For Richer, For Poorer: The Titan Billionaire Brothers (Duet Book 2)

by A. J. Wynter

“Could you toss another log on the fire?” I patted Prickles on the head. “I would, but... the cat.” I felt my lips twitch twice. She smiled and that’s when I caught it, the redness spreading up from the collar of her shirt. Prickles stood up and hopped off the sofa. We were flirting, quite obviously at that. She tossed a log on the fire, sat down, and picked up her glass of wine. “To new friends.”

  “Friends,” I replied and touched my glass to hers. The Waterford crystal chimed out in the room. Without explicitly saying it, we had both just agreed on what was going to happen tonight. I knew that nothing could happen, but I had to get the memo to the rest of me. The part of me that had woken up when I watched her bend over to put the log on the fire. The part of me that had started to press uncomfortably at the front of my pants.

  We played gin rummy the best we could. Neither of us really knew the rules, so we just made them up as we went along. When the timer went off, we were even two games to two. “Tie-breaker after dinner?” I asked.

  “You got it,” she replied. “Get ready to lose.”

  We sat at my tiny dining room table eating our shepherd’s pie in the light of a beeswax pillar candle. Our conversation had flowed effortlessly over the evening, no doubt helped along by the bottle of wine. Emma finished her plate of food before I did and dabbed at the corners of her mouth with the linen embroidered napkin. “You were right. That didn’t taste gamey at all. It was delicious.”

  I stood up and cleared her plate from the table and started to heat up the kettle for the dishwater. “I don’t really have anything to offer for dessert,” I said. “I could cut up some apples or something.”

  “I’m stuffed.” She leaned back and patted her flat belly. “I would have another glass of that wine though. It was really nice.”

  “I might have another one,” I said and headed to the pantry. This time I didn’t hesitate. I brushed the dust off the Brunello and stepped back into the kitchen. “You’re going to like this one,” I smiled as I pulled out the cork. I felt like a normal human being. When was I ever going to have a night like this one again? Emma didn’t know it, but this bottle of wine was celebratory.

  She joined me at the counter as the kettle started to whistle. I poured the water into the sink and topped it up with some cold from the tap.

  “I thought you had hot water,” she said.

  “I do, but it’s not an endless supply,” I plunged my hands into the sink and started to wash the plates. “I thought that you might want to have hot water to shower...” I cleared my throat, “before you leave tomorrow.”

  She grabbed the tea towel and started drying off the dishes. “That’s very thoughtful,” she said quietly. I never thought that I would have another person in this cabin, and it was beyond my realm of possibility that I would actually enjoy having someone here with me.

  “I like your kitchen setup,” she said, putting a plate on the open shelf. “I don’t have to ask where anything goes, I can see it all.”

  “My designer recommended the open concept.” I felt the lip twitch and watched her eyes light up when she saw it too. She smiled and shook her head. She dipped the end of the tea towel in the sink and stepped back, twirling the towel.

  “Oh, don’t you dare.” I stepped back holding up my soapy hands.

  “I saw that lip twitch, Jack. There was no designer here,” she laughed and continued spinning the towel, her legs planted wide like a football player. She flicked her wrist and the wet end of the tea towel snapped dangerously close to my junk.

  “Nice try.” I crossed my arms, but there’s no way you could ever get me with that one.

  “Oh, yeah?” She wound up the towel again and lunged at me, catching me off guard. I spun on my heel but before I could take two steps, the sting of the towel caught me on my ass. “Yeowch,” I yelled and rubbed my ass cheek. “You’re good at that,” I laughed, even though it felt like a bee had stung my butt.

  “I had older brothers,” she laughed and set the tea towel down on the counter. “But I’m really sorry. I didn’t think that it would actually connect.”

  “That’s alright.” I rubbed my pants with the heel of my hand. “I’ve probably had that coming for years. I was the older brother.” Liam and I had gotten along for most of our childhood, and I was no stranger to the wet towel flick. I was just used to being on the other end of it.

  “Truce?” I held up my hands.

