CHAPTER 14
Julia
OUR EYES LOCK for several beats. The only sound in the cottage is the soft tick of the freestanding grandfather clock in the living room, like a metronome hypnotizing us both.
His parents. The familiarity of that heartache splinters across my chest. But both of them? It’s incomprehensible. It’s too much for anyone to handle, let alone a little boy.
Now he’s an adult running from anything remotely sentimental. And in an instant, another piece of Emmett’s puzzle falls into place.
The punch of understanding causes me to blink, and it breaks the spell. His attention returns to tending to the backs of my legs. Gentle and intuitive. It isn’t lost on me that he picked up on my discomfort.
It’s charming. Rather than trying to erase it, he joined me in it. Vulnerable.
Uncomfortable.
I don’t know what to say about everything he just shared with me. It feels precious somehow, like I need to cherish this side of him, handle it gently. I don’t want to spook him. I— “Fuck!” I bark out as he plucks what feels like a full jousting lance from the back of my leg.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers from behind me, rubbing his index finger softly over my vertebrae. “Almost done. I got you.”
The pad of his digit is rough, calloused. But his touch is warm. Tender.
“It’s fine.” My voice comes out raspy, though I don’t mean for it to. They’re tiny prickles. They should not hurt this bad, but after so many the entire area is on fire.
He audibly swallows before asking, “I’m going to lift your shorts now. Is that okay?”
I nod, not wanting to do the weird raspy voice thing around him again.
“Jules.” I still. He’s never called me that before. “I’m going to need you to say it. I don’t want to—”
I cave and look back over my shoulder at Emmett. Complicated, infuriating, gentle Emmett. Our gazes clash, and I’m a tad irritated this situation is remotely intimate. And yet… here I am getting lost in this cocky motherfucker’s baby blues, all because he’s being wildly respectful and a whole lot more vulnerable than I
knew he was capable of.
“Yes, it’s fine.”
Emmett nods before dropping his gaze to my waist. Taking zero liberties, deft fingers carefully roll the thin fabric of my jogging shorts, making as little contact with my skin as humanly possible. He pushes the fabric high, but it doesn’t feel lewd. I’m showing as much skin as I would in a bathing suit, and I’m wearing a thong, which means he doesn’t even get a glimpse of my underwear.
This time, I give up on the ugly counter and watch Emmett from over my shoulder. It does seem like we’ve moved past being embarrassed around each other.
He’s laser-focused, the tip of his tongue pressed between his shapely lips as he plucks out the offending pieces of cactus. His breath comes out firm and even against my bare back. Each spine stings as he removes it, but a blooming warmth takes each one’s place.
My relief grows with every moment spent under Emmett’s skillful hands.
“Other side,” he mumbles, his touch dusting over my rib cage as he lets one side of my shorts fall while edging up the other.
Within minutes he’s done. He steps back, eyes raking over my ass like he’s Picasso and I’m a painting. “There. Looks good. I think I got them all.”
I sigh and drop my head to the counter in relief. “Thank fuck and thank you.”
“Literally any time,” he quips, voice notably rough.
A tired giggle tumbles from my lips as I push myself upright and shake my head. He’s propped himself against the opposite counter, crossed his arms, and pressed his tongue into the side of his cheek. His brows—a few shades darker than his hair—are drawn low on his forehead, which only adds to the brash smolder.
He’s doing that whole James Dean pose thing.
But I know enough about him now to realize he uses his sexuality as a shield.
And after everything he just shared, I won’t let him.
My ass is burning with the fire of a thousand suns, but I ignore it and stick my hand out like we’ve just signed a contract. “Well, now that we’ve gotten all that out of the way… it’s nice to meet you, Emmett Brandt.”
Cool, calm, cocky—Emmett is usually all those things. But as he stares down at my reddened and slightly puffy hand, he appears uncertain.
I step closer to him, bobbing my hand as I do. “Shake it.”
His brows knit together. “But we’ve already met.”
“Have we? I kind of think we knew of each other and got tossed together a few times, and now we’re functioning under a lot of different pretenses. You told me about your childhood, and I showed you my ass. We’re basically best friends now.
