6. Brody
brODY
I like Tanner—he’s a good guy—but I’ve never been more unhappy to see him. My mind is still back in the bedroom with Emma, our faces inching closer, eyes locked. I almost kissed her. I was so damn close, and now my frustration is more unbearable than ever.
Fuck, this girl is making me crazy.
I’ve never felt this way before. Ever since I met Emma, I’ve been losing my damn mind over her soft curves and pretty face.
She’s so damn sweet. So innocent. I couldn’t sleep last night; I was too busy thinking about her, pacing up and down my cabin to calm myself down.
But it didn’t work. She’s consuming me. Protecting her isn’t enough anymore—I want to claim her. Hold her. Make her mine.
And if Tanner hadn’t come knocking, maybe I could have.
I hear Emma follow me into the living room, but I don’t turn around. I don’t trust myself to look at her. Instead, I clench my jaw tight, trying not to betray my annoyance to Tanner.
“Sorry to disturb you,” he says gruffly. “Just wanted to warn you.”
I frown. “Warn me?”
Tanner nods. “There’s a suspicious vehicle hanging around, been driving all over these parts day and night.”
I hear Emma suck in a breath from behind me.
“What kind of vehicle?” she asks.
“A red truck,” Tanner says. “Didn’t get a good look at the plates, but I figure it’s somebody up to no good.” His expression twists into a frown as he looks at Emma over my shoulder. “You alright, ma’am?”
His concern makes me turn to look at her. Emma looks tense, a hand gripping the wall beside her like she’s worried she might fall.
“I’m fine,” she says, her voice barely a whisper.
Tanner looks between us and seems to sense that he’s intruding. “Well, just thought I’d let you know.”
“Thanks, buddy,” I tell him. “I appreciate it.”
I close the door behind him as he disappears into the trees. Then I turn back to Emma, my stomach knotted with concern.
“You know who it is?” I ask. “The person in the red truck?”
Emma is quiet for a few moments, but eventually she says, “No. I saw the same truck last night and thought, maybe…but no, I don’t think so.”
Her answer does nothing to reassure me.
“Is someone after you, Emma?” I ask, taking a step toward her. “I need to know who to look out for.”
“Nobody.” She wraps her arms around herself, shaking her head.
“I thought somebody might have followed me…somebody from New Mexico. But that’s impossible.
Nobody was tailing me. I checked. And anyway, when I ran out of gas, I was stranded and alone for hours in the car.
If somebody were following me, they would have found me then. It would have been easy.”
“But why would anybody be following you in the first place?”
I’m throwing caution to the wind by asking so directly. I’ve tried to keep my questions to a minimum, accepting Emma’s vague answers instead of pushing her. But if I’m going to keep her safe, I need to know who I’m protecting her from.
I need to know, so I can fucking destroy them.
“It’s complicated,” Emma mutters, rubbing a hand over her face. “I’m sorry. I know I owe you an explanation?—”
My frown deepens at her words. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“Of course I do.” She looks at me guiltily with her big doe eyes. “Look at everything you’ve done for me. You gave me a job, a place to stay, food…”
“That’s on me, Emma. I chose to do all that.” As I look at her, I have to resist the urge to reach out and touch her auburn curls. My fingers twitch at my side. “I’m not asking because you owe me anything. I’m asking because I want to know who the hell I need to bury.”
Emma smiles at me sadly. “It’s not that simple.” Then she surprises me by taking my hand, her soft palm squeezing mine. “Let’s go finish the bedframe, okay? I’m sorry for acting so weird about the truck—really, it was nothing.”
I don’t argue. Instead, I let her lead me back into the bedroom, where the bedframe is waiting to be finished.
Emma seems determined to make up for her lack of answers, because she works feverishly for the next few hours, refusing to take a break.
Once the bedframe is done, we hoist the mattress on top and then head for the kitchen to start work on the cabinets.
Emma is a quick learner. She seems to know instinctively what I need her to do, and by six o’clock, the first two cabinets are already built and mounted.
“What’s next?” Emma asks eagerly, sweat beading on her forehead.
“Dinner. You’ve done more than enough for one day.”
She grins at me, her face lighting up. “Dinner sounds good.”
