Chapter 3 Emily
emily
Emmie Girl. There was something about my childhood nickname on his tongue that really did me in. Who was the man in front of me, and what had he done with Mason Elliott? Never in my wildest dreams had I ever pictured him flirting with me.
Friends? Could we really be friends? My heart sped up, beating faster as I took him in. The way he filled out those Wranglers. His green plaid flannel that almost seemed to bulge around his muscles. Even his damn boots and the brown leather jacket he was wearing. I swallowed roughly.
Because this man was every wet dream come to life. And it was so unfair. Because he was Mason. My brother’s best friend growing up. The boy I’d watched at every opportunity. Riding horses, playing video games with my brother, or hanging out in the living room with my family.
The cowboy I’d been crushing on since I knew what a crush was.
Is the thought of being friends with me really so bad? No, no, it wasn’t. And that was the problem.
Because I was just like everyone else. I was pretty sure every girl within a twenty-mile radius had drooled over him when he was younger. He was stupidly attractive, and damn if he didn’t know it. Cocky as all hell, and definitely not for me.
“No,” I finally answered him. “No, I don’t think it would be so bad at all.”
I reached up, stealing his hat off his head and placing it on mine, fluttering my eyelashes.
His eyes filled with heat, and his eyes raked over mine, not even trying to hide his attraction to me. I liked that. The blatant perusal, the way he’d been so bold earlier, sliding in and wrapping his arm around my body.
Mason stepped forward, the stubble on his cheek brushing against my face as he dropped his mouth to my ear. “You know what they say, darlin’.”
“Hm?” I tipped my head back, pressing up onto my tiptoes. It was the first time I could really appreciate how tall he was—how he seemed to tower over me with that impressive height and build. There was no denying how Mason spent his days, not when he looked like that.
He flicked the brim of the hat up, exposing my face to the light.
Mason’s head dipped low, his lips only inches from mine. “If you wear the hat, you gotta ride the cowboy.” His voice scraped over my skin, making goosebumps appear on my arms.
He couldn’t be… no. “Is that so?” My voice was all breathy. Damn if I didn’t know it. I was just pretending to act coy, hoping he wouldn’t see how much he affected me.
There was no way that Mason was thinking about what it would be like to be with me, right?
Of course not. Except… He hummed against my skin, taking the hat back and placing it back on his head.
My body felt like it was on fire.
Fuck, he was hot. Hotter than he had any right to be. I’d done my best to forget that fact over the last ten years—namely because he’d never seen me as anything other than a kid growing up—and then because he’d been married. He was taken. Off-limits.
And now, he was… what?
Divorced. Living in Montana again. My neighbor.
Even so, he was… Mason. My brother’s childhood best friend.
The man who was good. Who rescued kittens from trees and talked in soft voices to his horses.
The man who never failed to make me smile growing up.
Who would share his cookie with me—Hunter’s kid sister and all.
Who put a bandaid on my cuts and scrapes I’d gotten when I’d followed them around.
My heart was racing.
I let my eyes drift down to his empty ring finger. The gold band he’d worn the last time I saw him at Hunter’s wedding was gone.
It’s in the past, he’d said. I’m over it. And yet, there was a darkness that seemed to cling to him, something behind those blue eyes that seemed to say the opposite.
Suddenly, I wanted to take that darkness away from him.
Maybe he was just as lonely as I was.
Maybe being home didn’t have to be so bad.
His eyes dipped from my eyes to my mouth, and then back up.
What would it be like to have his mouth on mine?
To have that beard scraping against my skin as his tongue gently pushed inside—not asking for permission, because Mason might have been a gentleman, but he would take what he wanted. And I’d give it to him gladly.
“Mason, I—” I swiped my tongue over my lips. Drank the rest of my drink in one gulp, as if it would give me the courage to say the words desperate to spring free. I… what? What was I about to say? About to do?
Something stupid like asking him to kiss me. God, maybe I’d had too much to drink. I definitely had, if I was thinking of something insane like that.
Turning my head, I looked at Hannah over my shoulder.
She raised her eyebrow, the question obvious on her face.
We’d always had an unspoken language between us, and I knew what she was asking.
Do you need a rescue? I gave a small shake of my head.
This was Mason. I was perfectly safe with him.
No matter what I said, no matter what happened between us, I had no reason to doubt that.
“I should go,” Mason said, setting his empty glass down on the bar.
