The Rise of Emery James (15 page)

Her heart.

Emery

MY HEAD STILL FEEL
s a little fuzzy from the margaritas. I'm thankful for the impromptu dinner picnic, because I'm pretty sure if I'd stuck to olives and cake I'd be losing the contents of my stomach by morning. I haven't been this tipsy, okay drunk, in a long time. Well, aside from my self-pity party with the bottle of wine at the old house. But that was no fun.

This was fun.

Fun
. It has become such a foreign concept to me that it almost surprises me.

"I had a good time tonight," I say as I stare out the window.

"Good," he says. His voice is so warm it melts across my skin and leaves me feeling like a puddle of melted caramel in my seat. Maybe I should have stopped at that first margarita. How do all of those old people drink like that?

"You take really good care of me, Cole Bennett."

This makes him look over at me and I catch the satisfied smile before he hides it away in favor of his normal calm collected expression. "I think all of those olives have you seeing things through your happy glasses."

I smile at him and my cheeks hurt a little from being out of practice. "I like happy glasses. It makes it so much easier to breathe when you have on happy glasses," I admit.

His brow furrows a little and I can't help but notice that his hand tightens on the steering wheel slightly. "Numbs all of the crap a little?" he asks with a quick glance in my direction before focusing his attention back on the road.

"No. I've been numb. I've lived with that for a very long time. It works well enough. But happy glasses...well, tonight at least, they helped me let go of it for a while.” I hear my own words and I can't help but stop to think about them. It's strange, but they don't feel like they belong to me. But as I sit back in the seat I realize that I mean them. Tonight felt good and it surprises me because it should have been hard. I should be buried under an avalanche of painful memories of Nana and dealing with the insurmountable grief that has always threatened me. Instead, I feel closer to her than I have in years. It's almost like she is sitting in this truck with us and it feels amazing.

I never would have gone to The Lodge if it hadn't been for Cole. "I think it's you. You give me the happy glasses." I reason as I study his profile. His mouth twitches up at the side, but he doesn't look at me. He doesn't even acknowledge my observation. And the fact that he doesn't makes me like him even more than I already did.

Cole Bennett is completely different than anyone else I've ever known. It's an unassuming kindness that wraps itself around you and makes you forget to breathe. Kind isn't supposed to be so sexy. Ask any girl who has fallen in love with a bad boy. But it is. It's sexier and more swoon worthy than any other trait. Why would a girl fall for someone who only gives half of themselves? Someone who makes you doubt every decision. Doubt your own worth? Why would you choose questions over clarity? Chaos over safety? Being someone's option over someone's priority? Why had I?

I sigh at the realization as we pull into my driveway. Cole jumps out and rounds the truck to open my door. See? Kind. Gabe would have been halfway inside by now.

I frown at his memory and push it aside as Cole helps me jump to the ground. "Why do you have such a tall truck?" I ask suddenly.

He laughs, "I'm a tall guy." I look up at him, my neck tilted back in an exaggerated way.

"You are really tall," I agree.

He laughs again and then tugs at my hand as we walk to the porch steps.

Cole takes the keys from me after patiently waiting for me to successfully dig them from my purse. He gives me a small smile before turning to the door. I follow close behind him, taking in his broad shoulders and the curve of his back. My eyes travel down his body all the way to his ass and I giggle at the sudden need to squeeze it. He glances over his shoulder at me and I refrain.

Once we are inside I follow him to the kitchen. I'm not sure why I'm following him around, but he looks like he has a purpose as he moves through the house. I lean against the island and watch as he opens the refrigerator door. I prop my elbows on the counter and clasp my hands together, using them to rest my chin.

The soft dreamlike feeling that surrounds me tells me I might be a touch more intoxicated than I thought. Cole finds what he's looking for and comes back to me carrying a bottle of water. I smile at the smirk that tugs at his lips.

He has really nice lips.

"Here, drink this," he instructs, unscrewing the lid and handing over the bottle. I do as he says. He seems to know what he's talking about. After all, I trusted him tonight and look how that turned out.

He watches me as I swallow the cold liquid. It stings a little against the heat that seems to be coursing through my body. I can't help but feel fascinated at the way his jaw tenses. Like he's grinding his teeth. If he's not careful he's going to give himself a headache. I lower the bottle of water intent on telling him just that, but he steps closer to me and I forget the words that were sitting on my tongue.

I can't read his expression. But the intensity in his eyes seems to sober me up a little. It's almost as if there is a battle raging inside him. I only recognize it because I feel the same one wreaking havoc inside myself.

I won't lie, it feels good to see it reflected back at me. It's also scary. Because I know that while I've been siding with caution all this time, tonight I'm rooting for the reckless.

I wonder which side he's rooting for. Moreover, I wonder which side will win.

What would happen if we both chose reckless?

He takes another step forward and my breath catches. I squeeze the bottle in my hands and the sharp crinkling of plastic cuts through the air. I feel his fingers across my own as he takes the bottle from me and sets it down on the counter.

I shift from foot to foot under the weight of his stare. It's making me uneasy, pulling at me like a magnet.

"How are you feeling?" he asks. His voice sounds rough. Masculine. Like gravel. I swallow hard before answering, because the sound of his voice alone sends a shiver through my body. The alcohol has cracked the guarded facade and it's letting in feelings I'm pretty sure that I'm not ready for. Feelings I'm not allowed to have. Not now. Not yet.

"I'm good," I finally manage.

"You still look a little drunk," he says.

