22. James
22
JAMES
" S o let me get this straight," Derek said through the phone. "You’re already pretty sure there’s a sinister angle when it comes to the Wellingtons. So… what’s the hold up?”
“Pretty sure doesn’t warrant the destruction of a wedding, Derek. You know how this works.”
“Yeah, except you’re saying pretty sure. The information you emailed me tonight looks more concrete than ‘pretty sure’. It looks like a slam dunk.”
I paced outside my room, keeping my voice low. "It's complicated."
"Because of the wedding planner you're sleeping with?"
"I'm not—" I stopped myself. “Wait. How did you even know about her?”
“You’re not the only one with investigative abilities, James. The girl from Ireland. Emma Marshall. She’s the same wedding planner up there in Breckenridge. Daughter of the lady who hired you. Did you really think I wouldn’t catch that?”
I sighed. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is I need to be sure Marcus is the problem. This situation is… unique. I’ve never wrecked a wedding just because the family is full of pieces of shit with bad intentions. I haven’t tied the groom to any of this yet.”
"What is your instinct telling you right now?”
I ran a hand through my hair. "That maybe I've spent so long looking for problems, I’m going to see them around every corner. That it’s weird I never stop to think if I’m sabotaging a relationship that could’ve worked out if the bride and groom are willing to sort through it.”
Derek was quiet for a moment. "This isn't like you, man. Usually by now you'd have all your evidence in hand and be rehearsing your dramatic reveal.”
"Emma would never forgive me if I'm wrong about this." The words slipped out before I could stop them.
"Ah. There it is." I could hear the smirk in his voice. "You're compromised."
"I'm being thorough."
"You're stalling because you don't want to hurt her. Or her sister." Derek sighed. "Look, I get it. But if these guys are what you think they are?—"
"I'll handle it," I cut in. "I just need more time."
"Time for what? To fall harder for someone who's going to hate you all over again when this blows up?"
I didn't have an answer for that. After ending the call with Derek, I stood outside my door for a long moment, forehead pressed against the cool wood.
When I finally went in, Emma was already asleep. She'd showered—I could smell her shampoo from here—and was curled up on her side of the bed wearing one of my t-shirts. The sight did things to my chest I wasn't ready to examine.
I wondered if she chose my shirt because of the smell, or just because her only remaining nighttime clothes were too revealing. My hardening dick didn’t seem to care about the specifics, at least. A very large part of me liked seeing her in my shirt. It made her feel like she was mine, even if the feeling was as fleeting as it was foolish.
I wanted to wake her up. To pull her into my arms and forget about the Wellingtons and their schemes. To pretend, just for a little while, that we could have something real.
Instead, I grabbed my own shower and tried not to think about how I said something wrong at the tiny taco joint. I’d replayed the conversation over in my mind a few times, and wondered if maybe she thought I was still hung up on Katie. It was ridiculous, of course. Katie was completely dead to me. Hell, even the thought of her made me vaguely nauseous at this point.
The kind of woman who could lie to a man’s face and go through with a wedding while cheating… it wasn’t somebody I wanted to keep associating with.
I wondered if I should tell her plainly tomorrow morning—tell her in no uncertain terms that I’m completely, totally, and unequivocally over Katie.
I stood in the shower, letting the warm water run down my back as I leaned against the wall.
But what kind of message would it send if I looked like I was trying to clarify how emotionally available I was? She’d think I was trying to jump from “fun and easy” to “stressful and committed.”
Damn it. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut and ate my tiny burritos earlier.
I finished up, slipped into bed as quietly as I could, and had to settle for the Emma that came to me in my dreams. All things considered, it wasn’t so bad, considering dream-Emma had no rules about penetration.
The next morning, we gathered in the resort's lobby for what the itinerary promised would be "A Wild Mountain Adventure." Our guide was a tall woman named June who wore her gray hair in a messy bun and spoke with infectious enthusiasm about the local wildlife.
"Now remember," she said as we piled into two large SUVs that were outfitted for offroading in the snow. "The goal is to spot the more elusive creatures—moose, elk, maybe even a bear if we're lucky. But please, for the love of all things holy, do not try to pet anything. I don't care how cute it looks."
She fixed Dick with a stern look, as if sensing he was exactly the type to try to take a selfie with a bear.
I ended up in the back row with Emma, who had been unusually quiet since our talk at the taco place. She'd barely looked at me all morning, and the distance felt wrong after how close we'd been. Instead of getting breakfast with me, she’d made an excuse about needing to check with the florist and disappeared until a few minutes ago.
June stood outside both SUVs, which were loaded up with most of the main Wellingtons, from Richard and Dick to the three handsome brothers and even the stuck-up ice-princess named Charity. Our SUV was me, Emma, Marcus, Lilly, and Emma’s mom.
“Oh, by the way,” June said, resting her hand on the open window of our SUV. “Sometimes, you can even spot a beaver out here. Now, I love beaver as much as the rest of you, I’m sure.”
I suppressed a highly immature chuckle at her choice of words. Even Emma looked like she was biting back a smile.
“But no touching beavers . Understood? I have a very strict hands-off-beaver rule on my expeditions.”
I was having more trouble not laughing now, and I could tell Emma was too.
“You should see people,” June continued, completely oblivious. “Oh, look at the pretty beaver. Look at the fat, pudgy little beaver! Let me get closer to that beaver and put my hand on it! What’s the worst that could happen?”
June suddenly snapped her oversized front teeth, eyes narrowed. “That’s what. Beavers bite, folks. You can trust me on that,” she held up a hand, which I realized showed half of a missing pinky finger.
“Did a beaver really do that?” Lily asked.
