 
Run To Me

Leslie Ray

A Spruce Pine Novel
RUN TO ME

ISBN-13: 978-1311575906

Copyright © 2015 by Leslie Ray

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

**All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purpose), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author at** LeslieRayBooks@gmail.com **Thank you for your support of the author's rights.**

www.LeslieRayAuthor.com
TABLE OF CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Thirty-Three

Thirty-Four

Thirty-Five

Thirty-Six

Epilogue

# Acknowledgements

To my dearest friend Megan Silverstrim, who has stood by my side from the first word to the last, thank you! I don't know where I would be without your continued support and encouragement, even when it would have been easier to just nod and agree. And for the countless hours of plotting, scheming, and dreaming up imaginary book boyfriends...may the fun never end!

To my editors, April Roan and Morgan Blanchard, my deepest thanks. Without you I would still be buried beneath a pile of grammatical errors. Keep the grammar memes coming!

A huge thanks to the creative mind of Jennifer Wolfe, for whom I owe this wonderful cover.

And most of all, to the man who supports my dreams and spends endless hours listening to me talk about the fictional characters in my head without having me committed, my loving husband. Without you I wouldn't know what it means to truly love another with my whole heart.

# One

Emerson Grey would have bet her soul she'd known precisely where her life was headed. It's just too bad that wager would have cost her an eternity of hot yoga with the devil, because the only place her life was headed was straight to hell.

Google the word perfect and Emerson's life was bound to show up; those seven little letters producing a picture of her beautiful smile, emerald eyes, and disheveled auburn locks. Okay, so maybe not everything was perfect – her wayward hair was barely manageable on the best of days – but where it counted, life couldn't be better. At least, it had been twenty-four hours ago.

"Emerson?" Standing on the top step of an old yellow farm house, staring at the open door, Emerson heard the familiar female voice call her name.

Oh God, she had done it! She had really come home to Spruce Pine. Barring the required holidays, she had spent the better part of the last decade avoiding her rural, mountainous, hometown. But here she was, back in the south. Back in North Carolina.

Turning, she took in the sight of her only sister clad in a fitted black skirt and cream blouse. Stand them side by side in a mirror and you wouldn't have thought they were sisters. Emerson was taller; at five-foot eight-inches, she had a good four inches on her sister. But it was Emerson's wavy red hair and emerald eyes, the stark contrast to the stick straight, pale blonde hair and baby blues of her sister that sat them apart the most. Of course, their differences hadn't stopped at physical traits. Their personalities had been at odds for nearly half of Emerson's life.

"What are you doing here?" The swirl of blonde moved past her, heading for the door.

"I, ah –" _I chose the lesser of two evils,_ she finished the thought to herself. "I'm here for the wedding."

Like every Saturday, from March to October, Ridge Haven – one of the most sought out wedding venues in the southeast – buzzed with activity, and it was all due to her sister's success. Nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina, a few miles outside of their hometown, Ridge Haven's wide expanse held some of the most picturesque views. Sprawling green lawns, surrounded by endless rows of Frazier Firs, pristine ponds, and it's most charming beauty, the enormous red barn that had been converted into one gorgeous reception hall.

Millicent Grey was the older of the two sisters, by only thirteen months. All her life, Millie had loved the fairy tale idea of weddings, and so after graduating from college, she had come home to the family Christmas tree farm, and sweet talked – or more likely demanded – her way into this twenty-five acre plot of land. She wasn't the kind of girl keen on the word "No" when she wanted something.

Seven months later, Ridge Haven had been born. The yellow farm house, which had originally belonged to their grandparents, had been renovated, and now served as Ridge Haven's command central. And true to the hard working nature of the Grey's, it was a thriving success.

"I thought you weren't coming?" Millie asked; eyes suspicious.

"My plans changed." And wasn't that just the understatement of the year. In a mere twenty-four hours, her life had gone from thriving to crumpling. Driving her with a need to be as far away as possible from the disaster, but suddenly the seven-hundred miles wasn't feeling quite far enough. "Can I help with anything?"

The five simple words would have felt normal had she spoken them to anyone else on the planet, but given they were directed at Millie, they earned her another guarded look. Right, this wasn't going to be easy, no matter what Emerson had hoped for.

Not much was secret in Spruce Pine, especially when _Town Gossiper_ was practically an elected position – a position held by their grandmother Biddie Grey, for quite some time. And it had been no big secret that the Grey girls were, and had been, at odds for over a decade. But Emerson had her own secrets now, secrets she wasn't quite ready to share. Secrets that trumped the decade old feud between she and her sister. And a small part of that secret being she had come here to make amends with her sister. It was half past time they put the past behind them.

"Why?" Millie's tone was cold, clipped. "You never help out, why now?"

Before Emerson's mouth could open, Millie's eyes shifted with a hard edge at the exact moment Emerson felt two strong hands grasp her hips. "Well, if it isn't my long lost Annie."

There was only one person on this planet that called her Annie. "Cooper!" she squealed in true delight. It was the first time in a day her smile felt authentic. Spinning in his palms, her heart softened as a genuine smile spread across her best friend's face.

Once upon a very long time ago, Emerson had accidentally shot Cooper Whitley in the backside with a BB-gun. It had been an accident, of course, but when she hadn't backed down from his angry rant, Cooper had decided she was tougher than all the other boys their age, warranting her suitable for friendship. He had nicknamed her Annie – for Annie Oakley, of course – and hadn't called her anything else since. After that, they had been two peas in a pod. He had become her best friend, and later, her rock.

"Cooper Whitley, you know guests are not allowed back here, so scram!" Millie scolded. Everyone knew Millie hated guests seeing anything "behind the scenes," but Emerson knew there was also no love loss over Cooper. "Besides, Emerson's busy, so time for you to go!"

"But I just got here...and I'm not a real guest." Cooper's silky, all male voice whined in mock displeasure, flashing his caramel puppy eyes, which were futile where Millie was concerned. "Pa...pa...pa...please let me stay?"

"Today you are a guest, and a groomsman at that." Letting out a heavy, annoyed sigh, Millie poked him in the chest, "You have two minutes, do you hear me? Two. Minutes."

And with a flurry of blonde, she was gone.

"Thanks for the save. I owe you." Emerson kissed his cheek, hugging him tight.

"What are you doing here, Annie? I thought you were in Vegas?" Cooper pulled back. This time it was his eyes assessing her.

Right, Vegas. She was supposed to have flown out that morning, in fact. But after the unmentionable, unbearable past twenty-four hours, Emerson had traded in her ticket and headed south instead.

"What can I say?" she shrugged, searching for an explanation. "I decided I couldn't miss Spruce Pine's wedding of the year. And the Vegas trip got postponed, so my schedule opened up." It had opened up alright, like a giant black hole trying to suck her down to some deep dark place, never to return.

"I thought your wedding was the wedding of the year?" He tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and winked.

Right, her wedding, another causality of the past twenty-four hours she wasn't ready to talk about. "Well, I am not the mayor's daughter." She smiled, the light not quite touching her eyes. Rayna Whitley, however, was the mayor's daughter, as well as, Cooper's kid sister.

"You okay, Annie?"

"I'm great!" She lied, "never been better."

There was a long pause, in which she waited for him to call her on the lie. But he didn't, and she was grateful. She needed time. Time to process events she still couldn't believe had happened. Time to figure out what to do. How to explain. And with enough time, maybe she just might wake up from this unbelievable nightmare. But she wasn't going to wake up. There was no nightmare. No terrible dream to render herself from, only the reality and gravity that her life had been irrevocably changed.

"Time's up! Now out, Coop!" Millie scolded, reentering the room, saving Emerson from explaining her ruined life...at least for the moment.

"We'll talk later." Cooper kissed her cheek before walking out.

After a few speculative glances from her sister, Emerson had fallen right into place; spending most of the reception helping out anywhere she was needed, while maintaining minimum contact with her sister.

The reception had been held inside of the beautiful, spacious red barn. From the outside, it appeared to be like any other barn, on any other farm. Bright red clap boards with white trim. Just your run of the mill, everyday barn. But stepping inside, guests were transported to a world of elegance. The high polished floors, the twinkling of lights, and master pieces adorning the center of every table. It was a thing of sheer grace. And it was no wonder why Ridge Haven had been named one of _Bridal Magazine's Top Twenty Venues_ in the US. There was one thing her sister couldn't be faulted, and that was attention to detail.

Dinner had been served without a hitch, guests raving over the exquisite food. After half dozen toasts, the happy couple cut the cake, and the band had begun to play. Soon the dance floor would be in full swing. Wiping her hands dry, Emerson tossed the towel on the counter, and polished off a glass of wine. She could use another glass, make that a bottle, but getting toasted at a Ridge Haven wedding wouldn't end well when Millie found out. Nor, was it going to help mend fences.

Walking through the swinging door of the prep-kitchen, Emerson took in the sight of the bride and groom wiping the remaining remnants of cake from their faces. She had to admit, they were adorable together, even if she wanted to hate every happy couple on the planet right now. Not that it was their fault her life had floated down the river without her. That honor went to the one and only scumbag, ex-fiancé, Michael Reitner.

Glancing down, Emerson swiped her hands across the front of her dress, making sure everything was in place, and God forbid she wasn't sporting scraps from the kitchen as she headed for the second floor catwalk. She needed some space from all the smiles and congratulations.

And then it hit her...

Or more like, she hit him.

Standing before her was the most gorgeous specimen of pure male she had ever laid eyes on. His short, sandy blonde hair tousled, his jaw line firm, and he had the most amazing, mesmerizing crystal blue eyes. And then he spoke.

"Hi."

With one simple word, his smooth, sultry voice nearly melted her into a puddle.

# Two

For a long moment, Emerson basked in the glow of the glorious man before her; her bones melting into a warm pool of lust. His chest felt strong beneath her hands...

"Oh, God!" Emerson jumped, pulling her hands back as though they burned. Catching her fall, they had instinctively landed against his chest, except she had been so distracted she nearly forgot to remove them. "I'm so sorry! So, so sorry!"

She hadn't realized she was holding her breath until her words came out in a gasp.

The slow crimson burn, one she could never outrun, blossomed across her chest snaking its way up her neck. It was bad enough red heads burned after ten minutes in the sun, but having every emotion play out across your skin was just cruel and unusual punishment. She tried hard to fight the embarrassment, but it was no use. She was glowing like a vine ripened tomato.

Dropping her gaze, her eyes locked on his empty glass, and then the dark stain against his stark white shirt. "Your drink!" On impulse, she grabbed his arm, pulling him in the direction from whence she had come. "Come with me."

Entering the prep kitchen, she grabbed the towel she had thrown on the counter, quickly dabbing at the dark stain – rum and coke, she guessed.

"Dammit," she cursed the stain. "Take your shirt off, I'll get some club soda."

"Yes ma'am," he arched a brow, and his baby blues seemed to smolder, knocking her off kilter.

Slowly, as though he were auditioning for a seductive role on The Young & The Restless, he pulled the red silk tie loose from his neck before springing free the buttons; one tiny little button at a time.

Oh. Dear. God!

Mesmerized, she watched as he shrugged out of the shirt. His muscles flexing and releasing as working the soft fabric down his arms. It was like watching the opening scene to Wedding Crashers, except he was way hotter than Owen Wilson, and the only wedding she was interesting in crashing was this one.

Her eyes grazed slowly up strong, smooth arms, and then drifted incredulously back down his hard, chiseled torso. White cotton strained against his chest and abs, as the simple white ribbed men's tank top struggled to contain all his glory. Her eyes continued their path down, reaching the silver plated buckle of his belt –

" _Ahem_ ," clearing his throat, Emerson peeled her eyes off his scrumptious body to realize he was holding the shirt out on two fingers, waiting for her to take it; a sinister smile tugging at his lips.

"Right!" she grabbed the shirt.

Turning towards the cabinets, her back to the sexy beast, she wiped at her chin – just in case her drool had made an appearance. Opening cabinet after cabinet, she searched for a bottle of club soda, or anything she could use to help remove the stain. A nice Tide wipe would be handy right about now, but it didn't seem Millie kept those in stock. Finally coming across an unopened bottle of club soda, she headed back across the room. Speechless, she took in the walking cover of _GQ_ ; tall, dark, and handsome leaning against the counter, one foot crossed over the other. He looked like something straight out of the September issue.

A sudden urge to lick every inch of him sent liquid fire running through her body, and pooling deep in her girl parts. Unsure of her control, she approached with caution, as though he were a viper waiting to strike.

Even in heels, Emerson noticed the way her head tilted to meet his eyes – a bonus for a woman who stood flat footed at 5'8". He had to be at least six-two. His blue pools seemed to swirl with diamonds as he arched a brow, appraising her movements. Strong masculine lines ran the length of his jaw, covered with light stubble of a five o'clock shadow, and his lips looked sweet as honey. His bed rumpled hair was just the right length to run her fingers through, and grab hold.

Seemed aside from losing her mind, she had lost control of her jaw too, because it suddenly went lax; her lips parting, panting for air.

Without consent, her mouth opened.

"Hi," her voice sounded foreign, seductive.

A hand flew to her chest, _where the hell had that voice come from_?

"Hi," his deep voice oozed out like liquid gold.

Dear God! Even his voice sent tendrils of excitement down her spine, making her squirm.

_Focus Emerson!_ A small voice sounded from somewhere in the depths of her mind, _Focus!_

Spreading the shirt out over the counter, she began dabbing the club soda over the stain. "This should keep the stain from setting in, but you will want to soak it tonight."

Glancing over her shoulder, she hadn't realized he had moved in so close. She could feel his warm breath brushing over the curve of her exposed neck, and her nipples hardened.

_Breathe,_ her self-reminder seem futile.

"I'm really so sorry about the drink." She smiled apologetically, dabbing harder. Any harder and she was going to rub a hole right through the material.

"No worries. Can I tell you a secret?" He whispered, too close to her ear.

Her body shivered. If that secret had anything to do with him taking her right here on the counter, she was indeed interested in all his secrets. Her own secret, naughty thoughts of his mouth on her intimate parts were causing her voice to get stuck in her throat. She simply nodded like a bobble head in reply.

God, had she ever been this effected by a man?

"I was really looking for an excuse to get out of here. You just saved me." He winked one of those beautiful blue eyes, and she nearly fainted at the innuendo.

Dropping her left hand out of sight, she spun the meaningless diamond, tucking it against her palm. Mentally berating herself for not taking the damn thing off. She had worn it, rationalizing that she needed time to think, to come up with an explanation of why there would be no wedding, but standing so close to _Mr. September_ , she wanted to chuck the damn thing into the North Toe River.

"You don't like weddings?" She asked, trying to distract herself from his close proximity.

"I like beautiful women at weddings."

She would have sworn his body leaned closer if her bones hadn't been too busy melting into a pool of uselessness. She was back to thinking about his _secrets,_ especially the one she could see pressing against the smooth black fabric of his pants.

Maybe that was the answer? Maybe all she needed to cure her problem was some good ole fashion hot, dirty sex with a guest at a wedding? It always worked in the movies and he was hotter than Bradley Cooper on any day.

_Who are you_?, she thought wildly. She wasn't the type to sleep with a perfect stranger, or not sleep as it were.

Just then, the door flung open. Millie stopped dead in her tracks. Emerson knew what she saw, and as far as her sister was concerned, she was still engaged.

"Emerson? What...is everything okay?" Millie's cold glare ran over the sex god standing beside her; clearly Millie wasn't appreciating the heat radiating off of her shirtless wonder.

"Yep, everything's great."

And she was great, fantastic to be exact! Right up to the moment she felt a big, strong hand press gently to the small of her back, and she nearly lost her cool. Electricity lit her up like the Fourth of July.

"Thank you, Emerson." He reached for the shirt, letting his hand drift across her back, sending a blazing trail across her skin.

And then he was gone.

"What the hell was that?" Millie gestured to the counter where the stained shirt had been, "And _who_ the hell was he?"

She hadn't missed the emphasis on the " _who."_ Millie may have given him an ice cold stare, but she hadn't escaped his lure. She wasn't even close to using her _"mama bear"_ voice now that he was gone.

Emerson shook her head, "I don't have a clue on the " _who"_ , but the " _what"_ is one gorgeous specimen of the male species."

"Says the engaged woman?" Millie's eyes rolled.

Right, for the moment, she was still the doe-eyed bride-to-be. She could have fessed up to the truth, but this was hardly the time. Nor was she interested in ruining the after effects of being so close to...

Gees, why hadn't she asked him his name?

_Because his closeness turned you into a drooling teenage girl,_ her subconscious scolded.

Once again, she felt the blush bloom across her cheeks when Millie just stared at her. "Hey, I can't help I have eyes, and apparently, neither can you."

"Yes, but I am not engaged. I can look. So what were you doing in here with said gorgeous specimen anyway?" Millie may have been acting put off, but it was just that, an act. Emerson smiled to herself.

Good thing she was already blushing, because it was about to get worse. "I ran into him...literally."

Millie lost the pissed pretense, and laughed, "What do you mean you ran into him?" she snorted, "Like ran, _ran_ into him?"

"Yes, like _ran_ ran into him. As in, I made him spill his drink down his shirt, so I brought him in here to get him cleaned up." She gestured to the open bottle of club soda on the cabinet. "And, so not funny."

"I will have to remember that, next time I want to get a hot man half-naked at a wedding." Millie swiped a finger under each eye, wiping away the tears of her laughter.

Emerson couldn't remember the last time she had seen her sister truly laugh.

Still holding the towel in her hand, twenty minutes later Emerson stood on the second floor catwalk looking out over the party. She had been headed up here to get a moment to herself, prior to her little glorious mishap, but now she found herself here for a new reason. Peering out over the crowd of laughter, she searched for her mysterious stranger, with no avail.

She supposed he wasn't kidding about the excuse to leave, and wasn't that just a shame. She would have given serious thought to spilling an entire bottle of wine on him, if it would get him out of the rest of his clothes.

Clearly, she had lost her mind; the events of her life sucking any intelligence right out of her mind. She didn't even know the man's name, and here she was fantasizing about getting him naked.

"Quite the show, huh?" Cooper's familiar voice interrupted her daydream.

"Yeah, it is!" Of course, she had enjoyed her private viewing in the kitchen a helluva lot better. "Rayna looks stunning, not that she doesn't always. And your mom, she's absolutely glowing. I am sure she is already dreaming up grandkids."

"Mom's pretty sure Rayna's her only hope, since I have no plans to settle down." Cooper laughed.

Cooper loved his playboy status far too much to consider being a one woman show. She had to admit he was a very attractive man. He kept his body lean and fit. His dark hair and tan skin were a girls dream, but it was his smile, and the pure kindness behind them that kept his harem coming back. Although, she couldn't see him as the sex god every other woman thought he was; never had. To her, he would always just be Cooper. All the other girls in town, however, would line up down the block for a chance to date him.

"Maybe you have the right idea, you know?" She mumbled, staring out over the crowd, giving up on finding _Mr. Mysterious GQ_.

"What's that...did you just say I was right about something? That's a first, you feelin' okay?" He laughed, nudging her with his elbow.

"Oh stop! There's a first time for everything!"

"So what's this I am right about anyway? I want to hear more about that." Lounging against the railing, he flashed a wicked smile.

"The not settling down part...maybe it's not all it's cracked up to be." She felt the last of her adrenaline from her kitchen escapades drain from her body.

"How much have you had to drink?" Cooper straightened from the railing.

"Not nearly enough."

She was fighting the tears back for all she was worth when she felt Cooper wrap his arms around her, pulling her into his chest.

"What's going on, Annie?" His voice was soft, but serious.

"Oh nothing," she tried to wave him off, but a damn tear escaped, rolling its way down her face. Cooper hadn't missed it, his thumb swiping at the streak.

"Please tell me this is just some ' _girls get emotional at weddings'_ kind of thing?" She could hear the worry, even as he tried to play it cool. "Although, I have to tell you, I'm pretty sure you have it all backwards. Aren't you supposed to get all gushy and romantic, you know like that crap in _Cosmo_?"

This sobered her up a bit.

"What the hell do you know about _Cosmo_?" She laughed, genuinely, at the thought of him reading " _Top Five Ways to Please Your Man"._

"Hey, chicks worship that thing like the _Bible_! I'm a damn genius for reading it." His voice floated with a bit of defensiveness.

"Is this some secret man thing, stealing your girlfriend's magazines, trying to get the inside scoop on women?" Not that she would admit it to him, but it really was genius. Maybe more men should try it, because it seemed to be doing wonders for Cooper, and his sex life.

"Maybe?" He shrugged, "Now, what's going on with you?"

"I don't think this is the place for that conversation." She glanced over as a few guests meandered up the steps to the catwalk.

"Come on, we're getting out of here."

Before she could protest, Cooper grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the door at the far end of the cat walk. Opening it, they descended the steps of the emergency exit, dumping them by the back door of the kitchen. And before anyone could notice, they disappeared into the crisp night air.

