by Emery Jacobs
She turns away and walks out of the bedroom. I push myself off the bed, into a standing position, then suck in a deep breath and wait for my fate.
18
Emmie
I stop in front of the full-length mirror in the hallway and assess my appearance: flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and wild eyes, not to mention no bra and a braid that’s badly in need of a redo. I shrug and think about the two orgasms I had in the last thirty minutes. I giggle quietly and make my way to the foyer then jerk the front door open to find my brother leaning against the frame, glaring at me.
“What the fuck are you doing in there?” Miles questions with frustration lacing his tone. Before I can answer, he continues, “I’ve been standing outside your front door for almost ten minutes, ringing your doorbell and pounding on the door. I was about two seconds from going over to Mom and Dad’s to get your spare key.” His voice is loud and angry.
“Hello to you, too,” I say as my gaze meets his.
He pushes in and his eyes scan the foyer, the living room, and then up the staircase.
“Who’s here?” he demands.
“What do you want, Miles?” I ask, slamming the front door and completely avoiding his question.
He widens his stance and folds his arms across his chest.
“I want to know who’s here, and don’t lie to me, because his truck’s in the driveway.”
I drop my head back and close my eyes. Do I tell the truth and let him think I’m some kind of slut who has been sleeping with a man I’m not dating and who has no intentions of dating me? Also, Miles is a bit of a snob. He would give me hell for having sex with my mechanic, even though it’s the best sex I’ve ever had—which, of course, isn’t saying much, since I only have my asshole ex-husband to compare him to, but still. I lift my head and look up into my brother’s blue eyes before speaking.
“What I do is none of your business. Who I have over to my home is none of your business. My life is none of your fucking business,” I say, trying not to talk too loudly, because I don’t want Beau to hear this conversation.
Miles takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a second. He’s angry, frustrated, and worried about me. I know he’s trying to calm down, because he knows if he doesn’t, he’ll do something he’ll regret, like tear through my house looking for the owner of the black truck. After a few seconds, his face visibly relaxes and his eyes open.
“After we talked about Max this morning, Ava said you locked yourself inside your office for an hour then left without telling anyone where you were going or if you were coming back. You never called or texted, and you never showed back up at the office, so she was worried about you. I was worried about you. Hell, I’m still worried about you.”
I take a couple of steps toward Miles then rise up on my toes and wrap my arms around his neck.
“Please don’t worry about me. You see I’m home and safe. Just let me live my life. Let me make my own mistakes. I’m just trying to rebuild,” I say as I hug my little brother.
I release him and step back. Miles shoves his hands into his pockets and huffs out a sigh.
“You’re not going to tell me who’s in your bedroom, are you?” he asks.
I shake my head as I walk toward the door.
“Just be careful, Emmie. I know you’re not dating anyone, which means whoever he is, he’s probably not a good guy.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, pulling open the front door.
“I mean, if you’re having sex with him, and he’s not taking you out to dinner or introducing you to his friends…” He hesitates a couple of seconds and looks down the hall toward my bedroom before continuing, “Well, then he’s using you. He has no intentions of this being anything more than what it is.”
My chest tightens like someone just put a vise around my heart. I realize what I’ve been doing with Beau is nothing more than hooking up, but hearing the words “using you” and “no intentions of this being anything more” hurts somewhere deep inside me.
“You need to leave,” I tell him.
“I just don’t want to see you get hurt. You’ve already been through so much over the last year, and now with Max back in town…” He shakes his head and moves toward me. “You need someone who can give you love and support, not some guy to drop by a couple days a week to fuck you without any of the responsibilities of a relationship. Also, if he’s doing this with you, you’re probably not the only one.”
“Go,” I grit out.
Miles walks over to the door and stops in front of me.
