Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
EMERSON
Damon has been with me for two days, and it’s been a blissfully quiet week with no public appearances scheduled, so when I step out onto the street on Friday with Hayley at my side, I’m grateful to see the extent to which he’s gone to keep the paparazzi to an absolute minimum.
A total of five photographers stand on the opposite side of the street, the flashes from their cameras barely registering, considering I typically expect more than fifty shoved in my face everywhere I go.
As I slip into the town car, I stop and shoot him a delighted smile. “I don’t think I’ve walked onto the street with such ease in the longest time.”
His smile mirrors my own, reaching his dark brown eyes. “My boss has implemented an entirely new system for you, Miss Hart. One that works with the media, ensuring minimal invasion of your privacy. And tighter security overall as a result.” Then he sends me a cheeky wink. “Stick with Sentinel, and you’ll be good as gold.”
My smile overtakes my face as I move past him and into the back seat. Once I’ve settled beside Hayley, Damon pulls out into traffic, and we make our way downtown to meet my stepmom, Reese, for our long-standing Friday night get-together at Fern.
“I’ve just received an email from Vesper to advise that the reshoots for Breaking Us are scheduled to begin a week from Monday.” Hayley lifts her head from her cell, regarding me with questioning eyes. “Should I confirm, Em?”
“Please, Hayles. I can’t wait to get them over and fucking done with.” I roll my eyes heavily, making my stepsister slash best friend slash assistant chuckle. “Shooting intimate scenes is never my jam, but reshooting sex scenes with Law should be… fun, to say the very least.”
Hayley emits a high-pitched squeal of laughter, and I can’t help but join her as I recall how every single intimate scene I’ve needed to shoot with Lawson Wilde has consisted of him doing his damnedest to irritate the living shit out of me.
He succeeds more often than not. Asshole.
Like when he’d eaten five cloves of raw garlic before our first kissing scene. Needless to say, I’d almost vomited into his mouth.
Or the time he’d sprayed his armpits with genuinely hideous fart spray before our first intimate scene. When I’d tugged his shirt over his head, I nearly passed out before spending the next twenty minutes gagging into a bag while he and the crew laughed their asses off.
Lawson fucking Wilde.
I shake my head with a resigned smirk. “Let’s see what he comes up with for Thursday.”
Hayles is still chuckling as she responds before the car grinds to a halt outside Fern. When I glance out the darkened windows, I’m again surprised to find minimal paparazzi in attendance, and as I catch Damon’s gaze in the rearview, I smile sincerely, mouthing a silent thank you .
This new security Alex DeMarco had procured for me is literally life-changing, and the way I am grateful for it is no small thing.
My cell vibrates as I move to exit the vehicle, and I quickly glance at the screen before opening the newly received text message.
EASTON
Grampie wants to know if you’re coming to visit this summer.
My chest tightens as my stomach lurches when I think of returning to Broken Hart, a place I’ve not been back to since before my big break. It’s not that I haven’t had the time—although that has played a small part—it’s more so that I can’t face returning to Texas and all the memories it holds. Memories that are now tainted and would be more than a little painful to relive.
ME
Not this year, East. But I’ll see you at Dad’s for Thanksgiving, okay?
Without waiting for his reply, I mute my device before locking the screen and sliding it inside my purse, pushing the gnawing guilt to the back of my mind as I follow Hayley onto the sidewalk.
Once we’ve entered the restaurant, even having taken a moment to stop and pose for the seven by-standing photographers—something I never do these days, but Sentinel’s new protocol, whatever that is, has me feeling magnanimous—I spot Reese at our usual table. She waves us over with a grin.
“I’ve just gotten off a call with your father, and he’s promised he’ll be home for a week at the end of the month, so make sure you mark your calendars.”
Hayley and I nod dutifully even as we shoot each other a grin. My father makes plans but tends to promptly forget all about them when work calls.
I slide into my seat as Hayley inputs the dates into our joint calendar on her cell, when Reese leans across the table with a grin.
“Where have all the paparazzi gone, girls? I could actually park my car tonight without needing to worry about accidentally hitting one of them.”
Hayley takes center stage, informing her mother of my new security courtesy of the studio and DeMarco Holdings when the opening bars of “Iris” reach my ears, making me stiffen immediately.
A cold sweat forms on my brow as tears prickle my eyes and my veins turn to ice. Breaths stuttering in my throat, nausea claws at my belly.
