CHAPTER 8
Damn.
Damn, damn, damn.
He should have kissed her. He’d felt it. The pull. And she’d felt it too. She’d practically admitted it. But Macey’s stricken face at the funeral had floated in front of him. Reminding him what was at stake. Holding him back. He wouldn’t be responsible for putting a look like that on Emma’s face.
At the same time, her mouth was too luscious to ignore. And the intense desire she stirred in him. Were his friends right? Was he taking his aversion to relationships too far? Emma Sinclaire presented a challenge too fantastic to ignore. He couldn’t ignore her even if he tried. She’d been his drug from the time he’d first noticed her in seventh grade, stepping up to the baseball plate with the fiercest expression on her face, golden braids hanging down her back. He’d taunted her, daring her to swing at his fastball. “Think you can hit it, Goldilocks?”
“Bring it, hotshot.” Her eyes had lit. As if she was going to enjoy putting him in his place. And she had. He’d underestimated her entirely. She’d hit the ball over the outfielder’s heads, all the way to the back fence. Game on. He’d spent the next six years and then some, doing whatever he could to show her up, secretly admiring it when she beat him. When he reached West Point, the space in his heart where she’d been transformed into a black hole. He’d never admit it, but he missed her with an intensity that took his breath away. Eventually, the hole closed and only a small ache remained. And by the time he graduated, the ache was nothing more than an occasional twinge. But watching her walk away just now, the ache returned with a vengeance.
What the hell was he supposed to do with that? If this was his idea of avoiding emotional entanglements, he was doing a shit job of it. But surely he could have a little fun with Emma and not go all in the way Johnny had? He wasn’t looking for anything permanent. He was simply following the thread of chemistry spinning out between them. Shaking his head, he grabbed Bingo’s reins and led her into the stable.
Cash walked out of the tack room. “We need one more for poker tonight. Want to join?”
He didn’t usually play, but weekly poker was a ritual with many of the locals. He’d joined a couple of the circles when an extra was needed. But he didn’t much feel like playing tonight. “What’s the buy-in?”
“Fifty.”
Usually his limit was twenty-five. “Who’s hosting?”
“Sinclaires.”
A slow grin spread across his face. “Count me in. What time?”
“Six?”
Perfect. Time enough for him to finish his to-do list and still clean up. “I’ll meet you there.”
Sterling parked in front of the enormous limestone house at five minutes to six. So this is where Emma grew up? He let out a low whistle. A far cry from his parents’ modest craftsman in town. For a moment it felt like he was entering the lion’s den, but he shook it off. The Sinclaires might be the oldest family in town, but they were still human. And he’d grown up hearing the stories of Wild Jake. Just like everyone in Prairie, the Sinclaires had endured their fair share of hard times. He stretched his arms over the steering wheel, cracking his knuckles. This felt more like meeting potential in-laws than a poker game, only worse. Brothers were always worse than parents.
“Just a friendly game. Nothing more,” he muttered as he hopped out of his truck and took the porch steps by two.
A moment after he knocked, the door swung wide to reveal Emma’s surprised face. “What are you doing here?”
This was too good to be true. Plans at home in Kansas City, huh? He was going to have fun with this. “Hello, Goldilocks,” he practically crowed.
His elation crashed the second his eyes drifted to the blonde toddler in her arms. A kid? What in the hell? Disappointment pummeled him like a fist to the gut. It never occurred to him that she might have had a child. Something twisted deep inside of him and squeezed the air out of his chest. His face must have given away his shock, because she rolled her eyes. “This is Henry? My nephew? Who I told you about this afternoon?”
Of course. How had he missed that? It must have been one of those times he’d been staring at her mouth. He braced an arm against the doorjamb. “I knew that. Decide to stick around on the off-chance you’d see me?” He arched a brow.
Two bright spots of pink colored her cheekbones. “Look. I’m sorry. I really was supposed to head home tonight.”
“So you stayed because you secretly can’t resist me.” He winked at her.
She snorted, but her eyes sparkled. “Keep telling yourself that. You’re nothing more than a player and I’m not interested.”
“I’m not a player.”
“Puhleeze. Maybe in a parallel universe. I was in every class with you in junior high and high school. I saw you at all the parties. I know how you operate.” She shifted Henry from one hip to the other.
