Chapter 4 Eric
I grip the armrests of the absurdly expensive chair, my heart heavier than it should be as I stare out at the cold steel and glass of New York City’s skyline. It’s a stark contrast to the wheat fields of my childhood, and a reminder of how far I’ve strayed from home. But nostalgia has no place in this meeting.
I shift in my seat, bracing for the lies I’m about to spin.
In mere moments, I’ll be weaving a web of deceit, tangling Emma in half-truths that taste bitter even before they leave my mouth. My instincts scream at me to stop, to tell her the truth, but desperation is a cruel master. And to make matters worse, last night’s unrelenting need for her still lingers in my veins, threatening to betray me in front of her brothers.
Julian and Tristan murmur something about a new doctor for their father, their voices background noise as I keep my focus anywhere but Emma’s office door. I avoided her this morning. Seeing her would stir memories I can’t afford—memories of soft gasps, flushed skin, and the way my name sounded when she was begging for my help.
Then she walks in, and the room shifts.
Her pin-striped suit hugs her in all the right places, exuding quiet power. Her hair, freshly trimmed, frames her determined face, but it’s the misplaced gem above her brow that damn near does me in. The leftover relic from last night catches the light like a beacon, reminding me exactly where my hands were.
I subtly motion toward her forehead, hoping to save her from further embarrassment, but she mistakes it for a formal greeting, clasping my hand in a firm shake that sends heat straight down my spine. I hold her gaze, trying to silently communicate about the gem, but confusion mars her expression.
“I’m sorry I didn’t have the chance to prepare, but Mr. Waters hasn’t told me what the case is about,” she announces, the gem twinkling like a damn neon sign.
Julian chuckles, easing some of the tension. “Ems, you have a gem above your brow.”
Her hand flies to her forehead. “What?”
The blush that rises to her cheeks mirrors the heat coursing through me. She plucks the gem away, recovering quickly, but I see the flicker of last night’s memory behind her eyes. My hands on her. My face inches away from her pussy, and her breath catching in her throat.
I shift in my seat, regretting the thought when I realize I won’t be able to stand for the next fifteen minutes.
Emma, completely unaware of my predicament, composes herself and takes her seat.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she says, voice slightly unsteady. “I stopped by Mom’s and Dad’s, and the traffic was awful. There was an accident, and they closed the freeway.”
Tristan checks his watch. “You’re right on time, Ems.”
She folds her hands on the table. “Right. So, what’s this case about? What can I do to help?”
She eyes the papers in front of her brothers, waiting for them to pass her the files I know have nothing to do with my case.
Time to sell the lie.
I lean in slightly. “I need your help back in Lords Valley.”
Julian, feeding into the charade, nods. “Eric needs help reviewing estate documents.”
Emma’s sharp mind ticks away, suspicion already forming in her gaze.
“My grandfather’s ill. I’m hoping you’ll come to Lords Valley to look over his transfer of assets,” I add, keeping my tone even.
She flinches slightly. “I’m sorry about your grandfather, but I’m not a lawyer. You already know the Wagners… I thought this was a case?”
Tristan rubs the back of his neck, lying through his teeth. “It is a case. Tell her about Huntz.”
My jaw clenches, but Emma’s eyes lift with piqued curiosity.
“Annabelle’s coming home for Thanksgiving,” Tristan continues. “The guy who kidnapped them was never found, and I was hoping you’d look through old evidence, see if he could be charged.”
Emma blinks. “I didn’t know you were kidnapped.”
“It was a long time ago,” I say, keeping my voice level.
“What makes you think he’s back?”
Tristan’s phone chimes, and he stands. “Excuse me.” He leaves without another word, leaving Julian to pick up the act.
“Point is, Ems, you need to go to Lords Valley immediately,” Julian says, voice firm.
Emma turns to me, whispering, “I can’t leave. Dad’s not well.”
She unconsciously touches her throat, a tell I recognize all too well.
Julian shifts in his seat. “The files are in Lords Valley. You’d need to be there to go through them.”
Another lie.
Emma slumps back slightly. Julian’s phone rings, and he follows Tristan out, leaving us alone.
“If I can’t convince you, they sure as hell won’t,” I murmur.
She exhales, gaze steady. “Eric, I wish I could help, but?—”
“Please, Ems.” My voice lowers. “Don’t reject me.”
Her breath hitches.
“There’s more to this, but I can’t say it in front of your brothers.”
She leans in. “What is it?”
I check the door, then scoot closer. “If my grandfather passes before assigning his estate to me, we won’t have enough money to save my parents’ ranch.”
She tilts her head. “Okay… And where do I fit into this?”
“If I have a girlfriend, Grandpa will transfer the assets to me before he passes.”
Her forehead creases. “That’s so old school.”
“That’s Grandpa.”
“Wait…” She blinks. “Am I connecting the dots here?”
“If your dots form into me begging you to be my pretend girlfriend, then yes, you’re connecting them.”
