Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Emerson
I walk into Bootleg like I’m walking past a badger hole. I quizzed Lane about what to get, but he was no help. He didn’t tell me much more about Haven’s fiancée than I already knew. She’s a photographer and she works with rescues.
My stomach twists as I enter, but my name bounces off the walls.
“You came!” Campbell bounces up to me, her skirt flouncing around her. She’s wearing cowboy boots again. I’m back in a nice peasant blouse, loose shorts that look like a skirt, and wedge sandals. I fit in, but as I look around, the overalls would have worked here too.
“Thanks for inviting me.”
“Of course.” She tucks her arm in mine and tows me to one of the many tables pushed together.
Elodie and Clem both have a mug of beer in front of them.
Elodie waves. “Welcome! How was Denver?”
“Boring.” I’m lying, and from one of the disbelieving snorts I hear, no one believes me.
“Yeah, that office is made for boring.” Elodie’s tone is dry, but mirth sparkles in her eyes.
Lane did warn me that whatever we did had probably already been done by his brothers and their wives. “Nothing going on there.” I gesture to her mug. “Is this really an excuse to just have a beer?”
Clem chortles. “I said the same thing. I feel like all five of my bosses and even Myles are going to pour out of the woodwork and bust me.”
Jamison shrugs. “Someone needs to send Iverson a picture so he can punish me when I get home.”
Laughter fills the air, and I take a seat.
Prescott drops into the chair next to me and hands me an envelope. “Here’s the invite. I know it’s short notice, but I didn’t know if you’d like that I was coming on too strong.”
“She was too afraid to come to my wedding,” Campbell says.
“Haven was too chicken to invite me.” Prescott winces. “But then I told him no when he did.”
Campbell drapes her arms on the tabletop. “And he almost missed the whole thing to go get her.”
“God, that’s sweet.” The longing almost chokes me. I have no drink to wash the jealousy away. I stand. “Can I start a tab?”
“It’s on the house.” Prescott gets up.
“I didn’t mean to disrupt you.”
“Not at all.” She waves me to follow her to the bar. “I’ll show you where everything’s at and you can get your own. Papa said he’d clean up after us.” She leans over. “The new girl we hired will clean up after him.”
I chuckle. It’s hard to hang on to the jealousy when she’s so nice. “I appreciate it. I appreciate all this.”
Prescott retrieves a glass from under the counter. “Does it feel unreal? Because it did to me when I moved here.”
“Yes, it really does,” I answer honestly.
“You’ll get used to it. Soon it’ll be every other day you wake up and wonder if they’ll all realize how uncool you are. But for the record, you’re really cool.”
I’m really not. “Thank you. Your job is way cooler than mine.”
“I’d like to say it’s me, but cat videos get the most views, and the only thing that competes with those is when Haven’s in a shot.”
“Fair enough.” I smile. “Cats and men do steal the spotlight. I keep warning Lane I’m bringing turkeys home.”
Her smile grows. “So you’re staying in Huckleberry Springs?” Shock must’ve been written across my face. Her eyes fly wide and she presses her fingers to her lips. “I’m sorry. So not my business.”
“No, it’s fine.” I pick a beer from the lineup and position my glass. As it fills, I mull over what I should say. In the end, I don’t have an answer. “I don’t know. I guess we’re still figuring it all out . . . even though we’re married.”
Her expression turns sympathetic. “Doing it all backward.”
“Yeah.”
Clem comes to the bar and plops her mug on the counter.
Prescott takes it. “Blue Moon?”
“No, I’ll get it.” Clem frowns. “You’re not waiting on me during your own party.”
“Trust me, you’re helping me by drinking it down so Papa knows that having more than Busch, Bud Light, and Coors helps the bottom line.”
“But I’m not paying,” Clem argues.
“You’re famous. You don’t have to.” Prescott fills her glass.
“I’m not.” Clem turns a pleading look to me. “I’m not. I published a spicy romance earlier this year and it took off way more than my thrillers.”
“Congrats! What’s it about?”
“It’s about acceptance.” Prescott slides Clem’s beer to her and turns to me. “And a rugged, burly guy who bangs the shit out of the nerdy girl.”
Crimson fills Clem’s face. “It’s, uh . . . That’s pretty accurate, actually.”
“I should read it,” I say.
“You can borrow my copy,” Prescott offers.
Clem squeaks. “Just don’t tell me if you do.” She presses her hands to her cheeks. “And don’t tell anyone else. The rest of the town doesn’t know about my other pen name.”
“My lips are sealed.”
Prescott digs a camera out of a bag sitting on the edge of the counter. “Lane’s going to thank you if you read it. Do you mind getting your photo taken?” Prescott flips the camera on and taps at the display screen. “I’ll keep you out if you’d like.”
“Oh, uh, it’s fine.” It’s not a decision I’ve had to make before. Gatherings like this were always for work, and I signed a waiver. I don’t have large groups of friends.
“I edit them and send everyone a link to grab any copies.” She takes a picture of me and I don’t have time to smile.
Campbell appears at the bar with her own empty mug and reaches around to fill it. “She won’t take money for it either.”
“This is for fun.” Prescott snaps a shot of Campbell, but Campbell reacts in time to smile sweetly. I don’t have to see the final image to know it’s stunning.
“No glass castles in this bar.” Clem holds her beer in the air and Prescott photographs her.
“Glass castles?”
Prescott flips the camera strap over her head. “It’s an analogy I used once,” she tells me. “I went from doing portraits to working weddings, but it just felt like I was always on the outside looking in.”
“I feel like that in my whole life.” I roll my lips in. I didn’t mean to say that. Why’d it come out? Why do I feel like I can air my grungy laundry in front of everyone in Huckleberry Springs now?