  “Truce,” she agreed, reaching out one of hers and I shook it. “But don’t think I’m going to go easy on you with the card game.”

  I grabbed the glasses of wine and tucked the bottle under my arm. We sat down in our now assigned spots on the sofa and picked up our hands. “So, you have a younger brother?” she asked.

  We were getting too familiar, and I was a bit buzzed from the wine. My instinct was to tell her to mind her own business, but this didn’t feel like an interview anymore. Our conversation had naturally drifted from the article to each other, and I wanted to know more about her. “I do,” I replied and examined my hand. “But we don’t speak to each other anymore.”

  She looked up at me over her cards. “That’s sad.” I expected questions, but instead, she just picked up a card from the deck to add to her hand.

  “It is,” I agreed. It was the first time I had ever voiced that emotion. It was sad. I was sad, but it still didn’t change the fact that it was my fault. “Tell me about your brother.”

  Emma proceeded to tell me about her younger brother Brian, a brain surgeon. “Brian the brain surgeon?” I laughed. “I know,” she replied. “My parents are so proud of him.”

  “They aren’t proud of you?”

  By this time, we had both set down our cards and were sitting facing each other. She was cross-legged with one of my throw pillows in her lap. I had one leg crooked on the couch, the other resting on the coffee table.

  “Oh, they are. But I mean, come on. A brain surgeon. His career has been going up and mine has... well, I wish I could say it’s been stagnant, but it’s been trending downward for years.”

  “I’m sure they’re still proud of you,” I replied. “And you’re going to have an award-winning story about batteries and wind turbines in the near future.”

  She lowered her eyes. “Right. Well, yes. It’s going to be a very informative story for some people, I’m sure.” She took another sip of her wine. By now both of our lips were stained purple, and I don’t know how she managed it, but the dark lip color looked good on her. But when she looked up at me, the sparkle seemed to have disappeared from her eyes. “What about your parents? What’s their story?” she asked but was looking past my shoulder. “That’s ah...” I rubbed the back of my neck. I didn’t want to lie to her more than I already had. “That’s a touchy subject.”

  “I see.” She looked down into her glass of wine. The radio went silent and when she looked up at me, she wouldn’t meet my eyes. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. The laughter and lighthearted conversation were gone and replaced with silence. The radio crackled with static. The amateur radio station often had dead air between songs.

  “It’s okay,” I said softly, trying to breathe some life into the room. “It’s just something I don’t want to talk about.”

  “I understand,” she said. “I apologize for bringing it up.”

  “You didn’t know.” I reached for her hand, but she pulled back from me.

  “Right,” she whispered and took a sip of her wine. The unmistakable introduction to Yesterday broke the silence.

  “Dance with me, Emma,” I stood up and reached out to her. I felt like we had exhausted the conversation and Yesterday was one of my favorites.

  She hesitated. I could feel my heart beating in my throat, and when she reached out to take my hand, it dropped into my stomach. I led her to the front of the fireplace and slipped my hand to the small of her back, holding her left hand in my right. We swayed gently to the sounds of the Beatles and the fire. Her body was trembling, and she was
stiff as a board. I reached down and pushed her away by her right hip, holding her left hand tightly, and then pulled her back in. Her body was temporarily pressed against mine and she inched back. The heat from her body was radiating through my clothes and into my chest. She looked up at me. “Again,” she whispered. This time I stepped back and pushed her away, only to bring her back with a spin. Now her back was against my chest, her head just below my chin. If I wasn’t tipsy, I wouldn’t have tilted my head down to smell her hair, but I was and so did. The feminine citrus and vanilla smells were foreign, unlike any I had come by in the last ten years. I pushed her out into a slow twirl before bringing her back in to our original position; this time she was relaxed. She leaned her head against my chest, and I rested my chin on her head as we swayed to the music.