My brain is instantly awash with memories of Ford while alternately pushing away those dark days from five years ago.
I rise to stand on shaky legs, my eyes unseeing as I make my way toward the front of the restaurant.
Images of Ford flash through my mind, simultaneously muting and amplifying my agony, and my feet pick up the pace until I reach the hostess’s podium. Inga, daughter of Fern’s proprietor, greets me with a concerned smile.
“Is everything alri?—”
“I need you to turn it off.” My words are halted, my voice trembling, and I’m altogether sure my knees are about to buckle beneath me as Inga frowns in confusion.
“The song,” I clarify, my tone becoming desperate when I notice a vase of orange and coral peonies decorating the podium. “ Please . Turn it off.”
Damon reaches me, concern painted across his dark features right as Hayley appears at my other side, and I jolt when she places her hands on my shoulders. When I pivot to face her, her eyes fill with understanding, and my shoulders sag with relief at her steadfast presence.
“Inga, if you wouldn’t mind…”
But it’s too late. My sister’s voice fades into the background as the sound of John Rzeznik’s achingly beautiful voice sends me hurdling back to the moment that changed everything.
I swipe my hands down my tear-streaked face, irritated beyond belief when fresh tears continue to fall.
“Motherfucker!”
My announcement is for no one aside from Tessa, who is eating the oats I’ve thieved from Circle H’s stable, oblivious to the pain in my chest that lingers right around where my heart dwells. I can’t go back to Broken Hart. I can’t see East or Grampie. I can’t face the inevitable questions. Not in this state, and the acknowledgment makes me silently scream in sheer frustration.
“ Stop . Crying . You . Idiot .”
I enunciate each word succinctly before my throat constricts, and I slam my eyes shut, allowing a fresh wave of tears to stream down my flushed cheeks.
I wish Hayley was here.
For quite possibly the first time since our parents married, I find myself wishing that Reese would have allowed Hayley to spend even just a few weeks of the summer break at Broken Hart instead of visiting my father’s European offices as they usually do.
From the first time I met Hayley on our first day at The Persephone Stage School when we were twelve years old, she’s been my person. It had been kismet when my father finally met her mother, and following a whirlwind engagement, we were no longer best friends.
We were sisters, too.
If she were here, she’d know exactly the right thing to say.
Visions of earlier this evening trickle through my mind, intensifying the hurt tenfold, and I curse myself for thinking a man like Ford Holloway could ever see me as anything more than his friend’s baby sister.
Despite our almost kiss from two weeks ago and the tension that’s flowed between us during every interaction since, to him, I’m simply a girl with a crush.
A monumental crush, but a crush, no less.
And not only a crush, but an unrequited crush on a man who’s ten million miles out of my league.
Just then, as though conjured from my thoughts, the door of the barn opens to reveal that same crush. The one who dominates my waking and sleeping thoughts.
Who has done so for over two years now – probably longer, if I’m honest.
Our eyes lock and hold. Mine are blown wide with surprise, undoubtedly red and puffy from crying for the last two hours, while his are deep, dark blue pools, taking me in with an intensity that makes my blood surge.
That gives me butterflies in my stomach while stealing the breath from my lungs.
He’s shucked the blue tie he was wearing earlier when he’d departed Circle H with Lorelai Arden, his date to the twenty- first birthday party his family is hosting for him at a swanky hotel in Austin.
The same date who’s the cause behind my tears and frustrations, and just as I open my mouth to ask what he’s doing here instead of celebrating at his own party, Ford beats me to it.
“My dad set me up with Lorelai. Her whole family ambushed me today… I had no clue it was coming. And I had zero choice in the matter, Tink.”
His words do nothing to assuage the hurt flowing through me, so I swiftly fold my arms over my chest and shake my head as nonchalantly as I can muster. “You don’t owe me an explanation, Ford. In fact, you owe me precisely nothing .”
He moves farther into the barn, closing the door behind him before bringing his hand up between us, depositing a pretty bouquet of my favorite coral peonies on a nearby shelf, all while keeping his gaze locked with mine.
“Peonies aren’t in season right now, so I ordered them earlier this week. Planned on giving them to you today.” His lips lift slightly on one side in a lopsided half-smile that makes my stomach dip. “They’re your favorite, right?”
I can only blink in the face of his unexpectedly thoughtful gesture before managing a tiny nod. I’m entirely baffled by how he knows my favorite bloom, and as my sluggish brain tries to decipher his actions, his jaw clenches.