# Three

Thirty minutes later, Cooper pulled his truck into the lot outside Oliver's Tavern.

Low lighting, and dark cherry wood gave the bar a true tavern feel. Flat screens lined the wall above the bar; displaying any type of sport one could want, with a few additional flat screens hung in the opposite corners. It was the perfect cave for anyone of the male gender.

It was also the only bar in Spruce Pine, so the competition was pretty low. Oli's kept all the common domestic beers on tap, and offered a wide variety of imports and micro brews, while still catering to the women with fruity cocktails, and wine. The bar itself was lined with stools, surrounded by high top tables, while the outer wall was lined with booths.

Strolling through the entrance, Cooper wrapped his arm around Emerson's shoulders, leading her to the furthest booth in the back, nodding at the bartender as they passed. Urging her into the seat facing the back wall, Emerson was grateful he could sense the need for some privacy. She was even more grateful that half the town was still up at Ridge Haven. A typical Saturday night would have had Oli's packed at this hour, but thanks to Rayna's wedding, there were only a dozen or so people seated at the bar, and few tables occupied.

"What'll it be?" Cooper asked without sitting.

Knowing wine wasn't going to cut this mood, she went straight for the hard stuff, "vodka collins, please"

"Coming right up," he stalked off to the bar.

Left alone, she pulled out her phone to let Millie know she had bailed. Bringing the screen to life she opened her text messages, and immediately wished she hadn't. There, written across her phone, was a simple message from Michael.

We need to talk, call me. Please

For what felt like the thousandth time that day Emerson hit delete and tossed the phone onto the table, her head pounding.

Was he serious?

The only conversation she was interested in having involved his head, and a baseball bat.

Taking in a deep breath she tried to calm her nerves. She had made the right decision coming here; at least, she was ninety percent sure it had been the right decision. After nearly a decade of building her world around Michael, topped off with the past twenty-four hours of hell, she needed space to think. And she couldn't do that in New York; a city that held too many memories of them together.

One-thousand four-hundred and forty minutes of agonizing hell and she could barely process what had come of her life. But even worse was her latest, most terrifying epiphany. She had no idea who she was without him. Her grandmother's favorite euphemism, " _Don't put all your eggs in one basket, honey"_ had bounced around her head some many times she could think straight.

She had done worse than that. Not only had she put all her eggs in one basket, but she had handed that basket over willingly to the Big Bad Wolf and built her house of straw. But there had been no huffing and puffing, and blowing her house down. No, he had simply lit a match. Everything she had ever worked for had gone up in flames, without a single hope of rebuilding.

And speaking of rebuilding, there was the other "small" problem. Millie.

For the last half of her life, Emerson had struggled with her relationship with her sister. They had been close, once upon a time, but those memories had grown so distant. A time that felt more like a fairy tale than reality. But losing everything you had built in life had a way of changing a person's perspective.

Emerson wished it was one of those cases where neither party could even remember what they were fighting about, but unfortunately for her, she knew all too well what had caused the rift between them. But that was going to change. On the cusp of her thirtieth birthday, Emerson was determined they wouldn't spend the rest of their lives battling over who could be more stubborn.

She was throwing in the towel.

Done.

Over it.

Too much time had already been lost to useless fighting. It was time they put the past behind them, and move on. Now, all she needed was a miracle to make it happen.

A moment later, Cooper sat a tall glass down in front of her, sliding into the opposite side of the booth. Taking a draw of his beer, he swallowed hard before starting in. "What the hell is going on Annie? Are you having second thoughts?"

She had always loved his lack of pleasantries, and ability to cut to the chase, but this is one time she could have used a little small talk first. Taking a long drink – stalling as long as possible – she felt the vodka spread a warm feeling across her belly, her nerves easing. His gaze, on the other hand, was burning a hole right through her.

"Do you remember when we were young, and thought thirty was old?" she sounded like a worn country song. His brow furrowed, but she continued on, "anyway, you remember how I made you promise if we weren't married by the time I was thirty, that we'd get hitched?"

Cooper laughed into his beer. "I just agreed to shut you up."

Draining the glass, she let the words slip out. "Well, see...I might need you to actually make good on that promise."

Several emotions crossed his face before landing on confusion, "You call it off with Michael?"

"Yeah....you could say that!" She swallowed the last drop of vodka, wishing for more.

Twirling the empty glass, she watched as it made tiny wet circles on the polyurethane table. She didn't want to go through this. What she really wanted was to pretend the whole thing had never existed, but there was no going back now.

"You care to elaborate on that?" His gentle hands rested atop hers.

When she finally mustered enough courage to look up, his expression had changed from one of confusion to concern. She could see the questions lingering behind the hard set of his caramel eyes, but he was waiting patiently. He knew something big was brewing, and he wasn't leaving until she told him everything.

"I think I need another drink first."

Sliding to the edge of the booth, for a better view of the bar, Cooper raised a hand to grab the attention of the bartender. Without a word he flashed two fingers, and then nodded in approval. She had recognized the bartender as Clay Starnes. He had graduated high school the same year as Cooper, but she hadn't seen him since. He had changed quite a bit over the years, and from where she sat it was for the better.

They sat in silence for a few long minutes until the second round appeared at the table. Cooper thanked Clay for the drinks, and then slid back against the side wall, placing his feet, ankles crossed, lengthwise in his booth. He was settling in for the long haul.

"You were saying?" He tipped his beer in her direction.

"What can I say? I decided that after I caught him in my bed with his assistant it probably wasn't going to work out after all." She aimed for nonchalance, but she could hear the crack in her voice.

"Jesus Christ, Emerson! When?"

"You haven't called me Emerson in...hell, I can't even remember," a weak smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.

"Don't even try it. You can't drop a bomb like that, and then just change the subject. When did this happen?" Fury poured off of him in waves.

"Twenty-four hours ago, give or take a few hours." She shrugged, like it hadn't collapsed her entire world. It was twenty-nine hours and three minutes ago, to be exact.

Cooper just stared at her as though she had suddenly grown a third eye. She couldn't blame him; she hadn't seen it coming either. She had gone from being on top of the world, weeks from walking down the aisle, getting her big break in her career, to homeless, and empty.

She could have kicked Michael out, made him find a place to stay, but the thought of sleeping in a bed, or even the same apartment she had caught him screwing another woman in made her stomach turn. So she had left. Quick.

Taking another long drink, she felt the liquid turn to courage, giving her just enough strength to let the words flow.

She still wasn't quite sure how things had ended up where they had. One minute she had been in her boss's office, celebrating the largest client she had landed for her interior design firm, SkyView Inc. The McAllister account would be the grandest and by far priciest commission she had ever worked on. It was a dream come true. The pinnacle of her career. The account that would hopefully launch her into a position of partnership with the firm. Interior design had been all she's ever dreamed about, and now it was all coming true. Everything she had worked for, all the long hours over the past eight years culminating into the mother of all designs. And then she had gone home.

She had left the office early, ready to celebrate with a tall glass of wine and her garden tub while she waited for Michael to get off work. Calling his office on the cab ride over, wanting to spread the good news, the receptionist had informed her he was out to a meeting and wasn't expected back until later that afternoon. Knowing he wouldn't be available via cell phone, she shot him a quick text that she had exciting news, and decided she would have to settle for celebrating solo a few more hours. What she hadn't counted on was Michael's meeting being held in her bedroom, between the annoying long, slender legs of his assistant.

There are those moments in movies, the ones where the girl just stands there like a fool while you scream at the screen for her to move, to run, to do anything. But she doesn't move. She just stands, stunned, like a deer in headlights waiting for the impact. Only this time it was real life and the only voice screaming for Emerson to run was the voice deep in the back of her mind, telling her to run and not look back. But she couldn't listen to the voice. She was frozen, buried beneath the rubble as the years came crashing down around her.

And then her keys had slipped from her hand.

The loud clank of metal hitting the hardwood floors sounding out like a gun shot in the dead of night, paralyzing every muscle in the room for a fraction of a second, before the blinding flurry of movement commenced. Somewhere in the chaos of sheets and body parts flying about the room, Emerson's brain kicked in. Snatching her keys from the floor, she broke for the apartment door. Barreling into the hallway, she hadn't risked waiting on the elevator – it would only take Michael seconds to get dressed and be out in the hall – instead she had hit the stairwell. Descending the steps as though the building was on fire, she managed all eleven floors before she even glanced back to see if anyone had followed. The roar of blood pounding in her ears made it next to impossible to hear footsteps, but there didn't seem to be any sign of Michael. Trying her best to pull herself together, Emerson ducked her head and worked her way through the building's lobby.

Stepping foot on the crowded Upper West Side streets, she began to walk with determination. She needed away, far away, but the only problem was everything she owned was hulled up in that apartment. Unable to confront Michael, or the nightmare that had been taking place in her bed, Emerson made a quick plan. It wasn't the best, or maybe even the most mature, but given the situation it was the best she had.

Darting across the busy street, she entered the small park situated across from her building. Hidden from plain sight, she propped herself on the back of a bench and waited. Forty-five excruciating minutes later, she watched as Michael and then his assistant exited the building. Hailing a cab, Michael opened the door like a perfect gentleman, on an ordinary day, as though he had not just destroyed her world. Knowing she had little time to get in and out before he would come back, she sprinted back across the street.

"I just grabbed what I could sling into the first bags I got my hands on, and here I am..." she let the words trail off.

Somewhere in the conversation, Cooper's feet had slid back to the floor, and he was leaning very intently on the table, hands clasped so tight around his beer she wasn't sure how the bottle hadn't shattered. His knuckles were white and his eyes burned with vehemence.

She took another drink, thankful the alcohol was doing its job. "I really loved that bed, too."

"I think the bed is the least of the problem here," Cooper's voice was tight, clipped.

She tried to recount a time when she had seen Cooper so angry, so full of hate, but nothing was coming to mind. His eyes burned with a fury so bright, even she wanted to crouch back away from him.

Cooper leaned against the backrest of the booth, polishing off the beer. Had she ever seen him this speechless before? He always had something to say. Of course, normally he wasn't much for the heavy conversations, but she couldn't believe he hadn't said anything.

Glancing away, her voice was so soft, she wasn't sure he would hear her, "say something, please?"

A minute passed with no response. Deciding he hadn't heard her, she opened her mouth to speak when he cut her off. "Christ Annie, what the hell am I supposed to say to that? All I can think is that I want to kill the fucker!"

* * *

Preston White wasn't much for weddings. All the over the top romance and wasted money wasn't his cup of tea, but he had gone out of respect for Cooper's family. The only saving grace was nothing turned women on more than a man in a suit and the idea of marriage. It was a killer combination.

And Rayna's wedding had plenty to offer in the female companion variety, but there had only been one woman he couldn't take his eyes off of. He had caught sight of her amber waves, and her swanky black dress the moment she entered the room. She was breathtakingly beautiful, and he watched as she darted between the reception, and what appeared to be an employee area. She wasn't dressed like a caterer, but she was clearly no ordinary guest.

The plan had been simple. He would work his way across the room, and wait by the door until she reappeared. Then, all he would need to do was put himself in her path, and the rest would be history. And that is exactly what he had done, except she hadn't looked up, and nor had he stopped her from plowing into him, full force.

He had intended to say something, honestly he had, but it had been too easy to just stand there, and watch her walk right into his chest. Her emerald green eyes flashed in surprise, and then the sexiest little blush had begun to glow, snaking its way up her creamy skin.

But what had surprised him most was the current jolting through his hand as she led him to a prep kitchen. Her smooth skin had felt soft and delicate, sexy. Not wanting to break the connection, he had allowed himself to be pulled along. Not to mention he really wanted to watch her perfect hips swaying beneath that little black dress as she led him through the back. And then she had asked him to strip, an idea he could definitely get on board with.

Watching her riffle through cabinets had given him the perfect opportunity to check out the rest of the package. The fluid way her long, smooth legs carried her around the room, practically begged to be touched. The soft curve of her neck, exposed by her hair piled in loose curls at the nape of her neck, his lips longed to kiss. And then she faced him, and he couldn't take his eyes off of the two creamy swells, peaking from beneath the plunging neckline of her dress. His lips twitched for a taste of her sweet skin. And just as a montage of all the ways he wanted to please her began to flicker through his mind, they were interrupted.

By one pissed off looking wedding planner, who had been a total buzz kill.

He had been so close; he could see it in her emerald eyes. Less than five minutes and he would have had her out the door. And he had needed it, the feel of a soft, warm woman wrapped beneath him. It was the first time, since arriving in Spruce Pine, that he had felt such a pull to one woman.

Sprawled out across his queen size bed, Preston pushed the thoughts of the stunning redhead aside and waited for sleep to take over. To his dismay, his phone buzzed against the nightstand at an incoming text from his old college friend and roommate, Cooper.

Preston had met Cooper their freshmen year when they were assigned to the same dorm suite. By summer, along with two other guys, they had signed a lease on their first college apartment. It had been a dump, but it was theirs. No more RAs or being kicked out over breaks. By their senior year, they had dropped a roommate, and upgraded to a decent townhouse. And then, a month ago, after Preston's cushy life had taken a turn for the ugly, Cooper had extended him an invitation he couldn't refuse. An escape.

The bright light of the screen lit up the darkened bedroom, nearly blinding him as he read the text.

ride man, you up? Oli's

If it were possible to slur drunkenly through a text, Cooper had just managed. Grumbling, Preston rolled out of bed, slipping into a pair of low slung, faded jeans and grabbed a t-shirt from the growing pile by his closet.

Walking into the bar, Preston took in the scene around him, and shook his head. The bar was crowed, filled with guests he recognized from the wedding. The reception had clearly moved down the mountain for the duration of the night. The scene seemed normal enough...if you ignored the feisty female Cooper was attempting to wrangle from dancing in a chair. At sight no one was missing.

Grabbing the woman from the chair, Cooper slung her over his shoulder and headed for the door. "Time to go, cowgirl."

"Oh, hell no!" Preston barked as Cooper approached, feet dangling in his face. He wasn't in the mood for one of Cooper's drunken women creating havoc in his brand new Jeep, but Cooper just stormed past him, and headed out the door.

Following in his footsteps, Preston was about to protest even further when the head bobbing over Cooper's shoulder looked up. And his step faltered.

"Well, hello there, Mr. Mysterious. Didn't reckon I'd be seeing the likes of you again tonight."

# Four

She had changed out of that slinky, fantastic black dress that showed just the right amount of cleavage, but there was no mistaking the redhead dangling in Cooper's hold, or the pang of jealousy hitting his gut. Preston had debated hanging around the wedding, but then he had been covered in coke and club soda. And based on the ice radiating from her boss, he wasn't exactly sure how much trouble he had caused for the hot little redhead.

"Don't you think this one is a little too far gone?" Preston called out as he followed Cooper through the parking lot.

"What? She had a bad night. She'll be fine in the morning." Cooper kept walking.

Preston trailed behind, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in his chest; a tightness he couldn't quite explain. Sure, he had hoped the night would end a little differently, but it was never a sure bet, so why the hell was he jealous?

"A little help here?" Cooper called from the passenger door. With a sigh, Preston pulled out his keys and hit unlock.

"Coop, why didn't you tell me you had such a hot – hey, ouch!" Her sweet voice was cut off when Cooper, not so gently, tossed her into the front seat and closed the door.

"What did she mean, see you again tonight?" Cooper turned back to face him.

"Nothing, we ran into each other at the wedding." _And I was this close to sealing the deal,_ he let the thought drop.

"Ohhhhhh, boyssss!" Both men turned just in time to see a very drunk Emerson fall out of his Jeep.

"Jesus, Annie." Cooper bent down to scoop her up, but he lost his balance, landing flat on his ass.

"Okay, time to go sweetheart, back in the jeep." Preston recognized the name from most of Cooper's childhood stories; the elusive friend in New York.

Scooping her from the ground, cradling her against his chest, Preston lifted her back into the front seat. Praying to God she didn't hurl all over his freshly cleaned dash. He had barely made the first payment, and the last thing he wanted was some drunk chick – hot as she may be –christening his new baby for him. Hell, he could think of a few ways he would like to christen the jeep with her, but losing her stomach wasn't even close to being on the list.

Grabbing the seatbelt, he stretched across her lap to lock her in place when a curtain of amber waves blocked his view. Searching the dark for the latch, he felt her warm breath graze his neck.

"Mmmm, you smell fantastic, and you look good enough to eat," she nuzzled into him.

He felt the smooth dampness of her tongue glide across his skin, and then a slight sting of pain when she nipped at his ear lobe, a little too hard. Pulling back, he caught her pout just before closing the door.

"That's Annie, the one you always talked about?" Preston asked, not mentioning the way they had put a new meaning to heat in the kitchen.

"That's the one."

"Huh?"

"What?" Cooper cut a hard look at him.

"Nothing, I just thought she said her name was Emerson." At least, that had been the name the wedding planner had used.

Pulling up to an old farm house, Preston left Cooper laid out across the back seat, barely conscious, and carried Emerson to the door. He had searched, and failed to find any keys on her. Left with no option, he hit the bell.

And waited.

When no one came, he grumbled to himself, and hit the bell a few more times. Cooper had said it was her old man's farm, but there was no sign of movement. A minute later the porch light flickered to life, as older gentleman with a shot gun opened the door.

"What'd ya do to her?" The man pointed the gun straight at his head.

"I didn't," he looked down at Emerson, and then back to the jeep where Cooper threw a hand up, "he did."

If they had been the childhood friends Cooper claimed then man was bound to recognize Cooper...if he could see that far.

Skipping the pleasantries neither man cared for, Preston followed her father's directions and climbed the stairs. Entering the first room on the right, he took in the sight of posters taped to the wall and could help but notice it looked like a teenage girl still lived in the room. A teenage girl stuck in the late 90's that was.

Laying Emerson across the bed, he grabbed a quilt, and pulled it up over her. She let out a sweet little moan that trickled down his spine, and snuggled into the pillow mumbling something incoherent. Without realizing it, Preston sat on the side of the bed, brushing a soft tendril from her face. She was beautiful, extraordinarily. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled up at him.

"Mmmm, you're in my bed."

"And you're drunk." He added.

"Not too drunk." Lifting up on her elbow, she reached out and grabbed him by the shirt. It was a jack ass thing to do, but he let himself be pulled down on top of her. "That's better." She sighed.

"You should sleep." He laughed.

"You should kiss me."

Preston froze. God help him, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to do all sorts of dirty little things to her, but she was drunk. Not to mention, any minute that shot gun was likely to make an appearance through the bedroom door. He meant to pull back, but then she batted those long lashes, and he lost all self-control. He could give her one quick kiss, just to appease her, that was all he has meant to do. But then she had locked her fingers in his hair and pulled him in tight; her lips crushing against his with the force of a tidal wave.

She tasted sweeter than honey.

Her lips parted, and his tongue caressed hers, ripping a moan from her chest.

Instantly, he pulled back, breaking the connection.

"Damn sex god" she practically moaned.

He needed to walk away. Now.

* * *

Emerson woke to the pounding of a jack hammer against her skull, and the sun way too high in the sky for it to still be morning. Unable to shut off the little guy chipping away at her skull, she focused on the room she was in. It was her room. The one she had grown up in anyway. Trying to clear the fog from her mind, she racked her brain for any memory beyond the bar last night.

Nothing. "Dammit."

Last she could remember, Cooper had ordered the third round. It had seemed like a great idea at the time. Of course, drinking too much always seemed like a good idea when your life had fallen off a cliff and was drowning in the abyss.

There are two types of drunken idiocy; the one where you remember every embarrassing moment, and don't show your face in the light of day for a few weeks, and then there are those who live in the dark, never knowing what exactly happened after the "fun" began.

She was in the dark. Always pitch black.

For once, couldn't she be the one who remembered? No, she had to be the one completely clueless. Like a black hole had sucked her in, only to spit her out hours later, feeling crappy, and completely blank of the previous twelve hours. Last night was just one more item to add to the growing list of _"Things I Wish I Never Did."_

Throwing the covers off, it was time to face the music, and whatever disaster she had managed to create in her drunken stupor. Pushing herself up right, she slid her feet off the bed, and stretched her cramped body. Now, that wasn't so bad...except the moment her feet hit the floor the room spun violently and she nearly lost her stomach; there was no way she was standing anytime soon. Time for Plan B, crawl back in bed and hibernate through winter, avoiding all human contact.

It was a logical plan, until there was a soft tap at the door. Deciding _facing the music_ was overrated; she threw the covers back over her head, and hid under her pillow.

_Just lay still and they will go away,_ she thought to herself.

And for a second she believed the power of suggestion had worked. Except then she heard the door squeak as it was pushed slowly open.

"Rise and shine!" Millie's voice sounded through the room. Christ! Did she have to be so loud? "Come on Emmy, I have coffee. Plus I know you are not asleep, you quit snoring."

