27. Emma
Twenty Seven
Emma
T he gravel crunched under my boots as I trudged up the winding path to Leo’s lakeside cabin. Evergreen boughs formed a canopy overhead, casting dappled shadows that danced across my face with every gentle breeze.
I swiped at the dampness streaking my cheeks, but more tears replaced them just as quickly. Get it together, Emma. I drew a shuddering breath and knocked on the solid oak door.
Seconds ticked by until finally the door swung inward, and there stood Leo, his dark hair still damp from the shower. A few rogue droplets clung to the bronzed skin of his bare chest before disappearing into the terrycloth towel slung low on his hips.
“Emma?” Confusion flickered across his features as he took me in—red-rimmed eyes, shoulders hunched. “What’s wrong, ma lutine?”
The childhood nickname, my brother’s voice soft with concern, was my undoing. A harsh sob escaped my constricted throat as fresh tears spilled over. Before I could answer, Leo’s arms encircled me, pulling me into the cocooning warmth and safety of his embrace.
I melted against his solid frame, burying my face into the soft cotton of his well-worn Wilder’s Jersey tee—a relic from his university days when he played cricket for his friend’s local community league team. The masculine scent of sandalwood and clean soap overwhelmed me, stoking a faint ember of calm against the raging storm of emotions.
“It’s Mom,” I finally choked out, and felt the rumble of his sigh against my cheek.
“C’mere.”
Leo ushered me inside, guiding me with a gentle hand on my lower back to the plush leather sofa positioned before the great room’s stone fireplace. I curled into his side like I’d done a thousand times before, drawing my knees up as he looped a comforting arm around my shoulders. Ever since Dad’s passing, Leo had stepped into that role—my protector, my safe haven when Mom’s criticisms or the pressures of life became too much.
A few errant teardrops darkened the soft fabric of his shirt as I recounted the disastrous baking episode that sparked Mom’s latest barbs about my inadequacies, her insistence that Ridge would soon realize I was more burden than benefit to his already full life as a single father. I poured it all out in halting phrases, shoulders tensing with the echoes of her harsh rebukes still ringing in my mind.
“Shh…” Leo smoothed the loose tendril of hair from my damp cheek with the calloused pad of his thumb, his maple syrup and woodsmoke scent enveloping me like a weighted blanket. “You know Mom can be…harsh when she gets one of her ideas in her head.”
A mordant huff of mirthless laughter slipped past my trembling lips. “That’s one way to put it.”
“But she’s wrong this time, Em.” The rumble of Leo’s baritone vibrated against my side as he gave my shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You’re not some burden to be borne—not for Ridge or anyone else. Just because your strengths might not fit into her narrow definition of capability doesn’t make them any less valuable.”
I blinked up at him, my brother’s cider-brown eyes warm with conviction. “You love deeply and freely, ma lutine. You nurture with your cooking, you get lost in stories and words. Those things you do so beautifully…they’re a gift, not some failing.” His mouth curved into my favorite lopsided smile. “And if this Ridge can’t appreciate that, then he’s the one missing out, not you.”
The jagged shards of hurt and insecurity still lodged in my chest eased a fraction at his words, smoothing over with the salve of his steadfast belief in me. A watery smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I gave a tiny nod and whispered, “Yeah…yeah, okay.”
Leo’s returning grin crinkled the laugh lines around his eyes. “That’s my girl.”
Ruffling my hair, he levered himself off the couch with an exaggerated groan. “Now, what d’ya say we go grab your brother from that fancy vineyard of his and find a decent whiskey bar? I’m in desperate need of some high-proof therapy after dealing with the latest Buchanan corporate drama.”
I couldn’t stifle my snort of laughter as I rolled my eyes. Trust Leo to bring some levity to any situation. “You do realize Ethan practically owns said ‘fancy vineyard,’ right? As in, CEO and you are the CFO?”
“True…” Leo tapped his whiskered chin in mock contemplation. “But where’s the fun in that? I know this kick-ass little dive not far from here. Think they’ve got whiskey on tap?”
Chuckling under my breath, I allowed him to tug me off the couch, basking in the soothing comfort of my big brother’s presence as he slung an arm around my shoulders.
“Alright, alright. Let’s go find this magical whiskey oasis. Just don’t go breaking any more hearts, okay? I can only handle refereeing so many bar brawls in one night.”
His answering laugh rumbled through us both as we ambled outside, the lingering shadows of self-doubt momentarily banished in the face of Leo’s easy acceptance. Mom’s criticism might have stung, but my weird, wonderful brothers would always be there to remind me of who I really was.
* * *
Despite Leo’s reassurances, Mom’s doubting words continued to burrow under my skin like insidious barbs. You’re too much for him. An added burden. The harsh echos reverberated through my mind no matter how I tried to silence them.
Because what if she was right?
