Page 15 of Call it Fate

My head lolled sideways toward her, and I cracked open one eye. Her eyes were big pools of whiskey, like the kind I’d just had three-fourths of a bottle trying to forget.

“Maybe?”

“Let me help you.”

I stared at her hand, the one I’d once hoped to put a ring on and mark her as mine forever.

“You’re the only thing I’ve ever failed at.”

“Oh, Zach.” Her voice sounded sad. Maybe she missed me, too. “Come on. Let’s get you up to your room.”

“I can’t find my feet. Besides, someone put steps here. They’re tricky bastards.”

“Here.” She hooked her hand through my arm and pulled, and I stumbled my way upward, swaying on the legs that she’d found for me. I pitched face-first into her tits, sadly hidden under some silly sweatshirt.

I nuzzled between their softness, wishing I could take a quick nap right here. “You still smell so good,” I slurred, not caring if I might have drooled a little on her boob. I reached up, squeezing one. “Nice. Much better than those fake ones on someone back at the bar.”

Suddenly, my boob pillow yanked away. “You were feeling up some girl at the bar?”

I lifted my head and tried to look at her. If only she would hold still. She grabbed my arm and held me when I would have fallen. Damn steps. “What? No. I’d never cheat on you. Not even not-you.”

She grunted.

“Come on.” She tugged on my arm, and I tried the steps again. This time, I made it, but she quit moving. “Why are your pants unzipped?” She sounded pissed. Funny coincidence.

“I had to take a piss.” I looked over at the bushes in front of the porch, then back at her. “Sorry. Good thing I didn’t have to take a shit, huh?”

She shook her head, but I saw a smile form around her lips. “Sure. Lucky me. Let’s get you upstairs, shall we?”

The cold air and time must have sobered me enough that I made it up the staircase with her help, her shushing me twice as I bumped into the rail. She unlocked the door, even though I didn’t remember giving her my key.

God, I really wanted to kiss the not-her-Emalee. Maybeshewould stay and not leave me.

I felt my jacket fall from my arms. Nice. Not-her was undressing me. I shook my head to bring her into focus. Her lips were so soft-looking. I bet they’d taste sweet, too.

I leaned in, wanting to see if they tasted like the strawberries they reminded me of.

Huh. They were cold at first, but damn, they did taste sweet. I let my tongue wander across them, and suddenly the strawberries moved, blossoming and ripening under my mouth. They were hungry, too, nipping back at me, tasting me. For the first time since I could remember, I felt at peace.

All too soon, my taste was over. I wanted more, but not-her shook her head no and gently pushed me away.

I shuffled to the bed, bouncing as I fell onto it. I was so tired. I felt my shoes being untied and then something soft floated down around me as I fell asleep, already dreaming of a hand that gently stroked the hair from my face.

CHAPTER8

Emalee

After Zach left this morning, I’d spent the day nervously waiting for his return. I’d mentally prepared what I wanted to say and how I would say it, depending on his mood. When he hadn’t come back by seven in the evening, I shut down the kitchen and dining room, left a small lamp on in the living room and at the base of the staircase, and went home to the small quarters I shared with Iain and Mama. Guests didn’t have access to this part of the inn, so I felt safe there. I recognized we needed to talk, but I wasn’t going to sit around and wait for him until who knows when.

I knew I couldn’t put off our conversation forever, but I’d looked at the booking calendar. Zach was scheduled to be here for several more days. What he was doing here for so long, I had no idea. Maybe he planned to go skiing at one of the resorts farther up the mountain, although I was sure he could afford to stay at one of those pricey places. Regardless, I was confident it wasn’t because he knew about Iain.

That was going to change the minute he found out, however. At least I had another night to figure out a plan.

I played a couple of rounds of one of Iain’s favorite board games before I’d sent him to shower and get ready for bed, which included making sure his backpack was ready for the next day and waiting at the door. He always grumbled about it but seldom pushed back. He was a good student, reading above his grade level. But like most of the kids he was friends with, he’d rather spend his days playing, especially outside, no matter the weather.

In the winter, he loved when it snowed, and he could build snowmen. But nothing was better to him than when we visited my cousin’s farm, where Chase would hook up an inner tube to a four-wheeler and pull a rider around an empty field. The rest of the seasons, there wasn’t a kind of ball Iain didn’t like. He threw them, kicked them, or batted them with his friends, usually in the park across the street from us.

Afterward, Mama and I settled into watching a show we both liked, but I was having a hard time sitting still long enough to focus on the storyline. I put my nervous energy to good use and started working on my ideas for the Derby Day celebration that I’d been commandeered into.

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