6
EMERSYN
There was a short time in my life when I was a bit of a party girl. I was the girl who fell down the stairs because she’d had too much to drink. The girl who took off her shoes and sang too loudly when she danced. The girl who everyone looked at and knew was trouble.
That wasn’t who I was anymore, but that didn’t stop me from acting like it from time to time because it was what I wanted people to think. No one blinked twice at sharing their tales with the drunk girl. They spilled their fucking guts out, and most of them didn’t even remember it the following day.
So when the bouncer saw me, he waved me past the line of people waiting for entry, and Tara and I walked into the club. Tara was dressed to the nines: a tight dress with no sleeves and a short hem, come-fuck-me heels, and sparkly jewels. I, on the other hand, was simply wearing jeans, a long-sleeved top, and a pair of flats. Hardly the most alluring of nightclub outfits, but these days I preferred to blend into the background. I never carried a handbag or anything, really. I had no keys since I had no car, and we always left the house unlocked. There was nothing worth stealing inside anyway.
I spotted some people I knew, gave a few hugs, exclaimed at how long it had been since we’d seen each other, then headed for the bar. I was in desperate need of a drink, but I resisted. Tara had downed half a bottle of wine for pre-drinks before we headed out, so she already had a goofy grin plastered on her face.
I held up a hand to the bartender and shouted, “Tequila.” He nodded and poured a double shot into the glass. Tara threw it back quickly and ordered another on my tab. Her payment for taking me to the motel and bar was not only getting her into the club but also buying her drinks for the night. Well, at least until she found someone else to buy them for her.
“Well, if it isn’t God’s curse upon the world, the cost for disobedience,” a slurred voice said beside me.
“Excuse me?” I whirled around to find Gabe Thornton leaning against the bar, eyebrow cocked and attempting a cheeky smirk, but instead, it was slightly wonky. He was dressed simply in a white t-shirt—complete with drink stains—and dark jeans. His hair was pulled into a messy bun. The flashing lights from the dance floor illuminated the white of his shirt and his teeth, making them glow. There was a mark on his nose that hadn’t been there at the gym.
“Sin,” he slurred again. “The cost of disobedience. You know, like in the Bible.”
“Yeah, I got it.” I rolled my eyes as he slid a shot glass across the bar and nodded for me to take it.
“My treat.” He was still trying to grin that stupid grin. The one I knew was meant to melt the panties off girls like me, but I was immune.
“I’m not drinking tonight.” I pushed the shot glass back toward him, and he threw it back without hesitation.
“Little miss goodie-two-shoes,” he teased.
“What happened to your nose?” I asked, pointing to my own.
By this stage, the bartender had given him another drink. “Some people have hard heads!” I expected him to leave after picking up his drink, but he continued to just stand there, grinning that stupid grin of his.
“There’s no point flirting with me,” I said bluntly. “I’m not your type.”
Gabe lifted a brow. “Oh really? Tell me then, what’s my type?”
I was talking to the Gabe who’d entered the gym, not the Gabe who appeared afterward. I was talking to the unkempt one. The sloppy one. The drunk one.
I cocked my head to the side. “Easy,” I replied.
“Bullshit,” he blustered, lifting his arm to rest on the bar. “Despite what you’ve heard about me, I’m not a player. I can’t help it if women throw themselves at me.” His elbow slipped off the bar.
“Wow,” I said deadpan. “The ego on you is rather impressive.”
“Thanks.” He frowned. “I think.”
“So, not-player-man, first you follow me to the car, and now you just happen to be at the same club. Are you a stalker rather than a player, perhaps, Gable Thornton?”
His brow lifted high. “You know my full name. Are you sure I’m the stalker?”
“You’re part owner of the gym. It wasn’t hard to find out.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “So you admit you looked into me?”
I snorted. “I admit nothing of the sort. It was on the business cards at reception.”
“Sure, sure.” Gabe’s grin widened. It was infuriating.