“Not here,” Campbell says in a singsong voice. “These walls are wooden and we’re all invited inside.” She gives me a reassuring smile and twirls away with her beer.
I don’t want to leave. For once, I want to find out if what they’re saying is true.
I want to be the one invited to the wedding, and I want to go.
So maybe I’ll do that, and maybe I’ll enjoy being a married woman with a fantastic husband and a great group of friends for a little longer.
Because I’m surrounded by people who act like they care for me.
And so far they aren’t asking me to leave, just to stay.
So maybe I will. For a little while longer.
Lane
The hood is up on the C10, but since Emerson walked in, I’ve forgotten about the mouse-chewed wiring.
She’s got her arms around herself. “You don’t think it’ll be weird?”
I cross to the sink and scrub my hands. I’m in coveralls and she’s in a new pair of robin’s-egg-blue overalls, and we look like a right pair of country folk.
Cruz offered to take the last trip to Denver so I can catch up at the Foster House Gold site and get ready for Haven’s wedding.
Durban and Campbell have the plans and the spirits covered, but now that Emerson’s going, the day has a whole new meaning.
The wedding is going to be a date, and after the weekend at the distillery, Emerson and I are on new ground. We’re not just having sex and eating a few meals together. Denver was like a weekend away. A tentative new beginning. I’ve sensed the shift even if she hasn’t said anything.
Does she want her own wedding someday? Something that’s more significant than showing up at the courthouse and filling out paperwork?
“It won’t be weird, Em.” I dry my hands off.
She leans against the front of the truck, and I dig my phone out and take a picture.
She scowls at me. “I’ve had more photos taken of me in the last week than in my entire life.”
“Good. Then I can change out the background on my phone.”
“I’m not your screen saver?” She pushes off the car and comes toward me.
I have the shot in place by the time she reaches me.
Indecision flickers in her expression when she sees it, like she’s not sure how to feel. “Uh-oh, it’s getting serious now.”
She might be kidding, but I’m not. “I am serious about you.” I tuck my phone away. “And I’ll wait until you realize that.”
Her brows knit together and fear fills her eyes. “What if you have to wait for a long time?”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“What if I do?”
I would crowd toward her, but I don’t want to get her new clothes dirty. I unzip my coveralls, push them down, and step out of them. I leave her only to hang them up.
“Did you forget I have a private jet?” I say as I prowl back to her.
“You do?” she asks playfully. “I don’t recall.”
“I can refresh your memory.” I release the lever for the hood and carefully close it without hitting her. “I also have a pickup, and when needed, I have two feet that will find you.”
She swallows, her delicate throat working. I grasp her hips and press a kiss to the fluttering pulse at the base of her throat.
“You say that,” she says breathlessly. “But doing it is another thing.”
I tilt her chin up with two fingers. “You still doubt me?”
Her lower lip puffs out in a troubled line. “I can’t just shut it off.”
I pull her into me. I was two seconds away from stripping her down and taking her on top of the hood of the car.
I’ve won her over with sex, but that head of hers is still full of doubt.
Closing my arms around her, I just hold her.
“I know. And I know you’re scared of me, and everyone else you let past those high walls of yours. ”
“I sound like a child.”
“You sound honest.” I was taken in by a crew of generous, loving people long before her. What if I had gone all through my twenties with no one? What if Cruz had picked a woman over me when it had just been him and me against the world? I’d have hang-ups too.
She wraps her arms around my waist and hangs on. We stand like that for several moments.
“Brooks signs on the house after the wedding.” Her words are muffled, and her breath is hot against my chest.
“I know. That doesn’t mean it’s the end for us.”
She leans back. “What does it mean?”
“That we keep going without this trust forcing us together. I’m here, Emerson. I’m not leaving.” I stroke her hair and follow it all the way down to the end of a ponytail. “Don’t leave me.”
“Lane.” Her eyes shine with so much fear.
I love this woman so damn much. I saw her and I knew. Our time together has only proved me right. Do I tell her how I feel? That I’m crazy about her? Or will that only send her running?
I don’t know, but this doesn’t feel like the right time. Professing my love would make this moment about me, and it’s not even about us. It’s about a woman who’s afraid of putting herself out there again only to get rejected.
“One day at a time. Brooks’s house sale. Your house sale. All that is next week. We just take it one day at a time until then and enjoy everything those days bring.”
“Like what?” she asks softly.
“Like dancing. Cocktails. Kisses.”
“Whose kisses?” she asks playfully.
“One of the horses at the Hawthorne ranch likes to nibble a little.”
She giggles, and damn, it’s good to see her smile. “Horse kisses sound nice. Any others?”
“Hmm.” I pretend to think. “I might give you a kiss or two.”
“Is that all?”
“We’ll probably dance.”
She grins. “I have it on good authority that you’re a great dancer.”
“I don’t do it often.”
“Just like you don’t have women over?”
“I have one woman over, and her chickens.”
“I saw you this morning,” she whispers. “You had Phillip cuddled in your arms.”
“Well, I don’t get up to see Phillip as often as I used to.”
She laughs and lays her head back on my chest. I rest my chin on the top of her head and hold her. “Thank you,” she says quietly.
“Anytime.”
She pulls back again and flattens her hands on my chest. “You’re not the only one who’s had thoughts.”
The heat in her eyes pours gasoline on my own. My gut tightens and I slip my hands down her back to her ass. “I want you to show me exactly what’s been on your mind.”
“You, in those coveralls. And this truck.”
“Emerson, I’m going to strip you down and spread you out on the hood of that truck.”
“What if I dent or scratch it?”
I flick open the buckle of her overalls. “That only makes it worth more.”