Chapter Six
Briar
When I saw him walking toward me, I nearly fainted with relief, and now, the longer I’m in his stoic presence, the more I feel like swooning. He’s gorgeous, and he freaking rescued me, like some sexy hero in one of my romance novels, but even better, because he’s real.
“What were you doing out here alone?” he asks as he makes his way up the trail toward his house. Maybe I should be wary of going to a stranger’s house with no means of escape, but his voice is like a drug, instantly calming my nerves and making my heart race with desire. I couldn’t tell how big he was when he was crouching in front of me, but when he scooped me up as if I weighed nothing and I was suddenly high above the ground, his size became obvious.
“It was just supposed to be for one night,” I argue, feeling ridiculous when his question highlights the obvious stupidity of my decision. “I need to get some photos of the flora and fauna of the Buffalo River for my class project so I can graduate. I didn’t have anyone to come with me, so I came alone.”
Even in the near-darkness, I can see his jaw clench. Is he angry? Biting my lip, I watch the trees as he walks, not even breathing heavily despite the extra weight he’s carrying. I have a million questions I want to ask him, but I’m suddenly shy.
A few minutes later, he steps into a clearing, lights from a large house illuminating our surroundings. Turning to look at him, I gasp when I see his profile clearly for the first time. “Oh my god, it’s you!” I whisper-yell, my panties growing damp as I take in the handsome stranger I saw outside of Sweetie’s just this morning.
He turns to look at me, his eyes wide.
“You were walking past Sweetie’s,” I say, knowing it’s him. Surely, Shady Rock doesn’t have more than one ridiculously sexy, bearded giant wandering around. “I was eating breakfast and saw you walk past the front window.”
He nods, ducking his head.
“Home sweet home,” he says, changing the subject as he carries me through the front door.
“It’s beautiful,” I gasp, looking wide-eyed around the open-plan main level. It’s immaculately clean, and suddenly, I’m overcome with shame that I didn’t ask if he’s married. “I-is it just you here?” I ask shyly.
“Just me, sweetheart,” he says softly. “First order of business, let’s get you cleaned up and look at that ankle. There’s a bench in my shower, and I’ll get you something clean to wear.”
With that, he carries me upstairs and into his bathroom; the spicy scent that permeates the air fits him perfectly. He sits me on the marble bench, helping me take my shoes off and showing me how to work the waterfall shower head directly above me. With a nod, he leaves me alone to strip and wash.
A towel is waiting for me on the shower door, and I wrap myself in the thick cotton.
“Emmett,” I call out softly, unsure of what to do.
The bathroom door opens seconds later, and I smile to myself, a thrill running through me knowing he was just a few feet away in case I needed him.
“Feel better?” he asks, refusing to meet my eyes.
“So much,” I say, waiting for him to scoop me up again, desire pooling in my core at the thought of being in his strong arms again.
“Then let’s get you dressed and settled in bed.”
I bite my tongue to keep myself from asking if he’s going to join me.
Briar Jane Collins!Control your darn hormones. We do not proposition strangers!
He picks me up, careful to only touch me where the towel is between us. Walking us into the bedroom, he sets me on the edge of the large bed beside a folded t-shirt and gym shorts.
“I don’t think I’ll be working out for a while, Emmett,” I tease, picking up the shorts.
He barks out a laugh before he looks down at me, his pupils dilating as he takes in the small towel barely covering my body as I sit on his massive bed. Does he feel it, too? This…connection?
“I’m nearly twice your size, so nothing I have will fit you. They’re the only thing I have with a drawstring. You hungry?”
“Starving,” I grin.
“I’ll go make some food. Get dressed, and then I’ll wrap your ankle while you eat.” Without another word, he leaves me alone again.
It takes some awkward positions to accomplish it without hurting my ankle, but I manage it just before there’s a quiet knock on the door.
“I’m decent,” I call out, both amused and relieved by his manners.
“Against the headboard, sweetheart,” he instructs, watching me closely as I shimmy backward until I’m leaning against three fluffy pillows and the wooden headboard. When he’s satisfied, he nods and places a tray filled with a fragrant, brothy soup and thick slices of buttered bread over my lap. “Eat up.”
I do as he instructs, moaning obscenely as the flavors explode on my tongue. He perches on the edge of the bed and gently pulls my injured ankle into his lap, running his fingers over it delicately.
“I’m no doctor, but I’ve had some field medicine training,” he says. “I think it’s just sprained, but I’m going to ice it while you eat, and then we’ll wrap it before you go to sleep.”
I eat, transfixed by his touch and his voice, unwilling to say or do anything that might stop him from continuing. He tells me a little bit about himself while I eat, and I find myself wanting to know more.
He takes the tray when I’m done, swapping the ice for an elastic bandage and disappearing for just a moment. When he returns, he motions for me to scoot to the middle of the bed. Thinking he’s going to join me, I grin expectantly, disappointed when he pulls the blanket down and motions for me to move back.
“You’re gonna sleep in here, sweetheart. I’ll take the couch.”
Before I can protest, he holds up a finger. “No arguments. If you need anything, call for me, and I’ll be here.”
“Thank you, Emmett,” I say, our eyes meeting, neither of us looking away.
“You’re welcome, Briar,” he whispers; hearing my name on his lips is the most potent aphrodisiac. “Goodnight,” he says, clearing his throat as he rises from the bed and moves to the door.
Emmett carries me everywhere, unwilling to risk further injury by letting me put any weight on my ankle. I make a show of protesting his tyranny, but secretly, I’m thrilled to be in his arms.
This morning, he woke me up with a plate of bacon under my nose, chuckling when I woke up sniffing the air. He let me have one piece in bed before he picked me up and carried me into the kitchen, setting me on the island to watch him prepare a breakfast that rivals a Michelin-star chef.
It’s hard to believe this is only the second morning I’ve woken up here, but the more time we spend together, the more I crave to be around him, and the more it feels like I’ve always been here.
He serves breakfast on the deck, overlooking the beautiful river, and we talk while we eat. I know he’s holding back, but if I have any say in it, we’ll have plenty of time to learn everything about one another.