Tara—annoyed she’d been forgotten in the exchange—leaned across, pushing me out of the way as she stretched out her hand. “Tara,” she shouted, smiling brightly.
“Gabe.” He shook her hand. Gabe, not Gable. He definitely preferred it.
“Aren’t you one fine cup of tea?” Tara winked. “Syn,” she emphasized the name, raising a curious brow in my direction, “and I are best friends.”
“Ignore her. I don’t have friends.”
Gabe pulled Tara’s hand, tugging her closer to him and pushing me out of the way. “So what can you tell me about this best friend of yours, Tara? So far, she’s been rather elusive despite my stalking.”
I narrowed my eyes at Tara and shook my head. But she merely laughed and tossed her hair over her shoulder.
“What is it you’d like to know?”
Gabe rested his elbow back on the counter and placed his head on his fist. “Anything really. Where she works. Where she lives. What sort of food she likes. What she sleeps in. You know, the usual stalker-type information.” His mouth twitched as he spoke, and I rolled my eyes again. He was charming, and he knew it, even if he was rottenly drunk.
“Well,” Tara started. “She’s actually a bit of a nerd.”
Gabe lifted his brow again. Just the one. “A nerd, you say?”
“Uh-huh.” Tara’s eyes sparkled. “And she lives—”
“Okay, that’s enough, you two. If anyone is going to be asking questions here, it’s me.” The fear of what might actually come out of Tara’s mouth was too much to risk.
“Go ahead.” Gabe spread his hands out before folding his arms across his chest. “I’m a book.”
Tara faded out of the way, giving me a decided waggle of her brows, which left me standing opposite Gabe and mimicking his stance.
“I think you mean an open book,” I said.
“Open, shut.” He shrugged. “Does it really matter?”
“In this case, yes.”
“Fine, I’m an open book. Fire away.”
“Do you have any siblings?”
What I wanted to ask him was about Jake. If he knew why he’d beaten up the guy at the motel and if he knew who. But I couldn’t ask any of those things, so I figured I might as well ask him all the things I already knew; that way, it wouldn’t matter if I slipped up.
“Yes.” Gabe smirked, not giving away any additional information in his answer.
“How many?”
“Three.”
“Brothers or sisters?”
“Brothers.”
“All of them?”
He nodded. “All half-brothers, actually. We share the same father.”
“He’s been a busy man.”
“You could say that.”
“Names?”
“Tyler, Jake, and Oliver.”
I narrowed my eyes. He’d left out Clark, the one who had died. I guess it wasn’t something you discussed with random strangers in a nightclub, which suited me just fine.
“And your favorite?”
“Favorite what?”
“Favorite brother.”
“Oliver. He’s too young to talk, and he thinks I’m awesome.”
I had to smile at that. “That’s quite a large age gap.”
“Hamish likes to keep things interesting.”
“Hamish?” I already knew it was his father, but I had to keep up the game.
“My father.”
“Mother’s name?”
“Lynda.”
“Girlfriend?”
“None at present.”
“Ex-girlfriends?”
Gabe narrowed his eyes. “A couple.”
“Names?”
He cocked his head to the side and was saved by someone pushing in front of him. “Hey, you,” the guy slurred, leaning against the bar and grinning stupidly at me.
I rolled my eyes. “Hey,” I replied. He was someone I’d met a few weeks back while trying to gather some intel. I’d flirted, of course, but I wasn’t interested. Not then. Not now. I couldn’t even remember his name. “I’m kind of talking to someone.”
He pouted. “Don’t be like that. I’ve been hoping to catch up with you again since—”
Gabe tapped him on the shoulder. “Do you mind?” he glared at the intruder.
“Is this guy bothering you?” the guy whose name I couldn’t remember asked, jerking his thumb in Gabe’s direction.
“No, actually, so if you’d kindly fuck off, I’d appreciate it.” I smiled sarcastically.
