“Why?” I search his face, looking for clues as to what he’s thinking.
He debates internally, then says, “I’m in a rush to get married, and there aren’t any other options I like. Brody adores you. You’re . . . beautiful.” His words soften as he averts his glance and drags a hand through his dark hair. “I’m not terrible to live with. I have training camp soon, and I won’t even be around. I’ll keep the bookstore for you. Brody doesn’t want me to buy him anything anyway.”
I inhale sharply as hope flares, burning like a beacon.
Keeping the store would solve so many issues. I’d still have the memories of Gran here, and I could continue to take care of my family.
But at what cost?
I can feel a tiny thread of something between us. Chemistry, most definitely. Heat, oh yeah. From the moment he got out of his car at the motel, something about him caught my attention.
But . . .
I don’t want to get entangled with him. Haven’t I been through enough with Kian? I don’t want to jump right back into something else, especially something that feels . . . exciting.
Gray eyes search mine, trying to gauge my reaction.
What I want to do is run and break this spell he has on me, but instead, I stay rooted. My mind tumbles his words around, running different scenarios and outcomes.
“We’ll be professional,” he says. “Roommates in my apartment. Perhaps friends.”
“For how long?”
“A few months, maybe three; I’m not sure. Until the lawyer approves the inheritance. Then we’ll make up a story about why we’re getting divorced.”
I swallow, remembering how my heart jumps whenever he’s nearby. Obviously he doesn’t have that issue.
And buying the store? I don’t get it. Sure, he could use it as leverage, but that would be entirely overboard. Why not just find someone else? What is it about me that he wants?
“What happens to the store after we divorce?”
He studies my face. “I swear I’ll sell to someone who’ll keep it open.”
My throat tightens. It’s everything I could want.
Unease rises.
I shake my head. “What if . . . I mean, it would be easy to . . .” Get attached to him.
Which is the last thing I need.
A moment passes, then: “I see.”
“What?” I put my hands on my hips.
“You’re worried about falling for me.”
I scoff. “Jesus. Please. That was the last thing I was thinking. Save me from the egomaniacal asshole.”
“You won’t, I promise.”
“Why not? Just curious why you’d say that.”
He shrugs as he leans in, until our faces are close. The scent of ripe cherries and leather wafts in the air. If I moved a few inches, I could kiss him. His lips are perfect for kissing, like pillows.
“There’s armor wrapped around you so tight it might never come off, and I get it. You still have feelings for Kian. Am I right?”
Of course I have feelings for Kian, but I’m not clarifying exactly what they are to Graham. I shrug nonchalantly. Let him believe what he wants.
“What about you? Is there an ex-girlfriend I should be worried about?”
His jawline tightens as he glances away from me with a faraway look, one that makes me want to ask what’s wrong. The strong column of muscles in his throat moves. “We’re alike in that. I love someone I can’t be with.”
I inhale, an inexplicable pang of jealousy hitting me. “What? Who?”
“Doesn’t matter.” He eases away from me, as if he needs distance. “Both of us have our guard up. We’ve both been hurt. Neither of us hold any illusions about love or each other. We’re perfect. So . . . deal?” He glances at me.
“I’m in charge of the store?”
He nods. “Make it profitable.”
“It is already, but I can make it better. I’ll need a raise. After all, you don’t want your wife bartending at Marcelle’s part time, do you?”
Amusement glints in his eyes. “Did you ever consider law school?”
“No.”
“You might have missed your calling. So. Yes or no?”
The sounds of the bookstore fade, muffled by my heart racing and my shallow breaths.
“Hello. You had me at ‘bookstore’ five minutes ago.” It means I can stay here for a little longer at least.
We gaze at each other, the seconds ticking by as heaviness lingers in the air around us, a tautness buzzing around the space.
Maybe we’re both feeling the weight of the decision we’ve made.
I’m thinking back to that moment when I ran from Kian by stealing Graham’s car.
We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for that. I am the common denominator.
“Hmm, yeah . . . just . . . guess I should . . .” He reaches inside his pocket and pulls out a velvet box. He opens it and reveals a ring. “This was my mother’s favorite ring. It’s an antique, and if it’s not to your taste, then we can get something else.”
I gasp at the square-shaped solitaire surrounded on the sides by smaller diamonds. “It’s . . .” Beautiful. Everything a girl could want.
He takes my left hand and glides it on my finger.
“It fits your finger.”
My stomach flutters at the sight of the ring on my hand. I trace my fingers over it. “You have to say the words.” Mostly I’m kidding, to lighten the mood, but another side of me yearns for it. Weird.
“What words . . . oh, I see. Really? You’re serious. Why?”
“We’ll need a good story. The truer it is, the more real we’ll sound.”
“I didn’t think you were a romantic,” he says.
“Can’t a girl just want something, and there’s not a label on it?”
“Is that any way to talk to your future husband? Also, your hand is shaking.”
“So is yours, Mr. Cream.”
He pops that eyebrow. “Mr. Cream?”
I wave my hand at him. “You wore a cream suit. Babs noticed. That’s why she was on the PA system earlier, telling me about the ‘cream situation.’”
His lips quirk.
“Come on, do it. Take the ring off and start all over.”
He takes the ring off as he growls under his breath, “Hardest proposal of my fucking life . . .”
“How many have you done?”
“Jealous?”
“No.”
He rolls his neck and shoulders. “I’m kinda sore from my workout. It’s hard to get on the floor. Let’s skip that part.”
“Ah, I see, the usual. You’ve never been on your knees in front of a woman.”
“Oh, I have, my darling.”
Sexual tension swirls in the air as I imagine him going down on me. My breath hitches as my body quivers—
Nope. One, I have a cat. Two, this is fake. Three, catch the fuck up, Emmy.
“Your face is flushed, Emmy,” he says, lids lowered.
I check my wrist for a watch I’m not wearing. “Look at the time. Guess I’ll see you later—”
He grumbles. “All right, all right, I’ll stop teasing, and if you really insist, I’ll get down on my knee . . .”
“I do.”
“You’ll be saying those words very soon.”
“I need to close up the store in ten minutes, Mr. Cream.”
He shakes his head. “‘Mr. Cream’ makes me sound like I sit around and masturbate all day.”