Chapter 5 Emma
E ric kneels before me, and for a second, the sight steals my breath. His broad shoulders, usually so self-assured, seem strangely out of place in such a vulnerable position. The diamond ring he holds glints in the soft light, mirroring the swirl of emotions inside me—excitement, disbelief, and just a touch of fear.
My heart pounds so hard, I’m convinced he can hear it. This is it. The proposal I’ve imagined since I was old enough to daydream about forever, is happening.
Granted, it’s a little skewed in reality. The ring isn’t what I would’ve chosen, but it’s stunning. Vintage platinum, a unique yellow stone in the center—a far cry from the modern cut I prefer. But that’s not what matters. What matters is Eric Waters is proposing.
He holds my hand gently, those calloused fingers sending heat up my arm as he repeats, “So, Ems? Will you be my pretend fiancée?”
A pretend fiancée.
I swallow hard, trying to ignore the panic warring with excitement in my chest. In a mere twelve hours, I’ve gone from being the Silver brothers’ kid sister to a fiancée. It’s ridiculous, yet here I am, contemplating it like this is a real, life-altering crossroad. And in a way, it is.
Because if I do this—if I say yes —it’s my golden ticket to getting Eric to finally see me as more than his best friend’s little sister.
I suppress the bubbling squeal threatening to spill out.
Play it cool, Mrs. Emma Silver-Waters.
“It may not be the kind of proposal I had imagined, but if you think it will convince your grandfather, then yes. I will be your pretend fiancée.”
His lips curve into that lazy, devastating smirk as he slides the ring onto my finger. My stomach flips, a blend of excitement and sheer terror coiling inside me. The weight of the ring is heavier than I expect, and so symbolic of the game we’re about to play.
But it looks magnificent.
“What kind of proposal did you have in mind?” he asks, stretching his long legs forward as he settles into the seat across from me.
The way his sweater clings to his broad chest and strong arms is downright distracting. I catch myself staring too long and clear my throat. “Maybe a sunset picnic in a cornfield.”
He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “A cornfield? How would you even see the sunset with all that corn in the way?”
“Fine, then how about a field of sunflowers?”
“A sunflower field?” His lips twitch. “That’s cute.”
My eyes snap to his, and I find something warm there, something soft. The cabin shrinks, the space between us charged with something that has nothing to do with fake engagements and everything to do with the way he’s looking at me.
“Just cute?” I challenge, tilting my chin. “How would you propose then?”
His smile fades slightly, his expression turning unreadable. “I wouldn’t.”
The words hit me like a slap. “You wouldn’t?”
“I’m not the marrying type.”
My stomach dips. “Let me guess. A girl broke your heart, and now you’re convinced marriage isn’t for you?”
“Not exactly.” His jaw tightens. “The ranch and the horses… They don’t leave room for much else. Women don’t want to sign up for that life.”
Irritation scratches at the back of my throat. “A life with only horses for company? What about…other needs?”
His gaze sharpens. “What other needs might those be, Ems?”
I swallow hard. At twenty-five, my virginity feels like a neon sign flashing over my head. No amount of late-night research or battery-operated substitutes could prepare me for the man sitting across from me.
Eric Waters is experience personified. And he knows it.
I take a breath. “The need for human connection. Intimacy.”
The air crackles with an unspoken challenge. His brow lifts, amusement flickering in his gaze. “Are you suggesting I’m missing out?”
I lean in, my voice dropping. “Yes. Aren’t you just a little curious what you’re missing with someone like me?”
His smirk deepens, but there’s heat in his gaze now. He leans forward, closing the distance between us. “Tell me, darling, what exactly am I missing?”
“A young and willing woman who wants to learn all her duties from a cowboy.”
His chest rises sharply and his eyes flicker with something dark, something dangerous. And for a split second, I think he might kiss me.
Instead, he leans back, shaking his head. “I have a feeling, Emma, you won’t have any trouble convincing my grandfather we’re engaged.”
I exhale, my stomach tight with nerves. I lift my glass, sipping the sparkling wine to calm my racing pulse. “You’re changing the subject.”
He shrugs. “A woman doesn’t need a man who’s never home. I’m outside from dawn till dusk, and that’s not changing.”
I tilt my head. “So, horses are your one true love?”
“I never said that.”
