Page 72 of That One Night
“True,” her mom agreed. She was still looking at Hendrix, who had his back to them now, filling Frank’s trough. His muscles rippled in the light of the setting sun. And for a second Emery considered confessing everything to her mom.
How much easier her life would be if she told her what was really happening. That Trenton was blackmailing her, that Hendrix was actually the good guy here.
“Your dad was so handsome when I met him,” her mom said, a wistful note to her voice. “All the girls used to fight over him. But I was the one he asked to dance at senior prom.”
“Yeah.” Emery nodded, not wanting to break the spell of this sweet truce between them. “Of course you were. You’ve always been the pretty one.”
Her mom hugged her from behind. “You’re such a good girl, Emery.”
Yeah, well she didn’t feel like a good girl right now. And she liked that. She’d been shackled by the need to obey the rules for too long.
It was time to fly free.
Chapter
Twenty
It wasa few minutes after eight when Hendrix wandered out to his front porch with his second bottle of beer. The sun was slowly sliding to the horizon, casting an orange glow over the fields.
He sat on the swing hanging with rusty chains from the rafters, and looked over at the farmhouse opposite, his eyes full of speculation. Her mom’s car was gone. And he was a little too pleased about that.
He hadn’t messaged her since this morning. Things had been too hectic at the farm, and he also didn’t want to come on too strong. For both their sakes. He wasn’t used to this aching need, this constant feeling of wanting to touch her.
If he thought on it too long it was going to make him panic. So he threw himself into work instead.
The front door to her cottage opened and she stepped out, wearing a pair of cut-off jeans and a lace top that made her look both sweet and sinful all at the same time. He could see the tattoo on her ankle, all healed now, and a smile ghosted his lips at the memory of their trip to the tattoo parlor.
She had a pile of papers in her arms, holding them against her chest like a student running between classes.
“Hey,” she called out. “Room on that swing for two?”
He tipped his head to the side. “Always.”
She smiled and walked over, her hips swaying to a rhythm that matched his heartbeat. She opened the gate to his front yard and blew Frank a kiss before heading up the steps to the porch.
Her hair was tied back in a low ponytail, but the heat made some strands stick to her neck. She sat down beside him and he was so damn aware of her presence he had to curl his hand into a fist not to touch her.
“Where’s your mom gone?” he asked her.
“Book club.”
His mouth twitched. That was a good thing. His own mom went to book club – hell, half the town did – and he knew it always went long. Not because they were talking about the book, but because somebody always brought punch that hit harder than liquor, and book talk soon changed to local gossip.
He turned to look at her. Up close he could see a little trail of freckles along the bridge of her nose. She wasn’t wearing makeup, but her skin still glowed. “How was your day?” he asked her.
“Long.” She ran her tongue over her dry lips. “I spent a few hours going through these,” she told him.
That’s when he realized what the papers were. He hadn’t even noticed they were gone from his kitchen table. That’s what no sleep and a long day of work did to you.
“You took them?”
She looked uneasy, like she thought she’d done something wrong. “I just thought I’d go through them. Since you’re so busy and all.” She lifted the top few sheets up. “These are applications for grants. I’ve completed them for you. They just need your signature and I can mail them off.”
He shifted in his seat. “You’re not my secretary, Emery.”
“I know.” She gave him the most tentative of smiles. “I did it more for me than you. Seeing that paperwork every time I go into your house is going to give me hives.”
He knew she was lying. She’d done it for him.