“Huh?” June said. “Oh, no. I was in a shopping cart that tipped over when I was little. Popped the top of my pinky off so hard we couldn’t find it. Turned out it got lost in the baby carrots.” She slapped the side of the SUV and jumped into the passenger seat. “Let that be another life lesson, folks. Never trust a baby carrot. Could be somebody’s finger! Anyway, let’s get these babies on the road!”
The SUVs wound through mountain roads as June pointed out various tracks and signs of wildlife. Every few minutes, someone would spot something—usually a bird or squirrel—and the whole vehicle would lurch to a stop as cameras came out.
"There!" Lily pointed through the trees. "Is that... oh, false alarm. Just a weird-shaped log."
Emma shifted beside me, and I caught the faint scent of her perfume. Without thinking, I reached for her hand. She tensed but didn't pull away.
"Hey," I whispered. "You okay?"
"Fine."
But she wouldn't meet my eyes.
Before I could press further, our driver slammed on the brakes. "Moose! Everyone out, but move slowly and quietly. These are incredibly dangerous animals. You know these things kill more people every year than sharks?"
We filed out of the vehicles, and there it was—a massive bull moose about fifty yards away, calmly munching on some branches.
"Wow," Emma breathed, momentarily forgetting to be distant as she lifted her camera.
“And we’re getting out of the cars?” Charity asked. She wore a disgusted expression beneath a large, fuzzy white hat. “It smells, even from here. Ew. ”
June was explaining something about moose behavior while the Wellingtons asked ridiculous questions, but I was too focused on Emma's profile to listen. The morning light caught in her hair, making it glow like copper. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, and her entire face lit up as she snapped pictures.
"Can we get closer?" Dick asked.
"Absolutely not," June said firmly. "These babies may look slow, but they can run faster than a horse when they want to. And unlike bears, they don't usually give warning signs before they charge."
Of course, that's when Dick decided to prove his intelligence by taking a few steps forward, phone raised for a better angle.
Several things happened at once.
The moose's head snapped up, ears swiveling forward.
June swore.
And Emma, who had been backing up to get a wider shot, slipped on a patch of ice.
I lunged for her, but I was too late. She went down hard, camera flying from her hands as she rolled down the small embankment beside the road.
"Emma!" I was already moving, heart in my throat as I watched her tumble through branches and snow.
She finally came to a stop in a tangle of limbs and leaves, face-first in a snowbank. For a terrible moment, she didn't move.
Then she lifted her head and spat out a mouthful of snow.
"I'm fine," she called weakly. "Just... dying of embarrassment and hoping I didn’t break my camera."
Relief made me light-headed as I carefully made my way down to her. I could hear the others gathering at the top of the road to watch my rescue attempt. "Can you move everything?"
"Unfortunately, yes. Which means I get to live with the memory of this forever."
I helped her sit up, checking for injuries. She had a few scratches on her hands and what would probably be some impressive bruises, but nothing seemed broken.
"Is she okay?" Lily called from above.
"Fine!" Emma yelled back, voice only slightly wobbly. "Just... give me a minute."
I held her until the shaking stopped, one hand stroking her hair while the other kept her close.
"Sorry," she whispered. "I'm being stupid."
"You're not stupid." I brushed snow from her cheek.
She studied my face for a long moment. "Why are you being so nice to me?"
Because I'm falling for you. Because seeing you get hurt makes me want to fix everything that's ever gone wrong for you. Because maybe Derek's right and I am compromised.
"Because I care about you," I said finally.
Something in her expression softened, then closed off. "Right. Like you cared about me in Ireland?"
The words felt like a slap. "Emma?—"
"No, it's fine. I get it." She pushed away from me, wincing slightly. "This is just fun, right? Nothing serious. Nothing worth fighting for."
She started climbing back up the embankment before I could respond, leaving me with an ache in my chest and the lingering warmth of her body against mine. Those words…
Nothing worth fighting for.
It made me realize what I’d done wrong at the taco shop. When she asked me about whether some obstacles were possible to overcome, I’d shut it down almost immediately. My mind was on Katie and how doomed that had been from the start—on all the weddings I’d wrecked because I judged the problems between the bride-to-be and the groom-to-be as terminal. But she hadn’t been talking about Katie, had she?
Damn it, James. You big idiot…
By the time I made it back to the group, she was already in the SUV with Lily. For some unknown reason, Richard took my spot and Emma made no attempt to get him to move, so I was left to ride with Dick and the muscle brothers.
Perfect.
The rest of the wildlife tour passed in a blur. I was too busy replaying Emma's words, trying to figure out where I'd gone wrong. When had "keeping things casual" turned into whatever this was?
And why did watching her pull away feel like losing something vital?
We rolled back into the resort around sundown and even the stuffy Wellington clan was buzzing with energy after the tour. Between mountain views, various animal sightings, and some interesting stories, the tour had been a hit with them. Now, though, everybody was excited to get back into the warm resort, grab a few drinks, dinner, and get back to their rooms.
All I wanted was to clear things up with Emma, though.
I jogged after her, catching her as soon as she broke off from a conversation with her mom.
"Emma, wait."
"I have work to do." But she didn't pull away.
"Let me take you to dinner. A real restaurant this time, not questionable tacos. We can talk about?—"
"About what?" She finally met my gaze. "About how some things aren't meant to be? How obstacles only get worse?" She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Message received, James. Loud and clear."
As much as I wanted to tell her she had it all wrong, something buried deep inside made me freeze. No words came out. All I could do was watch the hurt well in her eyes as she spun and made a disgusted noise before stepping into the elevator.
It was only after the doors closed that I felt the odd sensation of paralysis pass.
What the hell was that?
It was like my own body had betrayed me, like it was too damn scared to let me put my trust in someone again—even just enough to say that maybe some things were worth fighting for after all.