CHAPTER 22
Emmett
BE MYSELF AROUND.
That’s what I was going to say. Because there’s something about Julia that makes me want to let go a little bit. Ignore my hang-ups and rules and plans. To just… enjoy her.
And yet, relief courses through me as the waitress scribbles down my bourbon and Coke and turns to take Julia’s order. Her interruption saved me from myself.
Because the last thing I need to do is tell Julia she’s the kind of company I can be
myself around.
True as it may be.
If these past weeks have taught me anything, it’s that few people in the world know me well. And certainly, none of the women on the show. Hell, I don’t even know if any of them would humor me by walking into this bar.
Possibly Catherine—the prospect of socializing among the large, bearded men who rode in on the Harleys parked outside, who may or may not be operating outside the law, would enthrall her.
“Just a Sprite is good for me.” Julia smiles at the waitress, and I tilt my head at her.
That dress is criminal, but the way she piled her curls on her head to show off the curve of her neck is a fucking felony.
“You making me drink by myself, doll?”
One slender shoulder lifts, and I imagine hooking my finger under the strap
that rests across her collarbone.
“Haven’t been big on drinking lately.”
My brows furrow. “Want me to get something else? I don’t need to.”
“No, no.” She waves me off, propping her arms on the table to inspect the dingy bar. She looks like a sunny spot in her dim surroundings. Shimmering
brightness in a dark room. “It’s not like that. I just…” She trails off, licking her lips.
I can see the wheels turning in her head as she weighs her next words. Urging her to talk would be like spurring a bull at the wrong moment, and I know better than to do that.
Her round dark eyes meet mine, a tightness at their corners. “The allure of drinking socially since the cruise has been lost on me. You know?”
“How so?”
“It’s like…” She trails off and covers with a laugh, but there’s no humor in the sound. “I just don’t want to make bad choices under the influence. I don’t want
to feel that out of control again.”
“You didn’t—”
She holds a hand up to stop me, her explanation coming fast, almost sounding guilty. “I know, I know. I considered that someone could roofie a Sprite too. I get it. But now, brand-name Rohypnol turns a drink blue when dissolved, so at least in a light-colored drink…” Another one-sided shrug. And my heart fucking breaks.
It’s been over two years, and she’s still carrying that night with her.
“Jules. You didn’t make any bad choices. That’s what I was going to say.”
She blinks.
“You did nothing wrong that night.”
Her lips part, a ragged breath escaping between them as her slender fingers knit together. “We don’t have to talk about that.”
I lean forward, prop my elbows on the table, and drop the volume of my voice as the country music blares around us. “I will talk about that night anytime you feel ready. I will clarify any details you want. And I will tell you over and over again that you are not responsible for anything that happened.”
“Well, I could have—”
“Nah. No. No way. That guy is a piece of shit and a criminal. End of story. No excuses. Lock him up and throw away the key.”
She regards me carefully. “He’s doing some prison time for possession. At least, that’s the last I saw. I stopped looking him up after a while.”
“I didn’t. He got ten years. And he cried like a baby when they sentenced him.”
Now all I get are confused blinks. “How do you know that?”
My tongue presses into my cheek. This was never something I planned on telling her, and I certainly didn’t do it to make myself out as a do-gooder hero. But I also can’t lie to the woman sitting across from me. Not knowing what I know now—how deeply this has continued to affect her.
“I testified. And I went to his sentencing. They take drug charges seriously in Florida. And that fucker could clearly afford a good lawyer to—”
“You went there?”
“What can I say? I’m a petty little bitch. And I was on the road near there anyway.”
Okay, near is relative. I’d been in the States. Boise, to be exact, which isn’t remotely close to Miami. But I’d only missed one tour date to make it there— something Carl had lost his mind over. Which wasn’t anything new. I’d endured his explosion and carried on without sparing him a single thought.
Rhett and Theo cracking jokes about me going on a bender? Don’t care.
It was just something I needed to do. It was closure.
Julia straightens across from me. Her shoulders shimmy, and she lifts her chin.
It’s hard to tell over the noise in the loud bar, but I think she sniffs just once, wiggling her nose and glancing away with glassy eyes.
The server plops our drinks on the table and leaves without another word. No one comes here for first-class service. If she were friendly, I’d be disappointed in the experience. It’s why I like The Sugar Saloon—no one here is pretending to be something they’re not.
“You’re not as bad as everyone makes you out to be, you know that?” Julia finally announces, looking back at me with clear eyes this time. Like she flipped a switch from vulnerable to tough as nails in one go.
I bark out a laugh before deadpanning, “Please, Jules. I can’t have you running around ruining my reputation.”
She chuckles and gives her nose a quick wipe, shaking her head in disbelief. A series of whoops rings out around us as “Cadillac Ranch” blares through the speakers. Julia perks up as she watches other patrons flood the small dance floor.
“Would line dancing with your rival’s Goody Two-shoes little sister ruin your reputation?”