“Bitch,” he muttered as he moved away. It might as well be my name.
I turned my attention back to Gabe. “So I thought you said you were an open book?” I prodded, reminding him of our conversation.
He laughed, watching the retreating back of the guy. “Friend of yours?”
“No. You were saying?” I was eager to get back to the questions.
Gabe wasn’t, though. “Was he an ex?” He stared at the back of the man as he wove his way through the crowd.
“No. We were talking about you, remember?”
“Fine. What was the question again?”
I rolled my eyes. “Ex-girlfriends.”
“Only two that I’d count as serious. Isa—”
“Who’s serious?” A girl approached Gabe, draping herself over his shoulder and peering at me suspiciously. She seemed familiar, but I had no idea why I recognized her. Maybe it was simply from seeing her out clubbing. I’d come across many people like that.
“Molly, this is Syn. Syn, Molly.”
“Hi.” I resisted rolling my eyes at another interruption and offered her a smile laced with a challenge. She merely flicked her eyes over my body, then turned back to Gabe and tugged on his arm.
“Come dance with me,” she whined.
“I’m good.” He kept his eyes trained on me. I had to admit a little thrill ran through me. There had always been a competitive edge within me when it came to other women. It was a curse that had gotten me into an awkward situation in the past. A situation I regretted. Part of me enjoyed the challenge of holding the interest of men against women much prettier than me. And this Molly was definitely prettier. She was gorgeous, in fact. Model gorgeous. It suddenly clicked why she looked familiar. She was the one who’d been at the bar with Gabe the other night.
I waved my hand, dismissing Gabe and giving him permission to leave. “It’s fine. You can go dance if you want.”
“I know I can.” He didn’t say anything more, just stood there, head cocked to the side, smirk on his face, ignoring the woman resting her chin on his shoulder. His eyes slowly skimmed down to my feet before returning to my face. “Nice shoes.”
I looked down, noting how scuffed and plain they were in comparison to Molly’s heels, which had straps that wrapped up her calves.
“Thanks. I thrifted them.”
By this time, Tara had returned with more drinks. She handed me some sort of fancy mocktail. I chased the straw around the rim until I caught it between my lips. Then I sucked hard, letting my gaze run over Gabe in a similar fashion to how he’d just done to me. Two could play that game. For a moment, my boldness made me wonder if the mocktail wasn’t mock at all.
“Please?” Molly begged, drawing Gabe’s attention back.
“Do you want to dance?” Gabe asked me.
I shook my head and sucked more liquid through the straw. It tasted sickly sweet.
“Fine,” Molly huffed. “Be that way.” She waited a moment longer for Gabe’s response, but when she didn’t get one, she skulked off, her eyes already seeking out a new victim.
“One of the exes?” I asked Gabe, raising my brows as I took yet another sip of the drink, futilely hoping that the further I got down the glass, the stronger it would become.
“Nope. She’s my brother Jake’s partner’s sister, sort of. A friend, that’s all.”
So she was Amelia’s sister. Interesting. “If you say so.” I took another sip and looked up at him through the strands of hair hanging over my eyes. “You were rather rude to her.”
He shrugged. “She’s too clingy.”
“So the exes’ names?” I said, returning to my line of questioning.
Gabe’s eyes darkened. He was familiar with this game. So was I.
“I think I’ve answered enough of your questions. Time for you to answer one.”
“Just one?”
“Just one,” Gabe confirmed, stepping closer as the noise from the dance floor increased. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
I choked on my drink. I wasn’t expecting that. “Excuse me?”
“What? You never clarified what sort of question it would be, and I figured with your nickname and all…” Gabe shrugged.
“It’s not a nickname.”
“It’s not?”
“Well, it is, but only because it’s part of my name,” I quickly corrected.
“Which is?” Gabe leaned in closer, almost yelling in my ear. The heat from the proximity of his body radiated against mine.