I feign a thoughtful nod. “So, no relationships. No attachments. No needs?”
His lips twitch again. “I didn’t say that either.”
I hold his stare, deciding to push just a little further. “What is your thing, then? A one night stand? A sturdy headboard? A firm hand?””
A choked sound escapes him, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“Now, look what you’ve done,” I tease as he wipes away the wine he spit out on his sweater. “Take it off.”
His brows shoot up. “Excuse me?”
“Your sweater. We can’t have your parents seeing you in a stained shirt. It doesn’t reflect well on your fiancée. ”
He eyes me, amused. “Are you playing with me?”
I give him a playful wink. “Just practicing for the role.”
He grabs my wrist, tugging me forward, his heat wrapping around me. His voice drops to a low growl. “Should I remind you of your betrothed duties tonight?”
The moment stretches, the air between us turning with the charged electricity of a lightning bolt.
Then, right when things feel like they’re tipping over the edge?—
I burp. Loud and obnoxious. Sparkling wine bubbles back up in the most unladylike way possible, bursting between us.
His face morphs from intense to stunned before we both break into uncontrollable laughter.
I groan. “I am so sorry.”
His laughter rumbles through the cabin. “Laughter’s important in a partnership, Ems.”
I shake my head, still giggling. “So we’re all good?”
“We’re all good.” He lifts his glass. “To the perfect accomplice.”
“To the perfect fake engagement.”
We clink glasses, pretending like everything is fine.
But deep down, I know better.
Because if this trip doesn’t get me Eric and my partnership, I just might die of disappointment.
“To the perfect fake fiancée .”
I smirk. “Perhaps one day, you’ll get to find out, cowboy, there’s nothing fake about me.”
Eric swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. But then, just like that, he leans back, regaining control, his usual self-assured smirk in place. “Things won’t be dull at the ranch with you around, darling.”
He couldn’t be more right.
An hour into the train ride, I have to admit—he was right again. Taking the train is better than driving. Blue skies stretch endlessly, dipping into green pastures. The city slowly disappears behind us, making way for open fields and scattered barns. The gentle rocking of the train adds to the dreamy lull, but instead of drifting into sleep, I spend my time getting answers.
Or rather, trying to.
Eric deflects nearly every question I throw at him, skillfully flipping the conversation back to me like I won’t notice. But I do notice. And I play his game, matching his strategy move for move. After all, I have a reputation to uphold. My one-zero-zero point zero success rate demands perfection.
“Tristan’s holding me back. Julian, not so much,” I say, finishing my second glass of wine and leaning forward. The bubbles have fizzled out, but the warmth remains. “Hey, you’ve known them forever. Why do you think they’re doing it?”
“I’m rarely in New York, Emma,” he muses, swirling his drink, “but we can both agree they’re overprotective.”
His voice is thick, dripping with a charm that makes me wonder if it’s the wine getting to me or just him. Because every time he says my name, something in my chest tightens, kicking up a flutter like an unexpected breeze.
Emma Silver-Waters.
The name plays in my head like a symphony. And for a fleeting moment, I can’t imagine anything sounding better.
A sudden touch jolts me back. His fingers, warm and rough, press gently over my knee. The contrast between his heat and the cool air in the cabin makes my breath hitch. By the time I manage to look up, he’s already pulling away, like my gaze has scalded him.
“What do you think?” he asks.
“About what?” My mind is still reeling, stuck on the weight of my married name.
“Helping me with the pony rides at the fair.”
I blink, trying to process his words amidst the chaos of my thoughts. “Sounds like an adventure. You said it’s country themed?”
Eric tilts his head, and I slap his arm playfully. “I’m kidding, Eric. Of course, it’s country-themed. And I can’t wait to taste your mom’s apple pie.”
“Because?” he prompts, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.
“Because she uses your late grandmother’s secret recipe.”
His grin widens. “You were listening.”
Of course, I was. This is my chance to show Eric I can shift from a sophisticated city girl to a full-blown country queen. I push my shoulders together just enough to emphasize my assets, fully aware of how they rise with the move.
“Do you like it when I listen to you, Eric?”
Even I’m surprised by the sultry tone in my voice.
