Gavin
The snow comes down in drifts like sheets pulled violently from some oversized bed in the sky. I help Emmy up the Westfield walkway to the festively decorated doors with their golden wreathes and miles of fresh garland, but Emmy outshines any opulence the Westfield house might have to offer tonight or any other night. She’s dressed to the nines and looks gorgeous as hell. I let her borrow one of Zoey’s dresses. My sister still has half her closet at the cabin, and, every now and again, she threatens to pick it up. She’s due back in Loveless at some point during her winter break. Zoey is a freshman at a private university where she managed to score a full ride, and I’m damn proud of her. I cover most of her food and housing. It’s not easy, but I’d die trying to give her the best education possible. I know my parents wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
“You sure no one will mind?” Emmy is shaking twice as bad as she was back at the boathouse.
I thought I was dreaming when I stepped out of the shower to find the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on waiting for me, dressed to impress with her feather duster poised to touch me in all the right places—only it wasn’t me she was looking to touch. Her hair is spun gold, and her eyes shine crimson and fire, mostly because she seems angry with the world, but I’d be lying my way into hell if I didn’t say it made me want her that much more. I’m used to girls playing nice around me. They make it real easy for me to land them horizontal with their overtly flirtatious giggles, their sweet-as-frosting adulation. There’s usually not a thing I can do wrong, but, with Emmy, it feels as if there’s not a thing I can do right. Maybe it’s the challenge she brings to the table that caught my attention. Who am I kidding? Everything about her has brought me to the table. I predict by the end of the night, I’ll be on my knees begging for crumbs.
“I promise, no one will mind.” I press my hand into the small of her back and take in her sweet scent. Emmy might have an icy air about her, but she holds the scent of warm vanilla. It’s taking everything in me not to bury my face in her hair. “Besides, this is a community event. And if Loveless is anything, it’s about fostering togetherness.” The deep pockets around here like any excuse for a chance to network. There’s a smattering of tourists from the local chalet. The Loveless Christmas party is as much a marketing ploy as it is an attempt to make the residents feel good about being trapped on this overgrown rock.
Her dark eyes widen, brown and red, the color of glossy mahogany. I make a mental note to mix that exact shade for my next stain. There’s a bear I’ve been working on, carving my heart out trying to bring it to life, for the last three months. It’s just about finished and ready for a good coat. I can’t wait to bless it with the color of Emmy’s eyes.
“Loveless sounds like a great place.” Her lips curl down at the sides. “Anyway, I should probably just get in there and speak to him.” She nods toward the door as if it were Warren Senior himself. Damn pervert. Just the thought of him touching her—looking at her—makes me want to bash his skull through a window. His son was just arraigned on assault charges, not that it amounted to much. They put him under house arrest for a few months, and he’s already out on the prowl again. He lost his spot on the rowing team back at Yeats because the university didn’t want any part in the controversy or his sorry ass. But, nevertheless, he and the old man look like they share the same loose moral code. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the perverted tree.
“How about we grab a bite first?” I lead her in, and the sound of Christmas carols lights up the air. The smell of roast beef sings a love song right to my stomach, and if I pace myself just right, I’ll be hitting up the buffet more than once this evening. But the last thing I want to happen tonight is for Emmy to get dragged into some dark corner to satisfy Warren McCarthy’s middle aged, very much married, “needs.”
“I don’t know.” She gives a quick glance around. “I don’t think I can eat.” Her lips press together, and a matching set of dimples ignite on either side of her cheeks. She’s cute in an I’ll-cut-your-throat-if-you-look-at-me-like-that-again sort of way. There’s an exaggerated toughness to her, but I don’t buy it. Emmy just gets sweeter by the second, and my stomach turns at the thought of what she might be doing in her so-called professional career. There’s no way she’s been around the block even once with the way she’s shaking like a puppy at the vet. She can’t be much older than Zoey. And if it were my sister running around doing God knows what, I sure hope there would be someone there to talk some sense into her—to protect her. For some unknown reason, that’s exactly what I want to do, protect Emmy.
“Look who decided to show?” Ace comes up with Reese by his side. He’s sporting his signature shit-eating grin. His black hair covers his head like a cap. Ace and the love of his life, Reese, eloped a few months back, and most of the lake is still pissed they were denied an open bar.
“What’s up, dude?” I meet his fist with a knuckle bump while Reese lunges at me with a hug. “You look good. He treating you okay?”
“Better than okay.” She slips back into Ace’s arms and smiles at Emmy. “Hi, I’m Reese.”
“Emmy.” Her eyes cut to mine as if she’s tangled herself in a spider’s web and has no idea how to get out.
“Are you new to Loveless?” Reese leans toward her, genuinely interested, and Emmy recoils at the question. Her dimples press in. She has a tiny scar next to her bottom lip that, instinctually, I want to touch.
“I’m just passing through for a few minutes.” She glances at me like she’s ready to wrap her hands around my throat. “Gavin was nice enough to invite me to dinner.”