“Emersyn,” I said.
“What?” Gabe yelled, pointing to his ear.
I took a step closer, leaning over to brush my lips across his skin. “Emersyn.” I said it quietly, but I was standing so close to him that there was no doubt he could hear me. “Emersyn Cabot.” I moved back slowly, watching Gabe as I did so. He remained leaning forward as though he didn’t want me to go.
“So, Emersyn Cabot, what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
I shook my head and sucked the last of my drink up the straw. “Nope. I’ve already answered one question: my name.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“Yes, it does.” At his incredulous look, I shrugged and added, “Sorry, I don’t make the rules.” Then I placed my glass on the bar, grabbed Tara’s arm, and walked away, knowing it was a move that usually worked.
“Oh my god,” Tara laughed. “He is gorgeous. Was he one of the other guys in that photo? There’s no way I’d be walking away if I were you. The guy was obviously interested.”
“Gotta be mean to keep them keen.” I winked.
“You’re the devil.”
“Nope. Just his sister. Why else do you think everyone calls me Syn?”
“Duh,” she wrapped her arms around my waist. “No one calls you that. Dance with me until I find someone better to dance with?” she pleaded.
I let her drag me to the dance floor, and soon we were lost in the thudding music and the flashing lights. I’d expected Gabe to follow, but he didn’t. I tried to look for him in the crowd without making it obvious. I told myself it was because he was open and easy to talk to, and no doubt I would be able to get a lot of information out of him, but truthfully, it was more just because I was curious.
Curious to see if he was dancing with that Molly girl. Curious to see if his body moved as well as I imagined it would. Curious to see if he was looking for me.
But he was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he’d left the club. Maybe being ‘mean to keep him keen’ didn’t work on men like Gable Thornton. He would be used to women throwing themselves at him. He didn’t need to chase anyone, especially someone like me.
It took two more songs before I removed my shoes and kicked them aside. And two more after that before I began singing at the top of my lungs. I loved songs you could sing to. I hated the doof-doof-dance crap.
Eventually, I felt someone’s arms slide around my waist from behind. I grinned to myself, hoping Gabe had taken the bait, but when I turned around, it wasn’t Gabe’s bluer-than-blue eyes I was staring into.
Untangling myself, I took a step back and crossed my arms, my fingers brushing over the rough skin, trying to ignore the way my heart hammered in my chest. “What do you want?”
“I just wanted to say hi.” Conrad stepped toward me, pulling me close.
“Get your hands off me,” I growled, ripping myself away.
My ex laughed and held his hands up in surrender. “Hands are off. You working?”
He glanced around the club. Conrad was one of the few people who knew the truth about what I did. He was a journalist. A real journalist, as he often liked to remind me.
“None of your business.”
“You’re looking good.” Conrad’s eyes ran over me like Gabe’s had done earlier. But unlike with Gabe, his gaze made me want to hug myself and curl into a ball. Instead, I stood tall, squared my shoulders, and jutted out my chin.
“Pity I can’t say the same about you.” It was a lie. Conrad was the sort of good-looking that came in a nice, clean package. Thick chestnut hair. Wide smile. Strong jawline. Body to kill for. But Conrad was someone I couldn’t trust. He’d proven that time and time again.
“When are you coming back to work for me?” He reached out to stroke my cheek, and I recoiled.
“That’s never going to happen.” I looked around for Tara, but she was nowhere to be found.
Conrad chuckled. “Still an uptight bitch, I see.”
“Still an asshole, I see,” I spat back.
I turned to walk away, but Conrad’s hand snaked around my arm, snapping me back. “How much have you had to drink?” he hissed, sniffing the air close to my breath.
I jerked out of his grasp, rubbing the material covering the flesh where his fingers had dug in. When I attempted to get away, I bumped into a hard body.
“Sorry,” I mumbled before looking up and finding myself staring at Gabe.
