Page 23 of That Emerald Vow

“Youarespecial.” I hear a little sniffle. “I have known you for almost two weeks, and I already feel like I know everything I need to. You are a beautiful, intelligent, warm-hearted, badass woman. You are the definition of a gem. A precious natural work of art.”

“Tha—” Her voice cracks.

“No need to thank me. I’ll see you soon, my little gem.”

I don’t dare to admit this out loud. But I think Charlotte Thatcher stole my heart on that dance floor that first night with her enchanting eyes and vibrant personality. And I don’t know if I want it back . . . But I also don’t know if I can do anything about it. Until then, I’ll do what I do best and toe the line.

Forty-five minutes later, I’m knocking on the devil’s door. But the beautiful woman opening the door isn’t the devil in this scenario. No, she’s an enchantress that has put a spell on me and doesn’t even know it. The devil is the possible danger I’m putting her in by getting too close. It’s my feelings that are growing for her. And the very real fear I have of letting someone in—letting someone see past my easy-going facade.

In my line of work, loved ones often become collateral damage because it’s easy to hit people where it hurts. That’s not how I work though. If I have a problem with you then it’s you I’m taking it upwith. I haven’t had to worry about that before, as my family consisted of two people, Dani and Adrian. Adrian can fend for himself and helps me keep an eye on my little sister. And Dani has been forced to learn how to physically defend herself. But someone I’m romantically involved with? That hasn’t been an issue with my string of one-night stands. Now that all may come crumbling down because of one emerald-eyed woman.

“Hey, Damon,” Charlie says, smiling at me. There’s a twinkle in her eyes. She seems really happy to see me, which calms me. In that “this is exactly where I need to be right now” kinda way. Her facial expression quickly turns quizzical as she eyes the two grocery bags in my hand. “What’s all that?”

Me being a complete dork ‘cause the way to cheer me up seems to be by making you smile.Shaking off my thoughts, I say, “Sustenance!” as I lift up the bags in exclamation. “Can’t have a hang out without snacks.”

She smirks at me. “You’re gonna be a complete riot to be friends with, huh?”

I wink at her as I walk inside her house. I don’t want to take my eyes off of her. She looks so good in her simple, checkered, pajama bottoms with a cropped shirt. “You’ll never go hungry at least.”

“I can see that,” she giggles. “Kitchen is to the back right.”

I follow her instructions and place the bags on the marble top kitchen island, which looks incredible with the base being in shades of dark oak and hunter green. “Woah. This kitchen is amazing!”

“Yeah, this was my grandma’s home—dad’s mom. She left it for me in her will. There’s a lot of wonderful memories in this kitchen.”

“Do you cook?” I ask as I pull things out of the bags.

She bites her lip shyly, which is a new look for her. I’ve never seen her as anything but confident, at least on the surface. I think we’re more alike than either one of us realizes—hiding secrets behind our radiating personalities. “Uh, no. It’s a skill I was never really good at.”

“Well, we’re going to learn today,” I say, smiling warmly at her as I take the final item out of the bag. “Do you have a blender?”

Her eyes go wide as she quickly scans everything on the counter. “Uh . . .”

I walk around the corner of the island to be next to her. “Don’t worry, gem. We’re not doing anything crazy. Just making milkshakes. The rest of it’s going in the oven,” I say, placing my hand on her arm and gently squeezing. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

She nods as she grabs the blender from a cabinet. “Okay. I’m ready.” She furrows her eyebrows in concentration. Instinctively, I go to swipe my thumb across her cheek because she looks so fucking cute.What the hell is wrong with me? Stupid fucking hand.We both look shocked, silently gasping at the touch.

“You look cute when you’re concentrating,” I whisper. Her eyes bore into mine, showcasing a million emotions so quickly, I can’t decipher one before the next takes over. They probably mirror mine. Lust. Comfort. Want. Need. Curiosity. I remove my hand as I clear my throat. “Okay. So milkshakes are really not that hard.”

“You’re telling someone who’s burned instant ramen. The most I can do—the most anyonetrustsme to do—is prep work, like chopping.”

“You’re good with a knife, huh?” I laugh. “I gotta make sure I’m never on your bad side.”

“You have no idea.” She winks at me, but there’s a pained expression behind it. “Okay. This is just blending, so it shouldn’t be hard.”

We prep all the ingredients to make her extra large milkshake and also throw in the wings and fries I brought to snack on in the oven. “I know you wanted the milkshake from the diner, but this is going to taste so much better, I promise.” I picked up my favorite strawberry ice cream from a parlor I’ve been going to since I was a kid, barely making it before they closed for the night. It’s one of the only small businesses that hasn’tbeen taken over as our big city expands.

“I trust you.” Our eyes meet as she says it, and my heart constricts. It’s not the first time she’s said it, but just like before, it silently holds a lot of meaning. Trust isn’t something given easily. I vowed to care for her, and I plan to keep that promise.

I let Charlie blend the milkshakes to her desired thickness as I check on the food in the oven, even though the timer still says two minutes. “Almost done.”

“You’re so impatient.” She laughs as she grabs glasses to pour the milkshakes into.

“What can I say, I’m a hungry man. Oh!” I walk to the fridge. “We need to add the most important finishing touches.” I grab the whipped cream can I bought and maraschino cherries.

“Oh, there’s an almost empty can. Can we use that first before opening the new one?” she asks.

I look again and find the can she’s talking about.

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