| |
Eli knew what Emma was looking for when she lifted the dartboard, but he didn’t know if she would find it. He hadn’t seen it for himself in five years, when Luke hung the damn thing after it became apparent that hikers liked to leave their own marks. For all he knew, five years of dart games had worn their initials smooth. Or maybe the wall was so scratched and scuffed that their initials weren’t readable.
It was hard to tell by her subdued reaction. She didn’t smile, didn’t frown. It was a strange response for Emma. Her emotions were always close to the surface. Fury, ecstasy, despair, whatever she was feeling was usually written all over her face. But now her expression was carefully blank. It was unlike her, and it made him nervous.
She pushed open the door, leaving her palm against the rough wood just long enough to keep it from slamming shut in his face. He grinned to himself as he followed her into the warm darkness. Even pissed as hell, Emma couldn’t bring herself to be rude.
The second the door closed behind them, she whirled to face him. “Well?” she demanded. “You have five minutes, Eli. My fries are getting cold.”
“You—”
Eli broke off, nodding a polite hello to a twenty-ish man who looked like he hadn’t seen a brush or razor in a month—which he probably hadn’t. Thru-hikers weren’t known for their stellar hygiene. He grabbed Emma by the elbow and steered her around the corner, out of the yellow circle cast by the cast-iron lamps guarding the doorway. Random hikers might not care who they were, but plenty of nosy locals would be thrilled to have something to gossip about.
“Why are you here, Emma?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Business, like I already told you.”
He furrowed his brow. “Business? I’m the deputy mayor. I know it’s weird because we’re running against each other, but I should still know what’s going on.”
“It’s not mayor business. It’s my business.”
“You mean the food truck?”
“No, I mean—” She paused, cocking her head to the side so her hair spilled over her shoulder. “I guess I didn’t tell you. I’m turning the house into a bed and breakfast. I had this idea, that if people aren’t coming to Hart’s Ridge for work anymore, well, then maybe I could get them to come here for fun. And while they’re here, they would need a place to stay, so I might as well get paid, too. The house would be a source of income instead of another bill I have to pay. Plus it would give Dad something to do when he gets home.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. “I’m all for people coming to Hart’s Ridge for a good time and staying at your B and B. But how are you going to get them here? We don’t have a resort like Piedmont. I mean, we have the same exact mountains as them, but no one even knows we’re here. What’s the plan, Emma? Because I know you have one.”
She lit up like the finale Fourth of July fireworks. Christ, she was beautiful when she was excited about something.
“That’s the best part. Have you noticed how busy Dreamer’s is lately? Demy says it was all because of that girl who was here from L.A. We saw her taking pictures of her food, remember? Anyway, she has, like, two million followers on social media. She posted a picture of Demy’s food, and suddenly everyone within an hour’s drive of here showed up. I was thinking I could invite her back for the Fourth of July celebration, give her a free stay at the B and B, invite a few others like her, and boom. Business for Hart’s Ridge. I mean, I hope so, anyway. What do you think?”
The question hit his bloodstream like a double shot of whiskey, making him feel a little unsteady on his feet. She cared what he thought?
“I think it’s worth a shot. It could work. Yeah.” It would take a lot of work, for sure, but Emma had never shirked from hard work—witness her determination in tackling the streetlights on Main Street. And he would help her, if she would let him.
But maybe she had someone else in mind. Luke. Was that why she was here tonight? His gut twisted. “So what does all this have to do with Luke?”
Her light dimmed slightly at the question. She crossed her arms, mimicking his posture. “You don’t need to get all proprietary about Luke. I’m not going to take him from you. I know what I said eight years ago, but I’m not twenty anymore. He can be friends with both of us.”
“I’m not being proprietary about Luke. I’m being proprietary about you.” He leaned in, close enough that she could see the seriousness of his expression. He wasn’t playing around here. It wasn’t a game to him, and he wanted her to know that. “I don’t want you here because I don’t want you flirting with him. I don’t want him touching you.”
He watched her blink in confusion as she tried to make sense of his words. “I can flirt with whoever I want. But...I wasn’t flirting. We were always just friends.”
“You were just friends then. Now, he looks like he does and he knows it. I’m pretty sure there’s a note about him in all the Appalachian Trail guides. Stop by Goat’s Tavern in Hart’s Ridge. Have a beer and bang the owner.”
