Chapter 10 – Grant #2
“That’s helpful. I’m sure the chief taught you that if you don’t know what you want, there’s no way you can get it . . . so, uh, good luck figuring it out. Like I said, the airstrip is closed.” She lifts her eyebrows and turns as if to walk away.
My hand is on her arm in a flash. “What is your problem?” I snarl the words, and fuck if this woman can’t rile me in a flash.
Why the hell am I chasing a ghost? Why do I even care?
She jerks her arm from my grasp but doesn’t walk away. At least she’s not running. “You. You’re the problem.”
“Why’s that? What’s so wrong with being friends?”
“I have plenty of friends, Grant.”
“Not like me, you don’t.”
“Charming.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Arrogance gets you nowhere with me.”
“What is it, Em? What is it about me that irritates you so much? What did I do that was so wrong that when you saw me on the Fourth you already figured out you hated me?” I step into her, my thoughts flying and temper flaring even though I swore I was going to try to calm the situation.
“I’m not irritated,” she sneers.
“Then what do you call it?”
“Hostile.” She gives me a ghost of a smile.
“I call it being defensive.” That one hit home. For a split second, her expression falls before she reins in whatever nerve I’ve hit.
“If you don’t like it, then why are you here?”
“I keep asking myself the same damn question.”
“Seems like we’re at an impasse.” It’s that blasé tone of hers that irritates the fuck out of me. It’s nothing but a mask she’s hiding behind, and I want to rip it off so I can examine what’s beneath it.
“I’m gonna wear you down.”
Fucking brilliant, Malone. I went from swearing she was too much trouble to now vowing to wear her down.
“No you’re not.” Those hands of hers find her hips again.
“I know your type, Emmy. You’re used to pushing people away the minute they get too close. You’re used to calling the shots and being in control. News flash, I don’t budge when I’m pushed and no one controls what I do.”
“For the record, behind my sunglasses I’m rolling my eyes at your macho bullshit tantrum.”
“You always did love to roll your eyes.”
“Stop!” She clenches her fists and fights to regain her composure. “I told you, I’m not the same girl you used to know.”
“Good thing,” I say as I take a step toward her, “or else we’d be having this discussion while making mud pies in my parents’ backyard and eating those gummy worms you used to love.” There’s a crack in her armor, a slight curl to one of her lips.
“There’s nothing wrong with gummy worms.”
I cringe in mock disgust. “And just like you’re not the same girl, I’m definitely not the same boy. I won’t try to sweet talk you into pouring salt on snails or covering your hand in honey to see how many ants we can collect. Bugs aren’t my thing anymore.”
She fights her smile, her ice melting. “What is your thing then?”
We stare at each other for a few seconds from behind the protection of our tinted lenses.
I know I should walk away. This is complicated, and I don’t do complicated, but instead of doing the smart thing, I dig in the front pocket of my uniform shirt for my card.
“Here’s my number should you ever want to call it and .
. . I don’t know . . . hang out at CVS with me. ”
This time, I’m granted her smile. “Thanks, but I’m all stocked up on drugstore supplies.”
I deserve that. “Take the card, Em. I’d love to do something—as friends—and catch up on the last twenty years.” I realize my mistake mentioning the past the minute I say it, but she saves me from fumbling with how to correct the statement when she takes the card from my hand.
“I’ll take it, but I won’t use it.”
“Yes, you will.”
“So sure of yourself, are you?”
“You’ve never been able to say no to me, Emerson.”
“Oh. Please. Take your card back.” She shoves it back at me, but she’s laughing and that’s a good thing.
“Nope.” I take a step back. “You’ll call. I know you will.”
“I won’t.”
“You know you want to find out what happened to Miles O’Neal.”
Her head startles as she remembers the little boy who used to have the biggest crush on her. “Whatever,” she says as she slips the card into her pocket without looking at it. “For the record, Malone, I don’t fall for sweet talk anymore.”
“Then what do you fall for?”
Em freezes momentarily as she gets an odd look on her face that I can’t read before shaking her head. “I have to get back to work.”
Whoa. What? “Work?”
“Yeah. Work. I’m in the process of buying this place.”
“The airport?”
“Blue Skies, the skydiving school.”
“You are?”
“Yep.” She turns her back to me and tosses over her shoulder, “Later, Phony Maloney.”
So she is sticking around. Permanently.
Huh.
I watch her walk across the tarmac until she disappears inside the door of Blue Skies. Then I climb in my truck and start the engine but don’t leave.
Fuck if I know why I’m working so hard for this woman.
But I am.
After a bit, I reverse, pull out of the parking lot, and smile.
She didn’t correct me when I called her Emmy.
I guess I’ll take any victory I can get, because I have a feeling when it comes to Emerson Reeves, they are hard fought and few and far between.
The question is, what the hell is the victory for?