  When the song ended, we stopped swaying, but I didn’t let her go. She remained still against me. I wondered if she could hear how fast and hard my heart was racing. I could feel her lower back expanding underneath my hand and knew that she was breathing deeply. I knew that I had to let her go, but with I wanted this moment to last forever, If that meant I got one millisecond more with this beautiful woman in my arms, I would take it.

  I don’t know how long we stayed like that, her hand in mine, our bodies pressed together, but when the alarm tone from the radio blasted out, we shot back from each other like the north ends of a magnet. We stood in front of the fire in silence as the broadcaster announce that a winter storm warning had been issued. Amounts of thirty to fifty inches of snow could be expected over the next twenty-four hours. Residents were being advised to avoid all non-essential travel. Emma looked up at me, her eyes wide. We both knew what it meant.

  She was trapped here.

  “Thirty to fifty?” she whispered.

  “They always exaggerate.” I rested my hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I will have you back to town tomorrow as promised.”

  “Thank you,” she exhaled.

  And just like that, the spell was broken. The wine was finished, and The Beach Boys came on the radio. “I think I’m ready for bed,” she whispered.

  I opened up the blanket box at the foot of my bed and pulled out two thick quilts. I handed one to her. You’re probably going to need this. “I’ll take the sofa and I think I even have a new toothbrush you can use. It’s under the sink.”

  She nodded and headed to the bathroom. I pulled on my winter overalls, work jacket, and shoved my feet into my boots.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “I’m going to get a head start on clearing some of this snow. You get some sleep.”

  “Okay,” she nodded.

  I pulled on my gloves. “Oh, and Emma...”

  “Yes?” She opened the door. “You’re probably going to have to fight for space in the bed.” I pointed to Dumpster who already had his head on the pillow. “Those two are real bed hogs.”

  “Chase?” she said as I opened the door.

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  I didn’t know what she was thanking me for, but deep down, I felt the same way. I knew that I should say something, but instead, I just grunted, pulled on my hat with the ear flaps and called Dumpster to join me.

  There were a few reasons why I had to get outside. The first was necessity. We needed to be able to get out of the cabin tomorrow. If Emma woke up and saw a wall of snow at the door, she would probably freak out. But more than that, I needed to step away from her to get that vanilla scent out of my system. Years of pent up desire were coursing through my veins, and I had to expend some energy before I exploded.

  I didn’t come in until I was covered in sweat and so exhausted, I could barely keep my eyes open. I stumbled inside, put a log on the fire, stripped out of my sweaty clothes and crawled under the blanket. Emma had made up the couch and left one of the pillows from my bed there. It was a thoughtful gesture, and as I passed out, I pretended I couldn’t hear the soft and slow exhale of Emma’s breath as she slept less than ten feet away from me.

  Chapter 11 – Emma

  I FELT LIKE I WAS PINNED down. I was trying to run, but my feet wouldn’t move. I woke up and realized that I had been dreaming and that there was a giant tabby cat draped over my ankles. I rubbed my forehead, the dull thud of a mild hangover threatened to morph into an even bigger one. I rubbed my eyes and the events of the night before started to come back to me. The storm, the wine, the dancing. I slid my feet out from beneath the sleeping cat and drew them up to my chest and rested my forehead on top of the quilt. Getting so close to Chase was stupid and very unprofessional. Well, technically, I was already being unprofessional by lying to him about the ‘story,’ but I would worry about that later.

  I looked over at the couch, waiting for any sign of the quilt to move. I didn’t want to be the one to get up first, but my bladder didn’t agree with my strategy. I tapped my toes under the blankets until I couldn’t wait any longer. Chase had been out shoveling when I fell into bed and I didn’t want to go through his cupboard looking for a t-shirt. I looked to the chair where I had tossed my jeans, socks, and bra last night. There was no sign of life from the sofa, and I couldn’t wait any longer. I slid out from under the heavy quilts and crept over to my jeans. I slid them on as quietly as I could and tiptoed to the bathroom. As I passed the sofa, I realized that there wasn’t anyone underneath the blanket. I glanced around the cabin. The fire was flickering away in the stone hearth, but there was no sign of Chase or Dumpster. I cursed for waiting so long to go to the bathroom and scurried in, shutting the door behind me.