Emma snorted with laughter. “Okay,” she admitted. “Maybe I’ve heard a rumor here and there. Luke is certainly, um, popular with women. But that doesn’t mean—” She broke off, frowning. “What’s that noise? Is that...do I hear a goat?”
A goat? Oh, shit. He turned so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, eyes straining to see in the inky darkness. “Where? I don’t hear anything.”
“Huh.” They were both silent, listening. “Maybe I imagined it?” she said uncertainly.
“Maybe.” But Eli wasn’t about to let his guard down just yet. The little bastard could be anywhere.
And then he heard it: The unmistakable crunch of a hoof on gravel. Slowly at first, one deliberate step after another, and then suddenly picking up speed as the beast broke into a run. Eli searched frantically through the darkness as the sound came closer. There. A few yards behind Emma, head lowered to better make use of its horns.
“What in the world—ahhhhh!” Emma ended on a shriek as Eli scooped her up in his arms.
“Not today, Satan!” he hollered.
Goat apparently disagreed. He rammed Eli behind his knees, sweeping his legs out from under him. With Emma still in his arms, he rolled mid-air, ensuring that he hit the ground with his shoulder, rather than his back or, God forbid, Emma. By some miracle they fell onto the patch of soft grass rather than the gravel. She landed with him, her head cradled by his bicep, her legs thrown over his thigh.
“What. The. Hell,” she gasped out. “What was that?”
Eli couldn’t speak. The wind had been knocked out of him. A triumphant baaaaa from Goat echoed through the darkness, followed by the rapid retreat of hoofbeats.
Emma lifted her head. “Eli?” she asked, her voice shrill. “Are you alive?”
“Garghhhhh,” he grunted.
“Oh, thank God.”
The relief in her voice made him stupid. Made him think that maybe it wasn’t so bad, being knocked flat on his ass by a psychotic goat.
“What was that?” she asked again.
He struggled to get his breath before answering. “That,” he panted, “was Goat. As in, Goat’s Tavern. Luke found him when he was nothing but a baby, had to bottle feed him and everything. No idea where he came from. Has a nasty habit of knocking people behind the knee. Thinks it’s hilarious when they fall.”
“He won’t think it’s so hilarious when I turn him into gloves,” Emma said darkly.
“Luke loves him, for reasons that have yet to be determined.”
“Oh.” She was quiet, considering. “Maybe I’ll let him live. This time.”
Damn, she smelled good. He took a discreet sniff of her hair. The burrito smell wasn’t quite as strong as it usually was, though. Pine trees, soap, and a little bit of paint. He shifted onto his back, still holding her close, and she fell against his chest, her leg sandwiched between his. She wiggled, trying to get off him, he assumed, but all she managed to do was rub against his dick in a way that was more likely to get him off.
“Don’t move,” he said through gritted teeth.
She froze. “Did I hurt you?”
His eyes narrowed at her tone, which was far too sweet and innocent to be real. “You did that on purpose.”
“What? What did I do? Do you mean this?” She slid her thigh slowly along the increasingly hard ridge in his jeans. “Is that what you mean?”
He hissed a warning through his teeth.
She did it again.
He rolled, pinning her flat on her back beneath him. He held both her wrists above her head with one hand and leaned in close, until their lips were only an inch apart. So tempting. God, he wanted to kiss her. Wanted to close that miniscule distance and give relief to all these inconvenient feelings.
But he couldn’t. It had to be her.
“This, Ms. Andrews. This is why I don’t want Luke touching you. Yeah, I know I don’t have any right to make claims on you, but I’m going to do it anyway.” He paused, taking in the sudden flare of heat in her eyes. “And you like it. You like that I’m claiming you.”
“I don’t.”
He laughed. “Liar.”
For a moment they both stopped breathing, both of them frozen. Then she let out a shaky breath.
“Yeah,” she whispered.
It was all he could do to stop himself from taking her mouth. But he had promised.
“Well?” he said roughly. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”
He heard her swallow hard, felt her breasts pitch against him in a sharp inhalation. They were so close he couldn’t tell his heartbeat from hers.
She shook her head.
He had expected that, but still the disappointment was nearly unbearable. Her gaze fell to his lips, and she wet her own with the tip of her tongue, and that eased the sting somewhat. She wanted him. She just didn’t want the responsibility of wanting him. How it was she so readily accepted the care and keeping of everyone around her, but was such a rank coward when it came to caring for her own needs?
That was a conversation for another day. Right now, he needed to get out of there before he broke his promise to her, and to himself.