She lay very still, keeping her breathing even, hoping like hell her sister would just go away.

"Fine, you can hide, but sooner or later you are going to have to explain the table dancing, and why some random guy carried you to bed last night."

The moment the words registered in her ear, Emerson gave Millie the response she had been looking for. In a rush, she flung the pillow from her head, landing it on the floor and sat up straight in the bed. "Oh God, please no! No, no, no!"

"Yep, sounds like Oli's had quite the show last night!" Millie busied herself, opening the curtains. She was too pleased to be lying.

Sunlight streamed in the windows, almost blinding Emerson, and definitely not helping in the headache department. She had heard Millie mention coffee, but it wasn't in her sister's hand. She needed caffeine. ASAP! Spotting the steaming cup from the Roasted Bean Coffee House – a local coffee shop – she scrambled across the bed to reach it. It smelled delicious and tasted even better. Liquid Heaven.

Leaning to set the cup back on the nightstand, she noticed the small bottle of pain reliever, and a glass of water. She groaned inwardly, seemed Millie hadn't lost her mothering touch after all.

When Emerson was fifteen, she had learned her hardest lesson in life; loss was a cruel and painful enterprise. Their mother had gone to visit their Aunt Ruby, and never returned. Ruby Montgomery hadn't really been her aunt, not by blood anyway, but she had been a huge part of Emerson's childhood and her mother's best friend. The moment Marie Grey had met Ruby they had been instant friends, inseparable. Nothing had come between the two women over the years, not even Ruby's decision to marry a boy from the next valley over, and moved away to be with him.

It was a relatively short drive from Spruce Pine over to Micahville, and once a week Marie drove over the mountain to visit her dear friend. Marie had been young and vibrant, a world class mother. An early fog had fallen over the mountain, blanketing the roads in a dense mist, when a drunk driver made a decision to get behind the wheel of his truck. With his slow response time, and nowhere for her mother to go, they had collided head on. There had been no escaping her sudden death. In that single instant, _in the blink of an eye,_ Emerson's life had been changed forever.

The teenage years were hardly a walk in the park for the average girl, but added to the loss of a mother, Emerson had become almost unbearable. She was angry with the world. Angry with her mother; if only she had waited five more minutes to leave, maybe she would still be here. She was filled with hatred; loathing the man who walked away with barely a scratch, and disappointed in God for allowing a terrible thing to happen. All that hatred and anger had rolled into one big ball of selfish decisions. Decisions that would take her far away from the home she had always known.

In the months following their mother's death, their father hadn't known what to do with Emerson, and so her sister had stepped in, trying to fill their mom's shoes. But Emerson hadn't wanted a replacement, she had wanted her mom. The more Millie pushed, the more distant Emerson became. There was only one person who had reached through her darkest hours, and that had been Cooper. He was the strength she needed, without ever pushing. He was her rock. She owed him her life, and it had pissed Millie off.

The year her sister left for college, Emerson had finally felt like she could breathe again. There was no one constantly staring over her shoulder, judging her every move. Her grades had begun to rise, and her life seemed to be taking a turn for the better. And then the greatest thing happened. In early March, Emerson had been handed a golden ticket, in the form of a volleyball scholarship, to Syracuse University. New York had never sounded better. The further she was from her one-horse hometown, the further she was from the _"bless her heart, she just ain't been right since her poor momma died."_

When she had met Michael, Emerson thought her world had been complete. For the first time in years, her heart no longer hurt. She was young, and in love, and the world was a perfect place. Life couldn't have been better. After moving with Michael to the city, Emerson had submersed herself in his world. She had met, and fell in love with his family. They were functional, normal, exactly what her world had been before her mother died. Longing for that feeling of normalcy once more, Emerson clung to their wholeness. And for the first time, in a very long time, her life had felt right. Well, until Michael had ripped her heart out two days ago.

In that moment, when her world stopped spinning, Emerson had the most terrifying revelation. She had woven herself so tight in Michael's world that she no longer had a life of her own. And so she had come home with two goals in mind; find herself again, and make amends with her sister.

"Awe, look at you being all sweet," picking up the bottle, Emerson had to force herself to stop the next snide comment from rolling off her tongue. She was ready to make this right. She shook the bottle lightly before opening it. "Thank you, you always knew exactly what I needed."

"Oh, I only brought the coffee sweetie, those aren't from me." The compliment was lost. "You can thank your mystery ride, if you even know who he is?"

Choking on the water, Emerson looked up at her sister's amused face. "What do you mean? It wasn't Cooper?"

"Nope."

"Oh God!" What had she done?

Millie couldn't help but laugh at the panic she saw on her sister's face.

"Stop laughing, this isn't funny!" Emerson fell back against the bed, pulling the pillow over her head. Maybe she could just smother herself now and never have to face the world again. Then she was coming back to haunt Cooper's sorry ass until the end of time. Some friend he was. He was supposed to be taking care of her, not letting her get wasted and leave with strangers. Men. Bunch of untrustworthy lot they are.

Millie pulled the pillow from her face and proceeded to ruin her mood even further. "Well, Daddy told me this morning at church that some stranger brought you home last night. Apparently you were three sheets to the wind, so he had to ring the bell a few times before daddy let him in; holding a shot gun, of course. Introduced hisself as a friend of Cooper's, and asked where your room was. My, how I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation." Clearly, Millie was finding this a helluva lot funnier than she was. "Anyway, Daddy said he carried you up stairs, and was back a few minutes later, said goodnight and then was off. As for the table dancing, well half the church was talking about that."

Maybe she would just go back to New York right now, "I'm going to kill Cooper!" Lying across the bed, she closed her eyes, trying to ease the hot pokers behind her eyes. "You know church is supposed to be more worshiping, and less about whispering, right?"

"It's a small town; you know we like to talk, especially when there is a hot new guy in town...and table dancing."

"For crissakes, I wasn't table dancing." Honestly she didn't have a clue what she had done, but it didn't sound like something Cooper would have let her do.

Would he?

God, how she knew people in Spruce Pine liked to talk; gossip was about as common as mosquitos in these parts. Desperate to clear her mind, she stood from the bed, which thanks to the coffee went much better the second time around, and headed for the bathroom.

"I need a hot shower."

Some time, and a lot of hot water later Emerson opened the bathroom door, letting out the stream. She had stood under the hot spray until the water ran cold, but it had done the trick, she was actually beginning to feel human. Throwing on a pair of jeans and a camisole, she went to the closet and pulled out an old long sleeve flannel.

Heading down the steps, and around to the dining room, Emerson saw her father seated at the head of the table, well, more like she saw the Sunday paper he was holding out in front of his face. Her father was a hardworking man; operating one of the largest Christmas tree farms in western North Carolina. Their farm alone would supply thousands of trees to families in North Carolina, Virginia, and Tennessee. It was a business that took a lot of land and years to develop, one that had been passed down through the generations. Her father being the only son of her grandparents was naturally the heir to the family business, and he had built quite a name for the family business. In a few short months, vendors would come from all over to load their trailers, hauling the trees back to their stands to be sold. Not to mention the numerous local families who would come to select their very own tree growing amongst the hills. It was quite the operation that took a lot of man hours to pull off, but she had loved growing up amongst the trees. It was home. And it felt good to be back, even if it was just for a short time.

Turning the page of the newspaper, her father caught sight of her entering the dining room. "Well I'll be, if it isn't my favorite daughter! How are ya sunshine? Come give your old man a hug."

Smiling at the warm welcome, she padded over, and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Latching on tight, she caught Millie rolling her eyes through the doorway to the kitchen.

"Hi Daddy!" She gave her father a quick kiss on the cheek, and took a seat at the table next to him.

"You plan on making it a habit to have strangers carrying you home?" Her father had always been blunt, that was for sure.

"Sorry about that Daddy, I guess I got a little carried away." She could feel the red burn crawling up her chest to her cheeks. No matter how old she was, she still felt like the errant teenager she had once been.

"Well you're a grown woman, ain't much I can do about that, now is there? You just be careful, ya hear?" Opening his newspaper, he went back to reading.

Just then Millie brought a plate and sat it in front of their father. He grumbled under his breath something about _"being healthy takes all the flavor out"_ , but that didn't seem to stop him from taking a big bite of the turkey sandwich. Much to her surprise, Millie returned with two more plates, sitting one down in front of her, and the other at an empty place across the table. She watched as her sister returned to the kitchen once more, reappearing a moment later with three glasses of sweet tea.

"Thanks Mil, it looks delicious." She smiled sweetly at her big sis.

"So when do you head back up?" Millie asked, bluntly.

_Let the games begin,_ Emerson trapped the errant thought before it could escape out of her mouth. "A few weeks, give or take a day." She felt two sets of eyes lock onto her. "What? Can't I visit?"

Millie's eyes hardened, "You don't visit. What's gotten into you? Are you in some kind of trouble? Shouldn't you be saving your time for your wedding and honeymoon?"

Right, her wedding, "About that..." aside from their turbulent relationship, and against her better judgment, Emerson had wanted nothing more than to be married on the family farm. "I actually need to talk to you both. Looks like there won't be a wedding after all..."

"What do you mean? Is this another one of your running off at the last minute schemes? You know I have employees to pay, right?"

In the millisecond it took Millie's temper to flare, Emerson realized how familiar her behavior must seem. This wasn't exactly the first time she had gone to drastic measures. "I'm not running off. It seems Michael had a little misunderstanding of the word _monogamous_." Emerson continued her story, sparing her father the details.

Steven Grey was silent for a moment, and then reached out, patting her arm. "Doors always open sweetheart. You're welcome to stay as long as you want."

"Thanks Daddy!" Turning to Millie, she braced herself. Broaching the next topic of conversation wasn't going to be any easier, but there was only one way to get started, jump in head first. "And I thought maybe while I was in town, I could help you out up at The Ridge?"

Millie's face contorted through a series of painful expressions before finally landing on shock. "You want to work for me? At The Ridge?"

She wanted to restore the relationship she once had with her sister, but she wasn't sure she would call it working for her, "Well, help out anyway, just until my next project starts, then I'll be leaving. I actually just landed a pretty big account, my biggest thus far. If all goes well, this could earn me a shot at partnership."

Filling her family in on her career news, Emerson felt a tiny seed of hope sprout from the darkness. She could do this. She could fix things with Millie; close the gap that had separated them for years. And she could work on the design layout from her laptop, so it wouldn't matter if she were in New York or not. Her clients wouldn't be back in the states for two weeks, which would buy her sometime to figure out what to do when she got back to the city.

# Five

Driving through a dense fog on mountain roads at 6:30 AM had not been Emerson's idea of rebuilding her relationship with her sister.

First, she had been startled awake by the blaring alarm on her phone – a rather abrupt ending to a really great dream of her mysterious wedding guest. Secondly, she was technically on vacation. Maybe it was a vacation from life, but a vacation nonetheless, so why the hell she was awake at this hour, on a Monday morning, was beyond her. There was something seriously wrong with this picture. And lastly, the fog bank was so thick she could hardly see fifteen feet in front of her. She cursed the agreement she had made to return the rentals from Rayna's wedding first thing this morning.

Rolling out of bed, Emerson had slid into the same faded jeans from the day before, grabbed a fresh t-shirt and an old flannel. One had to admit the simple country life had its benefits; no one paid the slightest attention if you wore the same clothes two days running. Pulling her hair in a messy bun at the nape of her neck, she quickly brushed her teeth, grabbed her wallet, and headed over to Ridge Haven. At least, with The Ridge being on the same land as the family farm meant there was no rush hour traffic. It was approximately five minutes between her bedroom and Millie's office.

Grabbing the truck keys from a lock box, she headed up to the barn. The work crew was mostly in for the morning, cleaning what had been left from the wedding Saturday night. The essentials had been taken care of, so today would be about scrubbing scuff marks off the floor, polishing the silverware and stemware, and moving all unnecessary items back into storage.

The truck had already been loaded with the return items, so she didn't waste time chatting before she slid behind the wheel and headed for town. She took after her father when it came to mornings; it wasn't wise to talk to them until after they had their coffee, which she had yet to have.

Why make it herself, when there was a perfectly good coffee shop in town?

Flipping through the radio stations, she had just begun singing her heart out, when she felt the truck start pulling hard to the right, vibrating the cab.

" _For the love..."_ she yelled at the empty space inside the cab.

Slowing down, she pulled on to the shoulder of the road, and hit the hazards. Already knowing the problem, Emerson hoped out from the cab to assess the situation. It wasn't the first time she'd ever had a flat tire, so she wasn't surprised when she circled the back of the truck, and found the deflated rubber. Pulling out the jack, she positioned it where it needed to go and began lifting the truck off the ground. Her father had taught her to be prepared for life's unexpected situations, and in times like these she was grateful. It was one thing to be stranded on the side of the road if you were helpless, but it was just a mere inconvenience if you knew how to fix the issue. Dropping the spare from the undercarriage of the truck bed, she pulled it out and rolled it over to the flat. Black grime leaving nice stains on her hands and clothes.

_Yet another reason not to put on clean clothes,_ she noted.

Grabbing the tire iron from the cab, she sat down on the spare ready to remove the flat tire. She tried the first lug nut...nothing. Moving to a second nut, she put the wrench in place and tried once again to loosen the grip...again nothing.

"Come on, give a girl a break here."

Standing, to give herself some leverage, she tried the first nut again.

No luck.

Trying once more, she positioned her wrench and all but lifted her feet from the ground, trying to put as much pressure on the lug nut as possible. Her frustration growing in leaps and bounds. Getting no movement at all, she hauled off and kicked the tire.

"Ahhhh," she screamed at the relentless tire, "How'd you like that you old piece of dirt?"

The sense of satisfaction that washed over her from releasing her pent up anger was surprising. Addicting. Glancing around the empty, fog laden highway, she decided what the hell. After everything that had gone horribly wrong, maybe getting some aggression out would be a good thing.

And on that note she hauled off and kicked the tire.

And then again.

And once more for good measure.

* * *

" _Be free of the man."_

It was Cooper's tagline that had sold Preston on moving to Spruce Pine. He had been living the high life; the job, the cars, the women. It had all been dealt like a well-suited hand...until three months ago. Being a pharmaceuticals rep had been the ticket. Company cars, expense accounts, swanky dinners on someone else's tab, and hours you couldn't beat. Not to mention a few added benefits. For one, women couldn't resist a man in an expensive suit. Sure, some of the docs had been stale older men, who were never going to change their ways, but then there had been the hot, fresh out of residency, female docs he could talk into just about anything; including his bed.

And then the ax fell.

Preston had been at the gym, pounding out a few miles on a treadmill, because the heat and humidity had been far too brutal to hit the pavement. His eyes flicking back and forth across the bank of TV's, when he caught sight of the CNN report of Pfizer's cut backs. But he had been far too cocky to think anything could touch him.

A few weeks after the report had run, Preston handed over the keys to his company car, and turned in all of his equipment. Apparently, it was more cost effective to pay some half-wit to push their medications, than a great salesman like himself. In the blink of an eye, he had gone from being on top of the world, to single, jobless, and carless. His only saving grace was the fact that he had always been smart with his money, always saving for a rainy day and damn if it hadn't started to pour.

Now, jogging down the side of the highway, through the dense fog and dim light of the morning, Preston had to admit he was feeling pretty damn free. He had always loved his job; the flexible hours, the bull shitting with doctors, flirting with pretty office staff. It had all been a piece of cake really. Really, he just had to show up with a pretty face and a suit, and the day was done. Still, Cooper had been right; he hadn't felt this free in years.

Feeling the crisp cool air of the fall morning fill his lungs, and the pavement pounding beneath his feet, he let the calm take over his body. Moving with a steady rhythm, his muscles pulled into a natural pace as the world disappeared into a haze of the unknown. For once, he had no idea where his life was headed, and it felt right. Finally living, and not dwelling in his past, he had never felt better.

There had been too many years spent focused on the past, wondering what if. But this...this felt right. And like the calm before a storm, the mist drew him in, intriguing him. Pushing his muscles farther, he felt the strain of his calves, and the slow burn working its way up to his thighs. It was rejuvenating. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he could breathe. Like he could just be.

Coming around a bend in the road, Preston caught sight of headlights glinting off the tiny droplets suspended in the air. Aware of the white line flowing beneath his feet, the soft glow drew closer with each step. Limited by the fog, he could barely make the soft yellow flashing of hazard lights.

Someone had pulled off the road.

Barely at a jog, he watched as the front bumper of a truck came into view; a steady rhythmic pounding echoing through the cloud bank. In the calm silence of the morning, the piercing scream of a woman jacked his heart into overdrive. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he picked up the pace.

The moment the truck came into full view, Preston stopped dead in his tracks, paralyzed by the carnage in front of him. "You stupid" – kick – "arrogant" – kick – "son of a bitch. You ruined my life, you know that? I hate you!" He watched in amazement, as yet another side of this fiery redhead kicked the shit out of the flat tire, as if her life depended on it. He'd seen her soft and sexy, slurring and sweet, now he was getting a whole different vibe. Talk about a woman scorned and a poor tire. "I trusted you to do one thing. One damn thing! And you couldn't keep up your end of the deal. Was it that bad, that hard to just make a commitment and stick to it?"

It was a damn good thing the tire was already a goner, because she was out for blood. He wasn't sure who or what had brought on her wrath, maybe it was the flat itself, but he sure as hell was glad it wasn't him. The sight of her half-crazed and out of control should have had him running for the hills, but like a train wreck, he can't take his eyes off the display of pure feminine rage in front of him.

No, not a train wreck, more like the most beautiful fire storm he has ever seen. Red tendrils had made their escape from her ponytail, clinging to the side of her face. Anger burned deep in her cheeks, as venom filled her words. Yet, he was captivated. The sensible man in him screamed for him to flee, but his feet weren't with the program. They were drawing him in closer. Cooper had said she had a bad night, but from where he was standing, she was having one hell of a bad week.

"I think its dead." He lifted his hands in surrender when she spun, tire iron raised defensively.

"Jesus Christ!" Her lungs panted from exertion.

Stopping her act of tire abuse, she slowly lowered the tire iron to her side. Taking a few, slow easy strides towards her, ignoring the weapon, he nodded at the truck, "Can I give you a hand?"

Calculated, striking green eyes slowly worked their way down his body, evaluating every inch of him, like a piece of fine art. Maybe it was the kiss he had broken off or the fact that he hadn't been laid since he got to town, but something about the moody red head started a fire in his gut and was headed south in a hurry. Like a mystery deep within the dense fog, there was a force about this woman pulling him in, beckoning for him to draw closer. Watching the pink blush burn into a crimson red, he was pretty sure he wasn't the only one feeling the pull.

"May I?" he gestured again, waiting for a response.

"Oh...ummm...yeah, sure go ahead. Be my guest." She rambled when she was nervous, a trait he found oddly attractive. "I think whoever put the tire on must have used a power drill. I can't get them to budge."

* * *

Emerson hadn't heard his approach – in her defense she had been a little preoccupied with her new anger management exercise. Regardless, he had scared her half to death. Not to mention, she had nearly taken his head off with the tire iron.

It had only taken a second before recognizing the victim of her haphazard walking the night of Rayna's wedding. Feeling her blush of embarrassment spread, she cursed her fair skin - that hid absolutely nothing – and prayed he didn't recognize her. Raking her eyes over his damp grey t-shirt, she was drawn to the fabric clinging to the chiseled muscles of his chest, and hard sculpted abs flowing down his torso. Red gym shorts rested low on his hips, and she reveled in his taunt calves below the hem. Without consent, her mind swirled with images of his toned body naked and hovering over her, and found herself wishing she were still in bed, but for a entirely new reason.

Realizing she was gawking, she jerked her eyes back to his, but it was too late. Male satisfaction colored his face as he watched her. Busted, she felt the flames of her embarrassment burn brighter. Trying to recover, she cleared her throat aiming for small talk. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name at the wedding the other night?"

Instead of answering, he just laughed and bent to inspect the tire. Reaching out to her, he took the tire iron from her hand and began to work on the first lug nut.

She meant to question his laugh and the lack of his answer, honest, but the muscles beneath his smooth forearms flexed, distracting her. Straining against the resistance, his smooth tan skin contracted as he steadily released the pressure on the bolt. Strong shoulders stretched the cotton of the old t-shirt, flexing and relaxing in a mesmerizing rhythm, begging to be touched. The curve of his spine revealed a lovely strip of tan skin just above his shorts, as he made quick work of the nuts. And then there was his ass. Her lips parted, releasing a soft sigh that was practically a moan. Everything about him made her melt – in all the right places.

"Would you like..." she heard his words cut off too quickly and she knew she had been caught. Again. Red handed, like a man in a bar, checking out a woman's ass. In her defense, it really was one spectacular ass.

"Hmm?" she glanced up to his eyes. Dear Lord he was incredibly hot.

