Chapter 15
EMMA KICKED OFF her high heels, more than ready to drop from five foot ten to her much more moderate five foot six. Today had been another fourteen-hour day on her feet. She’d been in meeting after meeting with staff members, ignoring the speculative gossip about the vice president.
He’d had his little band of supporters, yes, but in general?
The rest of the staff despised him, especially when they found out he’d been responsible for the company’s recent hardships.
And for what seemed like the hundredth time today, Emma berated herself for letting things get so far out of hand, for failing to pay more attention to what he’d been doing and for violating the very concept she’d founded the company on: people.
Curling her toes into her foyer’s Oriental carpet, she sighed.
Tonight was going to be a beer and wings night.
She’d earned it. Her cell phone sat at the top of her briefcase, so she retrieved it, found her favorite sports bar that delivered and hit Call.
The phone only rang six times before the bartender answered.
She smiled, recognizing his voice. “Hey, Paulie. It’s Emma. ”
“Like I don’t recognize that sultry voice from anywhere.
” The sound of a baseball game was turned down despite the patrons’ vocal protests.
“Shaddup!” Paulie called out. “There’s a lady on the phone.
Now, darlin’. What’ve you been up to that’s kept you out of the bar as we gear up for the play-offs?
Mets are going to take the pennant race, and you know that leaves them the favorites for the World Series. ”
“Big dreams, Paulie. Seattle’s going to trump the Mets no matter when or where they meet.”
“Sacrilege,” Paulie whispered in mock horror.
“Doesn’t change the fact I miss your wings.”
“Now you’re talkin’. What can I get you?” His voice had become muffled, and she could imagine him pinching the receiver between his massive jaw and beefy shoulder, order pad at the ready.
“I need—” her phone beeped with an incoming call “—twenty-five wings, bone in, medium sauce, ranch dressing instead of blue cheese, no veggies, a basket of onion rings and a basket of mozzarella sticks, also with ranch dressing.”
Paulie chuckled. “Damn, Emma. You havin’ a party you didn’t invite me to?”
“Nope. It’s Friday night, I’m starving and I intend to use your fine food to keep me from having to leave my apartment all weekend.”
“You ain’t watching chick flicks and gettin’ all mopey, are you?”
Paulie’s undisguised horror made her laugh.
“No. I figured I’d overload on action movies, maybe watch The Avengers twice for good measure.
” Her phone beeped again, and this time she checked the caller ID.
Hard tremors rocked her body and she dropped the phone.
Swooping down to pick it up, she all but shouted, “Just deliver it whenever. I’ve got cash.
” Then she began jabbing the button to accept the incoming call, but voice mail caught it first.
Still in the foyer, Emma leaned against the front door and clutched the phone with both hands.
Her teeth began to chatter. The strangest sense of disembodiment overwhelmed her when her voice mail chimed.
She watched as one hand clutched the phone and the other seemed to move of its own accord, hitting Play and then Speaker.
“Emma?”
Her heart stopped.
“This is Reagan. I really need to talk to you. I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to get in touch, but there was a major...
Forget it. Bottom line, I’m—surprisingly—still getting married in three weeks and I’m a freaking wreck.
You promised to coordinate my wedding for me, and I’m calling that favor in.
It’s probably not fair of me, but... Emma, I miss you.
I don’t want to do this without you. Call me at—”
Before Reagan began reciting the numbers, Emma had cut the message off and begun to dial.
Reagan answered on the second ring. “Emma?”
Throat tight, she nodded and gave a sharp, breathy laugh.
“Yeah. It’s me.” She paused, fighting the burn of tears.
She’d longed for contact with these people, and here was the one she’d cared about above all but one other.
“Reagan.” There was a pleading tone she hated but couldn’t hide. “Let me explain—”
“Stop.” The command was soft but firm. “You don’t have to. I know you didn’t do us wrong. After all you’ve done since you left? There’s no doubt in my mind.”
“But the men...” She forced herself to steady. “Cade.”
“I can’t control those idiots,” Reagan muttered.
“And frankly, it’s a miracle I’m still marrying my favorite idiot of them all.
” The other woman chuffed out a short laugh.
