Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Emerson
I wake up and the bed’s empty. Frowning, I roll over. Is he gone already? Doing chores or out of town? He was going to clean up after chores and leave. We had a late night at the distillery. Maybe he’s still around.
What if he’s not?
My stomach knots, and the satisfied stiffness in my muscles turns into tension.
What did I expect?
More. From Lane, I expected more than to chicken out—like I did when I stood him up.
I pull up my phone and scroll through the sales site where I found the chickens and the coop. A pan clinks in the kitchen. I sit up, clicking my phone off. Who’s here? It has to be Lane.
Hope curling in my belly, I get out of his bed. I shouldn’t fault him for letting me sleep in. The animals need to be fed, and my chickens are probably waiting on me. Lane has to get on the road. Bourbon Canyon’s only a couple of hours away, but he has plans with Myles and the kids.
I grab a T-shirt neatly folded on his dresser.
His bedroom is cozy, but other than the chicken decor, it’s as plain as the rest of the house.
We’re alike in that way. My apartment is bland, but I have a reason.
I’m going to move into something nicer if my income ever outcompetes the cost of living in the city.
Lane built this house. It’s a forever home. Yet he lives in it like a guest.
Before I reach the kitchen, I duck into my bathroom and brush my teeth. I wince at my hair and finger-comb as much as I can without making it too frizzy. Good enough. He’s leaving anyway.
I tug down the hem of the shirt. With my height, it falls below my ass and not much farther. I find him at the stove, where he often is, ever dutifully preparing breakfast. “Hey.”
“Morning.” He grins at me, and his gaze heats as he takes in my bare legs.
He’s still in his dusty clothes from being outside. Shouldn’t he put on cleaner jeans and a freshly laundered shirt? “You should be on the road. You said you were meeting Myles before lunch.”
“I canceled.”
“What?” I can’t have heard him right.
“I let them know that I can’t make it this weekend.”
My gut aches. “What happened? Is everyone okay?”
“They’re fine.” He sets the pan on the table and flips what’s inside onto a plate. Pancakes today. My hunger wakes up.
I don’t make a move to set the table. “Then why not go?”
He faces me, and I steel myself for whatever he’s going to say. He’s got to go to Denver again. He wants me out. He knows after last night that he’s for sure not interested, and he has a laser removal appointment for that tattoo.
“Because we just had sex.” He holds my gaze to make sure I’m paying attention. “And if I leave, you’re going to think it’s because I’m done with you.”
Anger rises, and I cross my arms, kicking a hip out. “I would not.”
“You don’t think I don’t know what I would’ve returned home to?” Stalking me, he jabs a finger toward the bedroom. “I would’ve wanted that again. I would’ve wanted you to jump in my arms and repeat what we did. I’d want to lose myself inside you for another night.”
Heat slips and slicks through my insides, warming my blood. I hug myself. I would’ve wanted that too. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you’d be hurt. You’d feel like I fucked you and left. You would’ve kept me at arm’s length. Maybe I would’ve come home to turkeys. Or billy goats.”
“Why billy goats?” I ask hoarsely, trying to keep this conversation light. “Why don’t you think I’d buy regular goats?”
“Because billy goats stink.” He’s right in front of me now. “Am I wrong about how you would’ve felt if I’d left you after what we shared together?”
I can’t look at him. I saw an ad for goats for sale before I heard him in the kitchen. “You can’t miss out on your family gathering.”
“It’s okay, Em.” He says it so softly that tears poke the backs of my eyes.
“It’s not okay.” My vision gets fuzzy, and I blink to clear it. “I stood you up, and you’re canceling a family trip for me.”
“You were scared. You didn’t trust me. I understand.”
I shake my head. He can’t be that good of a guy. Not for me. “They’re counting on you, and if you just don’t show, they’re going to— They’re going to—”
“They’re not going to abandon me.” There’s that gentle tone again.
A hot tear rolls down my cheek. He swipes at it with his thumb and pulls me into him. I quit hugging myself and wrap my arms around his strong body. The tears fall, and I don’t know why. I don’t know the Baileys. I don’t even know the Fosters. But they’re all so close.
They have what I’ve always wanted.
I squeeze my eyes shut. He can’t stay for me. I can’t be the one to upend the gathering for him. But he’s not going. For me.