"Not so much," I say. But what I think is,
I feel drunk on you.
Again, feelings I'm not allowed to have. And definitely not words I'm allowed to say. Maybe I'm not even meant to have this night. This happiness. There is still the whisper that says it's wrong. To smile. To laugh. To feel this desire that's threatening to go from a slow smolder to a roaring flame in a matter of seconds. I'm pretty sure the touch of his hand on my skin again would ignite it in an instant.

I wonder if he can read my thoughts, if he can keep up with the back and forth. Honestly, it's making me a little dizzy.

"Hey, Cole," I say, swallowing down the knot that has lodged itself in my throat.

"Yeah?" he asks. He's so close to me that I have to look up to see his face.

"Just so you know, you actually are sexy." I meant it as a joke, something to ease the sudden intensity that had fallen between us, but from the way his eyes flare I know it had the opposite reaction.

I can feel the counter at my back. There is nowhere left for me to go. He steps forward, his hand bracing against the counter behind me, caging me in. I feel my breath quicken at his proximity. I can't help but inhale his woodsy scent, the one that makes me want to do my part to close the space between us even further.

Cole's gaze holds my own. Serious, yet hesitant. He's holding back and I feel the back and forth of his will as he contemplates breaking all the imaginary rules between us. Part of me wants him to lose the battle, to push forward and kiss me without worrying about what it will mean for us, without worrying about how I'll react. Because even though I know it's not a good idea, there is a part of me that craves him. Craves the feel of his lips against my own, the grip of his strong hands around my waist. I swallow hard, needing more than I want to admit. Wanting more than I should.

"I should probably go. It's getting late," he says. But he makes no move to leave. Instead we stand, inches between us and filled with a million uncertainties.

"Okay," I agree. I watch as his eyes close. He takes a deep breath, slow and steady and when he opens his eyes again I nearly come undone. There is a fire there that matches the one in my belly.

"I'm trying really hard to be a gentleman right now," he says softly. I don't respond because I'm sure if I open my mouth it will be to tell him that I don't want him to be a gentleman. And I do. I need him to be smart for both of us. I need him to keep me from making a mistake. Not that I think he's a mistake, but our timing is way off and we both know that.

"You understand what I'm saying, don't you?" he asks, still so close that it would only take a fraction of a movement to press my lips against his. I'm a breath away from giving in to the desire that courses through my blood. It's been so long since I've felt any kind of affection that I can't help but react to his proximity. The fact that it's Cole and I remember everything he could do to my body makes it even harder to resist him.

I nod and swallow hard, waiting to see what he will do. Waiting to see which side will win. I'm sure that if he chooses to push me, chooses to give in, I will follow.

Maybe he sees it in my eyes, because he slowly pulls back. The air between us suddenly feels cooler, the distance taking away some of the fire. I use the opportunity to take in a deep breath and steady myself. He holds my gaze with his stare and I can't help the butterflies that dance in my stomach as I watch the indecision flash across his face.

"I'm going to go," he says again and this time I can tell that he has decided to do just that. He steps forward to hug me as he always does, but then stops short. With a shake of his head he turns and moves towards the door. "I can't touch you right now. If I do, I won't stop," he explains. I stare after him with my mouth hanging open, shocked by his honest words. Shocked that he said them out loud. He turns back once he’s at the back door and says, “I’ll see you tomorrow, James. Drink some more water.”

And then he leaves. He’s gone so quickly that I start to wonder if I imagined the last five minutes. I sag against the counter and try and make sense of everything. The rush of tangled emotions: guilt, desire, hope. I can't put my finger on it. I only know that Cole is changing me. He's changing everything and can't decide if I'm ready.

Cole

I HAVE NEVER WANTED
to kiss anyone as much as I want to kiss Emery James. My entire body vibrates with the need to claim her mouth and taste the sweetness of her lips. I want to pull her to me, my hands in her mess of chocolate waves and devour her until we both struggle to come up for air. It's crazy the way my body aches for her. It's as if it not only remembers, but knows that to have her now would be so much sweeter than before.

The temptation is too great and I feel my restraint failing me. I'm trying to be the good guy here. I know she needs time and I need to give her space. I like her way too much to ruin things with her by pushing her too fast, but spending so much time with her leaves me needing her.

Tonight only reminded me of how good we are together. Back then and now. Even with the shit storm she's been through she’s still the most amazing woman I’ve known. Each little thing that brings her a step outside of her shell is like a gift. She's wrapping herself around every part of my life again and doesn't even realize it.

We are failing at casual and we both know it. It's hard to be the good guy, when I only want to be selfish and take everything I want. But I know that with her there can be no take. Take was how he treated her. I won't take anything. Not without permission. I want her to give herself to me. I want her to fall into us because it's where she chooses to be. And when she does I don't want her to question anything.

That's why I had to walk away tonight. Even though her eyes were begging me to stay, to take what I wanted. It would have been so easy. I wanted to. Shit, did I want to. But we’re more than that. I won't rush this and ruin it. Not when I just got her back.

I don't sleep. I stare up at the ceiling and think about Emery. Her smile, her eyes, the way she laughed tonight. Everything about her. I spend the entire night studying each detail, filing them away so that I never lose a single piece.

Even with the past six years between us and all that has happened in that time, it still feels easy with her. We still fit. I can't help but think that it was all meant to happen just like this. The time apart, the lessons that we learned. as tough as it all is, maybe it had to happen to give us this real shot.

I wonder if she's staring up at her ceiling the way that I am. The thought makes me chuckle because as tipsy as she was, I'm pretty sure she passed straight out. It's okay, because she let go enough to do it and that seems like a victory.