That was it. He was done for. Ox knew it the minute he walked into the kitchen and nearly attacked his mom when he saw Emmie crying. His mother was the closest thing he knew to a saint. Even during his obnoxious adolescent years, he’d worshipped her. The fact that his immediate reaction to seeing Emmie cry was a spike of anger at his mother knocked him sideways.

He was silent through dinner as Emmie chatted about books with Abby and asked genuinely curious questions about the ranch and the orange groves. She and Melissa chattered away while Ox’s head spun.

What was he going to do?

It was obvious things couldn’t continue the way they were. Their chemistry was too intense. Their attraction tangible. He’d nearly kissed her again when he buckled her into his truck, but her words had stopped him in his tracks.

“I need this to work, Ox.”

She was right. They both needed INK to work. But desire and excitement twisted his gut. He was being honest with her. He was shit about following rules, and he was gone for her. He’d never thought about a woman the way he thought about Emmie. He’d never wanted one the same way, especially one he’d barely touched.

Ox dug his fingers into his leg under the table, resisting the urge to grab her hand.

He was thinking about holding her hand at the fucking dinner table.

“Ox?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re quieter than normal.”

Emmie pursed her pretty mouth. She had the same expression when she was reading and she was really into a book. That mouth was one of the reasons he couldn’t resist biting her lower lip the week before.

“Careful,” he muttered.

“What?”

He leaned over and whispered, “You’re going to get bitten again if you’re not careful.”

Emmie’s cheeks reddened, and she turned back to the dinner table. “So do you guys get any snow here in winter?”

It was obvious Melissa knew something was going on. Her expression was amused. “We do, but it doesn’t tend to stick. We’re not high enough.”

“Oh.” Emmie pushed the beans around her plate. “I like snow.”

“Me too,” Abby said. “Last year we got to sled.”

Melissa nodded. “Last year was heavier than normal. Pain in the ass with the cows, but fun for Abby.”

“Mr. Tumnus got really excited.”

His mom was playing dumb. “Is everything all right, Ox?”

“Yep.” He cut into a piece of tri-tip. “Just remembered something about work I needed to ask Emmie.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He glanced at her. “There’s a clause in the employee manual we need to clear up.”

The one about sexual harassment and how she needs to be doing more of it.

Melissa asked, “You have an employee manual?”

Emmie’s cheeks turned redder. “Kind of. We have some guidelines and rules that have been pretty clear from the beginning. We’ve just never written them down. Maybe we need to.”

“Or we could keep things casual,” Ox said. “Like we have been.”

She smiled. “Yes. Exactly like we have been.”

“Maybe not exactly,” Ox said.

“Exactly is working great for me.” Emmie reached for the pepper. Picked it up. Set it down. “Excuse me, Joan. Where’s the bathroom?”

“Right down the hall, sweetie.” Joan was biting back a smile. “Second door on your right.”

“Thanks.” Emmie rose and left the room.

Ox watched her until she disappeared down the hall. He reached for another roll.

“You’re either really stupid,” Melissa said quietly, “or brilliant.”

“Ask me tomorrow.”

Joan asked, “So will you be staying in town tonight?”

Ox thought about the sweet swing of Emmie’s hips as she hustled down the hall. “Yep.”

“Are you having a sleepover?” Abby asked. “Whose house are you going to?”

Melissa snorted before she could turn it into a cough. “Yeah, Uncle Ox. Whose house are you going to?”

Ox smiled at Abby. “A friend’s.”

The tension in the truck was thick on the drive back to town. Ox could navigate the twisting roads in his sleep, he’d driven them so many times. He had a duffel bag thrown near Emmie’s feet and every intention of talking his way into her apartment even if he was sleeping on the couch.

Emmie hadn’t said a word. She wasn’t a chatterbox, but he could tell she was dying to say something. Or maybe she was waiting for him to laugh off what he’d said at the table or make a joke to relieve the tension.

Nope. Not this time, Buttons.

“I like your family,” she finally said.

“Thanks. I do too.”

She glanced at the duffel bag. So you have a friend you can stay with in Metlin? It’s really late.”

It wasn’t that late, but Ox played along. “I know. I’m pretty tired.”

Emmie was dying to ask who. He knew it.

“It’s nice you’re still friends with some people from Bombshell,” she said.

Nice try, sweetheart. “I’m not staying with anyone from Bombshell. Still kind of awkward between me and the guys over there. Though Ginger gave me a slight nod the other day instead of flipping me off, so I’m hopeful.”

“Oh.”

She had no idea what he had in mind. Ox almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

“I have a girl I can stay with.” Melissa was right. He was either really stupid or brilliant.

Ox glanced over at Emmie. Her mouth was open and she was staring at him.

“You bastard,” she said quietly.

He set his face in a hard line. “Why does that make me a bastard?”

“Because you… you said, when we were at the table”—her face was turning red, but it wasn’t a blush this time—“you talk about biting me—biting me!—one minute, and then you casually mention some girl you’re sleeping with.”

“I’m not sleeping with her.” He pulled the truck over on the side of the road. “Too soon for that. She needs some time to get used to the idea.” In fact, the idea of making her wait put him in a perversely good mood.

Emmie hadn’t even noticed that the truck stopped. “You’re unbelievable! You arrogant—”

“I’m not taking anything for granted. She hasn’t invited me to her bed. I don’t go there unless everyone’s on the same page. How does that make me arrogant?”

“You think you can just wind me up, walking around the shop, flirting with me—”

“I’m not a flirt.” He unbuckled his seat belt and turned toward her. “I don’t flirt.”

“You bite my lip. You talk about breaking rules. This was your rule! You’re the one who said it was a bad idea to… to—” Emmie suddenly realized the truck was stopped in the middle of an orange grove and Ox was moving toward her. “Where are we? What are you doing?”

God bless bench seats. The smell of oranges filled the cab. Sweet after sour. She was sweet after sour. Her hair was pulled up in that bun he wanted to mess up. She was wearing her I Like to Party, and by Party I Mean Read Books shirt. It was tighter than most of her shirts and hugged her breasts. He could see the delicate curves of her collarbones at the base of her neck.

She put a hand up. “Ox, what are you doing?”

Ox held his hand over hers, pressing it to his chest. He needed to take his time with Emmie. She was going to freak out. It both amused him and scared him a little.

“I need this to work,” he murmured.

He was not talking about the shop.

“I know,” she said.

Slow down, you idiot.

“Emmie.” He clicked a button and released her seat belt. “Emmie Elliot, as a friend and a work associate, I am very respectfully asking you to sexually harass the hell out of me.”