I take a sip of my bourbon and Coke, regarding her as the sugary drink slips down my throat. Goody Two-shoes? That’s not how I see her at all.
Trouble. Temptation. Tranquility.
Something about her soothes the restlessness inside of me. My eyes track the dark strands that lie flush against her cheek.
Yeah, I’d ruin my reputation several times over for this girl.
Which isn’t something I’ve ever felt before. It makes me want to duck and run.
Tell her not to get her hopes up.
But I don’t. I can’t.
Instead, I push to stand and extend my hand to her. “Yeah, but I’ll take my chances.”
She grins and slips her hand into mine without a second thought. I lead her onto the dance floor where we both fall into step.
Her black boots next to my brown ones. Her hips swaying. Her infectious smile.
She’s blinding. And dancing with her—even with this space between us—is… fun.
When the song ends, she lays a hand over her chest to catch her breath and spins away, taking in the room around her with such awe. It’s like she’s never been to a dive bar before.
I have to step away and take a break from gawking at her. Which is why I spot the guy coming from a mile away.
“May I?” he asks me, like I have a say in what he’s about to do.
I nudge my chin in Julia’s direction. “Ask her. I’m not in charge here.”
She turns at the sound of my voice, her eyes giving the guy a wary look.
“Saw you from across the bar and wondered if you wanted to dance?”
He asks her with a mix of politeness and nervousness. There’s nothing objectively wrong with the guy. He looks like he’s about her age, clean-cut—too clean-cut. Maybe it’s the baggy jeans and white sneakers. Maybe he’s too polite. I can’t put my finger on why, but I decide I don’t like the guy.
From a brotherly perspective, that is. Parker would ice him out. Riley would eat him alive.
But Julia gives him an equally polite smile and says, “Sure,” right as the music changes and Shania Twain’s voice rings out through the bar.
I offer them both a nod and back away, my leaden feet dragging me toward a pillar beside the dance floor. With my shoulder braced against it, I cross my arms and watch Julia get spun around on the dance floor by some dopey-looking college bro.
The only reprieve I give myself from standing guard over her is to order another drink from our server when she passes by. When she returns with it, I sip at it, almost aggressively as I wait for this song to be over.
Who knew that “Any Man of Mine” was so painfully long.
Not me, that’s for fucking sure.
His hand on her waist. Their lips moving in friendly conversation. The poor guy has hearts in his eyes.
And who could blame him? She has that effect.
I shift my weight from foot to foot, antsy just having to stay away from her. I don’t know what this feeling is, but I don’t like it.
The moment the final note hits, I push off the chipped pillar and make a beeline for the girl in the red dress.
“Time’s up,” I grumble rudely before cutting in. There’s no may I or do you
mind if.
I just take.
He steps back, looking alarmed by my abrupt arrival, but it’s clear he’s waiting for a dismissal from her, not just me.
But Julia steps closer to me. She reaches for me, her hand circling the underside of my forearm. “Thank you for the dance. Hope you have fun tonight,” she says before turning her attention back my way.
The first few notes of a slow song waft through the speakers, and she quirks a dark brow up at me.
“What?” I grump, reaching for her waist and drawing her in as I sway.
Her body rumbles with a knowing chuckle as she reaches up, hooking one arm behind my neck as she falls into step.
Then she throws me for a loop when she pulls my hand with the bourbon and Coke toward her. Dainty fingers folded over mine, she lifts the straw and takes a
long sip, holding my gaze the entire time.
Her lips on that straw. Dark eyes homed in on mine. My brain fucking spirals.
“What happened to not drinking?”
She lifts one slender shoulder, the thin red strap pulling up over her elegant collarbone, before she really takes my breath away by simply stating, “Felt safe.
Felt thirsty.”
Safe.
With me?
I blink a few times, wondering if I’m interpreting her casual comment correctly.
I twirl her out, then draw her back toward me, slipping her arm up over the back of my neck as my hand trails over her skin.
She smirks up at me, unaware of how caught off guard I am by her. By my own reaction to her.
“Pulling out all the stops on the dance floor, huh? What happened to you not being in charge?” Her tone is teasing as she straightens and slips her other arm
over my shoulder.
“I lied.”
“Is that so?” She shakes her head, a teasing smile curving her lips. “James was such a sweet guy compared to you.”
A thrill courses through me. I secretly love when she taunts me. “James, huh?”
I lean in closer, my lips almost brushing against the shell of her ear. “Too bad he doesn’t realize a sweet guy would bore you to tears.”
I swear she shivers, a sharp breath slipping past her lips, though she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she turns her head toward me, her mouth mere inches from mine.
“I guess I’ll find out when I take Riley up on the blind date she offered to set up for me. She described him as a sweet guy, too.”
My heart thunders in my ears as she steals another sip of my drink. We dance for another song. And then another. We move comfortably together, taking in our surroundings but never drifting away from each other even as one song bleeds into the next.
