CHAPTER 9
Her hammock swung lazily over the sand, a sun-warmed breeze wafting over her, the sound of waves breaking in the distance. She stretched and opened her eyes as a shadow blocked out the sun. Sterling. “Come home.”
“You’re blocking my sun.”
He offered his hand.
Ding.
“Don’t leave me.”
What was that noise? It didn’t belong on a beach. And neither did Sterling, dressed in his shearling and a Stetson.
She woke with a start. Heart racing. What in the hell was he doing in her dreams?
Her phone dinged again. Shaking the sleep from her brain, she glanced at the screen. Jeez. Was the man psychic?
S: Where are you?
She typed a fast reply, sleep pulling at her.
E: Asleep.
S: I have an idea.
E: Let me guess. Does it involve sleep?
S: Are you inviting me over?
She laughed, unable to stop a smile.
E: No
S: Come over tomorrow and I’ll tell you all about it?
E: Can’t
S: Another mystery date?
She deserved that. But she’d had every intention of driving home this afternoon, and then Maddie had begged her to work remotely one more day and stay for dinner. But after Sterling had shown up for the poker game, she’d tucked tail and run home. He was entirely too distracting.
E: I’m back home in KC. Working in the office tomorrow.
He didn’t respond right away. And she shut her eyes, casting about for her beach dream. She could see the white sand. Sleep danced at the edges of her conscious. Ding.
Her eyes flew open and she stared at the ceiling counting to five before she looked at her phone.
S: It’s a really good one. Come out tomorrow?
She groaned and turned to her side. The man was incorrigible. Shameless. Adorable. And totally annoying. Her fingers flew.
E: Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t ask how high when you say jump. I can come out again this weekend. We can talk then.
A minute crept by. Then another, and another. She took a slow breath, letting sleep wash over her. Ding.
She sighed audibly and glanced at the phone, still in her hand.
S: Okay. Looking forward to it.
E: See you then.
She placed the phone on her nightstand, adjusted her pillow and shut her eyes, concentrating on slowing her breath. In her mind’s eye, she conjured the beach imagining she could hear the crash of the waves.
The phone rang.
Would he give her no peace? She rolled over. “No. Not answering.” The phone went silent. A minute later it rang again. She should turn off her notifications and stick her head under her pillow. But who was she kidding? Not only was her sleep shot for the rest of the night, but curiosity got the better of her. She rolled back over and grabbed the phone, punching the screen. “What?” she growled, now fully awake.
Sterling’s voice came through the speaker like liquid sex. Hotter than a lounge singer. “Sorry to wake you.”
“Your sincerity is overwhelming.”
The phone rumbled with his low laugh. “I just had to tell you.”
“And it couldn’t wait, oh I don’t know, until a normal hour?”
“Nope.”
She could hear the unapologetic smile in his voice. Damn him for being so charming. “Lay it on me then.”
“A high stakes poker tournament.”
“WHAT?” She sat bolt up.
“Isn’t that great? A high stakes poker tournament.”
“You woke me up at two in the morning because you think we should have a poker tournament?”
“Mmmhmmm.”
Of all the nerve. “Goodnight, Sterling.”
“Sweet dreams, Emma.”
It shouldn’t send a thrill through her, the way he said sweet dreams. But it did.
And she had no business looking forward to seeing Sterling the rest of the week. But she did. The week moved agonizingly slowly, even though she put in fourteen-hour days. Her whole body seemed to relax as she pulled onto westbound I-70. The entire two-and-a-half-hour drive, she mulled over Sterling’s crazy plan to include a poker tournament in a fundraiser. Whatever direction she went in, an initial fundraiser would set a precedent. It had to be big. Memorable. She wanted those donors to come back year after year, and if they weren’t treated right, or her work was sloppy, they’d turn their backs. There were just too many opportunities to fund.
