Chapter 8
Shiloh
I heard a knock at the door as I stepped out of the shower. Holden was so shy. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen everything there was to see before.
I opened the bathroom door, letting steam billow out with me as I dried my hair. “Come in!”
The door opened, and Emory stepped in. “Hey, Holden just left, and I was thinking—”
He stopped short, eyes wide, as he got the full-frontal view. Whoops.
“Oh, sorry. I thought you were Holden.”
Emory’s gaze drifted down my body as his face turned steadily redder. Then he whirled around. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”
“No worries. I’m not really shy about my body.”
“And why would you be?” He laughed nervously. “So you and Holden…”
I went to the dresser, where I’d stashed a few sets of underwear and jeans. “What about us?”
“Are you…” Emory couldn’t seem to get the words out. “Because he can’t—” He stopped short. “Can he?”
I pulled up some briefs and stepped into my jeans. “Are you asking if we’re fucking?”
“Oh my god, don’t listen to me. That’s none of my business. It’s just, you had no issue with Holden walking in while you’re naked, and so, um…I’ll shut up now.”
I laughed. “Emory, you can turn around. This conversation would be less awkward if I could see your face.”
“For you, maybe,” he mumbled, but he obediently turned, peeking through two fingers to confirm I’d put on pants.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” I said. “I lost my modesty when I lived with four roommates in my college days. We didn’t have space for privacy, you know?”
That and we were all camboys, but Emory didn’t need to know that.
“Right, no, I’m just a little shy myself.
” Emory rubbed at his still-pink cheeks.
It was adorable, really, to see him all flustered.
I knew he was one hundred percent into his man.
I’d shocked him, and I really had to watch that if I didn’t want everyone figuring out I was a cam boy because there was no telling how they’d take that.
To me, there was a big distinction between cam work and prostitution, but not everyone saw it that way.
I grabbed a sweater from the closet and tugged it on. “There, all covered up,” I said brightly. “And to answer your question, no, Holden and I are not fucking. We can’t touch each other, so I don’t think that’s on the table.”
“Right. Sorry for prying.”
I shrugged. “I’d do him in a hot minute.”
Emory snorted.
“No, I’m lying. I’d do him in a hot second.”
Emory laughed, eyes bright. “I think he really likes you. What Axel said, about you two on the computer—”
“Oh yeah,” I said with a smile. “Holden’s got the sexiest voice ever, and he’s so bossy. I love it.”
“Okay, stop,” Emory said, straight-up giggling now. “I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again if you give me more details.”
“You’re so cute,” I said, reaching out to pinch his cheek.
He slapped my hand away, but he was still smiling.
“So you were saying something when you came in here and got an eyeful,” I prompted. “What’s up?”
“Oh! Well, Holden left for that Chamber event, and I was thinking you might like to get out of here and see the town a bit? You must be tired of being cooped up.” He glanced at my fresh outfit. “Unless you already have plans?”
I smiled hesitantly. I could hardly tell Emory that I was showering because I’d gotten hot and sweaty. In Holden’s bedroom. Alone.
My secret job wouldn’t stay very secret, then.
“Actually, Holden mentioned you might hang out with me while he was gone,” I said instead. “I figured I’d wash off the couch potato.”
Emory chuckled as intended. “Cool. I’ll take you downtown. We’ve got some cute little places. You’re not a health nut, are you?”
“Nah. I work out a lot, but I eat what I want.”
Emory opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hall. “Okay, perfect. You should hit the gym with Holden. He works out a lot. Pretty sure that’s the only way he can deal with his pent-up…energy.”
I smirked as I followed him through the house. “Energy. Right. That’s what’s pent-up.”
Emory tilted his head. “He’s been calmer the past couple of months, though. How long have you two been…?”
“About that long,” I said vaguely, though I knew it was much longer. Holden had come into the chat as a silent lurker. When someone said something rude or disparaging, he shot it down. He was like my one-man protector right from the start.
He showed up every week for three weeks before he said anything to me. It took another two weeks before he requested a private session for the first time. Two weeks of those, and he asked, so tentatively, if we could talk for a while instead of doing sex every time.
He’d been so sweet and considerate, an interesting contrast to the controlling dominance in his voice when he got me naked. I’d been intrigued and charmed enough that I’d let him slip right across the boundary from client to friend and maybe, if I were honest, even more.
Not that anything could come of it.
Emory drove us into a quaint-looking downtown that was maybe two blocks long. It wasn’t nearly as impressive as St. Louis’s ballpark village, complete with baseball stadium, shopping, and restaurants. But there was something really nice about not fighting crowds to find parking.