What if I wasn’t the lighthearted respite Ridge deserved after dealing with the weight of being a single dad, but simply one more complication in his already complicated life? The very last thing I wanted was to become another source of stress, another responsibility he didn’t ask for.
So over the next few days, I started…pulling away. Putting the tiniest slice of distance between us, avoiding too much one-on-one time together. If Ridge noticed the slight shift, he didn’t let on. Not at first.
But then he started catching me in those quiet moments I’d crafted—passing moments of retreat from the confused mess of feelings and second-guessing churning inside me.
Like tonight.
I’d spent the afternoon tidying up Ridge’s place after Cody and Lily’s latest whirlwind playdate, restoring a semblance of order with toys re-binned and crumbs swept away. By the time I finished straightening the throw pillows on the couch, I could hear the rumbling growl of Ridge’s truck pulling into the drive.
Grabbing my tote, I made a beeline for the front door in a flurry of purposeful strides, only to screech to an abrupt halt as Ridge’s low drawl drifted toward me. “Emma?”
My head snapped up at the sound, drinking in the chiseled angles of his face, framed by waves of inky dark hair. Those piercing green eyes, vibrant as sun-dappled jade, narrowed with…confusion? Concern? “Everything all right, little flower?”
Little flower—his usual endearment washed over me in a bittersweet wave. I tried for a breezy smile, nodding toward the door. “Yep! All cleaned up and ready to head home.”
I turned to find him framed in the doorway between the living room and kitchen, forearms roped with tanned cords of muscle from a long day’s work on the ranch. My gaze snagged on the flex and pull of his shirt stretching taut across his broad chest, the waist of his well-worn jeans hanging a shade too low on those narrow hips. His striking green gaze swept over the newly-tidy room with scrutinizing intensity. When he turned that penetrating stare back on me, I fought the urge to shrink under its weight.
“Somethin’ seems off.” The rough pad of his thumb brushed my wrist, igniting a trail of tingling goosebumps.
A flush of warmth bloomed across my cheeks as I quickly averted my eyes. “Nope,” I chirped with a brightness I didn’t feel, sidling past him toward the exit. “Just…gotta run.”
“Why are you in such a hurry then?” The gentle rasp of his voice followed on my heels, thick with the kind of concern that tugged insistently at my heartstrings. “You seem to be in a rush a lot these days. Feel like I never see you these days.”
“Yeah, umm…sorry.” I inched closer to the front door and freedom, sidestepping away from the magnetic pull of him. “Leo has us working a lot for the festival prep.”The lie tasted like acid on my tongue.
“Oh yeah?” One of those expressive dark brows inched higher, his emerald eyes darting to my mouth and back in that way that never failed to liquefy my insides.
Still, I pressed on with a breathless, “Yep,” and tried valiantly to skirt around his towering form without actually looking at him.
Because one glance into those storm-cloud eyes, and I was done for.
“Look at me, Em.”
So much for that idea.
The command unlocked something primal within me, and my gaze snapped up to meet his without a second thought. Ridge’s pupils blown wide, lips parted as he drank in every line, every curve of my face with an intensity that very nearly stole the breath from my lungs.
“Sweet girl…” His voice a hoarse whisper, he lifted one work-roughened hand to graze the heated skin of my cheek. “What’s really goin’ on in that pretty head?”
Strong, calloused fingers grazed my jaw, tilting my chin up until our mouths hovered a scant breath apart. The hint of cedar and saddle leather surrounded me, a scent as rugged and untamed as the man himself. My pulse galloped wildly as his lips brushed against mine, little more than a whisper of contact, but enough to shatter what little resolve I had left.
I very nearly leaned into him before the memory of Mom’s censure lanced through the thick fog of want.
You’re not enough for him. Never enough.
With a harsh indrawn breath, I jerked back, wrapping my arms around my ribs. The protective stance did nothing to soothe the ache rapidly spreading through my chest.
“I—” My voice emerged smaller, more fragile than I intended. Swallowing hard, I fought to maintain eye contact with those hypnotic green irises, even as hot tears blurred the edges of his concerned frown. “It’s nothing, Ridge. Really, I should—”
Before I could retreat, his calloused fingers grazed my jaw with remarkable tenderness, tilting my chin up to meet that searing emerald gaze once more.
“Don’t pull away from me, sweet girl.” Each softly uttered word landed like a sandbag against my parched defenses. “Did I do somethin’? Or…or don’t you want us anymore—” He cut off abruptly, jaw ticking as his throat worked around a harsh swallow.
The naked vulnerability in Ridge’s expression—the man who projected such unshakable strength—fractured the last of my resolve. A strangled sound, somewhere between a whimper and a sob, escaped my constricted throat. Before I could talk myself out of it, I answered with the only truth that mattered.