Her heart rate kicked up a notch as she pulled into Resolution Ranch. And it beat out of her chest as she trudged across the property to find Sterling working on building one of the tiny houses. His back was to her, and she took a moment to appreciate his physique. Sterling had always been built. And graceful. He’d thrown a football with the ease and elegance of Gene Kelly. He wielded the hammer he held with effortless grace, arm pulling the flannel tight across shoulders with every stroke. Even from several feet away, she could sense his focus. See how he concentrated with every cell in his body. And his backside. She offered a silent prayer of thanks to the universe for a backside as gorgeous as his. It was almost a pity to interrupt him.
She cleared her throat. “Lay it on me, Sterling.”
He spun, lowering his hammer, heat flaring in his eyes as he raked a glance over her.
She gulped. “Your idea. Lay it on me.”
A slow smile brightened his face. “High stakes poker. Everyone will love it.”
“Just because you enjoy a friendly game of poker doesn’t mean it’s a good fundraiser.”
“It’s a great fundraiser.” He laid down his hammer and came to stand in front of her. “And a place for your fancy donors to connect with the people they’re helping.”
“You said high stakes. What are you offering as a prize?”
“That’s for you to figure out, sweetheart. Use all your fancy connections.”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “This is my baby and I am not letting you reduce me to a Girl Friday.”
He stepped closer, jaw tight with impatience. Heat radiated from him, and she caught the fresh tang of hard work underneath his aftershave. “It’s not your project. It’s our project.”
“Right. Just like our AP English project was our project.”
“You did your part, I did mine.”
“Bullshit. You stole my part. Took my idea and railroaded me.”
“All I did was expand on your idea. Improve it.”
“You stole it.” All the old hurt she’d harbored came crashing back. It didn’t matter how much time had passed, some memories reduced her to a teenager, with all the insecurities and hurts. “You couldn’t stand that I might be better, or win anything.”
“Our competition was good for us.”
“Was it? It sure didn’t feel that way when you stuffed the ballot box for Homecoming Queen. Everyone knew you and Queen Bee Nikki had a thing going.” Even now, all these years later. Jealousy snaked through her, black and hot.
He had the audacity to look surprised. “I voted for you,” he swore vehemently.
“Sure you did.” Her body went taut, anger spiraling up through her belly. “And that’s why you never lost an opportunity to make out with her.”
His eyes grew wide. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t act so surprised. You think I didn’t see? You looked right at me before you kissed her behind the homecoming float Sophomore year.” She should let it go, but she couldn’t. Not when he’d flirted so outrageously. Led her to believe he was interested, then kicked her in the stomach. “And then you reconnected,” she made air quotes, “the first Christmas we were all legal at the Trading Post.” Ensuring she stayed far away from there whenever she came home.
He looked confused. If the memory wasn’t so painful, she might laugh. She shook her head in dismay. “You don’t even remember, do you? We talked most of the evening and I thought you were finally ready to let the old competition die. But you were just toying with me like you always do.”
How could he just stand there looking like she’d sprouted a second head? Was he really so clueless? Or self-absorbed? What a fool. She’d been a fool. She held up her hands. “Look. Forget it.” Defeat washed over her. “I’ll figure out how to add poker. But I’m not driving back here again. I’ll send you what I come up with.”
She spun away, heading back the way she’d come.
“Wait.” Sterling caught her arm. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. The only person I wanted to make out with that night was you.”
She turned back. “I don’t believe that for a second.”
“It’s true. But then you left in a huff and I couldn’t figure out why.”
“Because you were kissing another girl,” she yelled, giving into the anger and hurt turning her inside out. “She asked if I was interested in you. Said you wanted to know. And stupidly, I told her yes. And when I came back with punch you were making out with her.”
Understanding dawned on his face. “Wait. You like me?”
“Past tense, Superboy.” She’d gone home and cried into her pillow that night, vowing to never shed a tear over Sterling Walker again.
He raked a hand over his head. “She said that Parker Hansen truth or dared her to kiss me and would I cooperate? That was all.”