It’s still light as we leave the outbuilding, the forest calm and still. We head toward my cabin, and I usher Emma inside, closing the door behind us. It’s the first time she’s been in here, and I watch her out of the corner of my eye as she takes it in.
“Wow,” she says softly. “This place is beautiful.”
“Thanks.”
My cabin isn’t huge, but it’s rustic and cozy, full of comfy furniture that my sister helped pick out.
She has an eye for décor, and it’s thanks to her that this place looks like a home.
As Emma looks around, I feel a twinge of guilt that she’s stuck in the much smaller, emptier outbuilding.
I’d rather she stayed here with me, but I don’t want to freak her out by asking.
I’m still half expecting her to run, even now.
Hell, when I woke up this morning, the first thing I did was check whether her car was still there, parked out the back where I left it for her.
“Make yourself at home,” I say, gesturing to the couch. “I’ll get started on dinner. Hope you like pizza.”
“I love it!” Emma’s eyes sparkle. “I haven’t had pizza in a long time.”
Once she’s settled on the couch, I bring her a glass of lemonade and pour myself a whiskey before heading for the kitchen. The pizzas don’t take long. I top them with plenty of mozzarella and pepperoni, and once the cheese is melted, I slice them up and bring them out to the table.
“This is amazing,” Emma says, biting into a slice with a hum of satisfaction. “Seriously, so good.”
“The secret ingredient is extra cheese.”
She chuckles, taking another bite. “Always a good idea.”
We eat in silence for a few moments. I see Emma eyeing the mantel behind me, squinting a little to make out the photographs.
“Is that your sister?” she asks, gesturing toward one of the photos.
“Yeah. Celeste.”
Emma smiles. “Please say thank you for the clothes when you see her next—she’s a lifesaver. It was so nice to get out of that muddy dress.”
I nod. “I’ll tell her.”
When I headed over to Celeste’s this morning and told her about Emma, she was immediately sympathetic.
She wanted to come over and meet her, but I didn’t want to spook Emma by bringing over somebody she didn’t know.
So instead, Celeste gave me a bunch of clothes, toiletries, and anything else she could think of to help.
“Did you both grow up around here?” Emma asks.
“No. We’re from Vermont originally. Moved to Denver for a while, shared an apartment. Then I moved out here a couple of months ago.”
“And she moved with you?”
“Not exactly.” I take a sip of my whiskey. “She came to visit me out here. Ended up meeting one of my neighbors, a guy called Dane. They fell hard. Now she lives with him in his cabin, about ten minutes away.”
“How romantic.” Emma smiles wistfully. “It’s great that she lives nearby. You two must be very close.”
“We are. I’m a lot older than her, so it feels more like I’m her dad sometimes.” My throat tightens, and I clear it roughly. “We had a kind of complicated home life, so I pretty much raised her myself.”
“Oh.” Emma’s face falls slightly. “That sounds tough.”
“It was. More for her than for me. Our parents treated her like shit.” I clench my fists, forcing myself to quench the familiar anger that rises up every time I think of them. “She’s okay now, though. Happy. That’s what matters.”
“She’s so lucky to have you,” Emma says, smiling at me with something like affection in her eyes.
I fucking love when she looks at me like that.
“What about you?” I ask. “Got any siblings?”
“Sadly not.”
“How about your parents?” I lean toward her, unable to hide my curiosity. “Are they back in New Mexico?”
“Yes.” She seems to shiver slightly. “We…don’t keep in touch.”
I frown. “How about friends? You got friends there, at least?”
Her answer is automatic. “We’re not allowed friends.”
As soon as the words are out of her mouth, her eyes widen. She avoids my gaze, looking mortified, like she’s said too much.
We’re not allowed friends…
What the hell does that mean?
“A-anyway,” she says, her voice a little breathless, “how do you, uh, how do you like living out here?”
“Emma.” I reach across the table, gripping her hand tight, but she still won’t look at me.
“I—” Her voice falters.
“Tell me what’s going on.” I hook my thumb beneath her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. Her eyes are glassy, her bottom lip trembling as she holds back tears.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” she whispers. “Oh, God, this is all such a mess.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “You can trust me. Just start from the beginning. Tell me everything.
With a shuddering breath, she nods.