Page 35 of The Bloodfeather Promise
Chapter Nine
She’s danger under cover
and I can’t see her face,
Hiding in the dark
smiling just in case,
Staring at the clock
reliving space and time.
Can’t ask where she’s been
when I forget she’s mine.
~Seven Seconds.
Greyson
It’s Tuesday. Precisely five minutes before four o’ clock.
I’m early, I know. I’m so eager, I can’t help myself. I’m dying to see what Emerson planned for us, and the time it took to reach this moment seemed like a lifetime. I honestly don’t know how I survived it.
I’m not calling this a date. To hell with that. A date is something the guy plans. I’m old school like that. An outing. That’s what this is. An outing.
Emerson must have heard the closing of the car door because she comes bounding out of the cottage. The screen door slams shut as she calls out a greeting to me.
“Hey!” She juggles two bottles of water, sunglasses, and a floppy, oversized straw hat.
My mouth waters.
But not because I’m thirsty.
Emerson Jane Banner is fucking perfection on two legs.
Those white, cutoff jean shorts should be outlawed. Did she buy them that short? Or did she intentionally cut them that way? Her legs… long, tanned, toned… are what supermodels probably dream of. A scarlet red halter top exposes most of her midriff, her shoulders and, God help me, all of her beautiful back.
“I have water for you.” Coming closer, she holds out a bottle but I am so stunned by her, I just stare at her hand.
Shrugging, she returns the drink to the crook of her arm, and places the straw hat on her head, followed by the sunglasses. “Sorry, Mr. Diva. I don’t have any Evian in my fridge. Just plain, locally bottled spring water.” Opening her own, she takes a sip. “It’s really good, but we can stop by Copper’s over by The Green if you like. Pick up whatever you want.”
“What? Oh, sorry. That water will be fine.” Great. Now I sound like a stuttering idiot. This girl has rendered me into nothing more than a walking hard-on. All my brains are in my shorts. And I wish I was in hers. I swallow.Focus, Grey.“What exactly do we need water for, anyway?”
“We, Mr. Finch, are going on a bike ride around Sea Cove.”
Her smile twists my heart. I watch helplessly as she heads for the picket fence where two beach cruiser bikes lean against it. I did not notice them earlier when I came through the gate. One is baby blue; the other is a sunny yellow. Both have wire baskets hooked over the curved handlebars and a stainless-steel bell with a lever.
Emerson rings the bell on the yellow bike and I burst out laughing.
“All you need is Toto sitting in the basket.”
She grins, obviously relieved I’m not shooting her idea down. “Are you implying I’m a witch?”
“Not at all,” I replied, my eyes gravitating to her rear end. “More like a tornado in those shorts, though. Jesus, Emerson. You’re planning on leaving a path of destruction wherever we go, aren’t you?”
She rotates in an attempt to look at her own backside, frowning. Her toes, in a pair of sporty, white Converse, point as she extends her legs, one after the other. “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with my shorts?”