Emory pulled up in front of a diner with a big sign that read Jerkers Soda Shoppe.
“Is this okay?” he asked. “They make great shakes.”
“Sounds great, but that name…”
Emory snickered as he got out of the car. “Yeah, I know. There’s a whole story. Nebraska is known for cornfields, and they used to call the guys who harvested it by hand cornjerkers. That’s still our high school mascot.”
“Wow. Uh, well, that makes sense, but you must get a lot of teasing.”
“Oh, yeah. Big-time. Especially by Granville.” He rolled his eyes. “Like the Mighty Grasshopper is such a great mascot.”
I laughed. “Seriously?”
Emory grinned as he led me inside, the scent of oil and sugar hitting immediately. Oh, my arteries wouldn’t like this place, but my taste buds were already perking up eagerly.
“If you think Riverton is quaint, get Holden to take you over there. It’s something else.”
My heart fluttered at the thought of Holden taking me out. Maybe like a date? Except, of course, it wouldn’t be.
A round-faced, smiling woman with the name tag Brenda greeted Emory warmly. “Oh, honey, it’s so good to see you. You want your usual?”
“I do.” Emory waved to me. “And this is my friend Shiloh. He’s new in town.”
“Oh, well, you’ve just got to have a MoonShake on the house, then,” she said.
“It’s a shake with Oreo crumbles,” Emory explained. “It’s delish. You can add in other ingredients or do any flavor of ice cream you want.”
“Ooh, okay.” I could get down with Oreo crumbles. “How about chocolate-peanut butter?”
“Done!” Brenda said.
“And just put me down for whatever food you would recommend,” I said. “You’d know better than me.”
She brightened. “Well, then, you just have to try our fried chicken sandwich with spicy slaw and a side of fried okra. How’s that sound?”
“Fried,” I said with a laugh. “And delicious.”
“Fried is what we do best.” Brenda turned to call the orders out to the kitchen.
Emory pulled out a credit card.
“Oh, I’ve got tap to pay on my phone,” I said. “I can cover my meal.”
Brenda took Emory’s card. “Don’t bother, honey. He won’t let you pay.” She narrowed her gaze. “I’ve been trying to get this man to accept a meal on the house for months.”
“You don’t stay in business by giving away your food,” Emory said. “I like Jerkers too much to ride the gravy train.”
Brenda shook her head. “Well, I appreciate it, Emory. You saved my bacon. I just want to show my thanks.”
“No thanks necessary. I couldn’t lose my favorite lunch spot. Who would make me a MoonShake?”
“Good point,” she said with a chuckle. “We’ll bring everything over to you in a few minutes.”
Brenda moved away to make our shakes while the kitchen prepared the food, and Emory led me toward a table by the big plate-glass windows.
“You didn’t need to pay for me,” I said.
He cast me a sheepish smile. “We’ll just call it payment for me being way too nosy about your personal life with Holden.”
“Well, thanks.”
After worrying so intensely about saving every penny to pay Brick and Curtis, it was strange to not have many financial obligations. Holden and his family were taking better care of me than anyone had in the last twelve years.
An older guy with silvering hair patted Emory’s arm as he went by. “You behaving these days?”
“I sure am,” Emory said. “How’s your hip treating you?”
“Better than ever.” The old guy slapped his waist lightly. “I’m a bionic man now.”
Emory chuckled dutifully and moved on. Person after person greeted him, and he navigated their small talk like a pro, always friendly but never sinking into conversation enough to get stalled.
We’d made it to a table by the windows when a woman who was the very image of a glowing, beautiful country girl approached us with a model-worthy man with dark, messy hair at her side.
“Emory!”
He turned and lit up with a genuine smile. Emory hadn’t been fake before, exactly, but there’d been a distant politeness to him. Now, genuine warmth—the kind he reserved for his boyfriend and his brothers—spilled over.
“Allison, hey.” He stepped into a casual hug. “You two having a date night?”
“Yeah—” she started.
“No,” the guy with her said firmly. “This is not a date. I do not take my fiancée to a diner and call it a date. We’re not fifty.”
Emory laughed. “Sorry, Matteo, my bad.”
“We’re just here so Matteo can talk to Brenda about hiring an ex-con for his work program.” Allison nudged him. “He spoils me when we’re on a real date, but I’m happy no matter where we spend our time.”
They gave each other sappy, love-soaked looks. I was almost embarrassed to watch it.
“Are you on a date night?” Allison asked, a teasing note in her voice. “I never thought you’d do Gray dirty like that, but this man is gorgeous, so…”
Emory laughed. “No! This is Shiloh. He’s a friend of Holden’s.”