“What?” I turned back to look at him, a frown filling my face. “But I thought…” I’d thought we were having a good time. Fun. Wasn’t that what we were saying? “You don’t want to stay a little longer?”
He shook his head. “Have an early mornin’ at the barn.
You know how it is. Especially with the weather the way it is.
” Mason took off his hat, running his fingers through his hair before replacing it again.
“You…” He cleared his throat. “You have a safe way home tonight, Em?” No more Emmie Girl, I guess.
We were back to Em. Still, I liked how he was worried about me, that he wanted to make sure I’d be okay.
The ten-year-old who had doodled his name on all of her notebooks was practically jumping for joy.
I tried to remind that girl that we weren’t infatuated with this cowboy in front of us anymore—that at twenty-eight, we had moved on from the silly childhood crush, but it was hard.
Harder still, with the way he was looking at me with concern in those deep blue eyes.
I nodded. “Yeah. Hannah’s husband is going to pick us up.” That was why I’d taken an Uber to the bar earlier.
“Good.” He rubbed his hand over his beard.
I wondered what it would feel like on my skin. Between my thighs.
Down, girl, I scolded myself. Damn, I was being a horny bitch. Turns out all it took was one cowboy in a Stenson and Wrangler jeans for my body to come back to life.
“Night, Emily.”
“Goodnight, Mason,” I whispered, watching him walk out the door, hands shoved inside his jean pockets. He said something to his friend and then slipped outside.
Fuck it. I ordered another drink. Alcohol was needed, especially after I’d just been rejected. Somehow, he’d anticipated what I was going to ask and had taken off before I could ask it. Dammit.
Hannah frowned as I slid back into my seat at our table. “What just happened? You two looked like you were having a good time.”
“Thought we were.” I turned and looked at the door where he’d just disappeared outside. “Honestly, I have no idea, Han.” Propping my elbow on the table, I rested my head on my hand. “He just…” I shrugged, twirling my straw around my drink.
Was it crazy to think maybe I could have a bit of fun over the next two weeks while I was home? Maybe. But it was even crazier that I’d actually thought about suggesting it to Mason. Of course he’d turn me down. Of course he didn’t want to kiss me.
I groaned. “Let’s never speak about this again.”
My head was pounding, and I was seriously questioning my last drink I’d had before we’d left the bar last night. I was getting too old for this. Letting out a groan, I buried my face into one of the soft, plush pillows that littered the living room couch.
Why did I drink so much? I rubbed my temples. The smart thing to do after being rejected by my much older brother’s childhood best friend would have been to go home and hide, to let the sting of embarrassment fade. I hadn’t done that. Somehow, I was even more mortified this morning.
Running my index finger over my lips, I thought about that moment when his eyes had found my mouth. Was I really going to ask him to kiss me?
I’d been so sure he was interested in kissing me, too.
But then he’d bolted.
The doorbell ringing startled me out of my thoughts.
I looked down at my outfit, trying to decide if I was respectable enough to open the door. I’d pulled on a cozy snowflake sweater, a pair of leggings, and giant slipper socks this morning. At least I was clothed and not in my pajamas. Honestly, I considered that a win in my book.
It was like my mind was playing tricks on me, because there was a tall, muscular cowboy waiting. He had one hand propping himself up on the doorway and the other perched on his hip. Hot damn. That shouldn’t be attractive. But it was.
There was a cowboy hat on his head—a different one—and he was wearing a red plaid shirt underneath a thick Carhartt jacket with a pair of jeans and work boots.
“Hi,” I squeaked out, remembering to say something finally.
His blue eyes sparkled in the mid-morning sun as he stood up straight. “Hey, Emmie Girl.”
I winced. My childhood nickname was a reminder that he was eight years older than me, and he’d never seen me as anything other than a kid. As my brother’s little sister. He’d made that clear last night.
“I just wanted to make sure you were doin’ okay.”
“You didn’t need to come check on me,” I insisted, hand still clutching the door. “I’m fine. My mom’s a little overbearing, but she should really know that I can take care of myself.”
He just blinked at me. “What?”
I frowned. “Didn’t my mom send you over here to make sure I was okay?”
Mason raised an eyebrow. “No. I mean, she told my mom you were staying here alone, and asked if I could help if you needed anything.”
Yeah, that sounded like Mom. “I’m not a kid anymore,” I grumbled. “I don’t need to be checked in on.”