Chapter 14
Emmeline had a bag of fried bitter gourds in her purse. The snack was meant to appease Motu, but today, it would serve another purpose. She pulled a handful out, and the garneta baby dragon perked immediately, sniffing the air.
It turned its head, searching, then spotted Emmeline, who bit back a smile. The dragon’s red eyes widened, and Emmeline casually walked across the bookshop. She heard the sound of the dragon’s wings flapping behind her, and she went over to the empty display table where Luke’s notebook was.
Just then, Luke turned around with his tea. Swaying her hips, she knocked her purse over, and it swiped across the table, pushing the notebook off.
“Oops,” she mouthed, and he cocked his head at her. She bent over to pick up the notebook and, as she did, she slid a few fried gourds under the cover. Then, she set the notebook back on the table and continued walking forward, as if going for some tea herself.
Luke furrowed his brow at her—but then his gaze jumped behind her.
“Hey!” he cried, setting down his tea and rushing past her. Emmeline turned to see the baby dragon had latched onto his notebook with both paws and was chewing on it. “Give that back!”
Luke went to grab the notebook, and the baby dragon growled, biting down harder as Luke pulled. The baby dragon’s wings flapped in the air as it tried to fly away, tugging Luke forward a step.
Laughter bubbled up in Emmeline’s chest, and she covered her mouth with her hand, watching as Luke fought with an adorable and hungry baby dragon.
Eventually, the baby’s rider caught wind, and she rushed over, scolding her pet.
“I’m so sorry!” she said to Luke, pulling the notebook from the baby dragon’s mouth. The damage wasn’t catastrophic, but one side was soggy with drool. Luke gave the woman a weak smile, and she grabbed her baby dragon, scolding it as she walked away.
Once she was gone, Luke made a face. Emmeline snickered.
“Eugh,” he said, gingerly holding the other end of the notebook. He opened the flap, then paused. “What the hell is this?”
Her mirth quickly disappeared. Even from here, she could see an oil stain, left behind by the fried bitter gourds.
As if sensing Emmeline’s meddling, Luke snapped his head around to look at her. She avoided his gaze, though not before she saw his eyes flash. Her heart rate spiked in response.
Turning on her heels with a little yelp, she walked in the opposite direction, but she hardly made it two feet before she felt his hand on her wrist.
With a firm tug, he had her spinning toward him, colliding into his chest before she knew what was happening. Eyes wide, she placed her hand against his chest for balance, inhaling the scent of cypress and spruce from his skin.
“What the f—” she began, then stopped as his gaze went to the side, to where he was holding up her other hand. The words died on her lips as the damning evidence was clear for both of them to see: her stained fingers.
Luke raised a brow. Emmeline was momentarily disarmed.
There was no point denying it now, but that wasn’t the reason it felt like the ground was quivering beneath her feet. His thumb was pressed against her pulse, and she wondered if he could feel it quicken beneath his touch.
A thrill shot through her to have him so near.
“Seriously?” he asked, vexed, and she tried to recall what all of this had been for. She lifted her chin.
“That was for all that drama with the file,” she said.
His eyes flashed, the irritation giving way to something else. His grip on her wrist loosened, but he didn’t let go of her just yet, and she didn’t pull away. He was assessing her carefully, and she swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Don’t mess with me,” she said, trying to sound threatening, but the words hardly came out as confidently as she wanted them to.
He continued looking at her. “Why is winning so important to you?” he finally asked.
Was he being genuine in his curiosity?
“Why does it matter?” she replied, hesitating.
As if sensing her thoughts, he dropped her hand, shrugging. “You’re a determined person. I just want to know what drives you.”
She wasn’t sure what compelled her to respond; she could have easily walked away. Maybe it was the tenderness in his brown eyes, or maybe she was too tired to resist today.
Her gaze jumped away from him. “I don’t lose,” she said. “I make sure of it.”
Though her stomach was in knots, she forced herself to look at him.
“I’m the oldest,” she explained. “Then it’s my sister, then my two brothers, who are six and seven years younger.
I’ve always been the one who looked out for everyone else.