A vision of her holding her own child flashed before him. Again, something twisted deep inside of him. Something he was better off ignoring. “And how is that?”
“You love the chase. You can’t stand it that someone might not fall at your feet and worship your hotness. And as soon as you’ve put another notch in your belt-loop–”
“Bed-post.” She never could get her analogies right. “It’s a notch on the bed-post.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. As soon as you’ve tallied your victory, you move on to your next target. No thanks.”
“So you think I’m hot?” he goaded. A comment like that would light her up like a Christmas tree.
She groaned and shook her head, but it came out more like a strangled laugh, and he puffed up. He loved teasing her like that.
“I see you’ve met my boy.” Blake Sinclaire joined them, taking Henry from Emma. “I’m hoping he’ll grow up to be like you and lead the Mustangs to another state championship, and then go on to be an All-American.”
“I’m sure he will, sir.”
“Please. Call me Blake. I was long out of the house by the time you were in high school, but I’m not that old. Come on upstairs.” He motioned Sterling into the house.
Sterling followed him through the great room and up the stairs, winking at Emma as he passed. “See you after the game?” He couldn’t resist asking.
“Jamey will be up with snacks later,” Emma called after them.
Six pairs of expectant eyes turned his way as he entered the attic. Cash and Travis leaned against an enormous pool table, beers in hand. Blake’s brother Brodie, sat at the makeshift poker table, shuffling cards. Gunnar Hansen and Blake’s other brother Ben, stood pouring beer from a tap behind a bar in the corner.
“Glad you could join us.” Gunnar lifted a beer. “Want one?”
“You bet.”
Ben handed him a glass of dark beer.
He took a sip. Holy smokes, it was good. Guinness-like, but with a note of vanilla. He’d developed a fondness for Guinness thanks to a fellow classmate from New York City. “What is this?”
“Tallgrass Brewing from Manhattan. Buffalo Sweat.”
Figured the Sinclaires would keep a keg like that on hand. “Love it.”
Brodie eyed him and began to deal cards. “Good. ’Cause that’s all we’ve got.”
An hour later, his jitters about the Sinclaire men had dissipated entirely. But he could tell where Emma got her sass from. Her brothers gave no quarter. In time, the table talk turned from animal husbandry to local gossip, landing on Army-Navy rivalries and Resolution Ranch.
Brodie piped up. “I want to know what he thinks of our sister.”
All eyes turned to Sterling. He squirmed in his seat, heat racing up his spine. “Emma’s a go-getter.”
“And?” Brodie prodded.
Drop dead gorgeous, but he’d never admit that to any of her brothers. Not if he wanted to leave unscathed. He cast about for something safe to say that wouldn’t offend her brothers. “And she’s smart, too. She’d probably kick my ass at Monopoly.”
Laughter raced around the table.
Brodie continued his grilling. “Travis said you’re going to be point on this fundraiser. I think that’s good. You always did give Emma a run for her money.”
“And she always gave me a run for mine.” Even during Beast. Every time he’d reached a low point, he’d ask himself if Emma would quit. He knew she wouldn’t, so he’d pushed himself through. “She never quits. Never gives up. She’d have made a great soldier.”
Brodie slapped his hand on the table, looking at his brothers. “Which is why she needs someone to challenge her. She’s used to getting her own way.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” Blake reprimanded wryly, giving Brodie a fatherly look.
“What you need, Brodie, is a good spanking.” Brodie’s wife, Jamey stood at the top of the stairs with a tray loaded with burgers. “Don’t talk about your sister that way. There’s a reason she’s on track to be the youngest VP Royal Fountain has ever seen.”
That caught Sterling’s attention. “No kidding?” Add humble to her list of traits. It didn’t surprise him at all that she was on the fast track to the top of her profession. He’d expect nothing less of her. But funny she hadn’t mentioned it once.
Jamey turned to Brodie once she’d placed the burgers on the food table. “Emma’s used to getting her own way because her ideas are brilliant.” Then she turned to him. “Don’t listen to my husband. What Emma needs is a partner. Not someone to boss her.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmured.
Then it hit him. The perfect idea for the Resolution Ranch fundraiser. Something uniquely Prairie and sure to be a hit. He couldn’t wait to share it with Emma.