Brow arched, head cocked a little to the side, he didn't finish his thought.

"You were saying?" she asked to his silence.

He shook his head and chuckled, "The spare...would you like some help getting that on?"

"Well, you do seem to be having better luck than me, so please carry on." She spoke nonchalantly, but his crystal blue eyes held her gaze, igniting a fire in her belly.

In a flash, he had the spare in place and the truck lowered off the jack. Standing, he wiped his hands across the front of his shorts, before extending it in her direction. "Preston White or you can stick with your nickname...what was it? Sex god? Either way?" He shrugged.

_Christ,_ she had been thinking it, but had she really said the words out loud? She would have known if she had spoken...wouldn't she? "I don't know what you're talking about?"

He tilted his head the slightest bit again as he gave her a curious look. "You don't remember do you?"

"I remember just fine." Okay, so she remembered the wedding, running into him, and their little kitchen session. Oh, she remembered that alright.

"How did you get home from the bar?" A genuine smile lit his eyes.

"I, ah...Oh my God! You...you're the...oh God," stepping back, she couldn't hide the embarrassment that flooded her now. "You're Coop's friend? The one from the bar? That's why you were at Rayna's wedding?"

"You really don't remember anything do you?" He shook his head and laughed, as she scrambled to put it all together.

"Ha, see...tiny little problem with me and alcohol, I seem to lose large spans of time." Shit, she was really going to kill Cooper for this. "I don't normally drink like that by the way, it was just a...a bad night, and it got a little out of hand."

"You know, I have to say, I am a little wounded here." His laughter died off, and he was looking far more serious.

"Wounded?"

"Yes, wounded." He took a slow, easy step towards her, like a predator about to take down his prey, "very wounded."

"Why would you be wounded?" She took a step back and felt the truck come up against her back.

"Well..." he stepped closer, and she felt the tingling deep in her wonderland. "I thought our kiss had meant something, but you don't even remember."

_Their kiss?_ He was so close she could hardly breathe, much less think straight, but she was pretty sure he had said kiss. "What kiss?"

"The one where you pulled me down on to your bed, kissed me, and then called me a, and I quote, ' _damn sex god_.'" Crimson burned up her chest and through her face, but he backed off. "So where were you headed with all this stuff?"

"Just..town, into town, not far," she stuttered. For crissakes, she was never drinking again.

Peering into the back of the truck, Preston mumbled to himself, but she couldn't quite make out the words. Stepping passed her, he took a long look at the spare, and then back to the bed of the truck, before finally turning back to her. His playfulness faded.

"You shouldn't carry this much weight on a spare. Get in, I'll drive."

"The hell you are..." She called after him, but he had already climbed in the driver's seat.

Great! She had no idea if she really had kissed him, which was embarrassing enough, but now he was going to go all Alpha on her. Hell if she was going to be forced to share the tiny cab of the truck with him all the way into town.

"My father taught me to never take rides from strangers." She stood in the open passenger door, hands on her hips.

"The fact that I know you have an N'Sync poster on your bedroom wall, and I have heard that soft little moan when you kiss, means we're not strangers. Get in."

"I don't moan." Holy shit, if she moaned it meant it was one helluva kiss. She only moaned when it was good, really good.

"You do. Or you did Saturday." He smiled, patting the empty seat beside him.

"What about your run? Surely you want to finish that." She was fishing for any excuse to get him out of the truck.

"To be honest, I hate running, I just happen to love pizza and beer more." Well she couldn't argue with that statement. Her love of all things chocolate was the only reason she owned a gym membership. "Besides, I am staying at Cooper's so you would just be saving me from having to run all the way back into town.

"It's not my truck. I can't let someone else drive a truck that's not even mine."

A deep laugh rumbled through the cab, but he didn't say a word; just looked at her like she was a stand-up comedian.

"What's so funny?"

Resting one arm along the seat tops, and the other against the wheel, Preston turned to face her full on. "I'm just wondering how many excuses you can come up with, before you get in the truck?"

"Truths, not excuses." Millie would be pissed if she found out Emerson had let someone else drive a Ridge Haven truck, that one hadn't been a lie. Nor was it going to help her cause when it came to Operation Sisterly Bonding. But, then again, she wasn't about to spill her guts to a man she didn't know. "How do I even know you have a license?"

"I guess you are going to have to trust me." And with that, he started the truck.

"Hey! What are you doing?" He wasn't seriously going to leave without her...was he?

"Driving this piece of shit spare tire into town..." Pulling the gear shift in to drive, he grinned like the Cheshire cat. "With or without you?"

# Six

"I thought you lived in New York?" Preston asked as he pulled the truck back on to the highway, heading for town.

"Stalk much?" Her meadow green eyes leveled him with a glare.

Clearly he had ruffled her feathers by forcing her to climb in the passenger side of the truck. Whatever her real reason for not wanting him to drive was moot, because there was no way he was letting her drive with the piece of shit spare, and bed full of rentals. She could thank him later, but for now she would have to settle for being pissed.

"Not really, no. Just what Cooper had said, but then you were in the back at the wedding, and now the truck full of rentals?"

"Ah, I see. Well, to tell you the truth, I do live in New York, but when I woke up this morning, I thought to myself ' _nothing gets the day going better than stealing a truck full of rentals',_ so here I am. And now you're my accomplice _._ Good times." If she rolled her eyes any harder, they were liable to fall out.

She was sassy, not just sexy.

Glancing over, he feigned a shocked look of horror at her supposed crime, to which she lost her composure. It had been a damn long time since a woman had intrigued him this much, but here in the small cab, with her laughter filling the air and soft lush lips curved into a smile, he felt himself start to stiffen.

Turning his head to face out the front window, he tried desperately to think of anything other than the feisty redhead sitting next to him; work, finances, his own grandma for crissakes. Anything to keep from popping a tent in his shorts, but God help him, the only thing he could think about was how good she smelled. The scent drifting him back a few nights to a chic black dress, and her exposed skin. The way her delicate, creamy skin had begged to be kissed. The plans he had for laying her out across that counter, lavishing every sweet spot of her sensual body. And the sweet, honey taste of her mouth, as she pulled him down to her bed, kissing him.

One kiss.

One taste of pure heaven.

_Shit!_ If he didn't get his thoughts under control, he was going to be hard as a damn rock, and there would be no hiding it then. Try as he might, for the life of him, he couldn't focus on anything but getting her naked, underneath him, panting his name. Recognizing a sinking ship when he saw one, he tried to rest his free arm over his lap – feeling completely unnatural – to hold himself down. Almost in town, he simply needed to wait until she exited the truck, then he could adjust himself without her knowing. He just needed to make it two more miles.

"You okay over there? You know I was just kidding, right? I didn't really steal the truck." She glanced over at him with a curious look about her.

_No shit she's looking at you weird asshole, you've got a damn flag trying to rise in your shorts._ "Yeah, I'm good." He coughed, clearing his throat, "Sorry, I just ah...got a little side tracked." Close enough.

"Huh? I think I had you worried. I did, didn't I? Not so big and bad after all?" she teased.

"Trust me sweetheart, I am not afraid of you. As for big and bad, I'd be willing to prove just how big and bad I am."

Her breath caught audibly, and her sexy little blush began to bloom across her neck.

Well fuck, no hiding it now, he was harder than climbing to the Summit of Mount Everest. Giving up his disguise, he palmed himself through his shorts, readjusted as best he could with a seatbelt in the way.

She was trying hard to focus on the road in front of her, but he hadn't missed her eyes cutting hard to his lap. Nor, had he missed her breathing turned ragged. At least they were on the same page now. The sexual tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

A mile later, Preston pulled the truck into an empty spot outside of the rental store. Cutting the engine, he hopped out and rounded the truck, meeting her halfway in front.

Palm up, he held out the keys. "You'll want to get that fixed as soon as possible."

"Thank you." She smiled sheepishly at him, "And for the other night."

Reaching for her keys, her fingers brushed gingerly against his skin, and he nearly groaned. God the things she did to him.

"You're welcome." He flashed a wicked smile, closing his fingers around her hand before she could pull away.

The sharp intake of air told him he had caught her off guard. Something he was growing too fond of. Effortlessly, he pulled her flush against his chest, looking down into the most mesmerizing green eyes. Her lips parted slightly, and he took it as an invitation. Pressing his lips to her sweet mouth, he kissed her long and slow. That sexy little moan sang from her chest, as she melted into him. The moment he felt her hands twist in his shirt, he knew...she wouldn't forget this time.

* * *

The next few days passed in a blur for Emerson. She couldn't remember the last time she had spent this much uninterrupted time with her sister, and hadn't wanted to hang herself? Things had actually been...pleasant.

Civil.

She had managed two family dinners, and was working on her third day of being at The Ridge, without a fight. There had been a few close calls, but hey, these things didn't fix themselves over night. It had taken years to grow this much distance between them, so time was expected.

The other surprise had been how much Emerson enjoyed working at Ridge Haven. She had offered her assistance as a way to win over Millie, but she had never imagined it to be as entertaining as it was. She could almost feel the wounds healing between them. Things were definitely improving, and for the first time, Emerson believed maybe they could be adults, and put the past behind them. Not to mention, hashing out upcoming events was keeping her mind sharp and occupied.

Despite her best efforts of swearing off men, however, – at least for a really long time – she couldn't stop the constant drifting to a certain unexpectedly delicious kiss. Watching Preston force the tire free from the truck, his strong arms flexing as he worked, had turned her on. Big Time. And the little grunts as he strained against their resistance stilled echoed in her memory. His masculine shoulders, expanding beneath his sweat dampened t-shirt, stretching it so tight she could see every hard plane, and ridge. His body was a masterpiece she was dying to explore. Somehow, in the early morning hours without an ounce of caffeine floating through her veins, he had stirred her wide awake. A feeling she hadn't felt in a long time.

And then he slid into her truck.

The tension so palpable, so thick, she could hardly breathe. Okay, so that might have been her own lust making it hard to breathe, but there was no denying the air was thick with testosterone. And speaking of testosterone, there had been one very impressive bulge in his shorts. She couldn't have missed it if she tried. Nor, could she explain the undeniable chemistry. An energy so electrifying the air arced around them.

And then he had kissed her.

Not just any kiss mind you. One earth shattering, world altering, mere orgasm inducing kiss. Oh, how he had kissed her. Melting every last bone in her body; weakening her knees to the point of barely being able to stand.

And then he walked away. No sign of him since.

She didn't have a clue what it had meant, or if she even wanted to know. She was here to fix things with Millie, and find herself, not get wrapped up in another man's lure.

But God, it was one helluva great kiss.

"Emerson Michelle!" Lost deep in the memory of Preston's lips pressed against her own, she barely registered her name being called. "Hello, earth to Emerson!"

"Huh?" looking up, she found an impatient Millie hovering over the desk.

"I called you like five times, what's going on with you? And I swear, if you tell me you are thinking about Michael, so help me...?" With a hand on one hip, Millie waved her finger wildly in Emerson's direction.

"God no! I was just..." _daydreaming about kissing an incredibly hot man,_ she let the thought drift. She couldn't tell her sister about Preston, Millie would think she was crazy – and maybe she was. "It's nothing, I was just thinking about the design for my client." Emerson waved her hand in dismissal, "Did you need something?"

"Yes, food! Fin and I are going to town, come with us?"

Finley Hudson had been Millie's best friend in high school. After years on the west coast, Finley had returned home to Spruce Pine last year, and joined the Ridge Haven team. She had been a perfect fit. She was smart, a hard worker, and a perfect balance for Millie's challenging, –er vibrant personality.

"Thanks, but I promised Coop I would come have lunch with him today. He swears I am avoiding him after the drunken debacle Saturday night." The truth was she hadn't been avoiding him in particular, but rather the whole town. She knew the news of her split would come out soon enough, but it didn't make it any easier facing the town she had known all her life.

"You should avoid him, like the plague I might add, and come with us. We're more fun, but suit yourself!" Millie rolled her eyes, crossing the hall to Finley's office.

_Two steps forward, one step back,_ Emerson thought.

Emerson had a lot of hopes about life. For one, her obvious need to rectify her relationship with her sister. Although, they were actually managing a seemingly normal coexistence, she knew it was all superficial. Years of resentment weren't healed overnight; just as Millie's aversion to her best friend wouldn't be easily reconciled.

Emerson had always hoped Millie would overcome her aversion to Cooper, but some days she wasn't sure. And to be honest, she couldn't blame Millie for her distaste. From the time their mother had passed, all Millie had tried to do was take care of Emerson. Something she now understood, but hadn't seen before. But Emerson had resisted, and resented. Cooper hadn't pushed. He had merely waltzed in, and become the rock she needed. The light in her darkest hour. It was no wonder her sister loathed his existence. Who could really blame her? Cooper had accomplished the one thing Millie had wanted most, Emerson's undying gratitude.

The chirp from her pocket sounded at the incoming text. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Hey sweet cheeks! I'm starving.

Emerson pulled into the gravel parking lot outside of River Rock General Store; her heart swelling with pride.

A few years back, Cooper had bought the store from old man Wrigley, one of Spruce Pine's oldest residents. Originally, the store had catered to fly fishing, but after buying the business, Cooper had renovated the store to accommodate anything an outdoor enthusiast could ever want; tents, packs, climbing ropes, camping gear. You name it, Cooper sold it.

River Rock sat at the edge of town on the opposite banks of the North Toe River, across from the historic downtown, and looked very similar to any old time general store. The building itself was a simple cinderblock building that had been painted a dozen times over. A simple porch ran the length of the store front, covered by a tin roof, shading the windows and offering a few bench seats on the wood plank deck. Large glass windows spanned the front wall, reading the name of the business. From the outside, it was the kind of place you would imagine old men spending their day, sitting on the porch, watching the cars go by.

Walking through the front door, Emerson glanced around at what had become Cooper's dream, and smiled. Although, the store was pretty empty of patrons at the moment, she could make out the backs of a couple of guys lingering by the wall of day packs; neither of them however sporting Cooper's dark locks. Glancing around, with no luck, she started towards his office when a tall, lean, sexy male body stepped from the back room.

" _Crap,_ " quickly ducking behind a display of climbing ropes, pressing her back hard against the rack, as to not be seen.

The overwhelming thud of her heart, and the roar of blood in her ears, made it impossible to hear if he was coming her way, which she prayed he wasn't. How one man's sultry voice alone could provoke the most erotic dreams of her life was beyond her. But from the night she had met Preston, he had been invading her dreams. Then he had gone and pressed his gorgeous, sweet mouth to hers, and all bets were off. Twice she had woken in sweat, verging on the cliff of ecstasy.

Hiding behind the display, Emerson gave herself a mental pep talk. It wasn't like the man would know she'd been having dirty little dreams about him. So he had kissed her? Not a big deal, right? Except it had been a big deal, or at least her girl parts seemed to think so.

_You're swearing off men, remember?_ The tiny, cloaked in white, version of her subconscious rolled her eyes.

Forcing herself to stop overthinking, and go find Cooper already – because she really was swearing off men – Emerson pushed off the display.

" _What the..."_

The moment she went to move, Emerson felt the tug against her jeans. Tilting her head around, over her shoulder, she spied the long metal rod meant for displaying ropes that had somehow gotten stuck to her belt loop.

"Seriously?" She tugged at the inconsequential piece of metal, but it refused to let go.

" _No no no no, this is so not happening!"_ She could feel the panic rising.

Craning her neck out, Emerson peaked around the display, making sure no one was coming. With the coast clear, she began to wiggle, trying to find the right angle that would release the hook from the pegged display.

" _Would you just let go already?"_ she scolded the rack in a harsh whisper, but it didn't seem to care if she was making a fool of herself.

Nothing she did worked. No matter which way she shifted her hips, the loop wasn't coming loose, nor could she contort her body enough to see how the damn thing was attached.

Time for Plan B.

Slowly easing her feet on to the bottom of the shelving unit, Emerson lifted up on her tip toes, angling the rod upward, and praying to God it would dislodge itself from the pegged display wall. If she could just get it unhooked, she could sneak into the bathroom and remove it from her pants. Stretching as tall as she could, she wiggled her hips, but the damn thing refused to budge. She needed a fraction more before it would release, but she was fresh out of height. Unless...she jumped?

God, she felt like a fool. If anyone walked in the front door now, she would die.

Knowing she had one shot, or this was going to end badly, she prepared to jump. Because calling for help was not an option. Preston had already driven her drunken-self home, and fixed her tire, she'd be damned if he had to unhook her from the display. Especially, when she had been hiding from him like a school girl in the first place.

_Not his fault you can't get your act together._ Her white cloaked conscious was back.

_Okay, not entirely no_ , she rolled her eyes at the tiny version of her conscious. But he wasn't blameless either. If he hadn't kissed her, she wouldn't have been all flustered, and would have walked right past him.

_Sure about that?_ White cloak was sitting in a chair, snacking on a bowl of popcorn, waiting for the show.

Emerson rolled her eyes again. Okay, so she may have stopped and stared for a moment, because Jesus the man was beyond hot, but she wouldn't be stuck to a damn rack like a piece of merchandise. Or worse, arguing with herself over the matter. Annoyed with herself, and the tiny, mocking version in her head, she pushed aside a few bundles of ropes that had fallen. At least she could try and minimize the possibilities of injuries. Steadying herself, she mentally counted off before jumping.

" _Here goes nothing."_

Jumping up a few inches, she felt the rod break free of the display and fall against her backside. _"Yesss!"_ Sweet mother of Jesus, she was free.

And falling.

" _Oh Shit!"_

A few bundles of rope had shifted the moment she was in the air, taking over the space her feet had occupied. Coming down hard, the ropes slipped beneath her feet, sending her flying, ass first, toward the floor. Emerson scrambled to catch her balance, but there was no stopping physics...or the two strong arms reaching towards her.

# Seven

"Emerson?"

Preston lunged forward just in time to catch the flurry of red before she hit the floor. Setting her down gently, he took in the disaster surrounding her, his dark brow rising in curiosity. He didn't have a clue what the hell she was doing, but it looked like a tornado had swept through the store.

"Hey there!" Her hand flicked out in hasty wave, as though it was just an ordinary day. Too bad her beautiful blush was working its way up her neck, giving away her embarrassment.

"You know, we have a climbing wall in the back if you wanted to try out the ropes." Laugh lines creased the corners of his eyes as he fought the smirk.

"No one likes a smartass!" Huffing, she cleared herself of ropes and stood.

"You okay?" And for reasons beyond him, Preston stepped closer, running his hands up her arms.

"Yes," her voice barely above a whisper, but the shiver than ran through her body was loud and clear.

Leaning in, he felt her body go stock-still, and her breath hitched. She was affected by his closeness, the realization making him ache. Letting his fingers glide softly over her skin, he traced lines down both arms, feeling the goose bumps ripple her skin. Brushing his mouth within inches of the delectable sweet spot beneath her ear, he inhaled her sweet aroma. He was well aware the moment her back arched, feeling her breast press against his chest. Running his fingers across the waist of her jeans, he was enthralled by the way she hadn't resisted.

Making quick work of the rod, he pulled back, holding the metal up between them. "Didn't figure you needed this anymore?"

"Right, thank you." Her words were breathy.

* * *

Emerson would have bet after everything that had happened, it was impossible to be any more embarrassed around this man. And she would have lost.

_Swearing off men...you are swearing off men!_ Her insistent reminder was futile against his crystal eyes. The tingling sensation of his fingers trailing down her arms and across her back, had sent a wave of sensation to the depths of her quivering girl parts, and thrown another log on to the already blazing fire.

"Hey White, I'm going to..." Cooper's booming voice rounded the display, trailing off when he took in the carnage of ropes. Dark caramel eyes glanced first to her, then Preston. "Everything good here?"

The display rack was in shambles, varying sizes of ropes strewn about the floor, while Preston held the metal rod in his hand. Clearly, everything was not good here. Racking her brain, she was trying to come up with a believable excuse when Preston opened his mouth. "Yeah, I was just asking our customer here if there was anything I could help her with?"

Her blush roared to life. There were things he could do for her alright, they just weren't for sale.

"What the hell happened to the ropes?" Cooper asked.

She wanted to apologize for the mess, but Preston beat her to the punch. "Just doing a little reorganizing. Go ahead, I got the store."

He was covering her ass. That much was clear. The question was, why?

Cooper shook his head, but let it go. Thank God. Reaching out, he pulled Emerson into his embrace, kissing her on the cheek. "You ready?"

"Yep."

Heading towards the door, Cooper's arm wrapped around her shoulder, Emerson couldn't stop from glancing back. Kneeling on the floor, Preston had begun picking up the ropes, but his eyes were deadlocked on hers. Feeling terrible about not cleaning up her own mess, she mouthed one simple word, " _Sorry._ "

"So what do you feel like having?" Cooper asked, stepping down from the front porch of the store.