And to do that, I have to be on top of things, to make sure everything goes according to plan. ”
Luke made a pensive sound, listening. It was a little strange to talk like this; she was so used to being the one who listened. With her family, she was the one in the background, but with him, she felt as if she had been brought into focus.
It would have been easy to end the conversation there, but there was a feeling of something loosening in her chest. His gaze on her was intense, and she continued, the words spilling out.
“Things are a bit complicated with my mom,” she said, swallowing.
“We get along, and I love her, but she can put a lot of pressure on me, which then makes me put a lot of pressure on myself—” Luke’s brows furrowed, and she quickly corrected.
“But it’s not a bad thing! It’s what pushes me to succeed. ”
“Success is good,” Luke agreed, “but there’s nothing wrong with failure.”
She had an immediate reaction to that, her nose wrinkling with her elaborate nose-ring, and his lips twitched.
“You’re disgusted by the very thought,” he said. It was true; failure never felt like an option for her. “But even you must realize everyone has a limit.” He looked around pointedly. “You didn’t bring Motu today; you needed a break.”
“A break is different,” she said, then thought back to her conversation with her mother from this morning, about how she should have spent the day with her father and brothers. “And it’s only for a little while. I’m going to get him back after I leave here.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Aren’t you tired?” he asked.
The kindness in his expression had her taken aback. Of course she was tired—a part of her was always tired—but she was so used to it now that she hardly ever registered the fact.
How had Luke of all people noticed?
Her silence was answer enough, and his lips turned down. “Why don’t you just say no?” he asked, as if it was that simple. “I’ve never seen you have a problem telling me what you think.”
“That’s different,” she replied. “You’re you. My family is . . .” She let out a breath. “I can’t say no to them, no matter how thinly stretched I am.”
She hated that she sounded like she was complaining; she didn’t mind, not really. She wanted to be there for her family; it was how she expressed her love for them.
“I like taking care of the people I love,” she said.
His expression warmed. “That’s admirable,” he said.
“And I think I understand a bit more about you, now. You said you don’t lose, which means that you’re calculated—you don’t take bets that won’t give you the outcome you want.
You like being in control.” He paused then, voice softening.
“But not everything can be in your control, Emmeline.”
The thought of that freaked her out—it was why being around him made her feel so unnerved, too, but she couldn’t say that.
What had Millie said? That Luke was her match.
That frightened her, but it thrilled her, too.
She couldn’t deny there was a part of her that relished difficult situations for the satisfaction that came from overcoming them.
Instead, she asked, “What about you? What drives you?”
He looked surprised, as if he hadn’t expected her to ask. But why wouldn’t she have?
He let out a little laugh, shaking his head. “You won’t believe me.”
She wrinkled her brows. “Says who?”
Still, he hesitated, clearly not wanting to respond to her question. He glanced away, clenching his jaw.
Suddenly, hurt flashed through her. She had answered his questions; she had been vulnerable. Now, he wasn’t affording her the same courtesy.
Why had he asked to begin with?
She had thought that perhaps they were connecting, that maybe it was time to let go of the tight grip the grudge from years ago had on her heart—the way Millie had suggested—but any softness she felt disappeared.
“Fine,” she snapped. “Don’t tell me.”
His expression fell. “I’m not . . .” He broke off, clenching his jaw. “I know you,” he said. “You’ll think I’m making it up.”
His words only increased her ire. “That’s an unfair accusation to make.”
“I don’t think you want to talk about what’s fair,” he said, a warning in his tone.
A volatile feeling spread through her, and she looked around. They had been standing on the side of the bookshop, everything else fading away, but it all came back to her now, the buzz and noise of customers in a busy bookshop.
With a scoff, she stalked away from him. This had been a waste of time. Anger flashed through her. Talking to him had been a stupid idea.
She should have never told him anything, no matter how open his eyes were as he gazed at her. She had thought there was such a softness to the brown of his eyes, something warm and inviting, but it was only a trick of the light.
It was early evening, by then. The light from outside the windows was fading fast, and Emmeline checked her phone. She had a message from her father, asking when she would swing by, along with frantic messages from her brother asking her why Motu was in such a crabby mood.
She replied to both, then threw her phone in her purse before turning her attention back to her notes. She was here to work, she reminded herself—though that was evidently difficult to do with the way her mind was racing.