Rascal (Rascals Book 1)(19)

Emerson, however, showed no sign of flagging. He was doing amazingly, but now that I knew more about his father and about his upbringing, I shouldn’t have been surprised. According to Google, which I consulted when I went to the bathroom, the Hayes family were one of the oldest and most influential families in Chicago, a fact I probably would have known if I grew up here, instead of moving all over Illinois while my mom looked for work.

I took his arm and leaned in close so only he could hear me.

“Ready to get out of here?” I asked him. “I’m starving and could use a real drink.”

He gave me a look, his eyes twinkling. “I thought you’d never ask.”

We quickly said our goodbyes and retrieved his car from valet.

“What do you feel like eating?” he asked as he headed away from the restaurant.

“As long as it’s more filling than those little spinach puff things. Grease and carbs, baby, all the way.” I leaned back against his leather seats and he laughed.

“I know just the place.”

I wanted to bring up his family, but I also sensed that it would start a larger conversation. One that was probably too serious for the kind of fake relationship Emerson and I had. Besides, he’d done me a huge favor by coming to this party—he didn’t need to get hounded about his family any more than he already had.

Emerson took me to the divey-est of dive bars, and I immediately felt more at home. This was the kind of place I had gone to drink as soon as I was old enough, with sticky floors and cheap beer and peanuts on every table.

“They’ve got amazing hot dogs,” Emerson told me as we grabbed a booth.

“As long as they’ve got beer,” I responded.

He grinned at me and my stomach got all fluttery. Damn, that smile.

Once we were settled with some good Chicago dogs and a pint of beer each, I finally felt myself relax. Tugging the pins out of my hair, I let it fall free, releasing a sigh as it tumbled down my shoulders.

“Feel better?” Emerson asked, waving down a waiter for another round of beer.

“So much better,” I told him, rubbing at my scalp. “Thank you again for coming along tonight.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a shrug. “I had a good time.”

I laughed. “You’re kind to say that, but I know how stuffy those parties are.”

He took a gulp of beer. “Yeah, I’ve had plenty of experience with stuffy parties. That was only mildly stuffy in comparison.”

I raised an eyebrow. Had he just given me permission to ask about his family? I had a pint of beer on a mostly empty stomach, so I decided to go for it.

“Yeah, it seems like your family is well known,” I said, knowing I didn’t sound remotely casual.

“They’re well known by most of Chicago,” he said, cracking open a peanut. “But we’re not close. Different priorities, I suppose.”

I nodded.

“My baby sister is always trying to broker peace, but things are better when we keep our distance,” he continued.

“You have a sister?”

He nodded. “Hayley. You actually saw her the other night. At the bar?”

The petite brunette was his sister? Immediately I could see the resemblance, and I felt foolish for the twinge of jealousy I had felt when I saw them together.

“Oh,” I said.

Emerson gave me a knowing look. “Did you think she was someone else?”

“Maybe.” I was doing a terrible job pretending not to care.

Emerson’s grin widened. “Were you jealous?”

“No!” I said quickly. Too quickly.

“You were jealous!” Emerson leaned back, his arms crossed, a pleased expression on his face. “That’s adorable.”

I threw a peanut at him and drank the rest of my beer.

“To be fair . . .” Emerson sat up, his eyes focused on me. “If I saw you with another guy, I’d be jealous as well.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just ordered another beer, all the while trying to ignore the sparks that were flying between us.

It wasn’t until Emerson parked outside my building that I realized that I was a little drunk. And it wasn’t until I almost fell onto the sidewalk trying to get out of the car, that I realized I was more than a little drunk. One glass of champagne, two beers, and I was drunk. Full stop.

That’s what you get for being too busy to party for, oooh, months now.

“Let me walk you to your door,” Emerson offered, clearly noticing that I wasn’t very steady on my feet.

He put his hand against my back, and I couldn’t help but lean into it. I felt his fingers flex against my skin, and I wanted to feel them everywhere. I wanted to touch him too, and strip off that perfect black suit to see what else he had been hiding from me.

We got to my front door, and I somehow managed to get the key into the lock. But before I turned it, I glanced over my shoulder. He was standing there, looking extremely delicious, and I couldn’t help myself. Before I could convince myself that it was a bad idea, I had my arms wrapped around his neck and I was pulling his mouth down to mine.

The moment our lips touched, it was electric. Just like it had been the first time. His lips were soft and firm, surprised at first, but the surprise didn’t last. His hands came up to my hips, pulling me close against him. I dragged my tongue along the seam of his lips until he deepened the kiss, our tongues tangling together, the taste of salt and beer overwhelming my senses. Everything about him overwhelmed me.