Chapter 20 Presley
PRESLEY
It was fucking cold.
I shivered underneath my red parka, burrowing into my hood and quickening my steps. The snow crunched under my boots, the flakes dry and crusted with ice.
Walking across town was not how I’d planned to spend my Sunday morning, but I wanted my Jeep and I wanted to get away from my neighbor.
Couldn’t Shaw have just called and apologized? What was he doing here? Messing with my life, that’s what.
I was in a good place. I’d put Shaw behind me, Jeremiah was a distant memory, and I was dating Luke. The last thing I needed was Shaw living next door.
The asshole had brought me carrots. So help me, if he’d ruined carrots for me, I’d burn his house down. I’d torch it, stand back and smile at the flames. My feet paused. Should I?
No. That was crazy. That man made me crazy. I shook off that ridiculous idea because tempting as it was, I was no arsonist.
Avoiding his home, the inside at least, would be simple.
Under no circumstances would I set foot in that yellow house again, not until it was empty and fumigated.
Walking into his house last night, being wrapped in his scent, was much too dangerous for my heart—my disloyal heart, which had leapt with one long inhale of Shaw.
Damn him.
I marched faster, practically jogging. My breaths clouded above my head like the puffs of a racing steam locomotive. The blocks disappeared quickly as I hurried down the deserted streets, too angry and confused and annoyed to pay much attention to the few cars passing by.
I’d be an icicle by the time I reached Genevieve and Isaiah’s house, but I had my fury to keep me warm. Isaiah would have come and picked me up, but this walk was good. I needed the movement to get my head on straight and think through a plan.
First, if Shaw hadn’t figured it out last night, I’d spell it out for him. We. Were. Over. No number of apologies would change my mind. We’d been over the moment he’d called me from California. If I repeated the message enough times, eventually he’d go back to his world and leave me to mine.
Second, I was dating Luke. I liked Luke. He was a good kisser and a sweet man. He was honest and true. Luke would come over and we’d take our relationship to the next level. Luke and me. Me and Luke.
That was happening.
Tonight.
It didn’t matter who was living next door. It didn’t matter whose bedroom was outside mine.
Maybe Luke and me should happen at his house instead.
The crunch of tires on snow at my back startled me and I jumped to the far edge of the sidewalk. A large, gray truck pulled up beside me, its tires crushing the berm of snow that edged the streets this time of year, made from the snowplows clearing the streets.
Emmett. He must have recognized my coat. Not many wore cherry-red parkas. He rolled down the passenger-side window. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“You scared me.”
“Get inside before you freeze, damn it.”
“I’m not cold,” I lied.
“Hurry up.” He rolled his eyes and up went the window. Then the locks clicked open.
I opened the door and hopped inside, buckling my seat belt and sliding off my gloves. My fingers wiggled over the warm air coming from the dashboard vents.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“I was walking to Genevieve’s to get the Jeep.”
He scowled as he pulled away from the curb. “That’s miles.”
“I needed some air.”
There was no way I’d tell Emmett about Shaw. No one knew about my fling with the movie star, not even Genevieve or Bryce.
When Shaw and I had started our tryst, I’d been scared about how everyone would react given the movie and his short-term outlook on Montana. As my feelings for Shaw had changed, grown, I’d been scared to slap us with a label, mostly because location hookup sounded so . . . cheap.
I’d almost told them when that picture of Shaw and me on his bike had come out, but then it had turned into nothing. Why? Because Presley Marks wasn’t news. I was a nobody. If that photo’d had Dacia French in my place, it would have gone viral.
When Shaw had left, I’d been grateful for my foresight not to tell anyone. It meant that I could wallow in heartbreak alone without worried glances or pitiful hugs. Since we were over, there was no point in dragging Emmett into the mess.
Shaw would be gone soon, lost to California for good.
“Want a coffee?” Emmett asked, already slowing for the parking lot of the country and feed supply store. There was a coffee hut in one corner of the lot. Emmett rolled down his window, leaning out, as the barista opened her sliding window.
The blonde’s cheeks flushed when she saw Emmett. Her tongue darted out and licked her lower lip. “Oh, hey. Again. Did you, um . . . forget something at my place last night?”
I rolled my eyes and leaned forward. “Could I get a vanilla chai with skim milk, please?”
Her eyes flashed to me and her smile flattened. “Sure. Emmett?”
“Triple mocha.”
“Give me a minute.” She nodded and slid her window closed.
“The barista?” I shot Emmett a look. “She’s probably going to spit in my coffee.”
“Nah. She’s nice.”