"I don't know." She'd never been good at making decisions when it came to food, especially when she had to decide for someone else.

"I don't know it is then, I'll drive."

Walking up to his black 1970 GTO, Cooper opened the passenger door like a real gentleman. She had to admit, he had his moments. Of course, he had always been good to her. Then again she had never been one of the many women standing in line to star in the Cooper Rodeo. She had high hopes that he would settle down one day, but he seemed pretty content with his life. One could argue he was in much better shape than she was; no broken heart, no dreams crushed, no homicidal tendencies. No, he was always right where he wanted to be. Lucky bastard. Maybe she was going about this all wrong. Maybe it wasn't men she needed to swear off, but the relationship part. Cooper seemed to be happy and still getting laid. Maybe that's what she needed; no strings.

"You going to tell me what in the Sam Hill that was all about back there? Is there a reason you were destroying my store?" Cooper's deep masculine voice broke through her deliberation. The reminder of her little run in with a certain lust-worthy man causing the heat in her chest to burn, marching its way back up her neck.

She really hated being a red head sometimes. Just once in her life she would love to hide her embarrassment, instead of having it displayed like a neon bar sign. "I wasn't trying to destroy it, per se. Really, it was more that your display was attacking me."

A billowy laugh roared from the driver's seat. "Attacking you, huh? Looked a little more like you were ready to attack someone." He arched a brow, baiting her.

"The damn thing jumped out and attacked me, you're lucky I'm not suing for emotional distress."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, that is so." Rolling her eyes for added dramatics.

Pulling to a stop at a red light, Cooper leaned into the console, "I don't think it was my rack causing the emotional distress." On second thought, he wasn't a gentleman at all; he was a pain in her ass. And she hated that he could read everything about her.

Pulling into the parking lot of the I Don't Know diner, Cooper cut the engine and stepped out of the car. Bob and Cathy Oddomire had opened the diner back when she was a child and it had been a local delight ever since. The story went that Bob got tired of every time he asked his wife what she wanted for dinner, she always responded, "I don't know." One day, after having that exact conversation, he had driven by and noticed the For Sale sign posted in the window of the previous diner. Fed up with the catch phrase, he bought the diner and named it rightfully so. Cathy had told him he was crazy. No one would eat at a place called "I Don't Know," but it had been an instant success. Not only was their food delicious, but it had solved the same fight for many couples, putting an end to the age old conversation.

Sliding into a booth, Cooper threw his feet up, letting his back relax against the front window. He was the picture of smooth. Pushing his dark, gold rim aviator sunglasses into his tousled hair, he gave her a hard stare, "So, what are you going to do?"

"Oh my God, would you let it go already, it was the rack I swear. It attacked me. End of story." Seriously, could he not just drop it?

A roaring laughter rumbled from his chest. Smartass.

"Well, that wasn't the _do_ I was referring to."

"Oh God – "

"Hey, Cooper." The waitress appeared at the table, completely ignoring the fact that Emerson was there. "What can I get you today?"

"Two teas." He smiled his wickedly handsome smile and Emerson wanted to throw something at him. Two simple little words and the waitress was practically bowing at his feet, begging him to marry her.

"Comin' right up, Sugar!" The waitress winked and then proceeded to swish her hips back to the kitchen.

"You're a whore, you know that?" Emerson huffed and leaned back against her booth.

"I'm not a whore. I am just the guy you want to have fun with." He smiled.

Prideful bastard.

"It's not fair. You get to have all the fun, while I get dumped at the altar."

"You didn't get dumped at the altar, Annie." Sliding his feet down from the bench, he reached across the table, enveloping her hands in his. "Look at it this way, at least you found out now and not ten years down the road with kids involved. The guy's a douche, most of us are."

Except Cooper wasn't a douche, he wasn't anything bad at all. He hadn't wanted to settle down, but every woman knew that. He had never tried to hide it or lead them on; they had known exactly what they were getting into with him. A fun time. Otherwise, the man was a saint. Though he didn't advertise his hospitality, he was the guy you wanted in your corner when life took a wrong turn. The kind of guy that gave the shirt off his back to someone in need. The kind of guy that had paid Mr. Wrigley far more than the store was worth, just so the old man would be set for the rest of his life. Why he didn't want to settle down she would never understand, but at heart he was the decent kind.

"You're not a bad guy or a douche, but I will agree that most of them are." The waitress returned, setting the drinks on the table. Still ignoring Emerson as much as possible, she took their orders and disappeared once more. "I haven't figured out what I am going to do yet. I was kind of hoping the answer would magically come to me, but that doesn't seem to be working out. Maybe I should just try it your way? You know, have a little _fun_ and call it a day?

Calculated eyes stared back at her, "Annie, I think you should be really careful. You're the white picket fence kind. And he's not. Not by a long shot. I don't want to see you get hurt again."

"Coop, I'm not trying to marry the guy. And besides I never said who, just that maybe I need a little fun in my life. Look, I know you are just trying to look out for me, but it's not like I am going to fall in love with the guy."

He stared at her for a long moment. So long, she began to wonder if he forgot how to speak. And then, with eyes as serious as rolling thunder, he spoke. "If it's fun you are looking for, I could show you a little fun."

# Eight

"Come on, boy!" Emerson smiled at over-sized bundle of yellow fur galloping her way.

John Wayne may not be the brightest dog on the block, but he was the sweetest golden retriever she had ever met. And a great companion for her father. Throwing a ball across the yard, Emerson headed in the same direction, towards the endless rows of Frazier Firs.

Cooper had been right about one thing, she needed to protect her heart. He may have been a smartass, trying to convince her he could knock the dust off the knob for her, but she knew the truth. He would have run for the hills if she had said yes. Cooper was a lot of things to her, but he wasn't a _call for a good time._ If she had needed a big brother to knock some bully on the playground to their ass, he was her man, but for a one night stand? Hell No.

Stepping into the first row of trees, Emerson was transported back to her childhood. The memories of endless hours, running through the rows, her palms brushing against the needles as she sped by came rushing back. Even the smell of fresh pine brought back memories. Beat growing up on a dairy farm any day. It had been nothing but wide open spaces for her adventurous mind to roam.

And speaking of roaming, her mind was soaring as she circled the upper field. It had been years since she had walked the rows. Of course, she hadn't exactly made coming home a priority. When she had left for college, it had seemed like the escape she had been waiting for. Then she met Michael. When it had come time to contemplate her next step, there had been no real question. She would follow him, to the moon and back, anything not to go home. Months turned into years, and the excuses became easier. On the rare occasion her family would come for a visit, and she had rationalized that work was busy, and only left time for important trips; Christmas, Easter, her father's birthday. Other than Cooper, who had loved weekends in the city, she hadn't seen much of anyone. When she had come home, it was long weekends at best, the short stints of time saving everyone's sanity. But now, it felt different. Without anything to rush back to, and things with Millie improving, she found herself relaxed...happy.

She had her career, but until her clients returned to the states, even that was on hold. She spent her evenings working on her proposal to the McAllisters, but that hadn't required she be in the city. Rachel, her boss and dear friend, had been the first one to know the truth behind her relationship. In fact, it had been Rachel who suggested she come here, _"Go, clear your head, relax a little, and then come back ready to hit it."_

Crossing through the rows, to the edge of the field, Emerson took in the sight of the overgrown trail at the forest's edge. It looked like it had been years since anyone walked the narrow path.

"I had forgotten all about that old trail." Emerson jumped at her sister's voice. "You used to love playing back there and momma would always make me come get you. I hated that old cabin out there, too many spiders."

Emerson laughed at the fond memory. She had always known her sister hated coming in the woods. Whenever she would hear Millie yelling for her, she would pretend she couldn't hear her at all. Then she would wait until Millie was practically on the steps of the old cabin before she would acknowledge her, before following her sister's grudging foot steps back to the house.

"I always knew you hated coming back there." Emerson confessed sheepishly, "I could hear you from here, calling my name, but I would ignore you just to see how far you would come."

"I knew it, ha!" Surprisingly, her sister didn't seem angry. "I told Daddy you could hear me, but wouldn't come. He would just say, _'listen to your momma, go on and fetch ya sister'_ " Millie mocked their father's voice.

Standing there, laughing with her sister over old memories, Emerson couldn't help but feel like their relationship was half normal. It had been a long time since they had had a moment like this, getting along, enjoying each other's company. Hope blossomed in Emerson's chest. Maybe they could mend the broken fence after all.

* * *

Sitting on a bar stool at Oli's Tavern, Preston took a long draw of the cold beer as he surveyed the growing crowd. He had been scouting out the bar for the past few nights, but nothing had tickled his fancy. Problem number one of living in a small rural town, options were limited.

Problem number two...he couldn't get a particular feisty red head off his mind.

"What do ya think?" Clay, Oli's bar manager asked.

"Not bad. What is it?" Tilting the small sample glass up, Preston polished off the contents.

"Bo's Nut Brown. Got a call from Appalachian Mountain Brewery, they're trying to branch out. Wanted to know if I was interested?" Sliding another small glass across the bar, Clay pointed down to the glass, "You like IPA's? That one's pretty stout."

"Damn, that's a good beer." Preston swallowed the small sample. "Which one was that?"

"Long Leaf, seems to be a hit so far. I'd be happy to serve nothing but craft brews, but half the town's still holding on to their Bud. They won't change. Thinkin' about bringing the IPA in though, maybe bring in a few others." Leaning his palms on the bar, a rag in one hand, Clay nodded at the men approaching. "Fellas"

"What are we bringing in?" Cooper clapped a hand on Preston's shoulder before sliding on to the stool next to him.

The bar was starting to pick up, but it was still a little early for the Friday night rush.

"Trying out some new beer from AMB, tell me what you think?" Clay slid three sample glasses over the bar. Cooper, along with a guy Preston hadn't recognized, grabbed up two of the glasses and tossed them back. Picking up the third, Preston turned it up like a shot; you couldn't beat free beer.

Cooper introduced Reed Tatone, local Sheriff, as an old high school buddy. Who, based on the amount of yelling at the TV over the bar, was a fellow NC State fan. The three men had been sitting at the bar shooting the shit with Clay, watching the Clemson vs. NC State University game, when Preston caught a glimpse of lean, feminine arms wrap around Cooper's shoulders.

"Hey there, Coop," a sweet voice crooned next to his ear, "who's your new friend?"

Reed was born and raised in Spruce Pine, not to mention a public figure, so it was pretty obvious who the " _new friend"_ was. Turning in his chair, one arm resting on the back, Preston introduced himself to the petite blonde. She was an attractive girl; toned body, silky smooth hair, not too much make-up and a rack that looked like it had set her back about Five-K. She had the giggle of a school girl and easy written all over her. It should have been just what he was looking for, an easy pass, but nothing was stirring down below.

_Great! This is when you choose to be picky?_ He scolded his manhood for not jumping at the opportunity.

It had been a month since he had come to town, a month with no action and now his friend down below didn't seem to be into blondes. It was like laying a nice juicy steak in front of a dog, and telling him to not eat it. He really wanted to eat the damn steak.

"Why don't you boys join us?" Reaching past him, all but rubbing her nicely enhanced breast across his arm, Barbie grabbed her drink, and winked before trotting back over to her table.

The "us" she had been referring to, was a table of five beautiful women, all wearing skin tight jeans, and low cut shirts. From the looks of the table, there should have been a _Good Times_ sign hanging from the ceiling above them. They were clearly out trolling and how convenient, so was he. Except, an hour of listening to over the top laughs and one too many oh my God's Preston was ready to claw his eyes out. He had come to Oli's hoping to find something warm and soft to take home to his bed, but the only thing he wanted in his bed right now was silence.

Pure silence.

Excusing himself from the table, he shuffled his way through the tight crowd heading for the restrooms when he spotted the front door. And hesitated.

He should stay, maybe hook up with the hot little brunette, and curve the appetite he'd been fighting. She was definitely interested; she'd been making eyes with him since he walked over to the table. Ten minutes alone and he would have her panting.

A shrill laughter from his table rang out over the noisy crowd, sending a pain down his spine like nails on a chalk board. _Fuck it_ , deciding he had had enough, Preston headed for the door. He would just have to get his kicks the old fashion way, like a sixteen year old boy.

Walking out into the night, he pulled out his phone and shot a text to Cooper.

Not feeling it man. Enjoy

With a deep breath of fresh mountain air, a sweet heavenly scent clouded his senses and he felt himself stiffen. Like a moth to a flame, his world disappeared as he turned to meet the two purest emeralds.

# Nine

Sliding into her cowgirl boots, Emerson hit the stairs, searching for her father, "Daddy?"

Walking into the living room, she spied her father and John Wayne curled up on the couch, both snoring louder than the TV. Walking over, she pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, waking him from his slumber.

"Hey Sugar, everything okay?"

"Yeah Daddy, everything's good. I'm heading into town for a bit, don't wait up. Love you." She pressed another kiss to his balding head, grabbing her wallet and keys on the way out the door.

Pulling into the lot at Oli's she almost chickened out. She'd made a fool of herself a week ago in this very bar, giving the town enough to talk about for six months. She didn't need a repeat. Promising herself not to step foot on any tables, she slid out of the car, heading towards the sounds of good music and southern comfort. The bar door opened and laughter poured out on to the side walk. As did the tall, smooth, masculine body she had come in search of. Stopping under the glow of the street light, he looked like an angel of the night.

_Ask and you shall receive, right?_ The new and improved version of her subconscious spoke, cloaked in a black silk robe, trimmed with red lace. She had wanted a fun night, no strings attached, and he'd just walked out the door. _Now or never_ , she squared her shoulders, brushed a hand down her blouse and made sure the girls were on their best display.

"Heading home so soon?" Closing in, she took in his easy stance, and the slight smirk flirting at the corner of his mouth. He may look like an angel, but there was a wickedness about his smile that made her thighs clinch.

Glancing back over his shoulder, he took in the growing crowd. "Can't say there was anything worth staying for in there...out here, however..." He let the sentence drift.

Emerson blushed at the innuendo. Inexperienced at the dating game – _not dating, just sex_ , she corrected herself – her voice caught in her throat. Where were the cute, witty comebacks when you needed one? Instead, she just stared at him like an idiot. She was going to sink this ship before it could leave the harbor.

"Care for a walk?" he asked when she just stood, staring at him like a fool.

"Sure," her nerves blocking any formation of an intellectual response.

Emerson had come here with one goal; to prove Cooper wrong. She could be more than a white picket fence. Okay, two goals, prove Cooper wrong and scratch the itch she had tried and failed to ignore. But now, face to face with Mr. Tall, Dark and Steamy her brain had cut off, letting her nerves take over. Could she really sleep with another man, after nine years with Michael?

_You plan on being celibate the rest of your life?_ Her mini version, dressed in black, mocked her.

Right, she could do this, because she sure as hell wasn't becoming a nun.

Walking in silence, they headed towards downtown. The weather was surprisingly warm for this late in the year, only a cool breeze intermittently drifted through the buildings, with nothing but a clear blanket of stars spotting the night sky. They weren't the only people taking advantage either; the nice night had lent itself to people strolling up and down the streets of town. And then it dawned on her. As far as anyone knew, she was still a happily engaged woman. Sure, it was going to come out soon enough when she had to rescind on all of the invitations, but she would much prefer everyone find out after she left town.

Wrapping her arm around Preston's bicep, she quickly pulled him down an alley, away from Main Street. "Mind if we go this way?"

He gave her a curious look, but didn't object. Instead, he lifted his hand and placed it over hers, holding her in place. "Afraid to be seen with me?" He cocked one brow.

"Of course not," _Exactly!_ Her mind screamed. "I just thought we would take the road less traveled."

The look on his face said he knew there was more, but he didn't press. "Tell me, what's the story behind _Annie_?"

A nervous laughter bubbled up from the unexpected question, "Cooper ever tell you about the time he got shot?"

"Shot?"

"I take that as a no then?" They continued to stroll along, as Emerson delved into the story of how her friendship with Cooper had come to life. "I think I was eight-years-old when I found him and some other boys playing in the woods by our cabin. It's an old hunting cabin that's been on my father's land since the dinosaur age. I always loved playing up there as a child. Anyway, they had been shooting tin cans with his new pellet gun when I happened upon them. They knew they had been trespassing, so the other boys took off through the woods when they heard the ATV approaching, but not Coop. He was just as stubborn back then as he is now." They both laughed at the truth in that statement.

"When I pulled up to the cabin, he just started laughing that I was _just a girl_ and all his buddies had run off, afraid of getting caught by Old Man Grey. I had never shot a gun before, but I found myself intrigued as I watched him fire off a few rounds, knocking over the remaining cans." She couldn't stop the laughter that came from the next memory, "He asked me to hold his gun while he set up the targets again. I had been watching him for a while and it looked easy enough. So after he set up a few, I took aim and fired. Did you know it's much harder to aim than it looks?"

"You shot him?" Steps faltering, Preston doubled over with laughter, tears pooling in the crease of his eyes. His laugh was sexy, intoxicating.

"I did." Giving him a shameful faux look for laughing at her, "I thought it would be simple, so I didn't wait for him to finish setting up the rest. Turns out I was wrong; it wasn't so simple after all. He still reminds me every chance he gets he still has a tiny pellet in his ass, but I don't think it ever actually penetrated the skin."

Preston was still laughing, trying to choke out the question again, as though he couldn't believe it were true. "You shot Whitley in the ass with a pellet gun?"

"He wasn't too happy about it either. As you can imagine he was pretty pissed, but I was so stunned that I couldn't do anything. So I just stood there, like I was some tough kid not afraid of him. Of course, it was really quite the opposite; I was so scared, I froze. He got all in my face, yanking the gun back from my grip and yelled at me ' _Who the hell do you think you are, the next Annie Oakley?'_ Of course I hadn't been anywhere close to the target but I wasn't about to sit there and let some boy yell at me, so I squared my shoulders and said ' _Yeah I am, Bulls eye!'_ From there it started out more as a reminder, whenever he needed something to hold over my head he would just call out Annie, but then time went by and it just sort of stuck." She shrugged.

"You shot him in the ass...that's the best thing I have heard all night." His laughter had slowed, but he was still having way too much fun with the story.

And come to think of it, his laughter had soothed her nerves, because all of her anxiety had faded away. Well, almost all of it, until she looked up. Emerson hadn't realized how far they had wandered until the street sign for Fennville Lane was towering over them. It was Cooper's road. Preston's road.

Maybe it had been her subconscious or maybe it was pure coincidence, but somehow they had ended up only a block from his bed. Deciding to be bolder than she felt, she tilted her head up to meet Preston's gaze. "Any chance there's beer at that bachelor pad of yours?"

"Would it be a bachelor pad if there wasn't?" He smiled wickedly.

Turning onto the road, he led the way back to Cooper's and to her much needed chance for _No Strings Sex._

* * *

Opening the front door, Preston extended his arm, gesturing Emerson in ahead of him. "Ladies first"

Without missing a beat, she strode through the front door, heading straight for the light switches. Flicking on a few as she went, he watched the lamps in the living room come to life, followed by the dining room and then kitchen lights. In all his escapades, he had never had a woman just walk in his house like she owned the place. Could be he hadn't kept them around long enough to learn where the light switches were, but still, this was new.

He hadn't really thought about the fact that she would be so comfortable here, none of the awkwardness that usually ensued with having a woman back to his place. Shaking his head, he followed the trail of lights toward the kitchen, pulling his wallet from his back pocket as he went. Reaching the kitchen, he dropped his keys and wallet on the island, staring at the display of feminine beauty rummaging through his refrigerator. Bent slightly, bathed in the soft light of the open door, she appeared angelic in a heavenly glow. Well, except for the fantastic ass, clad in a white skirt; there was no way something that tempting was angelic.

At least he hoped not.

Grabbing a beer from the fridge, Emerson stood, turning to face him "Would you like one?"

A smile spread across his face, as he reached a hand to his chin, stroking the short hair of his goatee, "Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" His brow arched.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry. I'm just so used to...I didn't even think about it!" The familiar blush, pinking her cheeks made him smile.

"Actually, it's kind of relieving." Nodding toward the fridge, "Whatever you grab is fine."

Producing another bottle of Dog Fish, she handed it off to him, "Easy to please, that's my kind of man, -er friend."

He hadn't missed the shift in her mood, she was nervous again. Popping the top off both bottles, he tilted the top of his beer towards hers "To friends"

"To friends," she repeated softly.

Leaning back against the counter, he watched as she took several long draws of her beer; clearly enjoying the cool feel on her lips.

"So, how is it going living here with Coop?" she asked, looking around the kitchen, avoiding eye contact.

A short chuckle slipped out before he could answer "It's good, brings back a lot of college memories. You know, dirty clothes, beer bottles and pizza boxes, typical men living under the same roof activities." He shrugged.

"It actually doesn't look too bad around here."