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. “I go to get a drink, and you disappear on me. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” He placed a kiss on the top of my head and then looked up as though surprised to see Conrad, but something told me he knew very well that Conrad was there.
“Hey.” He jerked his head in greeting. “Gabe. And you are?” He left the question hanging as he changed his stance, moving beside me and draping his arm across my shoulders.
Conrad narrowed his eyes, then darted his glance to me. Anger rippled through him.
“What are you doing with him?” he spat.
“Sorry? Do we know each other?” Gabe said, blinking innocently while holding back a smirk. He assumed Conrad didn’t like seeing me with other men, which was true. He just didn’t know that me being with him was on a whole other level.
“I know who you are. You’re a fucking Thornton.”
“No need to be so formal; Thornton is just fine. No need to add the descriptor. In fact, most people just call me Gabe.”
Conrad’s glare deepened, but just as quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared. “Conrad Blaire.” He flashed one of his winning smiles—the type he used to deceive people, the type he’d used to deceive me.
Gabe’s grip around my shoulders tightened. He nodded and let the strain of silence stretch between us. Then his hand slipped down my arm until his fingers intertwined with mine. I glanced between the two men, becoming more and more nervous as the tension increased.
“Good to meet you,” Gabe said finally after they were done sizing each other up. “See you around.” And then he gently tugged on my hand, encouraging me to follow.
I didn’t look at Conrad as I let Gabe lead me away, but I could feel the heat of his gaze on my back.
“Sorry about that. I guess he’s heard of you. There was no need for him to be that rude.” My voice was pitched too high, and my words came out too quickly.
Gabe shrugged, seemingly unfazed. “I’m used to it. It’s part of having the Thornton name. People either want to suck up to me, fight me, or fuck me.” He winked. “But are you okay?” Gabe added once we were on the other side of the dance floor. “It looked like you didn’t want him anywhere near you.”
“I don’t,” I replied.
Gabe looked back over the crowd at where Conrad was still glaring at us and waved, letting a wide smile grace his face. “Sure seems like a friendly fellow. An ex?”
“How’d you guess?” I replied dryly.
“It was the sexual tension. Felt it clear across the room.” He laughed and fanned himself. Then he peered at me intently. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I just need a drink of water.” I weaved my way through the crowd and over to the bar, ordering a glass and drinking deeply. Then I ordered a tequila shot for Gabe and handed it to him.
“My treat,” I said, echoing his words earlier.
Gabe shook his head as the liquid slid down his throat. “No salt or lime?” His face twisted as the sourness of the tequila hit.
“I usually take it straight.” I ordered another shot for him.
Gabe looked surprised, but he didn’t complain when I handed him another drink. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Emersyn Cabot?”
“Trying to get you drunk? You were drunk before I got here.” I leaned back against the bar, resting my elbows on the wood and staring out over the crowd. Conrad had found his friends again and was laughing, his head thrown back, a glass of dark rum in his hand. It was his drink of choice. I couldn’t stand the smell of it.
“Isabel,” Gabe offered, following my line of sight.
“Isabel?” I repeated, confused.
“I found out the name of your ex; it seemed only fitting to share one of mine.”
“Isabel,” I said again, as though testing the name. “Did you love her?”
“Wow.” Gabe snorted. “You certainly don’t beat around the bush, do you?”
“I’ve never seen the point.”
Gabe leaned next to me. He stared out at the crowd, and his gaze softened. “Yeah, I loved her. But I think we can love people differently, you know? Just because you’ve loved one person doesn’t take away from loving someone else.”
“Why aren’t you still together? What happened?”
A low whistle escaped from his lips. “I’m not sure I’m drunk enough for this conversation.”
“I can fix that.” I signaled for the bartender and ordered another shot and another glass of water.
“I’ll get this.” Gabe took his wallet out, but I pushed his hand away.
“It’s on me.” I’d already begun to feel guilty about prying for information. Not that I’d actually gotten anything I could use.