She sucks in a sharp breath, adjusting her shirt. “You want me to come to Lords Valley to be your girlfriend ?”
“Grandpa’s arriving from Aruba this week. You’re the only accomplice who can pull this off.”
“What about John Huntz?”
Nothing. There’s nothing I want to tell her about Huntz. Forgetting him is easier. But a case for Emma sweetens the deal.
“It’d be good if you checked out the town before Annabelle comes home. Make sure it’s safe. He hasn’t been seen in a while, but better safe than sorry.”
The lie tastes like ash in my mouth. Guilt twists in my gut, but I push forward.
Emma’s nose crinkles, but before she can ask more, Tristan and Julian return.
Tristan adjusts his suit jacket. “Ems, if you need more info on Huntz, I’m sure Eric can provide everything necessary in Lords Valley .”
Julian adds, “You’ll be staying with Ethan and Joanne.”
I hold my breath as Emma processes the trap we’ve just set.
Nervousness and desperation churn inside me. I should’ve done more to convince her, but the fact that she’s my best friend’s little sister keeps me locked in a cage of restraint.
“Will you keep me updated on Dad’s condition?” she asks her brothers, her voice barely concealing the weight of her decision.
“Of course, we will,” Tristan assures her.
“I want daily updates.” She leans forward, gripping Julian’s arm as if anchoring herself to home.
Julian stands, placing his hand over hers. “We’ll call every day. I promise. We can FaceTime too.”
I open my big mouth. “It won’t take long. Maybe a week or so.”
Emma turns to me, her blue eyes sharp. “Dad may not have a week or so.”
Shut the fuck up, Eric.
I meet her gaze with every ounce of silent desperation I have left. She exhales, and her eyes soften.
“All right. I’ll do it. I need to pack, say goodbye to my parents, and change the oil in my car. It’s a long drive.”
Julian gestures toward the suitcase by the glass wall, and Emma follows his gaze, confusion flickering across her face.
“Grace helped us pack your stuff.”
Her frown deepens. “I’m beginning to feel like you two are trying to get rid of me.”
I stand and offer my hand. She hesitates before accepting it, her grip warm, steady.
Tristan clears his throat. “Just trying to be efficient. You don’t have time to go home. Eric’s train leaves at noon, and George is waiting downstairs to drive you to the station.”
Her fingers twitch against mine before she pulls away. Hesitation lingers in her eyes, but Tristan seals the deal.
“The sooner you leave, the sooner you come back. You know, Ems, this is the case that could open the door to your partnership.”
Her head snaps up, and her focus sharpens. She smooths down her suit and turns to me, extending her hand like a true professional.
“Congratulations, Mr. Waters. You’ve hired the best company in the country, and I promise Silver Securities will not disappoint you.”
I have no doubt, her one-zero-zero-point-zero success rate is well earned.
Her brothers exchange a knowing look, which she misses, and my guilt soars.
“Thank you, Emma.” I grab her suitcase and motion forward. “After you.”
Emma slings her sunflower-patterned laptop bag over her shoulder, the fabric worn but familiar. It’s the only thing brightening up her otherwise all-business travel outfit, a little piece of warmth she clings to as she leaves behind the city and heads into the unknown.
She embraces each of her brothers before leading us out of the office. Her fingers tighten around the handle of her laptop bag as we descend to the waiting car. George, the company’s longtime driver, stands by the limo, silver hair tousled by the breeze, his kind smile unwavering. I load Emma’s suitcase into the trunk and slide into the seat across from her.
As George pulls away from the curb, Emma catches my gaze, determination flickering behind a veil of doubt. In that moment, I make a silent vow to fix this and ensure she gets that partnership. Fifteen minutes later, we arrive at the train station and I guide Emma to our cabin.
“Did you think you’d be on your way to Lords Valley when you woke up this morning?” I attempt small talk, anything to ease the tension curling between us.
She stretches her legs, her pink-polished toes peeking out from her heels. The sight sends a jolt of heat coiling low in my groin.
“I thought I’d be assigned an important case,” she muses. “But I get to be your pretend girlfriend instead. Is Huntz even real?”
Her arms cross, her tone laced with skepticism. I’ve never seen Emma so guarded. I thought she’d be excited about the horses and the open land. Maybe taking her away from her dying father wasn’t a good idea.
“He’s real,” I lie smoothly. “But I haven’t seen him in years.”
“So you were kidnapped?”
She leans forward, eyes searching mine.
“Yes, we were, but it was a long time ago.”
She frowns, like she’s mentally piecing things together. “So, there is no case.”
“Just the one I need you to pull off with my grandfather.”
Her arms fold tighter, her gaze narrowing. “This doesn’t feel like the full story, Eric.”
She’s not wrong.
“My grandfather’s arriving from Aruba soon. You’ve met him before. You’ll join my family for dinner, accompany me to Harvest Fest this weekend, and that should be it.”