For two single men, they weren't that bad, "I guess we have grown up a little since then, at least learning how to do laundry and where the trash can is."

"Maybe there is hope for the male race after all?" Her sweet laughter trickled down his spine.

If he wasn't careful, they were going to have another situation much like the truck on their hands. He wasn't sure what her intentions were, but his friend down below was making his intentions very apparent. Shifting, Preston tried not to think about how soft her skin looked, or how fantastic her ass had looked bent over in his refrigerator. But he was a sinking ship when it came to her. Zero self-control.

Preston watched in earnest as she placed both palms on the smooth surface at her back, and hoisted herself to the counter. Quickly crossing her legs as though she had just remembered she was in a skirt. Smoothing the fabric with her hands, he nearly groaned. Or maybe he had groaned, because suddenly her attention snapped to him, heat flaring in her eye. Heat that could melt snow in an instance.

"Another?" he asked nodding toward the bottle she had just emptied.

"Please!"

Forcing himself to step away from the beauty seated on his counter, Preston opened the fridge, but even the cool air wafting from inside was no match for the fever burning in him. Hell, he wasn't even sure if dumping ice water down his jeans would do any good against the fire she ignited in him. He had barely been in control before she had slid up on the counter, but after...all he could think about was being between her legs. Then, as quickly as she had hopped on the counter, she had crossed her legs. Had it been pure feminine habit, or was she warding him off? He didn't have a damn clue, but there was only one way of finding out.

Popping the tops off the bottles, Preston ambled back to the island, holding out both bottles. "Pick your poison." Gesturing for her to choose which one she wanted.

Reaching out, her eyes never leaving his, she took a bottle and brought it to her lips. Distracted, Preston watched as she took a draw from the bottle, the muscles in her neck rippling as she swallowed. And because there was no way he could stop himself, he let his eyes linger down to the perfect swells of her breasts, stretched taunt beneath her turquoise top.

Lowering the bottle, running her tongue over her smooth lips, she sat the bottle on the counter beside her. Captivated by her, he didn't move, but rather watched as she drank him in. Watched her eyes drift, appraising his body, desire lighting her features. Leaning in, he sat his bottle on the counter, planting his palms on either side of her thighs, caging her in. Still not making contact, but oh so close, he stared straight into her mesmerizing eyes.

"You're so beautiful, Emerson."

A nervous laughter bubbled its way up her throat. "Does that line work for you?"

"Does it work for you?"

"I'm not sure yet." Her voice was breathy, thick with desire.

Slowly, leaning into her, he pressed his erection against her knees, and her breath caught. And then a little closer, so close, that if he could only remember how to breathe, they would be sharing the same air. Her scent filled his nostrils, overloading his senses. A primal groan rumbled through his chest, a delicious wave of heat pooling deep in his gut. "Is it working for you now?" His voice was strained, ragged.

"Still not...sure..." Her words drifted off.

Tilting his head to one side, he ran his mouth along the plane of her jaw, not quite touching her.

_So close. So damn close,_ his mind burned with need. Any closer and you wouldn't have been able to slip a single sheet of paper between them. And if even if you could manage, it would have spontaneously combusted. Hell, he was about to spontaneously combust.

His heart pounded against his chest, his body aching to touch her, but she was holding her ground. The taunting sensation of being so close, yet so far away was driving him further to the edge. Her arousal holding a power over him, rendering him useless in defense.

"How about now?" He asked, his lips touching the delicate skin beneath her ear.

Her sharp gasp sounding out like victory.

# Ten

Emerson nearly came off the counter at the feel of his lips pressed to her heated skin. More accurately, she nearly came _on_ the counter. One simple touch, and she had virtually come undone. The tension that had been building for a week erupted into a full blown fire, flames consuming every inch her skin.

The decision to hop on the counter had been out of self-preservation for her feet. Whoever had coined the phrase _"the pleasure is worth the pain"_ had clearly been a woman. A woman well versed in stylish shoes; the cuter the shoe, the worse the pain.

It hadn't been the first time she had ever sat on the Formica tops in this kitchen, but it was the first time her actions had elicited a feral male groan. She had crossed her legs, remembering she was in a skirt, because it was the lady-like thing to do. What she hadn't anticipated was the muted sound that lit a fire between her thighs. Clinching tight, she tried to fight back the wave of desire pooling between the very spot.

_This is what you came for, is it not?_ Her mini, lace clad conscious mocked.

Right, this is the reaction she wanted. She had felt the sexual tension between them; had felt the promise in his kiss. Now, she wanted to feel the full extent of his passion.

The moment Preston turned, heading towards the refrigerator on the other side of the room, Emerson did a quick once over. Breath; check. Arm pits; check. Girls lifted front and center; check. Before he could turn back to her, she had positioned, fluffed, and arched all her essentials.

Then he had called her beautiful, and damn if her heart hadn't swooned. Under normal circumstances, she would have scoffed at such a one-liner, but she was so turned on and turned up, he could have said the sky was green and she wouldn't have argued.

Emerson fought hard to hold on to any kind of semblance of reservation, but the point was moot the moment his lips touched her neck. Lost in the feel of his mouth against her skin, she ached for more; a dying _need_ to have him building exponentially in her sex. Giving in to the temptation, she slid her hands up the length of his arms, working her way over his broad sculpted shoulders.

Smooth wet lips worked their way down her, nipping at her collar bone, driving her insane. Her pulse pumping wildly with each kiss. Her hands hungrily grasping, stroking his tousled hair, begging for more. Never, had she needed something so much in her entire life.

Uncrossing her legs, Preston filled the space, his strong hands drawing her legs up around his waist. Inching their way up her skin, his hands pushed her skirt as they went. Reaching her ass, he palmed her cheeks, pulling her to the edge of the counter; his hard length pressing firm against the white lace of her thong.

God, he was glorious.

Her hands, as unforgiving as his, pulled at his shirt, trying to free him of the concealing fabric. Leaning back, in one fluid movement, she watched as the cotton disappeared into a heap on the floor, replaced by sheer male perfection. She couldn't help it; she ogled like a teenage girl, drooling over his hard, chiseled body.

Definitely glorious.

For a brief instance, two crystal pools swirled with the urgency of tidal wave, as he looked long and deep into her eyes. And then he was back to kissing her, working his way down the opposite side of her neck. "You are worth discounting any warning I should heed." His husky voice vibrated against her skin.

"Warning?" The simple word sobered her from her drunken lust. "What warning?"

A low, sinister laugh escaped him, "I was warned to keep my distance. Threatened bodily harm if I hurt you. I see now it's not you that needed protection, but me."

"You?" She didn't have a clue what he meant.

"Emerson," her name rolled like a purr, "you have me under your spell, at your mercy."

Emerson tried to decode his words, to wrap her mind around the brief exchange, but her thoughts were stopped short when his lips crushed down on hers. Lost in his wonder, the tiny ember smoldering beneath the cooling ash, ignited once more.

Preston kissed her long and deep, pulling her body taunt against his own. Melting into him, she felt like a rag doll, draped around his wide expanse. His body moved with the urgency she felt. Releasing her mouth, Emerson panted for air, but her breath was stolen once more when his lips grazed the smooth curve of her neck. Tilting her head, opening herself up to him, Emerson gasped when firm hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs rolling over her pebbled nipples.

One second she was clinging to the counter for dear life, and the next her arms were raised, her shirt gliding up over her head. She only caught a glimpse of the cotton falling to the floor before her eyes rolled back, her head pressing into the cabinets, as his hands cupped her full breasts, pressing them to his hungry mouth. Nipping at the delicate skin beneath the silk lace of her bra, her nails dug into his back as she fought against the onslaught of sensations pushing her closer to the edge.

Pushing the fabric aside, his hot mouth drew her in, sucking tenderly at her hard nipple. Teasing, his tongue rolled in tiny circles, his teeth nipping her flesh. Desperate moans echoed throughout the kitchen, exposing her weakness against his movements.

Sliding his free hand beneath the lace covering her other breast, he cupped them both and groaned before capturing her other nipple in his mouth. His tiny patterns of circling and nipping assaulted her, while he rolled her still wet nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Dangerously close to losing herself, she felt the gentle graze of his teeth rake across her nipple as he released her. Her heavy breast bouncing as he let go.

Strong arms snaked around her trembling body, as a wicked grin spread across his glorious mouth, "You better hang on, cowgirl."

Hoisting her off the counter, Emerson let out a trill of surprise. Her silky wet core pressed against his ridged abs as he held her tight, her hard nipples pressing into his chest. Swiping his wallet from the counter, Preston stopped dead in the hallway, his baby blues looking deep into her soul. "Now would be a good time to stop me if you intend to."

Clinging to his hard body, she felt the corners of her mouth turn up, "Oh, we're not stopping."

* * *

Emerson slowly drifted into consciousness, feeling warm and cozy. The kind of cozy that made you wish your bed would hold you hostage on a cold winter's morning. The kind of cozy that let you drift in and out of blissful sleep, as rain tapped against your bedroom window.

Easing to her back, she stretched, feeling a slight soreness pull at her muscles. Even still, she couldn't remember the last time she had slept so well. Ready to snuggle back in, the groan of the sleeping lion startled her, freezing her in her tracks, as a heavy paw eased across her stomach.

Lying motionless, she waited for the beast to rouse.

And waited.

Swallowing hard, she tried to think through her options. Except the only thing she could focus on was the bed she was laying in, which now that her mind had seemed to have fully awaken, was not her childhood bed that she thought she was in. Barely able to see, she struggled to bring her eyes into focus to make out the glow of red from the clock.

It was 5:57 AM.

Certain the two-hundred pounds of solid male beast was still soundly asleep, Emerson gently crept from beneath his hold; stopping only once when a faint noise rose from his chest.

Several agonizingly long minutes later, she had finally freed herself from Preston's grasp. Free, she frantically searched the dark for any sign of her clothes. She'd been wearing most of them, except her shirt, when Preston had carried her into his lair, so they had to be close. Crawling across the floor, feeling her way through the darkness, a sharp pain seared through her scalp as her head came into – not so pleasant – contact with something hard she hadn't seen.

" _Crap!"_ she cried quietly, rubbing the throbbing spot on top of her skull.

Ignoring the pain, she worked her way to the door, managing to find everything except the pair of lace thongs. Deciding no one would be the wiser of her commando status, she began dressing in the pitch black, hoping like hell she was putting her clothes on correctly.

Slowly cracking the door open, she peered up and down the quiet hallway.

No sign of movement.

Excellent.

Gingerly pulling the door closed behind her, Emerson threw on her shirt that was still lying in the kitchen floor, grabbed her purse and cell from the counter, and headed straight for the front door. Reaching in her bag for her car keys, it hit her like a brick wall. She hadn't driven here.

"Dammit," she cursed the empty room.

It wasn't far to Oli's, less than two miles, but considering the sun had yet to rise it was two miles further than she was about to walk. Call her overly cautious, but she wasn't about to go wondering through town, alone in the dark. Besides, it was pretty damn hard to put your big girl panties on when they were lost in the dark depths of the lion's lair.

Frustrated, she glanced back over her shoulder towards the hallway of bedroom doors. Option one, she could go crawl back in bed with Preston, where it was nice and warm, but that meant facing the awkward _morning after_ conversation. No thank you. Not to mention, she didn't have a clue how these things worked. She'd never had a one night stand. Did she stay for breakfast? Offer to cook for him? Or did she just say thank you and leave immediately?

Then, there was problem number two; this was her best friend's house. A place she thought of as her home away from home. A place she would always visit. What if it was going to be awkward now, with Preston living here?

_Guess you should have thought about that last night_ , her subconscious chastised, wrapped in a black robe, puffing on a long, thin cigarette.

Realizing the urgent need for caffeine now was not the time to think about the repercussions of her actions. Spying a hooded sweatshirt and a fleece throw on the back of the couch, Emerson swiped them both, and headed straight for her exit.

Option two it was.

The cool morning air washed over her the moment she stepped out on the porch and sat on the top step. Bringing her phone to life, she cringed at the warning that flashed across the screen, _"Low Battery"._ Glancing to the top right hand corner, she took in the small red " _4%_ " blinking. There were only two people that would come to her rescue this early in the morning; one of which owned the house – no way she was going back in there to get Cooper – and then there was Millie.

Do or die time. Pulling up Millie's contact information, she braced herself for the lecture she was about to receive.

"Emerson? Is everything okay?" Millie's voice came through the phone.

Glad she was sitting down, she spoke softly, "Everything is fine. I just...I need a ride."

"Don't you have a car?" Couldn't anything in life ever be easy when it came to her sister?

"Yes...and no. I'm sort of at Coop's. Could you just hurry?" She whispered, wrapping the fleece around her legs.

"Hurry? You have somewhere to be at this hour? And where's your rental?" Millie was sounding a bit agitated now. Their week of managing to get along might have met its end.

"I'll explain later, but my car's at Oli's. Can you just hurry before they wake up?" she whisper yelled into the receiver, annoyed at the twenty questions.

"Are you seriously going to whisper yell at me at six AM? Tell me who _they_ are first!" There was a brief pause as the truth dawned on Millie. "OMG! You were with _him_ , weren't you? Ohhh you are so telling all." Excitement laced her sister's angelic voice, her earlier agitation evaporating.

Breathing out a huge sigh, "Yes, I was. Will you just come get me. Now!"

"Fine, be there in –"

The call dropped, as the last of the battery drained and her screen went black.

"Unbelievable!" She grumbled, pulling the blanket tight around her body, trying to stay warm. Hopefully her sister would hurry and not take her sweet time, but it was hard to say. Millie loved nothing more than to torture her after all.

"In a hurry, huh?" the deep, unexpected familiar male voice nearly caused her heart to stop.

# Eleven

"Jesus, you scared the crap out of me! You could give a girl some warning next time."

Taking in the damp, sweat glistening Cooper, she wondered ideally why men looked so hot after exercising. All she ever looked like was a hot mess. It really wasn't fair.

"So?" Cooper took a seat next to her on the top step, dragging out the two letter word like it were five syllables.

"So?" Really not in the mood to deal with this at the moment, she made a mental note not to leave herself stranded next time she decided to have a little impromptu fling in Nowhere, North Carolina. At least in the city she could have hopped in a cab or took the subway home. "I'm a big girl, you know?"

"Yeah?" Cooper rocked towards her, bumping into her shoulder, nearly knocking her off balance.

"Yeah! You don't need to go around warning all the boys on the playground not to come near me with a ten foot pole." She eyed him.

At least he had the decency to look a little ashamed. "I'm a little surprised he told you about that."

"It might have come up in passing." Preston hadn't said who had done the warning, but there had only been one logical choice, unless he and Millie had suddenly become pals.

Placing his elbows on his knees, Cooper rested his chin on his interlocked fingers, thoughtfully staring at the houses across the street. "Look Annie, he's not a bad guy, he's actually probably better than 90% of us shitheads out there, but he's not the settling down type, if you know what I mean? I just don't want to see you hurt again after everything..." his voice trailed off.

"Thank you." She smiled, resting her head against his shoulder, "for looking after me, but I'm not looking for a commitment. I told you, I just wanted to have a night out. No strings. Blow off a little steam. Besides, I have to go back –"

Her thought was interrupted by the sudden tremble of his body. Puzzled by the movement, she quickly sat up, turning to look at Cooper. Was he laughing?

"What the hell is so funny?"

"Oh, you were blowing off steam alright." Unable to hold it in any longer, laughter erupted, echoing off the surrounding houses.

Embarrassment flooded her checks; her chest blazing beneath the hoodie. Rearing back, she slapped him hard across the shoulder she had been nestled into. "Would you keep it down, you're going to wake the whole neighborhood!"

Slowing his laugh, he glanced over his shoulder at the front door, "Something tells me it's not the neighbors you are worried about waking up? Besides, you didn't seem too concerned about them last night!"

"Cooper Whitley!" This time, she balled her fist and punched.

Cooper's laughter broke off as the Ford Flex pulled into the drive. Standing from her perch on the top step she headed down the steps, blanket and all, towards Millie's SUV. Like a shadow, Cooper followed close behind, nearly plowing into her when she turned to hand him the blanket. "I'll get your sweatshirt back to you soon."

Taking the blanket in his hand, Cooper took a long look through the front windshield before finally acknowledging her with a cheesy grin, "Oh, that's not my sweatshirt."

"Oh?" Emerson looked at the hoodie for the first time, taking in the Pfizer logo over her left breast. Satisfaction filling her, "Well, I will make sure it gets returned before I leave."

Pulling open the door for her, Cooper rested his forearm along the top of the door, his left palm bracing the top of the car as he leaned down, looking past her. "Good morning, Millicent!" his voice was thicker than normal.

"Cooper." Millie glanced over, a slightly annoyed look about her face.

"Always a pleasure seeing you bright and early in the morning."

Emerson could feel the tension building between her best friend and sister. She'd always hoped the two would learn to get along, but Millie had been too stubborn, and Cooper too hell bent on agitating her.

"It's early, not bright." Millie pulled the gear shift into reverse.

"You ladies have a good day!" At that, he nodded and eased the door closed.

They rode in silence for a moment, the shops of downtown passing by, as the tension still swirled. She knew it was futile, but there was a part of her that still hoped they would one day come to terms.

"You know, he's not that bad of a guy...if you just get to know him." Emerson tried to lighten the mood.

"I know all I need to know. I don't know what he tells you, but I see his shenanigans with every woman in town so there's no need to try and sell me on him."

"I'm not trying to sell you a date, just that he's a decent person. The good kind to have in your corner if you need something. That's all."

"I'm sure I'll manage." Millie rolled her eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Millie looked over at her, confused.

"For choosing him, after mom died. I know that you just wanted to help, and I always turned to Cooper instead. I'm sorry. I know I was a brat." Emerson stared out the passenger window as the sun began to peak from behind the mountains.

"Em..." Millie's voice broke. Pulling into the lot at Oli's, she pulled the car to a stop at the driver's side of Emerson's rental. "I'm not mad that you chose him. I might have been a little hurt at first, but that was a long time ago." She felt her sister's hand clasp around her own. "My...lack of enthusiasm for Cooper has nothing to do with you and I. I always wanted what was best for you, even if that meant being a little overbearing at times."

Emerson couldn't help the chuckle that escaped, "A little?"

"Okay, maybe too much, but it was with the best of intentions, I promise." Millie squeezed her hand.

"I know that now, even if I didn't back then." And she did know. She had always known Millie was just trying to do what she thought was best, Emerson just hadn't known how to tell her as a teenager it wasn't what she needed. But it felt good to talk about it now, to take a step forward.

"I know it's not the best of circumstances, and I'm sorry for that, but I am glad your home. It's been a long time since we have really spent time together."

"Too long..." Emerson agreed, and she knew deep in her heart, she meant it.

Emerson sat in silence for a moment, reflecting on the conversation. In a few short minutes they had made more progress than they had in years. It gave her hope and reassurance that this had been the right decision after all. And if she was being honest, it gave her hope that she might be able to get out of the car without an interrogation on Preston.

"I'm glad I came home, too." Emerson reached for the handle, hoping to make a break as she could feel the conversation coming to a close.

The click of the locks sounded out throughout the SUV.

"Oh, no you don't!" Millie smiled, "You aren't leaving until you explain how you ended up at a little sleep over with the hottest thing east of the Mississippi."

* * *

Waking up to an empty bed was hardly what Preston had imagined after the night he had.

For days, he had been dreaming of Emerson's warm, soft body pressed against his, tangled together beneath the sheets. And it had finally happened. His last thought before sleep had taken over was waking up to the beautiful red head, kissing her soft lips and if he was lucky, making love to her one more time before he had to go to work. So rolling over to find only lingering warmth, had left him miffed.

The soft light of day, shining through the shades, hinted that it had to be just after six a.m. His muscles ached from good use as he stretched, reaching for the lamp on his night stand. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, his eyes locked in on a pair of lace panties, sending a surge of hope through him.

She was still there.

Grabbing his jeans from the floor, he slid them on and headed for the door. Quietly opening his door, he glanced to see if there was any light coming from Cooper's room, relieved when there was no glow beneath the threshold. The smell of coffee wafting from the kitchen had his heart picking up the pace. He did admire a woman who could make a good cup of coffee. Strolling leisurely towards the kitchen, he put his best _come here grin_ in place and rounded the corner.

"Awe, look at that playboy smile. I always knew you had a thing for me, but I hate to break it to you, you're not my type." Cooper laughed, leaning against the far side counter, sipping a steaming hot mug of coffee.

Preston's face fell as he glanced around the open floor plan. "Yeah about that..."

"You mean about Annie, the girl I said to leave alone?" Cooper's smile slipped, "She's gone; I passed her heading out just a few minutes ago."

Cooper had warned him to stay away, he just hadn't listened. He had intended to, which is why he had been in the bar last night, but it seemed fate had other ideas. Ideas he was good with. Seeing her all flustered, tangled in the ropes, he had barely been able to resist kissing her again. But then Cooper had come back from lunch, immediately launching into his warnings of leaving her alone and backing off.