“Passing through, on a night like this?” Reese burrows into Ace as if she needs protection from the storm herself. “There’s no way you’ll get down the mountain—not alive anyway.”
Emmy’s face bleaches out. “Then I guess I’d better get going.” Her features dim as if she can already see the Grim Reaper. “I need to find someone. It was nice meeting you both.” She pushes into the crowd, and I spot her pulling aside a waitress who is quick to point out Warren Senior in the corner, laughing it up with a couple of his corporate cohorts.
“What was that about?” Ace smacks me in the arm as if snapping me out of a trance.
“Don’t know, but I’m about to find out.” I take off into the sea of bodies, all decked out in their holiday finest. A few of the girls I’ve partied with try to lure me over with a smile, but I want nothing to do with them right now. I won’t lie, I’ve made the circuit around this lake with my pants down on more than one occasion. It’s not my fault I happen to like sex, and the local girls are more than willing to oblige.
Emmy hovers by the brightly lit tree with its expensive glass ornaments—its Waterford topper that I nearly broke one year and was chastised over for a half hour straight. It was the year my parents died, and I got shit-faced off the free booze that I never should have been pouring down my throat to begin with, but then, sometimes when people are hurting, they do stupid things, and I think that’s exactly what’s going on here. Emmy is hurting, and she’s about to do something far more dangerous than knocking down an overpriced chunk of crystal.
She takes a step toward Warren Senior just as the small crowd he’s with disperses.
Shit. I speed over without giving it another thought.
“Here you are.” I land in front of her, panting, but it’s not the trek over that’s left me breathless, its Emmy herself. There’s something alarmingly bewitching about those dark, knowing eyes, and I want them only on me. I’m greedy for all her attention, and for the life of me I can’t figure out why. “I was about to hit the food line, and I thought it’d be nice to have you by my side.” Not to mention the fact I won’t get a solid bite down knowing she’s in some closet, helping McCarthy get his shriveled up rocks off.
“Forget about me.” She tries to move deeper into the crowd, and I pull her back by the wrist. “Look”—she frees herself from my hold—“your friend was right. It’s going to be a deathtrap getting down that mountain. I’d better take care of business and be on my way.”
“There’s no way I’m letting you take off tonight.” And, for damn sure, I’m not letting her take care of business. Who does that? Why the hell would Emmy be caught up in a nightmare like that?
She takes in my features as if she’s memorizing them for the police report.
“I’m not your problem, Gavin.” She says my name like it’s a freshly listed expletive. “And I never will be.” She makes an attempt to dart past me just as Brylee Peters inadvertently baptizes the two of us with a margarita.
“Oh, my gosh!” Brylee’s hands flail. “I’m so sorry!” She mops up Emmy’s chest with the scarf around her neck, and the booze reeks from her breath like a gale force hurricane. “I was just coming over to say hi.” Brylee throws herself onto my shoulders. Her blonde hair falls over my eyes like a curtain. “How’ve ya been, sweetie?” She squeals in my ear, loud as a horn. I’ve had Brylee squeal in my ear a time or two, not that I’m proud. “I really miss, miss, miss you.” She strums her fingers over my lips. “You should totally come to Yeats. The girls would eat you up for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Speaking of satisfying cravings…” She bites the inside of her cheek. “You up for a midnight snack later?”
“I’m free, but I think you’ll be busy.” Burying her head in the nearest toilet. Brylee’s devotion to vodka keeps her familiar with all the local porcelain thrones.
Reese comes up and mouths the words I’m sorry before navigating Brylee back toward the party.
“Looks like you’re pretty popular around here.” Emmy gives a downturned smile. It’s the first genuine one I’ve seen for hours. Most people might mistake it as a frown, but I can tell that any emotion remotely related to happiness is hard-won by Emmy. “It’s nice to see the girls falling all over you, literally. I figured as much. I know your type.”
“My type?” She’s amusing the hell out of me.
“Yeah, you know, love them and leave them after breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” She flits her gaze across the room as if she were disgusted.
I take a step in and bear into her inky dark eyes. Right now they look the color of a moonless night.
Her cheek flicks as if she were trying out a grin. “Don’t worry, I’m not surprised.”
“I have a feeling not much surprises you.”
“You got that right.” Her gaze continues to skirt the periphery, keeping an eye on Warren Senior and his dried out fifth appendage as if she were hunting her prey.
“Then it shouldn’t surprise you that I’m not about to let you drive down the mountain tonight.” I hedge in ever so close until the hem of her dress touches my jeans. She’s scanning the crowd, craning her neck over my shoulder, looking every which way but here. I lean in until her eyes are forced to look into mine, and, when she finally does, a quick stab of pain knifes me in the gut. There’s nothing like looking someone in the eye to make you feel like you’re really seeing each other, but Emmy and I are taking it a step further. We’re more than seeing, we’re experiencing each other. “And the last thing I’m going to let happen is some indecent hookup with you and just about anybody.”
A laugh gets caught in her throat. “Let me guess—that doesn’t exclude you.”
