Chapter 22 #2
“This is so much better than anything I could’ve imagined.” Briar’s smile is wide and comical. She’s enjoying this far too much. “Tell me there was eye contact. Please.”
I blow out a breath. Sweat dots my spine. This is too much. “I came in at the end of his . . . um . . . session. But I didn’t exactly announce my entrance.” I can feel my cheeks glowing red.
“Holy hell.” Sloane cheeks are rosy. “You watched?”
I exhale a shaky laugh. “I did.”
“Did he catch you?” Harlowe asks, eyes wide.
“After the . . . um . . . finale. I tried to sneak out, but the door handle was wet.”
“I bet it wasn’t the only thing.”
“Jesus.” Harlowe shoves Briar’s head into the pillow. “You’re done.”
“After I fled, he came out. God, it was so awkward and . . . hot . . . but mostly mortifying.”
Briar’s face falls. “No. No. No. That’s not where this story is supposed to go.”
“You okay over there?”
She looks hot and bothered but a little sad. “No.” She drops her head back on the couch. “I’m so so far from okay.”
“I think you’ll survive.”
“Planned sex is going to be the death of me. I’m a woman built for adventure.” Briar’s laugh is strained. “Please let me live vicariously through you all.”
Sloane snickers at Briar’s predicament. “Yeah, I’m not going to lie, I’m intrigued by this whole situation.”
“So glad my misery is entertaining.” Sarcasm drips from every word. “The man owned everything, though. Even admitted he’d been denying himself for a while.”
“Shit,” Sloane mumbles.
“That’s—wow—no words,” Briar echoes. “I’m not sure if I’m impressed with your willpower or mad at you for missing out on what absolutely would have been incredible sex.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” I admit.
“That’s why we’re here.” Sloane says.
“He’s leaving,” I say, softer this time. “And this isn’t just physical attraction anymore.”
The room falls quiet, and three pairs of eyes land on me with the kind of understanding that makes my chest ache.
“Oh, honey,” Briar says gently, all teasing stripped away. “That’s so much worse.”
A helpless laugh escapes me. “Tell me about it.”
I stare down into my drink, turning the glass between my palms. “At coffee the other day, I still thought I could outthink this.”
Harlowe watches me carefully. “And now?”
I blow out a breath. “Now, I can’t think straight. Emmett is everywhere. Jeremiah has ruined the hospital for me.” My face heats. “And the world’s most horrifying bathroom experience just pushed me over the edge. None of this feels harmless anymore.”
“It’s not really about the shower,” Sloane says softly.
“No.” I shake my head. “That just made it impossible to ignore. Before, I could pretend that this was just a crush—maybe it was mutual but it wasn’t that serious.”
The silence that follows feels a little too close to clarity for my comfort.
Naturally, Briar ruins it.
“For the record,” she says, pointing her margarita at me, “this is no longer a nether noggin situation.”
Despite myself, I snort. “Excuse me?”
“I’m serious.” She sits forward. “Before? Maybe your lady bits were driving the bus a little.”
“Briar.”
“But now?” She presses a hand dramatically to her chest. “Babe, your feelings are involved. You’re emotionally cooked.”
Sloane nods solemnly. “Fully sautéed.”
“I hate it here.”
“No you don’t,” Harlowe says, smiling into her drink.
I really, really don’t.
“He’s just . . .” I shake my head. “Different than I expected. Quiet. Sweet in ways no one would believe. He listens to the things I don’t say.”
“And he’s built like a thirst trap,” Briar adds.
“And unfortunately, very very hot,” I mutter. “Which isn’t helping me make smart decisions.”
Harlowe nudges my knee with hers. “Sounds like you already know what you want.”
She’s right, of course.
Maybe the real problem is that I’m confused, but I know exactly what I want and understand the cost.
The kitchen door swings open before I can answer.
Every coherent thought leaves my body.
Emmett steps inside shirtless, sweat and grease catching across hard muscle as he drags his shirt over his face.
My friends look unbearably smug and now I might actually hate them.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He smirks, and I shift on the couch.
“Hey, Emmett.” Briar wiggles her finger at him. “You’ve been ignoring Denver’s—”
“Your husband.” Harlowe coughs.
Briar rolls her eyes. “My husband’s invitation to come over for horseshoes.”
“I told you, group settings aren’t really my thing.”
“Oh, that’s adorable. In a town this small, people are gonna come looking for you either way. Better to socialize on your own terms.”
“No,” Emmett deadpans, but there’s a playful glint to his eyes that only makes Briar smile back brighter at him.
Next to me, Sloane smiles. “Don’t worry, I won’t peer pressure you. I know what it’s like to be new in town.”
Watching my friends induct Emmett into the fold makes the warmth in my cheeks spread to my sternum. He could have a happy life here if he wanted—if he’d let himself have it.
He shifts his attention to Harlowe. “Good to see you again, Commander.”
“Slate. Glad to see you stuck around.”
At that, Emmett ducks his head. “I just need a shower, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
Just the mention of the shower has the heat swirling lower and sinking like a lead ball in my core, too heavy to ignore. And that’s the defense I’ll mount if anyone calls me on the words that slip from my lips.
“As dirty boys do.”
Sloane buries her laugh in her shoulder, and Emmett lifts an eyebrow at me as he passes the back of my couch.
My eyes widen.
“Well,” I mutter into my drink. “That was supposed to stay inside my head.”
It’s true what they say—nothing solves problems like girl talk and margaritas. Not that I’ve ever heard anyone say that, but it still rings true.
“Don’t drown in there, Hotshot,” Briar calls after him. “One shower-related emergency is all our girl can handle.”
His steps slow, and I throw a pillow at her. But after a second, he continues.
“You bitch,” I say with no venom when the door to the bathroom clicks closed in the distance.
“He seems different,” Harlowe comments, turning back from where Emmett disappeared to face me. “Less guarded.”
Since the first time I met him in the helicopter, the weariness that has clung to Emmett seems to have loosened its hold a fraction.
I don’t doubt the pain is still there. But maybe Timberline Peak is helping him carry it.