Page 10 of Christmas Creek Cowboy

“The postmark date is about a year after Sasha and you got engaged,” Emmy pointed out, and even though she didn’t voice her thoughts right away, she was no doubt speculating whether the letter was from another man.

Perhaps Owen.

“Sasha and Owen said their hookup was a one-time thing,” she added reluctantly, “but do you think it could have been going on for a year or more before theywere caught?”

“That’s occurred to me. It’s also occurred to me that Owen wouldn’t want a love letter to his friend’s then fiancée to get out. He’s already going to have to fight to win reelection, and this might sour even more folks.”

Emmy made a sound of agreement. “Sasha wouldn’t want a letter like that to get out either because she’s painting herself as the poor, pitiful discarded ex who made a one-off mistake. People might not be willing to shop at her antique store if they find out she was a longtime cheater.”

The moment she finished saying that, her eyes widened. Then she sighed. “Sorry. Sometimes I let the anger take hold of my mouth, and I forget you might not want to think of just how long the cheating hadbeen going on.”

No, he didn’t want to think about it, but that didn’t stop him from doing it. Emmy was no doubt doing the same because, after all, they were both in this nasty mess. When each had become engaged, neither of them knew they were pledging themselves to potential cheaters. It hadn’t even beenon their radar.

“Wait,” Calen said, motioning for her to follow him into the kitchen so she could help herself to a drink from the fridge. “Sasha didn’t go to your house again, did she?” he asked, scowling over that possibility.

Emmy shook her head, and then she followed it up with a shrug. “Actually, I quit going to the door, and I got Terry to cover for me at the bookstore because she said folks were showing up there, looking for me.”

Terry Webster. Along with being one of Emmy’s assistants, she was also married to Calen’s deputy, Mick. It’d been a wise decision to have her cover for Emmy because Terry wasn’t the sort to let anyone bully her into divulging info about the letters. Info that she might possibly have now because Mick could have told her. Mick hadn’t actually gone through the letters, but Calen had given him the highlights. What Calen had held back was any mention of the Daddy cards or the letter that Sasha was so obviouslyworried about.

Emmy opened the fridge and snagged one of the Pepsis he always kept on hand for her. Calen went with water, figuring his four, maybe five, cups of coffee were enough caffeine. He didn’t want to deal with jitters around Emmy because now that the silence had settled in around them, so had the wariness in her eyes.

“All right, I’m just going to come out and say it,” she started. “About that kiss. I’m sorry—”

Without thinking, something he should have done, Calen leaned in and kissed her. He didn’t make it deep or scalding, though that was something the brainless part of him wanted to do. Nope. It was more of athere, we’re even, which of course was nonsense. Because even a tamethere,we’re evenkiss with Emmy packed a punch. He could have sworn the heat and the need doubledhis body temp.

She blinked as he pulled back, and when she met his gaze, the wariness was gone. That was the good news. The bad news was that she was almost certainly feeling some scalp-to-toes heat too.

Hell’s bells.

Talk about opening Pandora’s box. Suddenly, he was craving another kiss. Something long, deep, and hot. But there was no way it’d stay just a kiss. Nope. They were both still in control of their lust, but Calen was betting that control wasn’t strong enough to survive more kissing. And that’s why he started talking. If he talked, he couldn’t use his mouth and tongue for other things.

“I don’t want to lose your friendship,” Calen reminded her. Reminded himself, too.

“Neither do I,” Emmy readily agreed. “You’re the first person I want to talk to if something goes wrong. Or ifit goes right.”

He was totally with her. It had been that way as long as Calen could remember. Their closeness probably had to do with their both having had difficult childhoods. They’d lost their moms when they were thirteen—Calen’s mom had died from breast cancer, and Emmy’s mother had been killed in a car accident. Those losses left them to be raised by less than stellar fathers. Unlike Waylon, though, Emmy’s dad had left town shortly after Emmy started college, and he hadn’t ever returned; she’d learned years later that he’d drowned duringa fishing trip.

She paused, staring at him. “Just how strong do you think ourfriendship is?”

Everything inside Calen went still. “Strong,” he assured her, though that was a partial lie. He wasn’t sure it could survive a sexual relationship if said relationship went south.

“How strong?” she pressed, but then she huffed and waved the question off. “I’m just going to assume it’s very, very strong andgive you this.”

At first, he thought Emmy was going to kiss him again, probably because he was still dwelling on her mouth. But no kiss. Instead, she pulled something from the back pocket of her jeans and thrust it at him.

He eyed the envelope that she unfolded. Eyed her. And when she didn’t offer an explanation, his attention landed on the writing. It was addressed to him.

Specifically, tohim from Emmy.

Still puzzled, he glanced at the postmark. Then, he growled out another, “Well, hell.” Because the date was from seventeen years ago when Emmy and he hadbeen eighteen.

“The letter was in the first bag I found,” she explained. “In fact, it was sitting on top.”

As explanations went, it was a little thin. “And you took it?”

She nodded.

Again, not much of an explanation. “Why?” he pressed.

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