Kaleidoscope (Colorado Mountain #6)(9)

Elsbeth ended up hating that as she did a lot about Deck and Emme. She also ended up sharing it and demanding he stop doing it. Something he did that he regretted, since Emme felt it, he saw it. He also saw the hurt it caused her and he didn’t like that. But he was in love with Elsbeth and he was young. He reckoned you did shit like that for your woman so she wasn’t uncomfortable and you could avoid fights about stupid shit your woman was uncomfortable about.

The problem was, Emme was never stupid shit.

At first, Elsbeth knew, with her extreme beauty, Emme was no competition. But she wasn’t dumb either. She knew for some men, it might start with the way you look but it ended with the way you were.

Emme was smart. She watched the news. She went to see movies. She read a shitload of books. She gave a f**k about what was happening around her, in her community, and she got involved.

She traveled too. She had a strict rule. One week vacation a year, relaxation on a beach. The other week of vacation, adventure. Going somewhere she could learn, see, taste, experience.

Therefore, since Deck traveled a lot too, and paid attention to what was going on in the world, Emme and Deck talked as well as argued all the time about politics, current events, historical events, whatever. The good-natured arguing that got your heart pumping, made you think, made you listen, made you feel just that bit more alive.

Elsbeth couldn’t do that. Elsbeth knew Deck had an off-the-charts IQ. Elsbeth knew she could never challenge his mind. She could suck his c**k great, ride it like a pro and look phenomenal doing both, but there was an important part of his body she’d never challenge, never pleasure, and she grew to know it.

Looking back, Deck understood she also grew to know that Emme could.

And being a woman, she probably saw what Emme was now under what Emme was then and she didn’t want Deck to see it.

He’d learned, after last summer when he saw Elsbeth for the first time in years, doing it by design, that what he thought he had and lost in Elsbeth was not what he’d built it up to be after it ended.

It wasn’t what Chace had after living through years of hell then finding the woman who was made for him.

It wasn’t a turn of a dial on an extraordinary kaleidoscope to find something beautiful.

It was him being young, stupid and led around by his dick.

He lost Emme through that even before he really lost her after he lost Elsbeth. It hurt her. But she never said a word. Not before. Not after. She took him as he came.

He took himself away.

And for him, she’d allowed that.

Ending his thoughts but not their embrace, Emme pulled away but slid her hands up his chest and left them there, tipping her head back and grinning at him.

“I’m so glad I ran into you,” she told him. No shades, he could see her exotic eyes lit and happy. “I’ve been looking forward to this all afternoon. I almost called you and asked if you could meet at five thirty, that’s how much I was looking forward to it.”

Again, pure Emme.

Not a bullshit artist. Straight up. She bared all. If she cared about you, she let it all hang out.

She had no clue McFarland was into dirty dealings. If Deck didn’t already know, these reminders solidified that in his head.

“Should have done that, babe. I would have come early,” he replied, his arms loose around her waist and he didn’t let go.

“Well, I’m driving, and if we met earlier, I’d probably be tempted to have too many beers which would require a taxi ride which would be money I couldn’t dump into my house which would be bad,” she returned.

On another smile, she pulled out of his arms in that natural way that he also forgot about or more likely buried. Not like she was pulling away but like she was taking you along for her ride, wherever that would lead.

This time, she led them into the booth, Emme sliding in her side and he followed on his. She shoved aside the menu the waitress had set in front of her seat before she dumped her purse in the seat, unraveled her scarf and took off her jacket to expose a form-fitting sweater that showed plainly she also didn’t lose much of her tits.

She did this talking.

“So, what business are you in town doing?” Her head tipped to the side and she grinned as she shrugged off her coat. “Or can you tell me without killing me?”

“Live in Chantelle, babe. Had business at the police station here and no, I can’t tell you. Though if I did, I wouldn’t have to kill you. But I would lose a contract.”

She dropped her coat by her side and her eyes came back to his, brows raised. “Chantelle?”

“Yep.”

“How weird,” she muttered. “You there, me here.” She settled more firmly into the booth by tipping to the side, shifting up a calf to sit on it then sitting back and focusing on him again, and he forgot that too.

She always sat on her leg or cross-legged or with her knees up, arms around her calves or with both legs twisted under her, folding herself up, tangling her limbs. She also talked with her hands and body, moving, twisting, flicking, gesturing. She was rarely sedentary, even during a conversation. He had no idea why but he’d always found all that appealing too. It was like her personality was so lush, so interesting, it spilled out in everything she did.

When she finished, her eyes flashed and she murmured, “Chace.”

It was a guess as to why he lived there. And if she’d been around awhile, she’d know Chace was close. He’d made the papers. Repeatedly.