“No!” The denial exploded from me immediately, sharp and fierce. Of course, I wanted this—wanted him with every cell in my body. But even as the truth spilt from my lips, doubt swirled up to choke off anything more. “It’s not that, it’s just…”
I flailed for the right explanation, afraid to give voice to my deepest fear and have it become reality. But Ridge simply waited, regarding me with that patient, watchful intensity searing straight through every attempt to deflect.
“It’s just…you deserve better.” The mumbled admission at last slipped out in a tortured rush, my cheeks flushing hot with humiliation.
Ridge’s brows snapped together incredulously. “What?”
“You deserve someone who isn’t…a mess.” My voice cracked as fresh tears blurred my vision. “Someone who won’t add to all your burdens.”
Silence swallowed the room for one eternal heartbeat, then two. The burn of rejected tears stung the backs of my eyes. This was it—the moment he’d finally realize the same as Mom, that I was more complication than he needed in his life. That I—
“Emma.” The sandpaper rasp of Ridge’s voice severed my spiraling thoughts in two. His palms cupped my face with exquisite tenderness, coaxing my gaze upward to find his expression soft with emotion too overwhelming to name. “I love your mess.”
My breath hitched at the reverent honesty gleaming from his stormy eyes. “You don’t add to my burden, darlin’. I haven’t felt this…light in forever.”
The rough pad of his thumb traced the curve of my trembling lower lip in a feather-light caress, leaving a blazing trail of yearning in its wake. My eyelids fluttered as Ridge’s mouth brushed mine—a scant whisper of contact, yet it unleashed a shockwave of liquid heat that liquefied my bones.
“You mean everything to me, you are my rainbow after the storm. Baby, I love you.”
Those six gently spoken syllables detonated the tenuous grip I’d clung to, crumbling my defenses into drifting ash. He loves me. My chest constricted with a burst of harrowing disbelief and fragile hope as Ridge’s nose grazed mine, the words a hallowed vow murmured against my stunned, parted lips.
“In the span of a few short months, you’ve made my life—made the kids’ lives—feel…alive again.” That smokey emerald gaze pierced me, blazing with a conviction that stole what little air remained from my constricted lungs. “If anything, I could never be enough for you.” A mordant twist tugged at one corner of his beautifully sculpted mouth. “But I’m too damn selfish to care.”
The naked longing bleeding into his hoarse confession ignited sparks of blinding, dizzying need in the pit of my abdomen. Before that rapturous wildfire could fully ignite, however, the tiny voice of insecurity that had plagued me for so long whispered its rebuke.
You’ll mess this up. You always do.
My throat burned with the threat of a sob as my chin quivered. I blinked hard against the hot sting of unshed tears, fighting to control the tremor in my tone. “Ridge…” His name emerged as a ragged exhalation, a desperate entreaty more than anything else.
For one fraught heartbeat, doubt flickered in those piercing eyes, tempering the fiery want raging there. Then they blazed anew, dissolving my waning reservations as Ridge crushed his mouth against mine with a low, desperate groan.
This kiss held not an ounce of gentleness, only all-consuming need as his calloused palms cradled my flushed cheeks. His lips moved with ardent insistence, coaxing, demanding a response that quickly stole what little breath remained from my lungs. I moaned into the hungry caress—the guttural, unfettered sound igniting a fresh conflagration of liquid heat pulsing through my veins.
Ridge’s arm like a steely band looped around my waist, hauling me flush against the unyielding planes of his chest. The solid strength of his frame provided dizzying, dizzying contrast to the exquisite tenderness of his questing tongue stroking mine in unhurried, rapturous exploration.
Just as my lungs began to burn from lack of oxygen, Ridge gentled his smoldering kisses to several soft, reverent brushes of his full lips. Gradually, I became aware of the pounding thrum of his heart thundering against my own, our mingled breaths emerging in harsh little pants.
Finally, his kiss-swollen mouth broke from mine, trailing a blazing path of butterfly kisses along the slope of my neck. The bristle of his beard abraded my oversensitized skin in the most delicious way, drawing forth another breathy whine. “Shhh, sweet girl,” he rumbled against my pulse point, tongue laving the hammering beat he found there. “No more doubts tonight, darlin’. Not about this—about us.”
One large, calloused hand drifted from my flushed cheeks to trail down the curve of my spine in a maddeningly deliberate caress, as though committing every precious inch of me to memory. My back arched instinctively, pressing my pliant form harder against his unyielding strength as I shivered.
Ridge’s mouth found mine once more in a series of searing, sonnet-worthy kisses that robbed me of any remaining coherent thought. All that existed was the blazing, exhilarating rightness of finally being in his arms—a feeling more intoxicating than the finest-aged cabernet and twice as dizzying.
When at long last he lifted his head, eyes glittered with a kaleidoscope of tender adoration, white-hot want, and solemn promise. “You’re everything to me, Emma. My sweet, perfect girl.” My name emerged as a fervent benediction on his sinful lips. “I hope I Never give you a chance to doubt how much you mean to me—to us—again.”