“Just be careful,” he says, leaning over and kissing my forehead. He turns away and takes a few steps. I suck in a deep breath and shake my head. I’m about to shut the door when Miles stops and looks back at me. “This guy”—he nods toward Beau’s truck in my driveway—“he’s no good for you. Get rid of him. The right guy will show up, I promise,” he says as he shoves his hands in his pockets, smiles, and then moves down the sidewalk to his car.
I slam the door and look at myself in the mirror hanging on the wall in the foyer. God, I am a mess, but I’m not going to cry. His words mean nothing, because my brother doesn’t know the truth. He doesn’t know anything about my relationship with Beau—I mean, my lack of a relationship with Beau. Oh, hell, I don’t even know anymore, but what I do know is that I don’t need Miles or anyone else lecturing me about how I should live my life.
After listening to my brother and Ava talk about Max and his new family this morning, I knew I needed Beau today, possibly more than I’ve ever needed anyone else in my entire life. He touches me without fear, kisses me passionately, and isn’t afraid to fuck me against my living room wall. He makes me feel beautiful and sexy. He gives me what I’ve been missing for years, because honestly, Max and I hadn’t had much of an intimate relationship since I miscarried baby number three. I throw my head back and squeeze my eyes closed. Maybe this thing with Beau seems so great because he’s only the second man I’ve ever had sex with and I’m confusing sex with feelings I really don’t have. I pinch the bridge of my nose and lift my head, looking at myself in the mirror once again. Do I have feelings for Beau? Nope—I can’t. He doesn’t want it, doesn’t want a relationship. I don’t even know if he really wants to have sex with me. He never says anything. We just have amazing sex and then he’s gone. Dammit. I let out a sigh. Maybe Miles is right and I’m just setting myself up for another heartbreak.
I can’t think about all this right now, so I tuck a wayward strand of hair behind my ear and head toward the bedroom.
19
Beau
It’s been a month since Miles Carmichael showed up at Emmie’s front door and she left me hidden in her bedroom while she convinced him she was home alone. Or at least that’s what she told me, saying she made up some fucked-up excuse for my truck being parked in her driveway. I think it had something to do with a friend’s boyfriend. I’m not sure, but it was straight bullshit, and I’m surprised Miles fell for it—or maybe he didn’t. Maybe it was me she was lying to because she didn’t want me to know what was really said between them. Either way, it doesn’t matter. After he left, she apologized for him showing up unannounced and then sent me on my way.
I’m kind of concerned that I didn’t hear from Miles after that day. It makes me wonder what that no-good piece of shit is up to. I know he recognized my truck, just like he had to know she was lying about being alone. I mean, her appearance screamed I just had sex when she walked out of the bedroom that day. Her hair was falling out of her braid, her lips were red and swollen, and her nipples were hard enough to tent the top half of her T-shirt. I figured he would storm inside and search every room until he found me, maybe throw a few punches in an attempt to make me stay away from his sister, not leaving until he told Emmie about our failed business arrangement. But he didn’t do any of those things, and that concerns me. It makes me wonder what the hell he’s doing now. I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.
I notice a F
or Sale sign in Emmie’s front yard as I turn into her driveway. I don’t remember it being there last time I was here, but maybe it was and I didn’t notice it. As my truck rolls to a stop, Emmie’s already out the front door and heading down the sidewalk toward me. Fuck, I’ve missed her. I’ve missed her face, her smile, the small freckle just below her right ear, her blue eyes that light up every time she sees me, and her constant babbling about everything and nothing.
She opens the passenger door and climbs into my truck. I breathe in the scent of coconut as she straps on her seat belt.
“I hope it’s okay that I’m wearing this.” She pushes her sunglasses on top of her head and smiles. “I mean, it’s Saturday, and I didn’t want to wear a skirt, and I thought since we’re just going to a used car lot, something comfortable would be okay,” she says, her gaze meeting mine.
My eyes start at the top of her head and slowly scan every inch of her body. Her thin brown sweater is half tucked into her cutoff jean shorts. Her legs are long and tan, and she’s wearing a pair of brown sandals that wrap around her ankles. I want to touch her with my hands, lips, and tongue so damn bad, but instead, I put both hands on the steering wheel and move my eyes back to hers.