“I’ll go.” I hate how small I sound.
“It really is okay.” He brushes a hand down my hair.
“No.” I push away. I need to pack. “It’s not. If you’ll only go if I go with you, then I’m going to pack.”
He follows me to the guest room. “Can we eat first?”
“Sure.” I drag out my suitcase from the mostly empty closet.
“Jesus, Emerson.” He groans. “If you don’t get some pants on, the pancakes are going to get cold while I’m fucking you again.”
Lust grabs me around the throat, and I whirl around. I’m in nothing but a shirt and he’s fully dressed, boots on and everything. The man is walking sex, and now both my brain and body have gotten more than enough proof of how good he is.
Need twines between my legs, and a steady beat starts. It’ll go away eventually. But he can handle it faster. “I can pack and eat quickly. How fast can you fuck?”
Lane
I wind up the road to Myles’s house, tucked into the foothills of the Beartooth Mountains. Trees surround the place, but there’s a nice clearing with his shop and barn. The shop doors are open.
Emerson has grown quieter the closer we’ve gotten to Bourbon Canyon. I bent her over the dresser in my guest room and plunged into her until we both came, then we ate and she packed as quickly as she said she could. But as soon as we left the house, her demeanor changed.
Her hair is brushed and in a loose braid hanging over her shoulder, but the overalls stayed behind. She picked a skirt that falls to her knees and paired it with cowboy boots and a yellow tank top.
I park by the shop. Emerson’s out of her side of the pickup before I can get around to it.
She’s rubbing a hand down her arm and looking around. “It’s gorgeous out here.”
“A little deeper in the hills than my place.”
“Very Montana.” She inhales. “So fresh.”
Birds sing around us, and the partly cloudy sky still lets a lot of sunshine through.
Bootsteps approach from inside the shop. My oldest brother appears, wiping his hands on a greasy rag.
“Hey, Lane.” He holds his grimy hands up and wiggles his fingers. “I’d shake your hand, Emerson, but a wave will have to do.”
She’s standing close to me. “Nice to meet you.”
“I heard we were supposed to meet already.” Myles smiles enough to take the punch out of his usual intense gaze.
“Uh, yeah.” She shrinks and then steels herself. That’s my girl. “I thought I’d shoot my shot.”
“That’s how you get ahead.” Myles nods to me. “Thought I’d try to fix Darin’s old 4450 tractor before you got here. Just to see if I could.”
“Weren’t you going to do it with Devon?”
Myles snorts. “He got a job mowing lawns. That boy’s going to build his own empire before he’s twenty.”
“Like father, like son.”
Myles smirks. “Hopefully he doesn’t have to go to jail first.”
“You’d be like my father then.” I chuckle and Myles does the same. Emerson’s wide eyes dance between us, but she’s relaxed more during my exchange with my brother. “Is Elsa gone too?”
“They’re teens. I can’t keep them around.” He scoffs, then his mouth twists. “And I think she’s got a guy sniffing around her.”
“Good kid?”
“He’ll let her walk right over him.” Myles scratches at the scruff on his cheek. “I’m a little worried about him to be honest. They should wait a good ten or twenty years before they start dating.”
“Hi there,” Wynter calls from a distance.
She’s walking down the gravel drive, her boots crunching in the dirt.
Her pale hair is down and fluttering in the breeze.
Her smile widens when she meets Emerson’s eyes.
“Oh yay. I get to geek out about marketing. Hi, Emerson.” When she reaches us, she pumps Emerson’s hand. “You eat yet?”
“We had a late breakfast,” I answer.
Emerson’s cheeks flush. “It’s my fault we’re late. Don’t blame Lane.”
“Not worried at all.” Wynter waves us after her. “The kids are gone, but come on in. I grilled up some steaks and threw together a salad.”
“You two go ahead,” Myles says to me. “I’ll finish cleaning up, and then I’ll pick your brain later about this damn thing.”
As excited as I am about diving into an engine with my brother, I won’t ditch Emerson. But from the way Wynter’s chatting with her and asking about her experience, that may not be an issue.
Still, I slide my fingers through Emerson’s. She glances at me, and the corner of her mouth lifts before she tells Wynter how long it’s been since she struck out on her own. She grips my fingers back.