20. Emma
20
EMMA
L ily sat across from me with a tea cup in one hand, sipping as she eyed me above the brim. We were in a small breakfast room of the resort, surrounded by the quiet murmur of sleepy conversation and the occasional clink of silverware on plates. Well-dressed and smiling servers circulated the room, refilling drinks and taking orders.
“So,” Lily said, raising her eyebrows and looking around the room. “This is cute.”
“Yeah,” I said, smiling as I took a cautious drink of my tea. I was more of a coffee kind of girl, but when I saw the resort offered “traditional tea breakfasts,” it sounded like the perfect little checkpoint to spend some time with my sister. I knew the whole process was going to be a busy mess, and figured it would be wise to make sure I scheduled some time with her.
Now, I was honestly wishing I hadn’t.
I felt like the whole room could look at me and tell I’d just had the kind of sex that ruined women on other men—that just last night, I’d ridden James Carter’s fingers, lips, and tongue to heights of pleasure that I’d never seen before.
Sure, we did technically stick to our no penetration rule. Although his fingers definitely penetrated me. And, well, I suppose I let him penetrate my mouth. But hey, we were trying our best!
And now I imagined the dirty deeds I’d done were practically flashing over my head in neon letters.
Girl who just orgasmed like six times in less than an hour! Look here! Stare at her!
I spent extra long in the bathroom, just looking at myself from various angles to make sure none of my internal chaos was visible on my face. In the end, I was convinced I still looked like regular, boring, Emma Marshall.
James left the room early for “exercise,” but something in his body language made me think he was going to find a way to keep investigating Marcus while he was out. The idea filled me with a whole different flavor of dread. Each time I suspected he went out to investigate, I couldn’t help imagining him uncovering some dirty, disastrous secret that would blow this otherwise perfect wedding to shreds.
But I was here. I needed to make sure I was enjoying the time with Lily.
“How is the room?” I asked.
“Huh?” Lily asked.
“You and Marcus. Are you, um, liking your room?”
God, Emma. Stop being so awkward.
“Oh, it’s great,” Lily said. “Did you know the bathtub fills itself from the ceiling? Like this massive stream of water just… dumps straight out of a little hole in the ceiling and lands in the tub. Very dramatic .”
I grinned. “That’s cool. Before I had to surrender my room to ‘Aunt Martha,’ I had heated towels and robes in mine.”
“I still can’t believe Marcus’ dad made you give up your room. Do you want me to talk to him about it? Maybe we could work something out.”
“No, no ,” I said, a little too fast. “James’ room is fine. And I’m the wedding planner. I’m not here for pleasure. Or… fun,” I said. Was I talking too fast, or was I just imagining that? “Sharing a room with James is completely fine. I don’t mind it. I like it , actually. He’s my boyfriend, right?” I paused awkwardly, eyes bulging slightly as I gulped the tea.
“Are you okay, Em?” Lily asked, voice soft.
“I’m great. I just want to make sure everything goes perfectly for my little sister. You’re only supposed to do this once, so it should be everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”
“I know it’ll be perfect. It’s why I trusted you with it,” she reached across the table to squeeze my hand and smile.
I tried to smile back, but I couldn’t help the sinking ball of ice in my stomach.
She was trusting me, and yet I knew the freaking wedding wrecker was snooping around the resort every day, inching closer to some disastrous truth that might lead to him destroying everything.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lily asked. “You look like you might be sick.”
I laughed awkwardly. “It’s the tea. I liked the idea too much to let my dislike of tea stop me. But I need to stop drinking this stuff.”
Lily smiled, showing no hint of suspicion about my weird behavior. And why should she? I had always been a little bit of a walking ball of stress. She would’ve probably been worried if I didn’t seem like I was losing my shit, just a little bit.
"Well," Lily continued, setting down her cup with a devious smile, "you've got other things to smile about. Like that hickey you're trying to hide with your scarf."
I clapped a hand to my neck, face burning. "I'm not?—"
"Please. I've never seen you wear a scarf indoors in your life." She grinned. "James seems... intense. I think I like him for you."
“Um, yeah,” I said. “Intense is a good word.”
“So, what made you go for a guy like that? I mean, other than the obvious.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your usual type is more… meek. You’ve always got this kind of boss bitch vibe, and it seems like you’ve always gravitated toward guys who stay out of your way. Guys who won’t challenge you or put up a fight if you blow past them.”
“Boss bitch?” I laughed. “Hardly. If I come off that way, it’s only because I do a great job pretending I’m not keeping myself stitched together with old gum and tape. On the inside, I’m a disaster.”