“Have you even been home since last night?”
He chuckled. “Not yet.”
“Do you remember her name?”
“Yeah. Of course. It’s, uh . . . Carrie.”
“Carleigh, according to her nametag.”
“Damn. Carleigh.”
I shook my head. “You’re horrible.”
“The women love me. What can I say?”
“The women?” I teased. “Do you hear yourself?”
He laughed, digging a twenty from his wallet.
Emmett wasn’t wrong. Women did love him. They loved his bad-boy look with his beefy, tattooed arms and the shoulder-length brown hair that he was constantly tying up or brushing out of his face. He wasn’t as quick to laugh or flirt like Leo, but Emmett had a smolder that drove the women crazy.
Would he ever settle down? Would he find a woman who caught his attention for more than one night? I hoped so. What I wanted most for the people in my life was that they found love, even if it seemed to elude me.
Emmett paid for our coffees and winked goodbye to Carleigh, then he pulled away and aimed the truck toward Isaiah’s neighborhood. “So why’d you leave your Jeep at Genevieve’s?”
“I went over yesterday to see the baby and spend some time with them. Luke came over too and we went to a movie. He drove me home.”
“How’s that going, you and Luke?”
I sighed. “Great.”
“Doesn’t sound great.”
“No, it is. He’s a really good man, and I like him a lot.”
“But . . .”
“There’s no but.”
“Pres.” Emmett shot me a look. “Who are you talking to?”
“You,” I muttered. “Why couldn’t Leo have been the one to find me? He doesn’t ask as many questions.”
“Not today. What’s wrong? Why are you stomping across Clifton Forge like you’re on a mission to show Jack Frost he isn’t going to get the best of you?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Does it have anything to do with a certain movie star? The one you were seen riding on the back of a bike with?”
My mouth dropped. “You knew?”
“Please.” He scoffed. “You might be good at hiding your emotions from some people, but you’ve never been good at fooling me.”
This was true. Whenever I was sad and forcing happy, there were two men who saw past the brave face: Draven and Emmett.
Draven would badger me until I talked, ripping the truth from my lips.
But not Emmett. He’d pull me into one of his bear hugs and not let go until some of the pain had seeped away.
“We were . . . well, I don’t know what we were. Something.” Something special.
“Has he been in touch since he left?”
“No. He came back last night.”
He looked over, taking a drink of his mocha. “What happened last night?”
“I’m pretty sure he moved here.”
Emmett choked. “No shit?”
“When Shaw was here for the movie, he bought the house next door to mine. Not because it was the house next door, it was just a coincidence. During the movie, that was where he stayed. We started talking and things happened.”
Then he’d crushed me, something I wouldn’t tell Emmett because it would mean a U-turn and an awkward—likely violent—confrontation on my street.
“Shaw left,” I said. “Now he’s back.”
“You still have feelings for him?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I don’t know how I feel. And the truth is, I don’t trust my judgment.”
“Pres.” Emmett reached over and put his hand on my shoulder. “What happened with Jeremiah—”
“Was my fault.”
“I was at the wedding, babe. Didn’t seem like your fault.”
“No, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have stayed with him in the first place.”
“You loved him.”
“Maybe,” I muttered. Maybe not. I didn’t have the energy to delve any deeper this morning. Because of Shaw, I’d barely slept. And we were nearly to Isaiah’s. “New subject, please. How is your mom?”
Emmett shot me a look, one that said he wasn’t leaving this alone, but answered, “She’s good. I’m going over there later.”
“Please, for her sake, shower first. You still smell like The Betsy.”
“I’ll shower.” He grinned as he turned down Genevieve and Isaiah’s block.
When he parked behind my Jeep, I unbuckled and gave him a smile. “Thanks for picking me up.”
“Always. See you tomorrow.”
“Bye.” I raised my coffee mug in a silent thanks and climbed out of the truck, juggling my drink and my gloves as I dug keys from my coat pocket.
I got in my Jeep, shivering as I hit the ignition and cranked up the heat. My gaze zeroed in on Luke’s house as I drove down the sleepy street. His truck wasn’t in the driveway where he normally parked—his garage was reserved for his boat—and the lights were off.
Should I tell him about Shaw? Should I pretend it was no big deal that he was in town?
Guilt had clawed its way into my heart last night as I’d lain restlessly in bed.
I’d spent the midnight hours thinking of Shaw, not the man I was actually dating.
It wasn’t like I’d done anything wrong. I’d gone into Shaw’s home and listened to him speak.
I’d answered a phone call. So why did I feel like I’d betrayed Luke?