The problem was Preston hadn't been sure if the warning was Cooper being protective, or whether Emerson had wanted him to stay away. But that little problem had been solved when she showed up like a breath of fresh air outside of Oli's. They'd walked, talked, made love...and now she was gone. It dawned on Preston then that she hadn't driven here. Neither one of them had.

"Where the hell did she go? She doesn't have a car here." Preston felt his voice falter; surely Cooper hadn't let her walk back to her car. It wasn't far, and this was practically Mayberry, but it was barely light out.

"I assumed she was heading home, back to her pop's place. She didn't really say." Cooper took a sip of his coffee, all smug.

"You let her walk, in the dark? I know you can be an ass, but Jesus man..."

Shit. He had to find her, at least give her a ride home, which meant first he had to get his own car from town. Or he could have borrowed Cooper's truck if she was in that big of a hurry. And why hadn't she woken him? If she had somewhere to be he would have taken her. Anywhere she wanted to go.

"Me, the ass?" Cooper scoffed. "I told you to leave it the hell alone, not to mess with her. You want to point fingers, go point at your fucking self in the mirror."

"Fuck," Preston muttered as he grabbed his keys off the counter and headed for the front door. He didn't have time for this.

He would backtrack to Oli's. She would likely have taken the same path back that they had taken to get here in the first place. Running, it would take him no time to get back to his Jeep, since their house was just on the edge of town. Guessing it was right around a mile, he could be there in six minutes flat if he pushed.

Cooper waited until he had almost reached the door before he spoke again, "She didn't walk dumbass. You really think I would just let her walk all the way home?"

"Where the hell is she then?" Guilt plaguing him; he really should have been the one taking her back.

"She called her sister. Oh, and she stole your sweatshirt too, just FYI."

Just then a wrap came from the front door, and hope surged once more. Turning his back to Cooper he paced to the door, swinging it open. There in front of him, stood a tall, lean man about his age, sporting a full sheriff's uniform.

Reed Tatone.

At the sight of Reed in a uniform his heart plummeted to his gut. There was no emotion. His face had business written all over it. Nothing like the man he had met in the bar last night.

"Mind if I come in?" Reed slipped off his hat and stepped in without waiting for an answer.

"Of course." Taking a step back, Preston gestured to the open space behind him. "Is everything alright?"

"That depends. I have a few questions I need to ask you."

# Twelve

Getting an unexpected visit from a small town sheriff was never a good sign. Getting a visit at precisely at quarter past six in the morning was rather alarming. Following Reed into the living room, Preston tried to remember if he had paid his tab before leaving the bar last night because that was about the only thing he could think of that would have happened between now and the last time he saw Reed.

Walking in from the kitchen, Cooper glanced between Preston and Reed. "Tatone? What's got you out this early?" Cooper's voice full of the same question on Preston's mind – what was the sheriff doing here? "No luck with the ladies last night?"

"Oh, there was luck, but duty calls." The guy's mood lightening a fraction at the acknowledgement, before quickly slipping back in to cop mode "I just have a few questions for our friend here."

Cooper plopped down on the coach, coffee in hand, "Ask away."

"Can you please tell me the last time you saw Ms. Emerson Grey?"

A roar of laughter burst from the end of the couch.

Cooper's end.

"I'm sorry, don't mind me. This day just keeps getting better. She just bailed on his sorry ass this morning." Cooper tried and failed to stifle his laugh.

"What's this about?" Preston asked.

This wasn't even close to the morning he had planned. Considering he had planned to still be in bed, naked, with a hot little red head. Waking up alone had been surprise enough, now he had an officer of the law questioning his night? He had heard rumors traveled fast in small towns, but this was damn right impressive.

"Yeah Reed, what's this about?" Cooper, still trying to hold in his laughter, propped his feet up on the coffee table like this was a normal day in the neighborhood.

"Cooper, if you don't mind, this is official business." Reed glared.

Whatever lighthearted camaraderie there may have been a few minutes ago, it was gone now. Reed meant business.

"She stayed here last night. Cooper passed her on her way out just a few minutes ago. Why do you ask?" He couldn't help but wonder what this was about. She'd been gone a total of maybe thirty minutes?

"We received a report from a family member this morning that she was missing." Reed studied him hard.

"Missing?" What the hell? The only place she had been missing from was his bed when he woke up. "We met up last night outside of Oli's, we...she decided to stay here. She's not missing."

Once again, Cooper's laughter filled the room. "Reed, Annie's fine. Mil came and picked her up just a few minutes ago." Turning his head, Cooper glanced over at Preston, "You're making one helluva first impression if her pops is already calling the cops on you."

"So not funny right now man," Preston shook his head at the asswipe lounging on the couch. "Her father called you?"

"He did. About an hour ago, said she never came home last night." Reed turned to Cooper, "You sure she was fine? Nothing seemed wrong?"

"Well...I mean, as good as you could expect after a night with this guy." Cooper nodded his head in Preston's direction. "Seriously Reed, she's fine. She did steal a sweatshirt though, so lover boy here may want to press charges."

Shaking his head, Reed stood from the chair he had been sitting in.

"Alright, I will check in with Mr. Grey, but that's all for now." Reed glanced over at Cooper's mug, "You got some coffee to go man? I got run out of bed with a perfectly good woman, and didn't have time to stop for a cup of Joe."

"You got it."

Done with the interrogation routine, Preston leaned back, resting his head against the back of the couch. What the hell had happened? His night had been amazing. The best sex he'd had in years. Her body was perfect. A God send. The more he touched, the more he craved. Melting together in a rhythm so connate and natural he hadn't wanted to let go. Kissing every inch of her. Worshipping her. Her ragged moans, and nails digging into his back, pushing him over the edge again and again. Maybe it was cliché, but it had been one of the greatest nights of his life.

And then she was gone. Like a thief in the night; slipping out, without as much as a word. He should take the out. Let her walk away. It was brilliant. A straight flush. But there was something unexplainable nagging at him. He didn't want the strings or the commitment, only the fun, so for the life of him he couldn't figure out why he was struggling to let it go.

She was like a siren luring him in with her beauty.

Relaxing, closing his eyes briefly, he debated what to do next. The store didn't open till nine, so he had some time to kill before work. A long run would help clear his head, but after the workout last night and the lack of sleep, he wasn't feeling much for the exertion. On cue, his stomach rumbled loudly. Breakfast it was.

Walking into the kitchen, Preston rummaged through the refrigerator, ignoring Cooper and Reed lingering by the coffee pot.

"Sorry honey, I didn't make it to the store yet." Cooper gave his best female impersonation when Preston came up empty.

"You make a really shitty wife you know?"

"Yeah well, I don't cook worth a shit either." Cooper quipped, while Reed snickered in the background.

Preston debated asking the cop if he had somewhere better to be, but he decided getting on the wrong side of the law in a small town was probably not the best idea. He'd seen _Walking Tall_ and he was no Dwayne Johnson. Staying in the good graces of the law was where he needed to be.

"Sorry about earlier man, just doing my job." Reed said.

"No worries, it's all good." Not like he had an option after all.

"Well fellas, I gotta head to the station. Thanks for the coffee. That stuff Marge makes could make hair grow on a boy's chest."

The front door clicked as Reed shut it behind him.

"I'm going to hit the shower and head into town for breakfast, you in?" Preston asked.

"Awe that's sweet, but I prefer my showers with the female persuasion." Cooper chuckled, "I will take you up on the food, there isn't shit to eat in this house."

* * *

Emerson opened the door, after a much needed long hot shower, to find Millie lying across her bed. Yay to sisterly bonding! Seemed privacy was out the window. Ignoring her sister and the lack of respect for personal space, Emerson headed for her closet. She had promised to help Millie set up for the town's Autumn Fest today, so work clothes it was.

Every September, the residents of Spruce Pine would gather in the streets of downtown for Autumn Fest, to celebrate the changing of the seasons into fall. There would be music and dancing, crafts and games, and enough food to feed an army. Aside from all the fun, Autumn Fest unofficially marked the beginning of tree season for farmers like her father. For the past few years, Millie had sat as chair of the town's planning committee, and rightfully so. She was the event planner extraordinaire, after all.

As kids, the girls had loved the festival. They would make their way from tent to tent; eating, playing, getting their faces painted and dancing to the live bands set up in the center of town. When their teenage years rolled around, they had pleaded to go on their own, wanting to hang out with friends and flirt with boys. After their mother had passed, their father had let them go on their way. As for him, he never returned to the celebration.

She had guessed that the memories had been far too painful. It had been a family tradition, before their family had been broken.

"Hurry up, I am starving." Millie squawked from the bed, "I thought we could stop by IDK Café before we get started?"

Feeling the flutter in her stomach, she couldn't miss the irony. She was hungry alright...just not for food. "One night, it was just one night." she whispered to herself.

"What was that?"

"I said, sounds good, just give me a sec."

Sitting in the early morning crowd at I Don't Know Café, Emerson let herself soak in the swirl of conversation around them. It had been a long time since she had lived in a small town. So long she'd nearly forgotten how nice it was to have a perfect stranger speak to you in a polite manner. In New York, strangers only spoke for two reasons; to ask for money or to tell you, in no uncertain terms, to piss off.

"Don't turn around," Millie whispered sternly across their four top table.

Too late! Perusing the menu, Emerson had felt the tingle of skin and the hair stand on the back of her neck before her sister had spoken. The familiar electricity from last night filling the diner, there was no mistaking who had just walked in.

"Ladies. Mind if we join you?" She did look up. She didn't need to. She could recognize Cooper's voice in the pitch black.

Fumbling for an excuse, she couldn't stop the stutter on her lips, "I...ah...we" but it was too late. Watching Cooper make himself at home, she groaned inwardly, "...we would love for you to join us!"

Risking a glance, she peered between the loose tendrils of hair cascading her face, only to lock eyes with the most gorgeous set of baby blues she had ever seen. The way the heavenly blue swirled made them seem almost magical. And then his lips twitched, tilting into a wicked grin that said " _I know what you look like naked"_ and she felt her girl parts clinch.

Under any other circumstance, it would have been a great grin. The kind of grin that said we should do it again, but the little reminder of their escapade also reminded her of one very awkward truth...her father had called the cops on him.

Emerson had been grateful for two things. First, that Millie had waited until they were on the way to the diner to tell her dear old dad had sent the cops out looking for her. And secondly, that she didn't have Preston's number, because otherwise there would have been one very embarrassing rambling of apology, preferably left on his voice mail.

After the initial shock had worn off, Emerson had decided instead of apologizing like a normal human being whose father sent out search parties in the early morning hours, she would just avoid Preston. She had less than two weeks. How hard could it be to avoid someone for such a short amount of time? Apparently for her, it was next to impossible, considering she had made it roughly ten minutes before her plan had imploded.

Now she had to figure out how to get through breakfast without her blood pressure sky-rocketing, causing a mild stroke.

"Good morning, Cooper." The waitress, who had returned with the girls' coffees and two additional menus, smiled. Glancing over to Preston, her smile grew a little wider. "Hi there, my name is Jody. What can I get you to drink?"

The waitress was all but purring with her _hey there big fellow_ voice. Gees, where was a hot male waiter when you needed one, seriously?

"My usual, please." Cooper smiled like a cock in a hen house, making her loath his self-confidence. The only thing she felt confidence about was feeling exactly two inches tall.

"Coffee, black" said Preston.

"Y'all ready to order?" Jody swished her hips.

"YES!" Both, she and Millie chimed in before Jody could finish the question.

"So, this has been an interesting morning..." Cooper leaned back in his chair, filling the silence.

"I have to pee." Emerson nearly took out her own coffee when she jumped up rushing to the bathroom.

Stepping in, she closed the door and locked it. Leaning against the sink, the cool ceramic was soothing to her clammy palms. Staring herself down in the mirror, she mentally calculated how long could she hide in the bathroom without it looking like she was having a bad IBS attack? "You just have to make it through breakfast. You can do this?" She started in with the pep talk.

Taking stock in the mirror, at least she looked like she had her act together, even if she felt far more tenuous. Her hair was behaving for once, her make-up was good, no smears or smudges. Checking her teeth, she made sure there were no particles even though she hadn't eaten since she brushed her teeth. "You got this."

Washing her hands, she grabbed the door knob with the paper towel and swung it open as she looked back and aimed for the bin. Score! She hit a three pointer from the doorway. Ready to face the music, she turned back to the diner, and plowed right into the most amazing abs she'd ever laid her hands on.

"Oh my God! What are you doing?" her voice squeaked, her pep talk going right out the window.

"What happened this morning?" His voice was serious and hot as hell when he got all _no bullshit_ on her.

"About that, I'm sorry" she smiled, weakly.

"Sorry about the cops, or you sneaking out in the dead of night?"

"Both...I think" her words almost a whisper now. "Okay, the truth is I had never...you know... before. I didn't really know what to do this morning. You know, what normally happens the morning after."

His head cocked to the side, his signature brow rising, "Never done what exactly?"

"You know," lowering her voice in case anyone was listening, "the thing."

"You mean sex?"

Why was he was looking at her like she had just grown a second head? Of course she meant sex, amazing sex that had rocked her world until the wee hours of the morning. What else would she be talking about?

"Shhh! Yes, in the one night variety."

His laugh echoed down the hallway, filled with what sounded pretty close to relief.

"What's so funny?" she poked him in the chest.

"I thought you meant you had never. As in never never."

"Oh? Oh! No no, yeah no that I have, I ah..." she felt the blush bloom, spreading across her chest, her face heating in an instant.

His lip smirked and he leaned in brushing a stray hair back in place. "I do love your skin. You know you blush like that when you –"

Instinct lifted her hand and smacked him square across the chest, but laughter still roared from his chest. "So not funny! And keep your voice down, someone might hear you."

"No one is listening to us"

Just then a woman entered the hallway, apparently trying to decide if she could get into the restroom or not. Stepping back, Preston pulled them against the wall, tipping his head for the woman to pass. And she did without hesitation. Dear God, did every woman react this way to him?

"You don't know this town like I do. Trust me people listen and people talk." She forced her thoughts back on track.

Inching closer to her, he held her gaze "And so what if people talk about us?" His voice oozing with a velvet purr that made it really hard to think straight.

"Well considering half the town still thinks I am getting married next month –" She wanted to pull the words back in the moment they escaped, but they were already out there.

"Married? You're engaged?" His eyes drooped to her left hand. The third finger to be exact.

"No, I'm not. I mean, I was, but not anymore. It's complicated" Her voice pleading for him to believe her, but he just stared at her, his expression giving nothing away.

_It doesn't matter what he thinks_ , she told herself. It was a one night stand after all.

Wham, Bam, Thank You Ma'am.

Done.

Over.

No more.

But she couldn't stop herself from explaining, not that she tried, "It's why I came home, why I am here for a few weeks. I needed to get away from the whole mess, get my head on straight before I go back to the city, if that makes sense."

Preston studied her. Was she supposed to explain further? Was he waiting for her to go on? Again, that didn't matter either, because in the hallway, by the bathroom, was not the time or place to be having this conversation. Not here in the diner for everyone to hear.

She knew it wouldn't take long for the word to spread and the rumors to start flying, but the last thing she wanted was for people to think it was because she had been the unfaithful one.

"We should get back to our table." She started to move when a strong arm blocked her way.

"Were you the one who called it off?" his voice strained.

"Yes, I called it off..." she let the sentence drift.

A long awkward silence passed between them before she slowly lifted her gaze back to his. His eyes were hollow and tormented. Something she hadn't expected. Pity would have been a rational response, maybe even a little anger, but not the darkness that was hovering there behind his crystal blues.

She hadn't wanted pity. She hadn't wanted this conversation at all, but something in his stare made her blood run ice cold. A darkness staring back at her that she couldn't explain.

# Thirteen

Preston busied himself in the stock room of River Rock, unloading the latest shipment, as his thoughts replayed like a broken record over breakfast. He hadn't pushed for more, but based on his conversations with Cooper, and then the bits of information Emerson had accidentally given up this morning, it hadn't been an amicable split, nor one of her choosing.

Emerson said she had been the one to call it off, and from the painful look in her eyes, he believed her. But that pain also told him it had been a split out of necessity, not choice. A million thoughts of why a woman would leave the man she loved abruptly flooded his mind, leaving him with a pretty good idea of what the bastard had done. The morning Preston had stumbled upon Emerson and her flat tire, she had been screaming what seemed to be incoherent nonsense at the tire, but it was all coming into focus. _"You arrogant son of a bitch...was it that bad, that hard to just make a commitment and stick to it?"_ It wasn't hard to put those pieces together.

Just after noon, on the pretense of starving, Preston headed across the foot bridge, over the North Toe River and into downtown. Cooper had shot him a cautionary _don't fuck it up, or I'll kick your ass_ look, but he kept going anyway. Main Street was now lined with white topped tents, anchored with sand bags, while a stage had been erected in the main intersection of town. Preston laughed, wondering if they had intended to use the changing stop light as stage lighting.

About thirty feet back from the stage, he watched as the petite blonde heaved square hay bales into rows of seating. Her determination was impressive as she struggled to move them into place. He was just about to go offer a hand, when he caught the first glimpse of red tendrils blowing in the soft breeze. Preston froze, watching Emerson carry two bottles of water over to her sister, whom he had learned over breakfast was the pissy wedding planner and the town's event coordinator. At least, it explained why Emerson had been behind the scenes at the wedding, as well as in the Ridge Haven truck.

Shadowed by a few tents, Preston watched as the two exchanged a few words. It felt wrong to be spying on their private exchange, but he could no more help the draw to Emerson, than he could his next breath. She was beautiful, of course, but something about her pulled him in, holding him captive. The way her skin gleamed in the early afternoon sun. And her soft, sweet smile as though whatever Millie had said was the most pleasing thing in the world. There was no way around it, she was breathtaking.

The moment Millie was called off to another tent Emerson stretched across one of the bales, her skin bathing in the warm sun, rendering him useless against her lure. Torn between keeping his distance and his body's plea to be close to her, he continued to watch her in perilous fascination.

_Take the out,_ the warning sounded, but before he could heed the voice in his head, russet waves lifted from the bale, turning to face him head on. Verdant eyes flashed with surprise for the briefest moment, before turning away as though she had not seen him.

A dangerous possessiveness flared in him. The sudden desire to make her well aware of his presence propelled him to her, as though his life depended on it. She could pretend she hadn't seen him all she wanted, but he intended to make it damn hard to keep up the façade. Closing the distance, Preston was within steps when the baling twine gave way, sinking Emerson to the ground in a muddled pile of hay. The bottle she had raised to her lips, now dowsed the front of her T-shirt. Only, it was too bad it wasn't white.

Kneeling down, his shadow immersing her face, Preston fought back a smile. From the looks of it, only her pride was injured as she continued to stare at the cloudless sky overhead, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Slightly shaking his head back and forth, Preston slid his shades to the top of his head. "Do you need a hand?"

"Nope. I was just doing a little quality testing on the hay bales. This one is clearly defective."

"Yeah, I would say so." He laughed, extending a hand down to her, "I have a little time, I could help?"

Taking his hand she pulled herself into a sitting position, "I don't know. It's a pretty dirty job and you look all nice and clean."

"Getting dirty with you is not a problem."

"Wow, look at the time. I think we are all done here." Emerson quickly jumped to her feet, brushing the ha from her backside.

_Take the out,_ his subconscious begged of him, _don't get involved_.

Reaching up, Preston pulled a piece of hay from her hair "Oh we're not done, I promise you that."

* * *

Restless, Emerson stood under the vendor tent set up for Ridge Haven. There were pamphlets and photographs littering the table, as well as some pretty tasty snacks. Unfortunately, Millie had smacked her hand every time she had reached for a chocolate truffle. Damn her. And she really needed a chocolate truffle, too. While finishing the setup earlier, Emerson had heard a whisper that her secret wasn't such a secret any longer, thanks to her batty grandmother. Apparently, her father had broken the news to dear old granny, and God knows the woman liked to spread gossip like it was jam on toast, which meant it was sure to have made headlines with the blue hair circuit.

Unsure if she could acknowledge the truth, Emerson had stuffed the diamond into her back pocket before heading back into town. She hadn't really intended to wear it, facts were facts, but it was her failsafe, none the less.

The streets had begun to crowd, live music vibrating its way through the crowd, when she heard her name being called from the opposite side of the tent.

"Emerson?" Turning her head, she saw her grandmother's old friend.

"Hey, Miss Ethel, how are you?"

"Oh, you know dear, hip replacements and false teeth; it's all the rave when you get to be my age." The old woman patted her arm, and smiled sweetly.

"Always good to hear what I have waiting for me down the road." She laughed.