“What you’re wearing is fine. Dave just needs you to sign some papers. We shouldn’t be there too long.” I look over my shoulder as I back out of the driveway, trying like hell to focus on what I’m doing and not on how sexy she looks in those shorts.
Dave’s buying Emmie’s Lexus for his wife, decided it was time to upgrade her from her Honda, so this whole experience hasn’t been bad. It happened much faster than I thought it would. When he called me last week to tell me his plans, he asked me if he should contact her or if I wanted to handle it. If I were smart, which I’m not, I would’ve let him call her and set up the meeting. Then she could have taken one of her friends with her and I probably wouldn’t have heard from her again, which is what needed to happen, but I wanted to see her one more time. I wanted to spend a few more hours with her before I never see her again, because I know that’s what’s going to happen. But, I’ve missed her. This month has been the longest I’ve gone without seeing her since our friendship began. Fuck! I’ve got to let this shit go. She’s not mine to want, not even close.
“I just wasn’t sure exactly what I would be doing today. You know, this is the first time I’ve ever done anything like this before,” she says.
“Anything like this?” I ask.
“I’ve never sold a car on my own. I didn’t know if we were going to Dave’s office or to the bank. I called my friend, Jane, and she said since it’s Saturday everything would probably be taken care of at the car dealership. Is she right?”
Oh, fuck. Jane, the redheaded bitch. I hope Emmie hasn’t told her about me. After her visit to my shop, I don’t care to ever see her again.
“Yeah, she’s right,” I tell her as we pull out onto the highway. “Does Jane know you’re going with me?” I want to know if she’s told her anything about us. I hope not, because that woman is a loose cannon, and she’s just waiting for the right time to throw my ass under the bus.
“Hmmm… no.” She hesitates then looks out the passenger side window. My gut twists at the thought of Jane telling Emmie about me stalking her, because that’s what it feels like I was doing, even if it was a lot more innocent than how Jane made it sound that day at the shop.
“She didn’t ask if someone was going with you? I figured a good friend would be concerned about you taking care of this by yourself.” I push a little harder, trying to get as much information as I can.
“Why? Do you not think I’m capable of handling this by myself?” she asks.
“I didn’t say that. I think you’re more than capable of handling this alone. The only reason I offered to take you is because I haven’t seen Dave in a while and this is the perfect opportunity for us to catch up.” This is a lie; I can catch up with Dave any time. I offered to drive her, because I wanted to see her.
We ride the rest of the way in silence. Emmie’s leaning her head against the side window with her sunglasses pulled over her eyes. Is she pissed? I’ve never known her to be quiet for this long.
By the time we pull into Dave’s place, I’ve convinced myself that she knows everything. Miles and Jane have probably made me out to be a perverted stalker. I shake my head and blow out a breath. There’s no way she knows, no fucking way, because she would have confronted me directly by now.
I park my truck in front of the showroom that houses Dave’s office, and we both climb out of the truck. I hurry around and meet her at the front of my vehicle as she takes her sunglasses off and drops them in her purse. She smiles at me, but it’s obviously forced, because it doesn’t reach her eyes. I nod and pull the door open.
20
Emmie
“Emmie, this is Dave,” Beau says, introducing me to a tall, slender man with dark, curly hair and bushy eyebrows. He looks to be in his late thirties or early forties.
“Hi,” I say, looking up at the man who’s buying my car for his wife. He grips my hand as his eyes rake over my body. Gross, pervert.
He looks over at Beau. “Where’d you find this one?” he asks with a smile plastered on his face.
Beau shrugs and looks at me, pressing his lips flat. Dave’s clammy touch against my palm triggers me to pull my hand from his grip and wipe it on my sweater.
