Page 14 of The Fake Out

The defeat in his posture sent my blood boiling. I’d had enough. Yanking on the guy’s arm, I spun him toward me. He stumbled, but caught himself quickly and pulled his thin arm out of my grasp. The glare he hit me with was surely meant to intimidate me, but clearly, he didn’t know who he was dealing with.

“Listen, dickwad,” I gritted out, pulling my shoulders back and tipping my chin to towel-clad Emerson, who was still dripping water all over the floor beneath him. “This poor guy just finished winning a game for a team you like, if your socks are any indication.” I pointed down to the high socks and shorts look this tool bag was failing to pull off. “All he wanted was to unwind. The only way he could have known a pipe was leaking was if he could see the fucking future. And as quirky as he is, I don’t get the genie lamp or a wizard vibe. Do you?” I lifted my brows.

The man’s only response was sputtered nonsense.

“That’s what I thought.” I took a step closer. “So maybe calm the fuck down and think twice about yelling at the person paying rent for an apartment you apparently don’t take care of very well.”

At this point, my finger was slammed into the man chest, but I wasn’t done. I’d show this douche?—

My tirade was cut off by a chuckle in my ear and a strong, damp arm wrapped around my waist. Normally, I’d flinch away from a germy shower towel because they were almost as bad as sheets, but the warmth of his body above the white fabric froze me in place.

“Thanks, Mariposa,” Emerson said, pulling me away from the assholey little man.

His breath ghosted across my ear, and I fought the shiver that tried to race down my spine at the sensation. Leave it to my body to betray me when this overzealous puppy stuck in a gorgeous man’s body touched me.

Rather than release me, he kept his arm wrapped around my midsection, and though I could have been hallucinating, I swore he brought his nose to my hair and inhaled.

Holy. Shit. Did he sniff me? Did I smell? Oh shit. The comment he’d made about the shower flashed through my mind. I had showered early in the day. But maybe I’d worked up a sweat?—

“If you’ve got your woman under control?—”

My body clenched for a totally different reason, and I pushed at his arm, ready to toss my gloves and show this man just how out of control I could be.

But Emerson stepped around me and stood between us, protecting the idiot who clearly had a death wish. I stepped to one side, but Emerson reached one large hand back and set it on my hip, his fingers biting into my skin, stopping me.

The contact sent my heart tripping over itself, distracting me from the moment.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Emerson said, keeping his tone polite, as always. “But regardless of the state of my relationship with Gianna or any woman, I’d never attempt to control them. I find most of the female population way more capable than us idiots.”

His disarming smile had the guy snorting. But my stomach flipped at Emerson’s statement and the respect in his tone.

He released me, and with both hands up in front of him, he stepped back toward his room.

“Why don’t you relax in the living room, sir? Give me a second to get dressed, and then we can talk. I’ll do whatever I can to help.” He smiled like a big, dumb dope at the man who had been nothing but awful since he stepped into the apartment.

“Well.” The man shifted on his feet and pursed his lips. “The people who live below you are Revs fans. I’m sure an autograph from your roommate would go a long way in smoothing things over.”

The light in Emerson’s eyes dulled, but he nodded and pasted a phony smile to his face. “Done. Dragon always has a few signed photos around.”

Five minutes later, the asshole left happily, with Emerson’s promise to not use the bathroom and a handful of signed pictures of my brother.

“There’s no way I would have given him my brother’s autograph,” I said as soon as the door was closed. “I was seriously considering castration.”

Emerson chuckled. “Really? I totally didn’t get that vibe.”

I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t like how he was talking to you.”

The corner of Emerson’s mouth lifted just a bit, drawing my attention to his strong jawline and the fine layer of scruff there. Normally, facial hair looked messy, but the dark shadow on Emerson’s otherwise innocent face worked.

“The way you stuck up for me definitely roller-coastered my stomach. I’m not sure anyone has ever fought like that for me.”

My shoulders tightened at his words. Seriously? I narrowed my eyes at him. This guy was sweet enough to cause a toothache. How was it possible that he didn’t have an army at his back?

He shrugged. “I stay out of the way and do my best to keep people smiling.”

I assessed the happy man in front of me, taking him in from head to toe. I would never have guessed by his constant positivity that he’d had a hard life, but suddenly, I was questioning a lot of things.

Jaw locked, I asked, “What does that mean?”

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