Consider this symbolic.”
He tilts his head, his expression telling me that he thinks I’m being ridiculous.
“Come on. Don’t look so scared. I don’t bite.”
He stares at my hand before reaching out and sliding his large palm over mine.
His grip is firm, his warm skin slightly calloused.
“Biting isn’t something that would scare me off, Baby Silva. But thank you for the reassurance.”
When I finally look up from the sight of my hand enveloped by his, he’s smirking at me. Far too amused by his own joke.
His tongue pops into the side of his mouth again, and he looks away while
shifting and tugging at his belt.
Which draws my gaze down.
Down to where the front of his jeans has grown uncomfortably tight.
Again, the ticking clock is the only noise I hear as I stand and stare for several beats. He makes no effort to move or cover himself. He just continues to hold my hand.
“I told you not to get a boner,” I say, looking him square in the eye.
He shrugs, playing it cool. “Following the rules has never been my strong suit.
Plus, this is the hottest handshake of my life.”
I purse my lips and nod, refusing to laugh at him because that response was so… him.
His gaze flits between my eyes as he continues to hold my hand. There isn’t a stitch of embarrassment to be found on this man. The touch goes on for far longer than necessary. A realization that has me yanking my hand back as though I’ve touched a hot burner on the stove.
But we stay standing close. Close enough that I can smell the familiar ginger- scented soap he showered with this morning. Warm and spicy, deeply masculine, and a million times better than the light scent of dust I was sporting as I walked in
here.
“You’re a menace,” I murmur.
He shoots me a devilish grin and an aloof shrug. “Maybe.”
I step back. Needing space. Needing air.
I smooth my hands over the front of my shorts, summoning every ounce of professionalism I possess to redirect this conversation into safer waters. “This is
the shit you need to pull on camera.”
“I should get a boner on camera?”
He sounds amused, but I don’t give in. “No. I mean the… the…” My hand flips around as I desperately search for the words I want to say. “The shameless flirt routine. It could serve you well.”
He’s still sporting a massive bulge in his jeans with zero shame. Something he
catches me looking at.
He quirks a knowing brow.
Fucking hell. I need to dig myself out of this hole.
“I just mean you’re good at it. The flirting. Objectively speaking. And it sounds like you need the money. So just… be yourself.”
“Myself?” His voice is gravelly but perfectly even. He gives nothing away.
“Yes. The smirky, smoldering, hot bad-boy thing you do. Do that.”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “Did you just call me hot?”
For a beat, I can empathize with the women on the show looking so flustered while meeting him last night. His smell, his height. There’s something heady about standing so close to him. Especially right now, just the two of us, alone in his kitchen.
“Yeah. Like…” I roll a hand to the side as I search for a way to cover for calling my beloved brother’s most hated rival hot to his face. “Generically hot.
Conventionally attractive.”
Liar, my inner voice mocks me, but I bat away the taunt, not giving myself any room to elaborate.
Emmett barks out an amused laugh, and it catches me off guard.
It’s because he knows you’re full of shit.
I walk away from him and force myself to move at a casual pace rather than sprinting for the door like my instincts are screaming at me to do. “Right, well, thanks for… all this?” I glance back and wave my hand over my ass, not missing the way his eyes devour me as he follows the motion. “I owe you one.”
I turn to face him at the door, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he tilts his head suggestively. He’s teasing, but the unspoken offer is still there. I don’t have to leave if I don’t want to, if I stepped back inside he’d… god, he’d probably be an incredible way to end my drought.
I run my tongue along the back of my teeth. Silently berating myself for thinking with my pussy for even a second. Then I step out into the scorching sun.
I refuse to be another girl who falls for his antics.
Instead, I bite back.
“See you on set. But you should wait until that little issue has subsided.” I tip my chin toward his crotch and hit him with a chiding look.
The door has almost shut behind me when he calls back, “For the record, I’d get a boner for any woman bent over in front of me. That’s just instinct.”
But I only throw my head back and laugh at that.
Because we both know he’s full of shit.
He doesn’t call me Theo’s Hot Little Sister for nothing.
