The Crush (30)

Me: Mary, my love, if you could leave it blank, I’ll owe you forever.

Mary: You already owe me forever. But I will because I like you.

Parker had left his chair while I was typing and read silently over my shoulder. “Some day, Ward, you will stop surprising me. But apparently, it’s not today.”

Greer slid over, and before I could hide the screen, she read the text exchange. “You’re leaving tomorrow?”

Parker flicked her ear. She hissed, reaching over to tweak his nipple.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket and ran a hand over my face. “Yeah. Emergency meeting with the owner.”

Her eyes studied my face, then Parker’s. “And you’re not going to say why?”

Parker was right about this. It would do no good for her to know.

I shook my head.

She sighed. “Then I guess we better make tonight one hell of a bonfire, huh?”

It shouldn’t have sounded so ominous. It shouldn’t have sounded like my entire future chance with Adaline hinged on how the rest of the night played out. But somehow, I knew that it was the truth.





Adaline



I hid. I was a hider. I was hiding from Emmett Ward for the eighth time in forty-eight hours.

I wasn’t proud of it. But I stayed in my room, checking on my staff to make sure they had everything they needed for the events that night and the next day.

Then I napped. Sort of.

Really, I lay in my bed and stared at the ceiling and pretended I wasn’t thinking about the slowly ticking clock that was hanging over the entire weekend. Every moment of my life was planned out as best as I could manage it. There was so little downtime in my schedule, and maybe that was part of the problem now that I had Emmett sitting in front of me like some suddenly touchable thing that I’d never been able to touch before.

When I did find some rest, it was fitful. My dreams were hazy, indistinct, and choppy. Hands in my hair, tugging and tight this time, holding me still.

My legs dangled like I was in a swing with no ground beneath my feet. My chin tugged to the side with warm fingers, one sliding over my lips.

Firm lips brushing up against my ear.

“Watch me,” he whispered. “Watch me closely.”

His hand slid down his stomach, fingers disappearing into the waistband of his shorts. His jaw clenched, that muscle popping, his eyes flaring when I wound my fingers through his so he could show me what he wanted.

Show me how I should touch him, and I could practically feel the warm, hard weight of him in my hands.

That was when my eyes popped open.

I sat up in the bed and ran a hand through my tangled hair, trying to calm the wild pulse of my heart.

Great.

A sex dream about Emmett was exactly what I didn’t need. Especially when I didn’t actually remember any of the good parts.

What an appropriate symbol for this entire damn roller coaster.

Me, left staggering on the razor edge of how badly I wanted him.

There was a text on my phone from my sister. I’d slept through dinner, and Greer told me they left a plate in the fridge.

It didn’t help, I realized, when I still felt warm. Something unfulfilled and aching that plagued me when I changed my clothes before going downstairs. My hand trailed over the small stack of bras that I’d packed, and without overthinking it, I chose the nicest one.

Because why wouldn’t you wear a black lace bra to a bonfire?

It didn’t give me the four-figure-worth cleavage from the masquerade but paired with a soft pastel shirt with a deep V, it made the girls look quite lovely. The house was quiet when I walked downstairs. Mom was in the kitchen, and she kissed me on the cheek when I wrapped an arm around her. She eyed my black joggers, the strip of stomach my shirt showed, and lastly … the bra.

“You look nice.” There was a lot of mom-like emphasis on the last word.

“I’m trying to decide if I want to ask why you’re saying it like that.”

Her eyebrow rose imperiously. “Like what?”

I sighed. “Like you mean something by it.”

“Do you know how many times he looked upstairs during dinner?” She whistled.

The pantry door protested when I yanked it open a bit too hard. “Did they bring the marshmallows out already?”

She laughed at my evasion. “Yes. And I got an extra bag in case your brothers ate them all before you got down here.”

“You are the best mom in the world,” I proclaimed.

“It’s a heavy crown, but I wear it well.” She gave me a look before I walked outside. “You best not waste any more time in here with me.”

“Why not?”

Mom didn’t answer but simply patted me on the cheek as she passed. “Tim and I are going to a movie with the Clarksons, then to their house afterward for some dessert. We’ll be home late.”

She left the house through the front without a word of explanation.

“Is my entire family in on this?” I whispered, tugging on the back door that exited into the yard behind the house.

The March air was unusually warm as I followed the gravel path that ended at the large bonfire pit. The sound of my siblings’ laughter echoed through the trees, the crackling flames casting the whole area in a warm, flickering light even though the sun was still low and pinky orange in the sky.