His lips part slightly, his breath almost audible. He leans forward, meeting me halfway. “Something tells me, Ems, there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
The air stills between us. Outside, the world blurs by, but all I see is him —the flicker in his amber eyes, the way his chest moves with each measured breath. The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels mirrors the rapid beat of my pulse. He’s close. Too close.
Then, the train lurches with a sudden shift, and a sharp sway. We rock forward, then back, the moment snapping apart.
“We’re here.”
His throat works, his jaw tightening. I pull away, forcing a shaky exhale. “I should get my suitcase.”
I stand, but the train jolts again, and I stumble straight into him. My body presses flush against his—solid, warm, hard.
And not just in one place.
Oh. My. God.
Heat floods my skin as my mind goes rogue, cataloging every inch of him against me. His muscles flex, steadying me, but it’s the other muscle I can’t ignore. My chest rises and falls too fast, my breath tangling with his scent of hay, leather, and crisp autumn air.
Eric Waters smells like home. And it’s wrecking me.
The train fully stops, and he lets go, stepping back just as my knees wobble.
“You okay?” His voice is too steady. Too unaffected.
I straighten my blazer, suddenly wishing I’d changed before we left. “Yup, all good,” I lie.
Outside, Eric’s neighbor Blake waits with a wide grin. He’s closer to my age than Eric, with a boyish charm that makes him instantly likable. As we drive, the scent of fresh soil and cool air wafts through the open windows. Meadows stretch endlessly, framed by golden willows swaying in the breeze.
We pass a bridge, then another. Eric points out the Fields’ farm across the river, and ten minutes later, we pull into a long, winding driveway.
The wrought-iron W monogram hanging from the front gate looms ahead. White fencing surrounds the property, disappearing into the horizon. I roll down my window, inhaling the familiar blend of fresh harvest and earthy farm air. Tall willows bend low to the ground, their branches whispering secrets in the wind.
Everything has grown, blossomed, and changed.
Blake parks near a path lined with blooming roses, and before I can gather myself, Eric is already at my door. He grabs my suitcase, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. We wave Blake off as he pulls away, leaving behind a cloud of dust and silence.
I turn, taking in the vast stretch of golden fields. My heel sinks into soft soil, and before I can react, I teeter off balance. Strong hands catch me, steadying me before I can make a complete fool of myself.
“You okay?” Eric murmurs, his grip firm.
I nod, using his arm for balance. “Yeah, thanks. Just…a little nervous.”
“You’ve met my parents before.”
“Not as your wife-to-be.” I wince. “Jesus, that sounds…terrifying.”
“Marrying me sounds terrifying ?”
“No! I mean—this. Us. Pretending. I haven’t done this before.”
He chuckles, glancing at his watch. “It’s only four hours before they go to bed. If you can survive that, you’ll be fine.”
“Your parents go to bed at eight?”
“Right with the chickens.”
“They go to bed with the chickens?”
His laughter is low, rich, but before I can pry for an explanation, the front door swings open.
And just like that, game on.
Joanne Waters rushes down the steps, her arms outstretched. “There you are! We’ve been waiting for you.”
Before I can react, she pulls me into a warm, familiar embrace. Her touch is gentle and grounding, like coming home to something I didn’t realize I’d missed.
“It’s so good to see you, Emma.” Joanne ushers me inside, her warmth wrapping around me like a familiar embrace. The air is thick with the scent of cinnamon and baked apples, a whisper of family traditions and love.
“Thank you for having me.”
She gently pries my briefcase from my grasp and sets it on a side bench, her eyes twinkling as she takes me in. “I can’t believe I’m looking at the same girl who lasted longer than Wyoming Jack.”
Eric strides past us, setting my suitcase at the base of the stairs.
“When did this happen?” he asks, curiosity laced in his voice.
When you were shagging a woman in the barn. The memory surfaces before I can stop it—me, gripping the mechanical bull for dear life while Eric was off, very much not thinking about me.
“Ten years ago,” I answer, my cheeks heating. “You weren’t there that night.”
Joanne turns to Eric, oblivious to my internal crisis. “It was the year Caroline came to visit her parents.”
Caroline? Is that the woman I caught him banging in the barn? I file that name away for later.
Joanne loops her arm through mine, leading me through the foyer. “How are Frank and Wilma?”
“Dad’s still fighting.”
“Good. We should have them come out here for Christmas. That’s only five weeks away.”