Gabe shrugged and placed his wallet back in his jeans pocket.
“So?” I prompted.
He downed his drink and shuddered again. “We’re really going there?”
“We’re really going there.” I threw back my own glass, imagining it was tequila, not water, and the warmth of the imagined alcohol crept over me, radiating from the inside out. A feeling I loved.
“She moved away.”
It was my turn to snort. “Surely there’s more to the story than that.”
“She moved away after my brother…”
My eyebrows raised. “Your brother…?”
“She was his girlfriend.”
“Oh.” Then it dawned on me what he was actually saying. “She was his girlfriend. Not yours.” I lifted my brows high, pretending I didn’t already know.
Gabe sighed. “She was. But I kind of fell for her and, well…” he paused, looking around the room as though searching for someone. “Well, it was messy.”
“I can imagine. Which brother?”
“Clark.”
“You didn’t mention a Clark.”
“That’s because he died.”
My heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, my mind froze. “From a broken heart, I suppose,” I blurted out before I could stop myself. I let out a snort of a laugh as discomfort with the situation numbed my common sense. “Oh shit. That was bad.” I reached out and laid my hand on his arm. “I shouldn’t have said that. Blame the water?” I offered pathetically.
A darkness passed over Gabe, and for a moment, I thought I’d blown it. Stupid girl. I was never going to get any information out of him now. He ran his hand through his hair, pushing a few strands that had escaped away from his face. It was a dirty blond color. The kind of color I would kill for. Instead, I had the plain brown type. The type that looked like nothing.
I sighed and dragged my attention away from him and back to the crowd, scanning until Conrad came into view. “The worst thing I’ve ever done.” I nodded in Conrad’s direction.
“What?” Gabe asked, confused.
“Him. He’s the worst thing I’ve ever done.”
Gabe choked on his laugh. “What?”
“It’s true,” I declared. “Hands down, he’s the worst thing I’ve ever done.”
“I’m not sure that counts.”
“It does,” I insisted. “He is unequivocally the worst thing I’ve ever done.”
Gabe tapped on the bar, and the bartender immediately responded by getting him another drink. “You sure you don’t want one?”
“I’m good.”
“Are you sober or something?”
“I am tonight,” I replied, not wanting to delve into the more complicated aspects of my life.
“Fair enough. You know,” Gabe leaned back against the bar again, “you said it four times.”
“Said what four times?”
“That he was the worst thing you’ve ever done.”
I just nodded. “I did.”
The conversation sort of drew to an unnatural close, and our attention was simultaneously drawn to our surroundings as if they had suddenly become interesting. I watched as Conrad approached another woman, his hand reaching out to trail down her arm and catch her fingers in his. When he lifted his head, he looked directly at me as though expecting to find me staring at him. I hated that I was.
Tara appeared at my side. “Can we go now?”
“I thought you were dancing?”
“I was. Now I’m not. Can we just leave?”
“Everything okay?” I asked her.
She rolled her eyes. “Everything is fine. I just want to go home.”
I turned to Gabe. He was staring out at the crowd but still standing here beside me. Not with his friends. Not trying to chat up some random stranger. I was unsure what to say. Did I just leave? Did I say goodbye? Thanks for the chat? Nice to see you again?
In the end, I just blurted, “We’re going.”
Gabe downed his drink quickly. “Where are we going?”
“We are not going anywhere.” I gestured between Gabe, Tara, and myself. “We—” I gestured between Tara and myself, “—are going home.”
“Can’t I come too?” Gabe asked, letting his lip sag into a pout as he fluttered his eyelashes. “Please?” he added when I didn’t respond. “There’s no one at my place, and I get so lonely.” He batted his eyelashes again.
“Sure you can,” Tara said gleefully as she looped her arm through his. “Syn simply loves having visitors.”
I shot her a death glare. She poked out her tongue, then flashed me a smile as I followed them out the door.