably more than I should at this point in our relationship.” His voice is distant, which only fuels the nervousness I’m feeling right now.
I nod slightly. “I like you, too, Andrew, but you’re acting weird, showing up here and canceling at the last minute. Why didn’t you call me earlier today if you knew you weren’t going to be able to go out tonight?” I lean against the open door and wait anxiously for his excuse because that’s what he’ll give me—some lame excuse for why he’s standing me up.
He shrugs, takes a couple steps back, and then drops his head… again.
This is ridiculous. If he doesn’t want to go, he just needs to say so. I haven’t known him long, but even during our short relationship—if that’s what you’d call what we have—I’ve learned enough about Andrew to know this is not typical behavior. He appears uneasy, like he’s done something wrong. I’ve never seen him hang his head and look at the ground as much as he has in the last three minutes.
He lifts his chin and forces his gaze back to mine. “I wanted to tell you in person—not over the phone, and certainly not in a text.”
“Makes sense… I think… but next time, just shoot me a text, because I hate that you drove all this way only to tell me you can’t go out.”
I live in the small community of Idlewood, Texas, about thirty minutes north of Dallas. Andrew lives inside the city limits, so the drive with traffic is almost an hour. This entire situation is odd, but maybe he’s just a nice guy with good manners.
“There won’t be a next time.” His voice is heavy and full of resignation.
Scratch the nice guy with good manners thing. He’s dumping me—or is he? Were we actually dating? God, I don’t know what we were doing, and at this point, I really don’t care, but shit, it sure feels like I’m being dumped. It’s not that I’m sad about it—maybe a little pissed, mostly at myself for thinking we were going to work out. I really thought our relationship would progress from whatever it is we have now to becoming lovers, and then maybe… I don’t know… something more. I cringe with embarrassment for allowing those thoughts to fill my head.
“Do you mind elaborating?” I ask, stepping back away from him.
“Look, Emmie, this thing between us”—he motions between the two of us—“it’s not going to work out. It’s not because I don’t like you; it’s just—”
“You do like me, probably more than you should, right?” I blow out a long breath. “You’ve already said that, so why don’t you tell me something else? Like the truth. Because you didn’t drive all the way out here just to tell me there won’t be a next time.” I fold my arms across my chest and glare at him, waiting for another lie to fall from his lips.
“You’re right. I came here to tell you the truth. It’s probably not going to be what you want to hear, but it’s something that needs to be said.” He takes a couple of steps back, increasing the distance between us. “I’m married,” he says with ease—too much ease, like maybe he’s said it a hundred times to a hundred different women.
“Married?” I laugh, rather than screaming and hollering, because honestly, that’s not my style, and this guy—Andrew—means nothing to me. Yeah, I liked him okay, but we’ve only shared a handful of dinners, a few coffees, and a couple of mediocre kisses. The complete disregard for his wife is what pisses me off. There’s not much I can’t handle, but this shit sends me over the edge.
I don’t move, not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t. I’m in shock. The idea of me being so naïve and blind to his lies makes me wonder about myself. His revelation does nothing but cause anger to flow through my veins, and the only thing I want to do right now is remove him from my sight.
I drop my head back and squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t deserve this, and he doesn’t deserve any more of my time. So, I step inside my house and slam the front door, instantly eliminating the asshole from my field of vision. I’m slightly disappointed, but at the same time, I’m relieved—disappointed in myself that I liked him, relieved that I didn’t have sex with him.
“Wait, Emmie, please let me finish.” His voice is much louder now as he hollers from the other side of the closed door.
I stand here holding my breath, waiting to hear what else he has to say when all I really want is for him to be gone.
“My wife and I have been legally separated for the last six months, so technically I’m not married. I know how you feel about marriage and cheating, and I wanted you to know that you didn’t do anything wrong by going out with me.”
Ugh! He’s such an asshole. During this entire conversation, I never once blamed myself, and now he’s reassuring me that I didn’t do anything wrong. What a fucking tool. He’s the one to blame, and I can’t let him leave without addressing this bullshit. So, I swing the door open.
He jumps at the quick movement and then leans against the doorframe.
“Look, Emmie, I just felt like I needed to be honest with you. I’m neither a liar nor a cheater. Shari and I had been going through a rough patch for a while and when we decided to separate, we both figured it would end up in divorce.” He shakes his head then cuts his eyes away from me. “Over the past few weeks, we’ve been trying to work things out… you know… for the kids.”
Wait a second. Did he say kids? I’m going to scream.
“Kids?” This just keeps getting better. A week ago, if someone had told me Andrew was married—excuse me, “separated”—with kids, I would have laughed in their face. Now I’m standing here staring at the guy I th
ought would pull me back into the dating world with his kindness and good manners, when in reality, he’s no different than the man who walked out on me a year ago. Maybe Ava’s right about men; I just don’t want to believe it.
“I probably should have told you about all of this from the beginning, but yes, I have two girls.”
“And a wife,” I blurt out.
“I’m really sorry. I truly never meant to hurt you.” He shakes his head and rubs his chest over his heart. Give me a freaking break.
I straighten my spine and suck in a deep breath. “Don’t flatter yourself, Andrew. What we had was barely a friendship, much less something strong enough that never seeing you again would cause me to suffer.” His eyebrows pinch together and he opens his mouth to speak, but I don’t give him a chance. “Just save it for your wife. I’m done with this. Do us both a favor and leave.” I slam the door again, and this time I secure the deadbolt. I’m so over his shit.
I refuse to let this asshole ruin my night. I have plans, which I’m going to keep. He’s the fuckup, not me.
After a few minutes pass, I glance out the window next to the door to make sure he’s gone. I set the alarm, open the door, and head out to meet my friends.
6
Beau
“You’re going out… again?” Leo’s deep voice resonates from across my living room. “Three nights this week, four nights last week, and what was it… a couple of nights the week before? What the hell’s going on with you?” He scratches his jaw as his eyes grow wider.
Poor Leo; he thinks he’s got one up on me. He assumes I’m meeting some chick, maybe even a date. He wants to be right, because then maybe I’d be different—less of an asshole, more of a regular guy who does normal shit like take a girl to dinner and a movie, bring her home to meet the family. He wants me to be that guy. Hell, some days I want me to be that guy, but life happens and it ruins you, so I accept who I am and do what I have to do to make it through the day-to-day. I can see it in his eyes, can hear it in his voice, but he’s nowhere close to having my fucked-up life figured out.