Dad may not have five weeks left, but I say nothing.
“Come inside. What brings you to Lords Valley?”
I glance at Eric before reaching for his hand, twining our fingers together like we’ve been doing it for years. Then, I lift my hand, flashing the engagement ring.
Joanne gasps, covering her mouth as her eyes well up. “Ethan! Ethan, Eric’s engaged! Oh, wait until your grandfather hears about this.”
She pulls us into a tight hug, practically vibrating with excitement.
“When did this happen? Ethan! Albert!” she calls toward the back of the house, then turns to Eric. “Come to the garden. They’re under the pergola.”
“Grandpa’s here already?”
“He took an earlier flight. There’s a hurricane heading toward Aruba.”
We weave through a cozy family room, past the kitchen, and step into the backyard where two older versions of Eric sit at a wooden table. Ethan nurses a beer while Albert sips a vibrant green shake. They rise from their seats as we approach, and Ethan turns down the booming country music.
“Is this true what I’m hearing?” Eric’s grandfather asks, his voice deep and steady.
Eric tightens his hold on my hand, lifting it high. “Grandpa, this is Emma Silver. You’ve met her before—when she was younger.” He clears his throat. “She’s my fiancée.”
Albert’s gaze locks onto the ring, his eyes misting over.
“Estonia’s ring?” He wipes at a tear, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so happy to see you’ve finally passed on your grandmother’s ring.”
His grandmother’s ring? I school my expression, but I’m certain Grandpa Albert catches my surprise.
“Me too, grandpa. Glad you’re here. We missed you.” Eric embraces his grandfather, then his father.
“I missed you as well.”
Grandpa Albert pulls out a wicker chair and gestures for me to sit. “Emma, tell me all about how my grandson swept such a beautiful woman off her feet.”
“Hold on, Albert. Let Emma settle in before you interrogate her. Emma, you must be starving.” Joanne ushers me to the long bench, then bustles about, setting a wooden table with country dishes. I look up to the vines of grapes spilling from the pergola canopy above. God, it’s beautiful here.
“I made your favorite beef stew,” she tells Eric, pride in her voice.
Oh no.
Grandpa Albert nudges my elbow. “I hope you like to cook, Emma. Eric here has quite the appetite.”
My stomach drops. Cooking is as foreign to me as horseback riding is to a fish.
“I see.” I force a smile, eyeing my plate.
Eric digs into his meal, while I carefully spoon potatoes onto my plate, drenching them in gravy. I push the beef aside, opting for the garden salad. The first bite is a punch of flavors—herbs, fresh vegetables, and a hint of citrus.
“Joanne, this is delicious.”
“My mother loves gardening. She should show you her greenhouse.”
“So, it’s all organic? That’s incredible.”
Eric pauses mid-bite. “Why aren’t you eating the beef?”
“I’m a vegetarian.”
Silence falls over the table. Eric’s brow furrows. “But you’re eating the gravy.”
“Gravy’s not meat,” I counter.
Eric chokes on his food, and before I can react, a chunk of beef launches from his mouth, sailing through the air before landing on the grass. A nearby cat pounces, snatching it up before scampering away.
Grandpa Albert shakes his head. “Thought you’d know this about your fiancée.”
“So, Emma…” He dabs his mouth with a napkin. “How long has the romance been going on?”
“Six months, but I’ve been secretly in love with Eric since the day he saddled me onto Shadow.” The words slip out so easily, I have a hard time not believing what I said. But the weight of deception settles heavily on my shoulders.
Eric takes a sharp inhale.
“I had some growing up to do, of course. Then school, but fate kept Eric waiting for me on a bench in Central Park.”
God, that sounded good.
Albert narrows his gaze. “Interesting, because Eric was visiting me in Aruba six months ago and he never mentioned a girlfriend.”
I don’t miss a beat. “This was after his trip. I remember his Aruba tan when he visited my brothers in New York.” I turn to Eric and place my hand over his. “Isn’t that right, honey?”
He clears his throat. “Yes, that’s right, darling.”
“Albert, Emma’s like family. This will be a simple transition with a spring wedding by the river,” Ethan adds.
A what ?
Eric’s hand grips my knee under the table, grounding me. As a soon-to-be partner at Silver Securities, I had plans for spring. None of which included a wedding. But who am I to argue the notion of becoming Eric’s wife?