“I don’t want anything from you.” It felt like a lie speeding from my lips because, deep down, I think I do want something from her. But, whatever it is, it more than outweighs some quickie in a boathouse.
She shakes her head as if it were the last thing she believes.
“Look, Gavin”—she plants her tiny hand over my chest—“I’m not in the market for a white knight.” She winces when she says it. “I am what I am, and you are spending far too much time away from your potential bedmates.” She pushes me off and glances around again for bloated Warren. “Don’t waste your energy on me. Trust me, I’m not worth it.”
She tries to maneuver her way into the crowd, but I pick up her hand and speed her to the back of the gargantuan tree in the corner, where it’s just us and a floor-to-ceiling window exposing the snow dancing outside on this magical winter night. It’s colder here. The sound of the party is slightly muffled, and, for a second, it feels as if we’re in an alternate universe.
“Emmy.” I brush my fingers over her soft hair, holding her gaze as if I were holding her hostage, and in a way it feels like I am. “I don’t know the reason you’re here. It’s none of my business. But I won’t sleep at night if I don’t tell you that I think you’re worth the energy. I think you’re worth a lot because you’re a human being.” There I said it. Usually I’m up for a good game of cat and mouse, but something tells me she’s not playing. She’s one hundred percent feline, and her claws are out, ready to slice anyone who gets in her way. “And in the event no one has ever told you these things, let me be the first.” She eyes the party like she’s getting ready to bolt, so I pin her to the window with my elbows. Her breathing grows erratic, causing her chest to heave and ripple. Her eyes never leave mine. “I think you’re beautiful, Emmy.” I’ve never uttered those words to a girl before, at least not without thinking they were my ticket to the nearest mattress. But something in me demanded I tell Emmy, after all I mean it. I’m not sure I’ll ever get the chance again. “I think you’re stunning as hell. I think you’re far more amazing than you give yourself credit for, and the world—my world is already a better place because you’ve been in it for a few short hours. I’ve got a warm cabin you can stay the night in—alone. I’ll find somewhere else to couch surf. Don’t leave, Emmy. And for God’s sake, stay away from anyone with the name Warren McCarthy.”
Tears glitter in her eyes as she pinches a wry smile. “Wow, you almost sound like you care.”
“That’s because I do.”
“Why?” The muscles in her jaw flex as if she were angry.
“Because you’re a person. And every person on the planet should hear those words once in a while.” I brush my hand over her cheek with an ache in my heart I didn’t know was possible. “I don’t want to see you hurting yourself or your body.”
A lone tear rolls down her face, and I don’t hesitate wiping it away. I push my thumb to my mouth and taste the salt.
Her lips tug in a crooked grin, and she blinks up at me as if she’s never seen another human do that.
She closes her eyes briefly. “I’m not crazy about what I’m about to do next, but I think I’m going to have to kiss you.” Her teeth graze over her lip as she tries to hide a smile. “I mean, we are under the mistletoe. Is that okay?”
“No,” I say it flat. Her eyes round out with surprise. I cup her cheeks in my palms. I don’t ever remember wanting to be with a girl as bad as I do Emmy. “I’m the one who’s going to kiss you.”
“Has anyone ever told you, you have control issues?”
“Only in bed, and I take it as a compliment.”
Her mouth opens as if she were going to lob some smart comeback at me, and it misfired. Her breathing picks up. Her lips twitch, calling me toward them.
I hedge in close until our noses almost touch. Her warm breath showers over me in soft, minty waves. I can feel her wanting this. A tiny part of me wants to hold back—make her wait for it, teach her a lesson for all that snark, but who am I kidding? It’s me that’s being schooled here. Emmy had me at feather duster.
Our lips find one another, soft at first then in a detonation that feels as if it were years in the making. Emmy’s lips—I sigh right into her mouth. They’re so fucking soft. I take my time just moving my mouth over them. Emmy tastes like an exotic cocktail, mint and strawberries. Her tongue touches mine then retracts as if she licked a flame. I probe in and lure her back. She lays her tongue alongside mine as if holding my hand, and I draw her into my mouth, beg her have her way with me. Then she’s in me. I’m in her. We wrestle it out in a tumultuous exchange as if bantering in the best way possible. All of her hurt—her desperation to belong—it’s palpable in these hot, hungry kisses. I can feel her pain, taste it. And then she loosens. Emmy’s body molds to mine, and she gives a soft moan right into my throat.
The party rages on, but Emmy and I make that magical spot behind the tree our home as we linger in a sea of kisses that feel far more erotic than any mattress moves I’ve shared with other girls. This is far more intimate, far more gut wrenching for my balls than any sexual encounter I’ve ever had.
I’m not sure what brought Emmy to my doorstep tonight, call it a Christmas miracle—call it destiny. All I know is I’m going to make sure she’s safe, wanted, and cared for, right here in Loveless—right here in my arms if she’ll let me.
But something tells me she won’t.
Emmy is an injured bird spiraling through the night, falling from the sky—from grace—and things never end well on a violent descent.
I want to help her. I’m going to.
After all she called it.
I can be a bit controlling.