Not talking, just being. Well, actually, my brain is stuck on the word sweet. I’m basically stewing over it.
Finally, after a fourth song, I blurt, “Is sweet what you’re after?”
“What?” She blinks, confused by my random question after being silent for so
long.
“In a guy.”
“Oh. Well…” She bites down on her bottom lip as she considers. “Haven’t been out with a guy in over two years, so it’s hard to say for sure what I like nowadays.”
Alarm bells ring in my head as I draw back ever so slightly. I know exactly what that timeline means.
Yet, she’s here. With me. Taking sips of my drink, fingers toying with the hair at the back of my neck.
“What do you call this then?” I ask, sounding more desperate than I intended.
She swallows. “Work.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
I tilt my head, regarding her as I slowly turn us in a circle. I shoot straight.
“Why, if you haven’t been out with a guy or had a drink at a bar in over two years, are you here doing both those things with me?”
I drop my mouth close to hers, considering throwing caution to the wind and kissing her. Swallowing whatever smartass joke she’s no doubt about to launch.
But she meets my offense and steps closer, hips bumping against mine, face tipping up to hold my gaze. “Because that night terrified me.” Her voice comes out as a whisper, but I listen raptly, catching every word of her confession. “Now, every time I meet a man, I wonder, ‘What would you do to me if you knew I’d never remember?’ I’ve accepted it’s impossible to know the answer, so I have to be willing to take that leap of faith. I guess I’m still working up the courage.”
A protective growl rumbles in my throat. It guts me that she’s still carrying this around. Bending her entire life around it.
She gives me a thin smile, eyes dropping to my mouth for a beat before lifting to meet my gaze. “The real kicker is that you, Emmett Brandt, might be the only man in the world I’d trust not to take advantage of me, even at my most vulnerable. So, I guess the reason I haven’t been out with anyone else is because none of them are you.”
A sharp pain hits me in the chest as her words land like arrows in the heart. She laughs it off, but there’s no humor in the sound.
None of them are you.
“Jules,” I whisper as I drink her in. The way she’s looking at me? The
sentiment?
It all leaves me shaken.
In my life, I have been wanted. I have been fought over. Hell, I’ve been hated.
But I don’t know if I’ve ever been admired for my morals. Put on a pedestal.
Revered as inherently good.
Not like this. Not by someone like her. And it fucking terrifies me. I’m a good man underneath all my faults, but I’m also really good at letting women down, so this admission is all new. It makes my heart race, and my skin go hot. My entire body feels like it’s vibrating—energized by the way she sees me.
But my brain? My brain is freaking out. On one hand, everything feels so fucking right. On the other… this is the path I swore I would never go down. And the level of responsibility that comes with being this person for her feels like a heavy burden to bear.
“Listen,” I say, drawing away slightly. I need some breathing room between us before I push her away. It will make it easier on me, keep me from yanking her in and kissing her senseless.
But when I straighten, my gaze catches on a new group of people pulling up stools at the bar. People I recognize immediately because they are the day crew for Romance Ranch. Out for drinks after a long day of work.
My alarm must register because Julia turns to see what’s caught my attention.
Within moments, she puts the pieces together and steps away from me, cheeks flushed.
Her lips part as though she’s about to say something, but before she can, I attempt to ease the discomfort flickering in her eyes. “We should go. There’s a back exit,” I say, trying to ignore the way she winces before nodding her agreement. “I just don’t want to—”
“Definitely,” she says, voice squeaking as she turns and walks away from me without another word.
I follow her down the darkened hallway into the stillness of the just-fallen night. She gets into my truck before I can open the door and lift her in. I don’t look at her thighs, and she barely glances at me when I slide into the driver’s seat.
Clearly the reality check of almost having been caught out together is a rude awakening for us both.
“Well, it’s a great spot. I can see why you’d want to take the girls there,” she says, keeping her tone bright while completely avoiding addressing the tension between us. “I’ll write up a brief for Richard and reach out to management about filming.”
I nod, silent, because the first words on the tip of my tongue are: I don’t want to bring anyone else there.
She fills the space with chatter about spots to set cameras, having taken more stock of the space than I realized.
It forces my brain to face the reality of our situation. Her budding career, my contract, all that money for the farm.
I drive through the streets of Emerald Lake, listening but not really hearing.
Because in my head I’m still on that dance floor. Her arms around my neck, her hips pressed against mine, her confession hanging heavy and heartfelt between us.
When we get back to her condo, she scoots out of my truck fast. She offers me a parting wave, and a forced “Thanks for the drink!” before scurrying back into her building.
In any other situation like this, I’d feel like I dodged a bullet. But tonight, it feels like I took one square in the chest.
Guilt racks me because I should have said something. She poured her heart out to me, and I took the easy way out. Letting the moment slip through my fingers like the finest grains of sand.
And for once it wasn’t because a woman was telling me things I didn’t want to
hear.
It was exactly what I wanted to hear.
And that terrifies me.
