Rascal (Rascals Book 1)(42)

“I used to live here, remember?” he said, leading me up the stairs. “I think I’m allowed to go to my old room.”

We reached the doors at the end of the hall, and Emerson pulled me inside. It was dark, but I didn’t care, because Emerson was already kissing me ravenously. He pushed me against the door, his hands slipping inside my dress and cupping my breasts, his thumbs sliding over my nipples. I moaned at the contact—loving the way it felt.

But there was something different about the way he was kissing me. It was tense and ragged, like he was trying to forget something.

“Are you OK?” I asked, pulling away.

He pressed his forehead to mine, breathing heavily.

“This place,” he sighed. “It makes me crazy.”

I didn’t understand. So far, everything had been so lovely. Everyone had been polite, and people had seemed so happy to see him. His father especially had been very welcoming. But clearly, there was something that Emerson wasn’t telling me.

“We can go,” he told me, his hands on my hips. “We can just sneak out the back. Hayley will make an excuse for us if anyone notices—but I’m sure they won’t.”

“We haven’t even seen your mother,” I reminded him, not wanting to be rude. Some first impression it would be to sneak off before dinner. “We can’t leave without saying hello.”

Emerson sighed. “I guess you’re right.”

He stepped back and straightened his shirt, and I took the opportunity to look around the room. It was another scene straight out of a magazine, blue plaid wallpaper on the walls and a nautical theme, with a cozy window seat just made for reading. I could picture him here, the safe, happy childhood he must have enjoyed.

“Your family has a boat?” I asked, looking at the photographs.

Emerson nodded, leaning back against the door. “The Magnificent Hayes, they called it.” There was a dismissive note in his voice, but I could only think how lucky he’d been.

I browsed the framed photographs.

Family trips. All to beautiful, incredible locations—Paris, London, Milan. Places I had always dreamed about going but never imagined I would ever be able to get to. Emerson had lived a life I could only hope for, and here he was turning his back on it—literally.

I didn’t really understand. I knew that every family had its tensions, but Portia and Henry seemed nice, if maybe a little distant, and they clearly seemed to care about their children. Why would Henry have asked about the bar otherwise? Obviously he wanted to know about Emerson’s life.

“Let’s just stay for another hour,” I suggested. “I mean, we’re here, we might as well enjoy the food.”

“You really want to stay?” he asked.

I nodded. “It would feel rude not to,” I said with a shrug. “Besides, if we stay now, then I’ll make sure to show you a good time later.”

He grinned. “How good of a good time?” he wanted to know.

I leaned into him, pressing my body against his. He groaned.

“A really, really good time,” I promised.





17





Alex





I made good on my promise to show Emerson a good time. We lost ourselves in each other that night. Lost ourselves so much that I forgot to set an alarm and overslept. I had barely enough time to shove Emerson out the door, get dressed, and head to work before anyone could notice that I wasn’t at my desk as early as usual.

I was just turning on my computer when Lucinda came over with a sour look on her face. Bryce was trailing behind her, wearing a similar expression. They seemed tense and short-tempered, even for them.

“Where have you been?” Lucinda hissed.

Whoops. Guess my tardiness hadn’t gone unnoticed. Did this mean I would have to limit my sleepovers with Emerson? The thought disappointed me, but I also knew that I couldn’t afford any other late mornings. And he was awfully tempting—doing a very good job of keeping me distracted.

“Did I miss something?” I asked, avoiding the question.

“No,” Lucinda snipped. “But you know what happens this week, don’t you?”

I wracked my brain to figure out what she was talking about. We didn’t have any important cases going to trial that week, and besides the gala we were all required to attend this weekend, I couldn’t think of anything else that would have both Bryce and Lucinda on edge.

“Unbelievable.” Lucinda shot a look in Bryce’s direction, as if I was being a complete moron.

“The bar results are out this week,” he informed me.

Shit. I had totally forgotten.

“I assume you know what that means.” Lucinda’s voice was tight and shrill.

It meant that if one of us failed that bar, we were automatically out of the running for the associate position—and any job as a lawyer, anywhere. At least until we’d retaken the bar and passed. I hadn’t even considered that Lucinda and Bryce would be nervous about their results, but they both looked like they were waiting on terrible news.

“I’m not worried,” I said, hoping I sounded like I believed what I was saying.

I apparently did not, because Bryce snorted at my show of faith and walked away. Lucinda, on the other hand, just seemed to get more pinched and pale.