  Chase had left a note in the bathroom sitting on a folded towel. It was written in all lower case, its message curt and perfunctory. He informed me that there would be enough water for a ten-minute hot shower or a twenty-minute warm one and that he had left a thermos full of coffee on the counter for me.

  I turned over the paper but there was no word about where he was or when he would be back.

  I pulled my t-shirt over my head and stepped into the shower. I opted for a ten-minute lukewarm shower, hoping that it would leave enough warm water for Chase. I shivered as I dried myself off, and I pulled my t-shirt back on and wrapped my hair up in the towel. I grabbed my panties and held them in my hand as I pulled up my jeans. It looked like it was going to be a commando kind of day.

  The door creaked as I peered out, but the room remained just as it was when I stepped into the bathroom. I walked into the kitchen and screwed off the lid of the thermos and the smell of quality espresso instantly perked me up. I touched the kettle with the back of my hand, it was still warm. I pulled down the biggest mug he had, a beautiful handmade piece of pottery with a deer etched into it. I poured two espresso shots into the mug and topped it up with hot water. I closed my eyes and inhaled. I might be in the woods with a torturous shower but damn, the coffee smelled just like Italy. Just as I was about to take a sip, I heard banging by the door. I looked down at my bra-less chest, my nipples an indicator of the cabin’s temperature as they pressed hard against the white cotton. “Shit.” I set down the coffee and tiptoed as fast as could past the door, grabbing my bra from the dresser and latched the hooks just as the door opened and Dumpster ran inside.

  “Get out,” Chase yelled. “You’re all wet.”

  Dumpster and I both turned to face Chase. The dog ran back outside, and I stood frozen with my nipples front and center, my light pink bra looped around my waist, the cups sitting just above my belt loops.

  “Oh, Jesus, sorry.” He turned and started to walk out.

  “Wait,” I shouted. He paused but didn’t turn around.

  “I can give you a minute.”

  “I just need three seconds.” I pulled my arms into my t-shirt, pulled the bra straps up and over my shoulders and had my arms back through the sleeves. “All done.”

  “You sure?” he grumbled. “I reached into the neck and adjusted my C-cup breasts and then smoothed out the shirt. “You can turn around.”

  He t
urned slowly and pulled his wool hat off his head. It was the kind that had ear flaps, but his were tied up with a bow on the top of his head.

  “Thanks for the coffee,” I held up the mug.

  He didn’t respond. He just kept on removing his many layers.

  “Where have you been?” I asked.

  “Oh, just clearing things up. Plowing the driveway, that kind of thing.”

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s got to be around eight or so.”

  “Eight?” I felt like I had slept in until noon. “What time did you get up?”

  “Early,” he grumbled. “Is there any coffee left?”

  “Yes, and there should be some hot water left in the shower too.”

  “Really?” he raised his eyebrows at me.

  “I opted for the lukewarm ten-minute spa treatment.” That got a bit of a smile. He hung up his jacket and pulled off his boots.

  “Well, I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news.”

  “Oh no.” I took a sip of my coffee. “Can you start with the good news?”

  He headed into the kitchen, “I was able to plow the driveway to the chain.”

  “Oookay, it sounds like there’s a but coming,”

  “There’s two.” He folded his arms across his chest. It hasn’t stopped snowing and I couldn’t make it down the forestry road with the plow.

  “What does that mean?”

  He sighed. “It means that we’d better get you out of here soon before we get more snow.”

  “But how are we going to do that if you couldn’t plow the road?”

  “By snowmobile.”

  “Is that the only way?” I had never even seen a snowmobile up close in person.

  “If you’d prefer, we could strap on some snowshoes or maybe some cross-country skis.” There was no lip twitch today. All the joking and the tenderness that we shared only hours before was gone. “You’ll be fine. I have an old helmet here and I can lend you some clothes. But we’d better get going soon to take advantage of this break in the weather.