“But I can’t do it without you. All this crap started arriving two days ago for the wedding, and I have no idea what to do with it.
And then I got a notice that FedEx is delivering fresh flowers four days before the event. Not arrangements, Emma. Just flowers.”
The building mania in ever-calm Reagan made Emma smile. “I’d planned on decorating your cake and doing your flowers. I’ll make arrangements for someone from Amarillo to—”
“No.” The single, shrill word made Emma wince.
“I don’t want ‘arrangements,’” Reagan choked out.
“I want you. You’re my only girlfriend. All these men will be here, and as hard as I’ve tried to get Tyson to wear a dress and be my maid of honor, he’s being a jerk and refusing on ‘testicular principals,’ whatever those are. ”
“I can’t go back there, Reagan.” The words killed Emma, ripping at wounds that had healed superficially at best. “I won’t risk ruining your day by having a confrontation with any of the men.”
“There won’t be a single derogatory word, look, glance or innuendo in private conversation. I guarantee it.”
That hard-edged delivery was almost enough on its own to make Emma believe her. Almost. “I’ll make sure you have everything you need,” she began again, but Reagan simply interrupted her once more.
“I need you, you stubborn woman. Please. Not only for the cake and flowers and stuff, but I need someone to stand up for me at the altar, someone to represent my side.” The woman’s voice dropped. “I’ve got no one to go through this with me, Emma. I want you here. Please.”
She’d do anything for this woman who’d become so dear to her in such a short time. But she had to know. “What does Cade think about me being at the ranch again?”
“He’s fine with it.”
Emma’s silence said everything her racing mind couldn’t.
“I swear to you, he’ll be nothing but a gentleman and he won’t bark, or bite, once.
I may suck at the feminine stuff like dresses and decorating and flowers and such, but I’m hell with a scalpel.
Everyone will be on his or her best behavior.
If you say no, I’m just going to keep calling until you’re so exhausted you concede. ”
The thought of being back on the ranch, back in the Covington fold, even if it was only this one last time, pulled at Emma and made her want nothing more than to say yes.
“Promise me I can leave if it gets too uncomfortable for me.” Reagan hesitated in her answer, and Emma pressed her.
“I want your word, Reagan Matthews. I have to be absolutely sure I have a getaway car in the event things go south.”
“I promise,” she whispered.
Emma wiped at the sweat trickling down her temple. “When do you want me there?”
“First flight you can catch...and as soon as you find a bridesmaid’s dress.”
“Color preference?” she asked. “Length? Style? Fabric?”
“Don’t care. Anything dark will get dusty, so you make the call there. My gown’s ivory.”
“I picked it out, Reagan,” Emma responded, laughing.
“Right. I’m not nervous or anything.”
“I’ve got this covered. I have to make a few arrangements before I can leave, so expect me Wednesday.” Memories of her first visit to the ranch rushed over her. “I’ll rent a car,” she almost shouted. “Please don’t send anyone to pick me up.”
“He’ll be good, Emma.” There was a quiet conviction there. “I swear.”
“I’m not worried about that part.” Not too much, anyway.
“Then why are you so anxious about seeing him?”
Emma’s heart tripped, skipped a beat, and then began hammering like a heavy-metal drummer. “It’s...” She rubbed the heel of her hand over her sternum, fighting to breathe. “Some things aren’t worth revisiting, Reagan. Heartache’s one of them. See you Wednesday.”
Call disconnected, Emma sagged against the wall.
Uncertainty swam through her. Had she said too much?
Not enough? Indicated she was over Cade?
Or worse, had she indicated that she wasn’t?
Because what she’d said to Reagan had been the absolute truth—some things, like heartache, weren’t worth revisiting.
But there was a worse consequence, one she feared far more.
That she’d get a reunion with the only man she’d ever loved and realize the most she’d ever have from him were the memories, both those from before he hated her and now these, after.
Then he’d close the door on her forever.
She had set her life in order, put her business on track once again and made the changes in the business that would allow her to move forward.
Even better the company had quickly become financially solvent with Michael gone.
He’d been charged with falsifying financial documents and unsound business practices resulting in intentional financial harm.
It had all happened so quickly, she’d spun for two weeks solid.