Ethan raises his beer. “Cheers to the engaged couple.”
The clink of glasses seals the deal.
I smile, lift my glass, and silently vow that if I don’t land my partnership and Eric by the end of this, I will lose my mind.
We join Eric’s father in the toast, and Grandpa Albert bumps my elbow again.
“So, Shadow? How did she handle?”
“She was the best ride I’ve ever had.”
A low grumble rolls through Eric’s chest.
“Shadow was a yearling when the Silvers came to visit. She followed Emma everywhere,” Ethan says.
Albert coughs into a napkin, the prolonged wheeze making everyone sit up until he rasps, “I remember that day. Ethan, you were supposed to buy new saddles but opted for worn-out crap.”
“Grandpa,” Eric scolds.
“It’s true. A year later, your father sold a new tractor because he swore he could fix the old one. He never did.”
“Ethan fell ill that year,” Joanne explains gently.
I clear my throat and set my fork on my plate. “You should hear about the year I crashed my father’s car.”
The attention shifts my way, and I roll with the lie. “I’m fine. The car? Not so much. It happened under an overpass. I didn’t expect the black ice.”
My fabricated near-death experience is terrifying enough to stop a family feud in its tracks.
“We’re glad you’re safe, Emma. Eric’s car died last month, but he refuses to buy a new one. Shopping isn’t the same on a horse.”
My head snaps to Joanne. “You go shopping on a horse?”
“Not me. Eric.”
Before I can push for details, Albert elbows me again. “What is it you do back in New York, Emma?”
“I’m a private investigator.”
“And will you miss your job when you move to Lords Valley after the wedding?”
For nearly two decades, winning Eric’s heart has been my sole focus, blinding me to the challenges beyond the altar. While I secretly hoped he’d move to New York, reality is setting in. There’s no way I can leave my home. Could Eric ever leave Lords Valley?
Faced with a new dilemma, I choose the path of least resistance. “I’m hoping the sheriff might need some help.”
“Oh, good. I’ll introduce you to Simon tomorrow.” Albert says, rubbing his belly. “That was delicious, Joanne.”
“Have some pie, Albert. This one’s sugar-free. Just apples.” Joanne sets a plate in front of him before standing. “I better get cleaning.”
Eric stands, taking the dishes from her hands. “Mom, sit down. I got it. You’ve been on your feet all day.”
I lift from my seat. “I’ll help.”
“You haven’t finished eating.”
“I’m full already. And I want to help.”
Joanne’s smile widens, her gaze warm and expectant, as if she’s already imagining grandchildren in our future.
“Emma, darling, you must be tired from the trip. Eric should show you to his house before it gets dark.”
Eric freezes.
“She’s not staying in the guest room?”
“We turned that into a sewing room, and Albert’s taking your old room.”
“What about Annabelle’s room?”
“She’s arriving tomorrow for the fair. I thought you’d be happy to host your fiancée in your home.”
He clears his throat. “Of course I am. I’ll change the sheets and?—”
“I changed them when you called to say Emma was coming. Given you’re engaged, well, that’s like marriage in God’s eyes.”
Yes!
I allow an inner squeal while Eric looks lost and helpless. Spending time at his house definitely fits in my master plan.
“Come on, Eric. Let’s wash the dishes,” I tell him, picking up more empty plates. We move in silence at the sink—him washing, me drying. But when I glance out the window, I see the Waters huddling around the table, whispering. My stomach tightens.
“Something’s wrong,” I mutter, accepting another plate from Eric.
“Why do you say that?”
“I don’t think Grandpa Albert believes our act.”
Eric shuts off the water with a decisive twist. A moment later, he dries his hands on a towel and turns toward me.
“Grandpa’s watching now. It’s time to make him believe.”
The air between us crackles as I step closer. His hand finds the small of my back, and my breath catches. I’m not sure who moves first, but when our lips meet, it isn’t just for show—it’s hunger and heat, raw and undeniable.
Eric’s hands are rough yet warm as he cups my face. The world outside the kitchen window blurs, my heart racing as his lips claim mine. His kiss is firm and insistent, leaving no room for doubt.
If this is an act, it’s the most convincing one I’ve ever experienced.