Rascal (Rascals Book 1)(8)

My face got hot, and his grin grew wider. He looked just as amazing as he had last night, another dark shirt and pair of well-worn jeans. But his hair was still adorably messy and his dimple still creased his cheek when he smiled. Which he seemed to do a lot. I tried to be annoyed, but it wasn’t easy.

“So.” Emerson folded his arms and leaned up against the sleek, wood bar. “Chase told me that someone was out here complaining about the noise.”

“Chase?” I jerked my chin in the direction the other guy had gone. “Is that your employee?”

He laughed. “Employee? Oh, yeah, he’ll love that.”

I frowned, confused. “I thought he said you were the boss.”

Emerson rolled his eyes. “I’m always the boss when it’s something he doesn’t want to deal with. This joint is ours. His, mine.” He gestured towards the picture I had been looking at. “Ours.”

“You’re friends?” I asked, now able to see Emerson’s features in one of the guys in the picture.

“Yep,” he confirmed.

“And co-owners.”

“So all five of you own this place,” I looked around. A restaurant then, I could live with that. They probably wouldn’t be open before noon most days, and closed by eleven at night.

“We’re naming it Rascals.”

“Cute. But please tell me that you own enough of it that you can do something about the noise,” I begged him, seeing my in. “I live right upstairs.”

“Chase mentioned,” Emerson said, observing me again.

He looked long and hard, not saying anything else. I squirmed under his intense gaze.

“What?” I finally demanded.

“You’re not going to say anything about what happened last night?” he asked, a smile curving his lips.

Lips that I knew to be very talented. But that wasn’t the point.

“I don’t know what there is to say,” I stammered.

“Obviously you tracked me down for a reason,” Emerson said.

I gaped at him. “I had no idea you were here!”

“Sure, sure.” He waved me off. “A likely story. I bet you are stalking me.”

“You wish!”

“Actually.” Emerson leaned towards me. “I totally do.”

“That is so not the point,” I sputtered, hating that I was kind of turned on. But how could I not be? Emerson hadn’t gotten any less hot and now I knew exactly what it felt like to kiss him. Why couldn’t he have been like any good one night stand and just ceased to exist after I was done with him? The last thing he was supposed to do was show up in my building. Life just wasn’t fair.

“I’m here to talk to you about the noise, not about what happened last night—which, by the way, is not something that will be happening again. Ever.”

Emerson just gave me a look. One that said that he saw right through me. That he knew that I had enjoyed the kiss.

“So you’re here about the noise,” Emerson finally said.

“Yes!” I told him, relieved that my real purpose for being here had actually sunk in.

“Well, we should be done with the construction after tonight,” he told me.

“Oh, thank God,” I sighed with relief.

“But.” Emerson held his hand up. “We will be opening next weekend.”

“Maybe I’ll drop by,” I said, feeling happier now. A hot guy and easy access to food right downstairs? I could live with that. “What kind of food will the restaurant serve?”

“Restaurant?” Emerson looked amused. “I never said anything about that. Rascals is a bar,” he added.

My heart sank.

Bar. Liquor license. Chicago crowds. My dreams of peace and quiet and a good night’s sleep straight up and walked out the door.

“But, that means . . .”

Emerson nodded. “We’ll be open until four in the morning every day except for Saturdays. Saturdays we’ll be open until five a.m.”

I sat down on the nearest bar stool. Hard.

Emerson flashed me a smile. “Welcome to the building, neighbor.”





4





Emerson





“ . . .inspector walk-through is tomorrow . . .”

I was only half paying attention to our unofficial partners meeting as we went down the seemingly endless list of things we had to do before the bar opened.

The problem was that my mind was somewhere else. Specifically, it was stuck replaying a brief yet amazing moment that I had shared with a near stranger in an ATM vestibule a few nights before. A stranger who had ditched me without exchanging numbers, haunted my dreams with the memory of her lush, full mouth, and then unexpectedly shown up on the doorstep of our soon-to-be-opened bar yesterday.

Fate was a tricky minx, and she was really fucking with me right now, it seemed.

Because the timing for all of this couldn’t have been worse.

I was all for the perusal of gorgeous women. And I had done my fair share of said perusal in the past. The same went for my friends, especially Chase, who sat across the table from me, most likely texting his latest hookup to arrange tonight’s plans.

But while Chase was all about the one-night stand, all about the casual hook-up, I was much more of the serial monogamy type. I wasn’t looking to settle down, but I did like to get to know a woman before jumping into bed with her. I also liked to get to know her afterwards. I wanted to know what she liked, what she didn’t, and I especially wanted to know what turned her on. I was a fan of finding the right buttons and knowing exactly in what order to push them.