“Are you sure? That’s what you want?” he asked.
“I will never kiss you, Eli.”
“Suit yourself.” He released her wrists, placed his palms flat on the ground bracketing her shoulders, and pushed himself up, careful not to crush her. Once standing, he offered her a hand. She refused, scrambling to her feet without his assistance.
He made for the door, swung it open, and paused. “You’re wrong, you know. A kiss like we had, it’s special. You know that’s true, and there’s no sense in pretending otherwise. You wouldn’t have teased me like that if you didn’t feel the same way. Eventually, you are going to kiss me.”
He just hoped the waiting for it didn’t kill him first.
***
Emma didn’t follow Eli inside. For a long moment she stood in the dim parking lot, debating. Her body was still vibrating with a restless energy from the encounter with Eli. Adrenaline, maybe, from her close escape with Goat. Annoyance from being accused of flirting with Luke, as though Eli had any say in the matter. Horniness. Might as well call a spade a spade.
Anyway, her fries were cold by now.
She couldn’t face cold fries and Eli’s smoldering smirk right now. It was too much. She would come back tomorrow, at a time when she could be sure Eli was on duty and not hanging around the bar, and fix things with Luke. What she needed right now was a cold shower and some mindless television to take her mind off Eli and his mouth.
His words continued to ring in her ears the entire drive home. Eventually, you are going to kiss me. She ground her teeth in frustration. No, she wasn’t going to kiss him. This was lust, that’s all. Lust couldn’t override everything that had gone down between them. The betrayal. They years of nothing. He hadn’t...he hadn’t even apologized. Not once.
Not even the night it all went down, when she had come home from work to find him sitting in her living room. He had told her, bluntly, that he had arrested her dad. There were no explanations. No excuses. No apologies. He had been entirely dispassionate about the whole thing. And she had screamed at him, terrible words, saying that she never wanted to see him again. Even then, he hadn’t apologized or explained. He had just nodded and left, like it was nothing to him.
Lust couldn’t change that. She would never forget. But if he kissed her, maybe she could overlook it for a minute.
She turned on the shower, setting the temperature to nearly scalding. She angled her body so the stream of water bore down on the tight knots in her shoulders. The bathroom filled with steam, enveloping her in a warm, damp mist. It felt good, but she still couldn’t fully relax. Her mind was still in that moment with Eli, their bodies pressed against each other, their mouths only a breath apart.
Damn him.
She scrubbed hard at her hair and body, and managed to remove most of the paint remnants. If only it were as easy to remove this inconvenient craving for something—someone—that was so wrong for her.
The water was cooling now, and she reluctantly turned it off. She toweled herself dry, squeezing the excess water from her hair, and followed up with a layer of lotion before slipping into her pajamas.
It was barely nine, but she was clean and cozy. It had been such a long day, years of pre-dawn mornings selling burritos ad conditioned her to go to bed early. Considering the long day she’d had, by all rights she should fall asleep the second her head hit the pillow. She was exhausted. Even her eyelids ached.
Instead, she lay in her comfy bed, staring blankly into the darkness, her body aching in a way that had nothing to do with sore muscles and everything to do with rolling around in the grass with Eli Carter. Desire was still coursing through her bloodstream like an electric current. She needed relief. She needed release.
Fortunately, she didn’t need Eli for release. She could take care of that herself.
She settled more deeply into her soft pillows and tried to relax. She closed her eyes and conjured an image of a rumpled Mr. Darcy walking through a misty field at dawn from Pride and Prejudice, which was her favorite way to start a session of self-pleasure. She slipped her hand between the apex of her thighs.
Dark eyes burning into hers. The scrape of rough-hewn wood against her back. Her fingers digging into his beard to pull his face to hers—
Oh, God.
Her eyes popped open. Mr. Darcy didn’t have a beard, and she was fairly certain that was a barn wall she was imagining pressed against her back. It was Eli’s dark eyes, Eli’s bronzed skin, Eli’s mouth claiming hers. She was thinking of Eli. She was thinking of Eli and touching herself.
No. No, no, no.
She jumped out of bed like the sheets had caught fire. What was she doing? She couldn’t do that. It didn’t feel wrong, though. It felt...pathetic. She was exhausted and frustrated and horny as hell and this wasn’t going to solve any of those problems. She could give herself orgasm after orgasm and it wouldn’t touch the ocean-deep well of need she felt for Eli.
Only one thing could do that.
She grabbed her shoes.