“I saw you arrive on Tessa as we left. Couldn’t get the image of your face outta my head.” He edges closer until he’s just out of reach. A frown mars his ridiculously handsome face as his eyes bore into mine with intensity. “Seeing me with Lorelai hurt you. I hurt you, didn’t I?”
Shifting my gaze away to look down at my boots, I swallow roughly as I try to hold on to what little pride I have left.
“I saw the pain on your face as clear as I’m seeing the tears there right this very second.”
My nostrils flare as a fresh ball of emotion rises in my throat, and all I can do is shake my head, praying to whatever higher power exists to please help keep my emotions in check.
Suddenly, Ford is in my space, his hand sliding into place at the nape of my neck to tilt my head up to his, sending a shock of awareness straight through me. A feeling of utter peace, of belonging, of safety, follows before I raise hesitant eyes to turbulent ones.
“I would never hurt you, given the choice, Tink. Not ever .” He brushes the pad of his thumb across my cheek, his gaze deepening with intent before he cups my other cheek with his free hand.
My stomach swirls with a blend of hope and yearning that spreads through my entire body until I’m practically vibrating beneath his hold.
His breath whispers across my lips, making my heart pound so rapidly that I wouldn’t be surprised if it jumped right out of my chest.
“Why…why did you come back?” My question is a bare whisper, and I hold my breath, concurrently fearful and hopeful of his response.
But it doesn’t come.
Instead, conflicted, stormy eyes flick between mine before dropping to my lips, remaining fixated on them for a long beat until he speaks at last. His words are hoarse. Raw. And they speak directly to my heart.
“You don’t wanna know how many times this past week I’ve wondered what your lips might taste like…” He dusts his thumb lightly over my bottom lip, his eyes seemingly captivated by the action, his darkened gaze making my skin tingle.
“As soft as a peach…”
He raises blown pupils to mine, and the unconcealed desire there sets my veins aflame as he whispers, “I have no fucking doubt these perfect lips would taste just as goddamn sweet, Tink.”
My breaths come in short rasps, his chest rising and falling just as rapidly as my own, when he suddenly growls, “And I can’t resist the craving any longer ? —”
His final word is muffled when he covers my mouth with his, teasing the seam of my lips with his tongue and urging them to open.
Urging me to surrender. To give myself over to what I’ve yearned for so damn long.
The feel of his soft lips pressed harshly against mine, his scent teasing my senses while his hands hold me firm, makes me gasp, wanting—no— needing more, and when I part my lips, he thrusts his silken tongue between them, groaning when our tongues clash almost desperately.
His hands slide into my hair as his mouth dominates mine, kissing me as though I’m his lifeline. Like he’ll never get enough. Like we’ll never be close enough, and I eagerly submit, wanting this soul-defining kiss to go on forever.
I grip the collar of his starched white shirt, keeping him firmly against me, and I whimper into his mouth when his broad chest vibrates with a low growl as he deepens the kiss. When he takes both of us to another plane of existence. As he elevates me to another realm where all I can feel, all I can taste, touch, breathe is this man and the feelings he’s stirring to life within me.
Ford suddenly breaks the kiss to press our brows together. We’re both panting as though we’ve just run a marathon when our eyes meet, and a wide smile spreads across his face.
His eyes shine into mine as he slips his hands from my hair to gently palm my cheeks, and my chest swells with raw emotion for the man staring at me as though I’m his sun, moon, and stars.
Watching me with eyes that I can feel myself drowning in before his softly murmured words ghost across my kiss-swollen lips.
“Sweeter than a peach.” Leaning closer, he brushes his lips against mine once more, his eyes holding me their willing prisoner as he whispers, “And I’m starvin’ for you, Tink.”
“Earth to Emerson.”
I jolt back to the here and now, my senses still flooded with Ford, to find I’m back at our table opposite Reese, who’s watching me expectantly.
“Are you ready to order, sweetie?”
My eyes flicker to Hayley on my left, who gives me a reassuring smile, and I nod, forcing back the memories—all of them—the good, the bad…the truly heinous.
Then, I face our server with an exceptionally well-polished fake smile, quickly placing an order for my favorite meatball dish as though I haven’t a care in the world.
After all, these past five years have been one ongoing masquerade. They don’t call me America’s Sweetheart for nothing.