That sounded like vintage Nikki. But no. She wasn’t letting him off the hook. Not when they were finally airing their grievances. “And you believed her?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“NO. It’s Nikki Pope. How many times did you hook up with her in high school?”
“It was never like that. We were…. We were…”
“Friends with benefits,” she finished, a bitter taste in her mouth. Ugh. Why was she pouring salt on old wounds? Because she wanted to hold onto her hurt. It was easier than accepting she’d left the Trading Post that night because she was too afraid to confront him. Too afraid to show her cards. And the fact that he did things to her insides all these years later – made her laugh with his corny flirting and drool when he handled a hammer, deeply unsettled her.
She took a stuttering breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s all in the past. But you never should have kissed her if you intended to kiss me.”
“A mistake I won’t be making again.” His other hand came up to cup her neck and he dipped his head. When his mouth took hers, it was soft. Tender. Seductive. Not at all what she had expected. And it acted like fire in her veins, shooting through her in a burst of hot desire. He lifted his head, eyes meeting hers. “Emma,” he breathed.
Her stomach fluttered with a thousand butterflies. God help her, she wanted his mouth on her in the worst way. She leaned in, and that was all the encouragement he needed. His mouth crashed onto hers and she clutched at his shirt, letting the sensations race through her body to settle in a throbbing ball of need at her clit. With a little moan, she opened to the sweep of his tongue. The feel of his tongue sliding against hers acted like a spark on a powder keg. Flames of desire licked through her, burning her to ash. The noise he made in his throat as he pulled her flush added fuel to the fire. No man had ever kissed her like this. With ferocity. With possessiveness. Like she mattered. As long as she lived, she’d never forget this sensation.
Some far-off rational part of her brain yelled at her to stop this. Push him away. But how could she when it was so good? He lifted his head, eyes smoldering.
“What was that?” she murmured, not trusting herself to speak.
“Worth the wait,” he mumbled back as he angled his head to hers again.
Her hands looped around his neck and he caressed the length of her back, bringing his hands to cup her ass and pull her against his erection. She ground into him with an animal fierceness that surprised her and he responded with a dizzying kiss, tongue swirling hers, taking her higher and higher. Sweet Jesus, she could drop and fuck him in the grass right here.
He moved to her neck, breath hot on her skin. “You’re everything I imagined. You light me up. I’ve wanted to kiss you for ages.”
His words washed over her. Her hand slid over his shoulders, down his side, and slipped inside his jeans.
“I want you right here, Emma,” he rasped.
She trembled with need. Her body screamed yes. Instinctively, she knew that he could take her to heights she’d only dreamed of. That he’d ruin her for anyone else. And she couldn’t risk that. The thought put ice through her heart. She had to exercise common sense, even though it meant lonely nights with nothing but her electric friend.
She stepped back, gulping for air. “We can’t do this.”
His eyes swirled with lust, then filled with confusion. Then hurt. “Why not?”
She pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks, trying to find the words. “You’re a player for starters. For seconds I live in Kansas City, and for thirds, I’m here in a professional capacity.”
“And fourths you’re a big chicken.” His voice was flat. Hard.
And it stung. The accusation hung in the air between them. She shut her eyes, drawing strength from her toes.
“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not that person anymore?” A muscle ticked above his jaw. “I know you feel what’s between us, Emma.”
His words twisted her heart. He seemed so earnest. But she wasn’t born yesterday. And yes, she was a big chicken when it came to risking her heart. “What’s the point, Sterling? We’re too different. I’m not interested in casual. I’ve never been casual. If we… If we…” She gestured to the ground. “What happens when the chemistry burns out? When you get bored? Give me the it’s not you, it’s me speech? I’ve never dated anyone from Prairie. No one would date me when I was a teenager, and now I’m glad. I don’t want to be a source of gossip.”
He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, shaking his head.
God, why did this hurt almost as much as seeing him kiss Nikki Pope? “I’ll get back to you on the poker tournament.” She turned, and before she lost her will, left him standing in the field.