Her features soften slightly. “Your grandfather means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”
I clasp my hands together, inhaling deeply. “He taught me everything I know.”
The thought of losing him tightens something in my chest. If I could turn this car around and let Emma stay with her father, I would. But if I do, my parents will lose everything.
She touches my arm gently. “Eric?”
I snap out of it, nodding. “Yeah, sorry. Grandpa means a lot. Fair warning—he still enjoys embarrassing his grandkids, so he might pull out an old, unflattering photo or two.”
She grins. “Something to look forward to, after all.”
“I thought you’d be excited to visit the ranch,” I muse. “I remember you riding Shadow like it was yesterday. How old were you?”
“My first time, I was eight,” she says, nostalgia thick in her voice. “You were twenty-four, and to me, that was ancient.”
A chuckle escapes me as I try to remember the time she last rode Shadow, and I can’t. “Ten years ago… ten years ago. I don’t remember that time, but it turns out, Ems, I am an old man now.””
She shakes her head, eyes twinkling. “Not the way I see it. You’re a sexy fucking cowboy.”
Her hand slaps over her mouth. There she is—unfiltered, bold Emma. And just like that, we burst into laughter.
“I’m so sorry.” She gasps between breaths, unbuttoning her jacket. The white blouse beneath clings to her curves, and my gaze betrays me, dropping lower. Thankfully, she doesn’t notice. Or if she does, she doesn’t call me out on it.
“We don’t get many cowboys in New York.”
“I’m glad I stand out.” I clear my throat. “You know, your brothers say you’re the best secret keeper in the family. What happens when someone asks for details?”
She tilts forward, a teasing smirk forming. “When secrets are at stake, I lie.”
“You lie?”
She nods.
“Not as innocent as I thought.”
“There’s nothing innocent about the work I do.”
That mischievous sparkle sets me on alert and makes me want to flirt.
“Does that include stripping?” I lift a brow.
“The job comes with unforeseen repercussions,” she muses. “Like sexy cowboys kidnapping me off stage and peeling gems off my private parts.”
“You think I kidnapped you?”
“Wrong choice of words.”
But fuck, I like her choice of words.
“Removing you was necessary.”
“Was cupping my ass cheek necessary?” she taunts.
Fuck.
Heat surges through me, and judging by the way her gaze flickers downward, she knows exactly what effect she’s having.
She grins. “I can’t believe you still have Shadow.”
“She’s the best workhorse I have.”
Emma’s eyes brighten, her lips curving. “She’s my favorite.”
Maybe, just maybe, this week won’t be a disaster, after all.
I smirk. “That’s…nice. And unexpected. Never thought of you and the country in the same sentence.”
Emma leans in, her expression teasing. “What have you thought of?”
“Not you stripping at Wagner’s club.” I close the distance just a fraction, enough to watch her pupils dilate. “You?”
“I’m thinking of you in cowboy boots, dirty jeans, no shirt…” She presses her index finger into her cheek. ”Knee-deep in horseshit.”
Her laughter spills into the small cabin, warm and easy, brushing away some of the tension that had thickened the air between us. For a moment, the weight of lies, schemes, and family obligations fades into something almost lighthearted, almost real.
“Why wouldn’t I have a shirt?” I ask, grinning.
“It’s my imagination.” She shrugs one shoulder, feigning nonchalance. “And I get to do anything I want with that.”
I tilt my head, studying her. “Seems like you enjoy control as much as I do.”
“How’s that?”
“Because you control your imagination.”
“Well, we can’t control everything, can we?” Her voice dips slightly, her smile faltering. “Like kidnappings and cancers.” She takes a sip of her sparkling wine and lowers her feet to the ground. The flicker of humor in her eyes dims into something more focused, more determined. “Speaking of which…”
She reaches for her briefcase, retrieves her laptop and opens the screen. Her fingers quickly find a search engine, gliding over the keys as she murmurs, “Lords Valley police department. Let’s see where John Huntz is hiding.”
I exhale, bracing myself. “I don’t think you’ll find much.”
She frowns, scrolling through the results. “No police department?”
“Just a sheriff with a room full of stacked boxes and unsorted paperwork.” I reach across and gently close her laptop. “Ems?”
Her gaze flicks to mine, curiosity dancing in her expression. “What?”
“Stop and smell the roses.”
Her lips part slightly, a protest forming, but I shake my head. “There’s something else I need to ask you.”
The train hums beneath us, rolling forward, sealing us inside this conversation. There’s nowhere for her to run, and no brothers to interfere. It’s time to be honest. Or at least, as honest as I can be.
Her eyes narrow slightly, cautious but intrigued. “What is it?”
I inhale deeply, my chest tightening. “You know how you lie to protect people, Ems?”
She nods slowly. “Yeah?”
I hold her gaze, my stomach twisting. “I lied, too.”
She stiffens. “About what?”
I rub my palms against my thighs, the weight of my next words pressing against my ribs. “I don’t need you to be my girlfriend. I need you to be my fiancée.”