“You’re not. You have personality. Like your ski accident. That’s fun. A boring old sister who only cares about work wouldn’t do something that cool.”
I smirked. “Nearly dying on the slopes was cool?”
“Being adventurous enough to try an advanced slope when you hardly know how to ski was cool,” Lily corrected. “Just like being brave enough to show up here with some smoldering hottie who is so far from your usual type. The normal Emma would’ve probably sent me a profile on him before he arrived. You would’ve briefed me on everything there was to know. But this time? You just rolled in and let it happen. I liked it.”
I blushed. She was right, of course. This whole thing was so far outside my comfort zone it was going to give me hives. But I was having fun. So long as I didn’t stop to think about why our mom had hired James to come here, or how heartbroken Lily would be if anything went wrong, or how my career would die its last death if James wrecked a second high-profile wedding I’d planned.
“It’s a good thing,” she said, grabbing my hand again and smiling. “So stop making that face like you’re about to barf. As the bride-to-be, I command it,” she added with a wink.
After making some excuses and steering the conversation to more innocent topics, our little tea date wrapped up nicely. Lily and Marcus had an appointment at the spa, so I wished her luck and asked her to save me some cucumbers, which she said was weird.
The rest of my afternoon disappeared in a blur of wedding preparations. The replacement flowers had arrived overnight, though I still needed to check if they matched the exact shade Martha Wellington had specified. I had more dishes to taste from Chef Antoine, a call to make about a missed flight from a cousin who wanted to know if I could still help him get a room, and a thousand other things.
I handled what I could on my phone as I spent an hour walking the grounds again, mapping out spots where the light would hit perfectly for photos. After that, it was more meetings with vendors, more details to coordinate, and a seemingly endless list of things I kept remembering I needed to worry about.
By six, my feet were killing me and I needed a drink, so I made my way to the bar in the resort’s main lobby.
I heard Dick's voice before I saw him, that distinctive drawl carrying from the bar.
"—perfect timing, really," he was saying to Richard. "Once it’s done, we can leverage her business connections. Those celebrity clients alone?—"
"Careful," Richard warned. "Marcus hasn't sealed the deal yet."
What the hell did all that mean?
"Please. The girl is clearly infatuated,” Dick said. “And with our family name behind us, she’d be insane to pass up our offer. This could?—”
"Emma!" Richard spotted me, his entire demeanor shifting as he gave Dick a hard nudge in the ribs. "Join us for a drink?"
"I was just?—"
"Nonsense." Dick was already pulling out a barstool. "Bartender, get the lady a drink."
"Actually, I should probably check on?—"
"One drink." Dick's hand settled on my lower back. "We barely see you except when you're attached to James."
I slipped out of his reach, making sure he didn’t try to touch me again as I kept my eyes on his gross hands.
"Speaking of James," Richard said, "I was asking Marcus, and he said Lily has never mentioned the man. Odd, considering he’s supposed to be an old family friend of your mother’s, isn’t it? And what a coincidence that you should happen to run into him and feel such… chemistry. If you’ve known him for years, why did you two wait so long to get together?”
God. He might as well shine a bright light in my face before he continued the inquisition. I opened my mouth to answer, but a familiar voice cut in before I could speak.
"There you are." James appeared behind me, his hand slipping around my waist as he pulled me toward his large body. The possessive touch sent shivers down my spine despite my better judgment. "I've been looking everywhere for you, sweetheart."
Richard's expression darkened slightly. "We were just getting to know Emma better."
"Were you?" James' tone was light, but I felt the tension in his touch.
Dick signaled the bartender again, who was busy flirting with a woman in a red dress and had been ignoring him so far. "Stay for a drink?"
"Actually," James said, "I have dinner plans with my girlfriend." He emphasized the last word slightly. "Unless you need her for something specific?"
The look that passed between Richard and Dick made my skin crawl. But why? They were just being protective of their family, right?
"Another time," Richard said smoothly.
As James led me away, I was almost tempted to repeat what I just heard Dick and Richard talking about, but I worried he’d read too much into it. After all, James was literally looking for problems. For all I knew, Richard and Dick were simply hoping to help their new in-law with her business. It would be her call if she wanted to accept their offer or not.
For the moment, I let myself simply be grateful that he was here to save me from awkward encounters of the Dick variety—that we could both agree to handle our mutual attraction like adults.
“Are we really going to dinner?” I asked.
“If you’d like.”
I was about to protest, but my stomach betrayed me by growling.
“Your stomach has spoken,” he said. “I know the perfect place.”
Half an hour later and after a bumpy ride in James’ truck across snow-covered roads, we pulled up to a fast-food Mexican place called Terry’s Tiny Tacos.