“He didn’t find me,” I blurt out as I straighten the strap of my purse on my shoulder. “I actually found him.” My gaze finds Beau’s. “He repaired my Jeep and then I asked him to help me sell my car.” I smile, still looking at Beau. His mouth forms a perfect sexy smirk, causing my pulse to quicken. A warm sensation travels up my spine and I shudder. Dammit, how does he do that to me with just a look? I’ve stayed away from him for the last couple weeks, because I wanted to see if he would call, text, or stop by my house—nope, nope, and nope. He didn’t attempt to reach out, so I decided to leave him alone. After all, I had been coming on pretty strong. Maybe he thought I was being too needy or overly aggressive, and maybe he’s one of those guys who doesn’t like bold women. I’ve been staying busy with work, trying to keep all thoughts of Beau out of my mind. Plus, Miles has been on my ass about staying away from the guy in the black truck. Even though he doesn’t know who the truck belongs to, he just assumes it’s some redneck jerk who’s fucking his sister without any honest intentions. He makes me so mad sometimes.
“How’s my nephew doing?” Dave directs his question to Beau.
Wait a minute. Nephew? Okay, let me gather my thoughts. Beau seems a little old to be Dave’s nephew, but you never know; I guess it wouldn’t be impossible. I tap my finger on my chin as my mind works frantically, trying to put together the puzzle that’s scattered in my brain. Maybe Dave is asking about Rhys. Are Dave and Beau brothers? I stare at Dave’s face intently, trying to see some resemblance, but there’s none, not one bit. Beau’s eyes are a silvery gray, and Dave’s are brown. Beau’s hair is a light brown, and Dave’s is dark, almost black. Beau is tall and muscular, while Dave is taller and very slender. Dave’s not ugly, but he’s nowhere near Beau’s level of hot, handsome, and sexy—not even close.
My eyes jerk to Beau, and from the look on his face, I know he sees my mind reeling.
“He’s doing good. Playing football and soccer, hates school—just your typical eleven-year-old,” Beau says.
Hmm, that confirms it: Dave is Rhys’s uncle. Now I just have to figure out how they’re related.
“Martha mentioned getting an invite for dinner tonight at your mom’s place, but Nina has a piano recital, so we’re not going to be able to make it.”
Beau nods and says, “I’m sure Rhys will understand. Maybe we can all get together in a few weeks. I know he misses Nina and Luke.”
My eyes ping-pong back and forth between the two men. I have no idea who any of these people are.
“Yeah, but you know I hate to miss his birthday dinner,” Dave says.
“I’ll check with Martha and let you know. Tell Rhys I said happy birthday and I love him.”
“Will do,” Beau replies.
Wow. There is so much about Beau I don’t know. The only thing I can figure is that Dave is Beau’s ex-wife’s brother—but where’s the ex-wife, the sister, the mother to Rhys?
“Emmie, are you ready?” Dave asks, looking over at me.
“Yeah, sure.” I glance at Beau, and he nods then walks away from us toward a small couch in the back corner of the customer lounge.
I follow Dave into a large corner office, where a wall of windows overlooks the cars on his lot. He has a dark wooden desk in the center of the room with a separate seating area that consists of two leather couches and a television.
“Have a seat,” he says, motioning toward a chair situated in front of his desk.
Dave walks around to the opposite side and opens a folder. He sets a pen in front of me then pulls out a small stack of papers before plopping down in his chair.
“How long have you been seeing Beau?” he asks as he slides two documents in front of me.
“I’m not seeing Beau. I only know him through his automotive shop,” I say, because it’s really none of his business what mine and Beau’s relationship is. I pick up the pen and wait for him to give me directions on what I need to sign.
He nods then points to two small lines on the first document.
“After you read both of the documents, sign here and here on this one, and only here on this second one.” Then he says a bunch of jumbled up shit I don’t understand. Honestly, I really don’t care what any of it means—I just want to be rid of this damn car, even if I’m giving it away.
