Page 49 of One Night Only
“Please say something,” Emily whispers.
“You know, back home in Texas, on the ranch,” I begin, “I have this old shotgun my granddaddy gave me for my fourteenth birthday… despite the fact that I’ve always been hardcore anti-guns, much to my pop’s dismay. It’s been locked in a safe since the day I got it. I told Granddaddy I’d only ever use it when I really needed to kill something, which was just a line because I knew I’d never need or want to kill anything… that’s just not me.”
Emily looks between my eyes, her brows knitting together ever so slightly in what I assume to be confusion, probablywondering why the hell I’m talking about a damn shotgun locked in a safe, two thousand miles away in the Texas panhandle.
“You have no idea how badly I wish I had that gun here with me right now,” I continue. “Because the things I wanna do to that sorry sack of shit, baby—” I puff air from my cheeks, shaking my head. “You might as well slap some handcuffs on me, throw me on a boat, and sail me straight on out to Rikers because I swear to fucking God, that man had better wish he don’t ever cross paths with me.” I stop myself because, as much as I could say, when I catch the look in her eyes, I can tell she doesn’t need to hear it right now.
Emily smiles despite her sadness, and fuck me she is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I just want to hold on to her. Keep her safe. Never let her go.
“Cancer didn’t break me, Dallas,” she says after a contemplative silence. “Luke did. He was the one who was supposed to love me unconditionally… he was going to marry me, for chrissake.” She shakes her head. “But then he turned on me. He betrayed me in the worst possible way, when I was at my most vulnerable. And my biggest fear is letting someone else in, just for them to do the exact same thing to me.”
“I meant what I said,” I tell her gently, hoping like hell she believes me. “I’m never going to hurt you, Goldie. I promise.”
She glances up at me, the look in her eyes filled with uncertainty as she says, “I want to believe you, but you need to understand that Luke promised never to hurt me, too.”
I swear to God, for his sake, I better never run into him, because I wasn’t blowing smoke; I will gladly go to prison if I have to.
Reaching a hand up, I gently tuck her curls behind her ear, getting a good look at her, taking a mental photograph, because right now, in the dull light of the gray morning shining in through the big windows, she’s not just beautiful, she’s fuckingbreathtaking. And I don’t know what is happening between us, but I know in this very moment, from this moment on, I am well and truly ruined for all other women. And I am so fucking fine with that. I don’t know who I am any more, but I get the feeling that with Emily, I’m exactly the person I’m meant to be.
CHAPTER 21
EMILY
“You can just drop me off,” I say, pointing to the no standing zone.
Dallas says nothing as we pass right by it, just smiles as he pulls his car into a parking spot a little farther up the street. I stare at him, watching as he shuts off the engine, unfastens his seatbelt, and hops out. Suddenly, my door opens and he’s right there, holding a hand out, a gentle smile ghosting his lips.
“I thought you had to get to PT?” I arch a brow.
“I’ve got some time.” He wiggles the fingers on his proffered hand and I grab it, allowing him to help me up.
“Besides…” He shrugs a shoulder. “I wanna see where you live.”
“I live in my sister’s guest bedroom. It’s hardly the Plaza,” I deadpan.
“Come on, Goldie.” He playfully swats my ass. “It’s freezing out here.”
Leading him inside the building, I wave at Dale, the weekend doorman. Feeling Dallas following so close, I’m overwhelmed by his presence.
The only reason I’m even entertaining the idea of him coming up is because Tess and Bron have a habit of losing track of time on Sundays when they stop in for bottomless brunch after their morning SoulCycle class. By my calculations, I have at least a couple of hours before they come stumbling home, reeking of mimosas and still dressed in their adorably matching activewear. And, since Dallas has some time to spare before he’s due at PT, why not let him up? Besides, I kind of want to kiss him again.
“What are you smirkin’ at, Goldie?” Dallas chuckles, closing the distance between us the moment the elevator doors glide closed.
He wraps his arms around me and I look up at him, taken aback by just how handsome he is. Yes, he’s hot. And undeniably sexy. But he’s also handsome. Devastatingly so. Even dressed down in sneakers and a black New York Thunder sweatsuit under his coat, his floppy hair contained by a backward ballcap sporting the logo of his alma mater, Denver U, it’s hard to take my eyes off him. His jaw is shadowed with stubble, and his eyes are so bright, they shine beneath the dim elevator lighting like peridot which, coincidentally, happens to be my birth stone.
Thankfully, before I throw myself at him right here in the elevator, we’re interrupted by the chime indicating our arrival on the sixth floor.
Dallas holds my hand as I step off the elevator, and I lead the way to Tess and Bron’s apartment. I smile at him over my shoulder as I slide my key in the lock, but as I walk inside, I freeze at the sound of a panting moan coming down the hallway, and my shoulders fall under the weight of realization that not only are Tess and Bron home, but they seem to be having some sort of loud, kinky living room sex.
And this is precisely why I can’t risk losing my job at HMC; I desperately need my own apartment.
“It’s too big!” my sister whines.
“It’s fine, babe,” Bron cries out. “We’ll make it fit!”
“Just wiggle it a little!” Tess groans.
“Ugh!” Bron grunts.
