Page 37 of Stay With Me Forever

Abby frowned. “What?”

“Call me Emmy, like when we were kids.”

The three ladies all shared glances, but it was Amber who spoke first. “Of course, if that’s what you want. But why the change?”

The tequila shot had made me cross over into tipsy, and I shrugged. “I don’t want to sound like an old auntie, knitting bad scarves, and surrounded by dog statues.”

Well, that wasn’t the real reason, but it was the only one I’d give.

Amber moved to my side and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Are you all right, Millie? I mean, Emmy? Maybe we should take you home.”

I shook my head. The former song finished, and the first from my queue came up. I grabbed Amber’s hand. “Come on, let’s dance.”

I tugged her with me, knowing the other two would follow.

It took some coaxing, but soon I had Amber attempting to dance—more like sidestepping in place and swinging her arms—along with Katie and Abby. Moving my hips and swaying my body, as if I didn’t have a care in the world, I felt powerful and free.

I’d always loved dancing but usually didn’t let myself do it. Because I wasn’t supposed to be happy and enjoying life, only helping others do so. It was my penance.

But the drinks had made me forget about what I’d done, who I’d hurt, and all that mattered in the moment was the music and letting go of everything for a little while.

ChapterFourteen

Weston

Ilost the pool game to Beck. Not because he was suddenly a better player, but because I couldn’t concentrate on anything but stealing glances at Emmy on the other side of the room.

By the time she walked to the jukebox—a little unsteady—and then dragged her friends to the floor to dance, I’d given up any pretext of not watching her.

Because, fuck, her moving to the music and swaying her hips was so goddamn erotic, it almost hurt.

And as I noticed other men staring at her, it took everything I had not to go around and tell them to look away.

As I clenched my hands into fists, Beck spoke, and I nearly jumped. “She’s been stealing glances at you too. What’s going on with you two?”

I somehow tore my gaze away from Emmy’s tempting hips and ass. “Nothing.”

Beck raised his eyebrows. “Bullshit.”

“It’s true. Besides, I’m done with women. I won’t risk putting my kids through hell again.”

Beck studied me a second before replying, “I’ve watched Millie grow up over the last fifteen years, once Mom was made her guardian. From what little I knew of your wife, Millie is about as opposite from that woman as you can get.”

I grunted, not wanting to answer. I already knew that, of course, but I wouldn’t admit it. Because that might feel like giving myself permission.

Beck said, “Fine, close off and scowl until your face freezes that way.” His gaze turned deadly serious. “But if you fucking hurt her West, I don’t care if you’re my brother. I’ll cut off your balls and stuff them down your throat.”

I raised one eyebrow. “Really? You couldn’t come up with something more original?”

“You know what I mean.” Beck’s expression softened a little. “I won’t meddle like Aunt Lori, but I will say this—it’s okay to take time for yourself sometimes, West. I may not have kids, but I struggled to do anything but work until recently. And thank fuck I made room for Sabrina, or I might never have found the happiness I have now. So, tell me—what would Weston Wolfe the man do right now if he wasn’t burdened by his past?”

I’d ask Emmy to dance and make sure she got home safe. Maybe even steal a kiss, depending on how sober she was—I’d never take advantage of her like that.

I sure as hell wouldn’t be standing here, eye-fucking her and wishing every guy in the bar to hell for looking at her.

There was a squeal, and I turned, only to see Emmy crash to the floor. Without thinking, I rushed over and squatted down near her, next to Abby.

“Are you okay, Emmy?” my sister asked Emmy.

---