"Oh, there's plenty to look forward to dear. Like the right gentleman. Don't you worry about that, you'll find the right one. The Lord will provide sugar, yes indeed."

Stunned, Emerson didn't know what to say. She knew it was coming, gossip spread like wild fires, but she had hoped for a little beating around the bush. Some sugar coating.

"Of course, while you young women are out chasing those hot fire fighters, I'm just hoping to find a man that still has both original hips. You know what they say, it's all about the organics now-a-days."

Emerson couldn't help it, laughter burst from her lungs. That was definitely a new spin on the whole organic train of thought.

"Some men can't seem to help their wonderin' eyes, bless their hearts, but there are good ones out there." Ethel reached out, pulling her into a warm hug. "Speaking of good ones, there's Mr. Williams. Hear he still has all his teeth. Now, there's a hard trait to find. You take care dear."

"You too." Emerson called, as a wobbly Ethel moved in on her prey.

_Deep breaths,_ she told herself eyeing the truffles once more. This was Spruce Pine after all; word was bound to spread.

It wasn't surprising her father had told her grandmother, who had then told her best friend, who then probably told half the town, who then of course would eventually tell the other half. She had just hoped to be far away – seven hundred miles away – before the ax fell. Feeling the weight of the ring buried deep in her back pocket, Emerson gave some serious consideration to walking right over and chunking it in the river, just for the hell of it. Maybe it would feel better than kicking the tire. A little payback for Michael's infidelity.

An hour later, the vendor booths were packed with people browsing through the crafts, clothing, and food on display, making it near impossible to see through the crowd. As in, she could no longer get a good glimpse at who was under the Oliver's Tavern tent directly across from her. She had seen Clay, the bar manager, hauling in the kegs earlier this afternoon, so she knew he was going to draw a crowd.

She told herself not to look for Preston, to just let it go, but " _herself"_ didn't seem very interested in listening tonight. It was self-torture really. It wasn't like she was going to sleep with him again. Ever. But he wasn't exactly bad to look at. And looking didn't mean a thing, right?

Just then the crowd parted like Moses and the Red Sea, her eyes locking on a blonde Barbie, with insanely long legs, – thin, gorgeous, perfectly tan legs – rubbing up next to Preston. Barbie giggled, running her hands up his arm.

Raw emotion churned her stomach. Images of Michael tangled in the long legs and blonde hair of his assistant hit her like a wrecking ball, knocking her off balance. The truffle she had managed to swipe threatening to reappear.

"Em? What's wrong?"

Just as the concern in Millie's voice registered, Preston's gaze locked with hers and flashed a million dollar smile. The bastard was smiling at her while he had Barbie wrapped around him. The nerve. Her cheeks flushed, filling with anger. Anger she had suppressed. Anger she was refusing to let rule her. Anger that was all directed at Michael. This is exactly why she was swearing off men, until almost forever. They were all just out for themselves.

Emerson fought, trying to ward off the jealousy that was taking over, but this whole night was turning into a complete disaster. She had no right to be jealous; she was the one that had bailed on him this morning and then again at the diner, not to mention she had only been looking for a one night stand. One night she would never forget, but that was beside the point. So it shouldn't matter who was clinging to him like static in a fleece sweater.

"Emerson, what's going on?" Millie cut through her thoughts, snapping her back to the present.

"Nothing, I'm fine. I just need to get some fresh air." The small break in the crowd had closed in, cutting off her view from the tent across the way. "I'm going to walk around a bit. I'll be back soon." She smiled weakly.

"Are you sure you are okay? You look like you saw a ghost."

"I'm fine, really. I'll be back soon."

She wasn't fine. She was a wreck. The emotions were all too much. She needed to get away from the raw feeling of seeing Preston with other women, away from the flashbacks of Michael wrapped in passionate throws with his assistant, away from the knowledge that her life had hit the gutter.

Not having the energy to fight through the crowded street, she walked along the backside of the tents, staying out of view. She nearly reached the end of the designated festival area, when someone reached out, tapping her lightly on the shoulder.

"Emerson Grey? It is you?" a vaguely familiar voice called out.

Halting, Emerson took in the extremely pregnant woman standing in her path.

In high school, Julianne Davis was one of those girls you couldn't help but love, but wanted to hate. She had it all; the money, the looks, the boyfriends. She should have been an easy target, but then she would open her mouth and the most amazing personality would come tumbling out. She was the kindest person Emerson had ever known. Humble and down to earth.

"Julianne! Hey! How have you been?" Emerson felt the genuine smile spread across her lips.

"I'm good. Really good. Ready for this little guy to come out." Julianne rubbed her very large, round belly. Her feet were spread wide and swollen, her hand on the back of her hip, bracing herself. Trying to counter balance her small frame with the impressive ball tucked beneath her shirt. How someone could look so miserable, yet happy, at the same time was beyond Emerson?

Lowering her voice, Julianne rested her palm around Emerson's forearm. "I'm so sorry to hear about your fiancé. My nana told me what happened."

"Oh, well these things happen, right?" Emerson tried to smile but it fell flat.

"Are you okay?" God this was awful. She really should pack her bag and head back to the city...except she hadn't exactly figured out that problem either.

"I'm good. Fine, you know. So, a boy, huh? Wow!"

Just then, a handsome man wrapped his arm around Julianne's shoulder, with a beautiful little girl on his hip. "Mommy!" the little girl cried as she leaned towards Julianne.

They seemed so perfect, the picture of happiness. She couldn't help but feel a little envious. It was like watching her dreams all balled up in one little happy family. Dreams that had been washed away to sea. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, the hair on the back of her neck prickled and her nipples hardened.

He had found her.

Risking a glance over her shoulder, her eyes locked onto his icy blues. He was so close. Too close. She could feel the current running through them, electricity sparking. One touch and she would spontaneously combust. Dropping her gaze, she studied the damp, soft skin of his lips. A wave of heat dropped low in her belly.

Stepping in, Preston reached his hand towards Julianne, and then her husband "Hi, I'm Preston."

"Hi! I am Julianne...and this is Mark...my husband." Julianne's eyes were darting suspiciously back and forth between the two of them. "It's nice to meet you. So, how do you two crazy kids know each other?"

This was exactly what Emerson had been afraid of in the diner. People were going to assume things. Bad things, about why her relationship ended. "Preston is a good friend of Cooper's. From college." Emerson tried to clear the air.

"Cooper Whitley? I haven't seen him in ages. You two were always really close!"

"Yeah, we still are."

In one instant she was having a seemingly normal conversation with an old friend, and in the next she felt the glide of Preston's hand slip into the back pocket of her Levi's. His body stiffening the moment he felt the sharp point of the square diamond, deep in her pocket.

# Fourteen

Emerson stood in the middle of Main Street, surrounded by locals, completely dumbfounded by the last thirty seconds of her life. She had just been about to explain that Preston was working with Cooper at River Rock when she felt Preston's hand slip in her back pocket. The action had taken her completely by surprise, but now she was more curious by what he had placed in her pocket, than the why?

Mark, who had been mostly silent, hadn't missed a beat the moment she had mentioned River Rock. Immediately launched into a discussion with Preston on back packs; weight vs. style. Something she knew nothing about. She may have grown up in the beautiful mountains, but that did not mean she had a desire to go hiking up and down them, especially in the carrying forty pounds on her back, over rough terrain, variety.

With Preston and Mark deep in conversation, and Julianne kneeling before her daughter – very pregnant belly and all – trying to clean what looked like cotton candy off the girl's mouth, Emerson decided it was as good of a time as any to see what exactly he had put in her pocket.

And why hadn't he just handed it to her in the first place?

Slipping her hand into the denim, she felt the soft ball of material. _What the hell?_ Her mind couldn't begin to picture what in the world he had given her. Slowly, balling the material in her fist, she pulled her hand from her pocket, her fingers slowly peeling back to reveal a small strip of white lace.

Recognition flashed in her mind.

Images of searching the dark floor for her panties, knocking her head against the night stand, and coming up empty handed replayed like a montage. She wasn't empty handed now.

Mortified, she stuffed the unmentionables back in her pocket in a hurry, and glanced at the couple in front of her, praying to God no one had seen what she had. Mark and Julianne seemed to be none the wiser, but when her gaze met Preston's, he was wearing a devilish grin. She was going to kill him for this one. A long, slow, torturous death.

The slow burn that never ceased inched across her skin, setting her on fire from the inside out. "I'm so sorry, I just remembered I forgot something, could you help me?" Emerson blurted, interrupting the conversation. Grabbing Preston by the bicep, she shot Julianne an apologetic smile, "It was really great seeing you, take care."

Baffled, Julianne looked like a deer in headlights, "yeah...it was great to see you, too. We should get together before you leave town."

"Sounds good!" but she was already pulling Preston and his smug look, away from the crowds.

"Would you slow down?" Preston called from a few feet behind her.

Emerson ignored the sexy voice filled with delight; she was busy hurrying down the side walk, towards the foot bridge that crossed over the North Toe River. She needed to be out of sight, away from the crowd before she exploded.

"Emerson! Wait up, please?" It was really too bad the sound of his voice was running chills down her spine, straight to her girl parts that were begging her to listen to his command. It made being pissed almost impossible.

"Emerson, stop!"

They were halfway over the bridge when he grabbed her arm, spinning her around and pulling her into him. "Now, that's better." He smiled.

The stupid, sexy ass.

"You have some balls, you know that?" She punched a finger hard into his chest.

"I thought we established that last night?" He was still laughing and she was losing her steam in a hurry at the beautiful sound.

"Ugh!" She managed to stomp off a few feet before he grabbed her arm again.

"What? I thought you would want them back? I even washed them for you." Clearly, he was buying her angry routine.

"Oh my God, you are unbelievable! Maybe you should go find Barbie, again", she started to move back towards the festival, but a brick wall stepped in her path. His fingers drifted gently against her skin, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. She felt the shiver run through her, but it wasn't from the cool breeze. She was on fire.

"Hey," his voice was velvety soft, pulling her chin up, forcing her to look him in the eye, "talk to me, please."

Words failed her. What was she supposed to say, _"I'm super jealous of Barbie even though I only wanted a quick fling"_ Not happening.

His eyes were searching, waiting. "I'm sorry. I was out of line, but you were running away and I was looking forward to seeing you. It's the only reason I came down here tonight actually." His voice was sincere now, washing away the last ounce of her anger.

Rising to her tip toes, Emerson gripped the hair on the back of his head and pulled his mouth down on hers, kissing him. It was rough. Needy. But she didn't care. She needed this. Needed him.

Their lips touched for the briefest moment before he took over. Running his hands down to the small of her back, he pulled her tightly against his body, passion flowing from his mouth as she parted her lips, letting him in. His mouth moved against hers with the same urgency she felt. In swift movements, he turned her body and stepped in, pushing her back against the railing. His hands pushing beneath her shirt in quick and precise movements; he was everywhere at once.

Pulling his lips from hers, his mouth made quick work moving down her neck, as his hands glided up her sides, working their way up to the soft underside of her breast. Erotic sensation overwhelmed her as she tilted her head back, gasping.

"Not here," her voice was breathy and full of need, but he didn't need any other explanation.

Before she could process what was happening, Preston hoisted her over his shoulder, like a sack of potatoes. Moving at a brisk pace, he carried her with ease over the bridge, straight for Cooper's store. Both turned on and embarrassed, she laughed hysterically enjoying the view of his spectacular ass while hers was pointing high for the world to see. Fortunately, there was no one on this side of the river.

"Shhhhh..."

"Did you just shush me?" She tried to push herself up enough to see his face, but a sudden sting lite across her ass. "Hey! Did you just spank me?"

"Shhhhh, before you draw attention." his voice was hushed, as though someone might really hear them. "There's more where that came from if you don't behave."

She wasn't sure what had come over her. She'd been pissed and then her lips hijacked her brain and started kissing him. Now she was so turned on by the thought of him spanking her that she wanted to shout out across the river just so he would do it again.

Reaching the side entrance of River Rock, Preston sat her back on her feet, pressing her tight between the cinderblock wall and his body.

"Is there a problem with me spanking you?" His voice was pure lust.

Clearly, he wasn't interested in an answer considering his lips were back on hers, drowning any coherent thought she might have had. Or maybe it was the feel of his erection pressed hard against her hip that made it impossible to formulate a single thought. Only the faint sound of keys being yanked from his pocket registered in her swirl of desire.

Disengaging the lock, Preston swung the door open, quickly sweeping her off her feet and carrying her through the darkened store. Navigating his way with only the dim cast of the security light, he headed straight for the Cooper's office. Lowering her legs to the ground, she was grateful he held her tight to his chest as her legs went weak with lust.

She had known him exactly a week and already her body was useless against his lure. Whether it was the passion set behind those crystal eyes, or the confident way he moved, she wasn't sure, but something about this man melted her into a deep pool of desire. Rendering her body more alive than she had ever felt. She had felt it from the moment their bodies had collided. There was something different about him, something deep, rich. Something that felt a little real.

Pushing the thoughts from her mind, Emerson focused on the man pressed tightly against her body. Reveling in the feel of his mouth as it grazed the pulse raging in her neck. Running her hands through his short tousled hair, she pulled him closer, over stimulated by his teeth skimming her collar bone. Strong hands slithered up her sides, pulling her shirt with them, and her thighs clinched. Lost in desire, she barely registered her shirt lifting, and then hitting the office floor. Cupping her breasts, his thumbs ran tiny circles over her pebbled nipples, squeezing gently until a soft moan escaped her.

A sound of pure primal approval flowed from his lungs as he took in the sight of her, glowing in the soft light of the computer's monitor. "God you're beautiful!"

"You're not so bad yourself, stranger." A nervous laugh filled her voice.

Reaching over his shoulders, she watched as his hands pulled at his own shirt this time, quickly freeing himself and tossing it on the floor next to hers. Without hesitation, her hands went straight for his chest, tracing the hard lines of muscle. His body was glorious, smooth skin covering hard chiseled planes. She wanted to touch every inch of him.

Lifting her up by the ass, she wrapped her legs around his waist as they moved as one across the room. And then suddenly she was falling, a sharp squeal of excitement echoing as she landed on the smooth leather couch. Before she could recover he was on her, hovering. Running his finger along the strap of her bra, his lips left a trail of kisses in its place, until he reached the delicate skin of her breasts. Arching her back, he made swift work at unclasping her bra. Hooking a finger around the small stretch of cloth between her breasts, he pulled slowly, freeing her.

"Damn!" He drew a ragged breath.

Hot, wet lips captured her nipple as his tongue ran tiny circles around the sensitive skin. Sucking her hard in his mouth, his free hand cupped her other breast, gently massaging her hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Clinging to him like a dying last breath, need and desire ravaged her body, overwhelming her sex. With her fists full of hair, she gently pushed, urging him to move further south.

It didn't take much encouragement, his mouth leaving a trail of moist kisses down her stomach. The chill of the air against the trail of damp skin sent shivers through her.

Sitting up, Preston made quick work of undoing her belt and pants, and began sliding them down her legs, pausing only long enough to remove her boots before tossing the garments to the side. Agonizingly slow, he ran his index finger under the edge of her panties, pulling them far enough to the side that they no longer obstructed his view of all her glory. Lace twisted around his fingers and with one quick jerk, the delicate fabric snapped; freeing her sex inches from his face.

Laughter bellowed up from her stomach "Guess it's good you brought the other ones back?"

"Who said I am letting you put any of them back on?"

"Oh my –" Her words strangled at the sight of Preston pulling a condom from his back pocket, before dropping his jeans revealing his commando style.

Clearly the man had a thing against underwear.

# Fifteen

Preston lay back against the couch, pulling a very limp Emerson against his chest.

They were both panting, covered in a thin layer of sweat, but all he cared about was the smile that was plastered to her face.

"You're sexy when you get all feisty." He said, tooling with the strains of red hair splayed out across her bare back. He reveled in the feel of her body pressed against his. Skin to skin.

"You're sexy when you breathe," she whispered, and he couldn't help but laugh.

Pushing herself up, Emerson looked him square in the eye, "I'm serious, and it's completely not fair."

Her breast dangled against his chest, and he could feel the dampness between her thighs as she straddled his leg. God help him, he was getting hard. "Not fair, huh?"

"No, not at all." She smiled and kissed his chin. "Which is why I am officially avoiding you from now on."

"Avoiding me?" Preston ignored the odd stabbing in his chest.

"Yes, avoiding, since I seem to have a little trouble with keeping my clothes on where you are concerned."

"Personally, I don't see the problem." He trailed a finger down her sternum, watching the chill bumps run across her skin.

"Of course you wouldn't. You're a man."

He didn't respond to that. He couldn't. He was too busy watching the way her ass swayed as she stood, walking across the room to where a pile of wrinkled clothes now lay. He didn't try to hide the fact that she was making him hard either. He just lay there, naked as a jay bird, in all his glory.

"Look, all I'm saying is –" she stopped short, half shimmied into her jeans, the moment she noticed the standing ovation she was receiving.

"You were saying?" He rested both hands behind his head he couldn't help but smile. She was blushing, and he loved the way it made her skin glow.

"I...ah" she swiped his shirt from the floor and threw it at him. Covering him. "There. What I was trying to say is that I came here to clear my head, and that..." she swirled her slim finger in the general direction of his manhood, "is not helping."

"I think sex is a great way to clear the mind." He stood, letting the shirt fall to the floor.

She was backing away, scurrying to get her shirt over her head, as he inched closer.

"Oh no, you don't!" She grabbed his jeans and threw them at him.

"Don't what?" He let the jeans hit him in the abdomen and fall to the ground.

"I have to go. Now."

Before he could reach her, she slid out the office door, and into the night.

Walking back to the festival, Preston found Cooper still working his magic under Oli's tent. The poor brunette, clinging to his every word didn't stand a chance against his charm.

Pulling up a seat at the make shift bar, he threw a hand up at Clay, and ordered a beer. He was feeling pretty damn sated, and based on the smile beaming from the Ridge Haven tent, he wasn't the only one.

The crowds had started to thin, gathering around the stage at the center of town, as the band was getting ramped up. Lucky for him, he now had a pretty clear shot of his glowing red head. And she was looking right at him. Blushing.

God, he loved that blush.

"Where the hell have you been?" Cooper clamped a strong hand on his shoulder, shouting over the noise booming from the stage.

"Nowhere."

"Fuck, tell me you didn't, again?" Cooper looked from him to Emerson and back. Sliding onto the empty seat next to him, he ordered another round.

"Okay, I didn't."

"You two are like horny teenagers making out in a damn car. I hope no one saw your white ass, you know people talk in this town." Picking up the beer Clay had placed in front of him, Cooper belted out a laugh.

"Wasn't in anyone's car." He flashed a knowing, shit-eating grin in Cooper's direction.

Beer spewed from Cooper's mouth, "For crissakes, you christened my fucking store?"

"Office, to be more precise."

"What the fuck! Do I look like a Motel 8?" Cooper shook his head before taking another drink. "You better have cleaned up after yourself; I'm not dealing with that shit. I don't offer room service."

"It's taken care of, don't worry. That is a pretty sweet couch you got though."

"Fuck me, my couch?" Cooper grumbled.

"Damn." Clay was bent over in laughter.

"Not funny."

"It was an emergency"

"Fucking emergency, my ass."

"Exactly a _fucking emergency._ " Preston grinned like the Cheshire cat.

"I'm gonna have to burn the couch now."

"Let me ask you something?" Preston's laughter faded as he thought to the little insight Emerson had given him earlier that morning, "What's with the ex-fiancé?"

"She told you about him?" Cooper seemed a little caught off guard by the change in subject.

"No, not really. Just that she called it off and came here to clear her head. Got the feeling there was more to the story."

"You know better than anyone, we all have shit in our past, hers just includes a two-timing asshole."

Yeah, he knew too well about shadowed pasts, which is why he worked hard to bury his own. "She caught him?"

"Yep, in the throws."

"Fuck," he watched as Emerson smiled sweetly each time someone stopped under the tent. She was kind and gentle. She hadn't deserved that shit.

"Never saw it coming." Cooper stood, "Honestly, I have half a mind to drive up to the city and punch his pretty little face in, but I don't think Annie would be too fond of the idea." Cooper slapped a five dollar bill on the bar, "I have my own emergency brewing over here, don't wait up."

Tipping his bottle up, Preston polished off the beer; stewing. He had to agree with Cooper, he didn't know the bastard, but he wanted to kick his ass for hurting Emerson. He didn't have a care in the world for men that didn't respect women, which was why he was always up front about his end game. He wasn't the settling down kind.

Except he hadn't needed to inform Emerson. No, she had made it clear enough for the both of them. She had taken what she wanted and walked away.

Again.

* * *

"You girls have a good time in town last night?" Steven Grey didn't bother looking up from the toast he was slathering with jelly, as he broke through the silence over the breakfast table.

"I think Emerson had a great time last night, didn't you Em?" Millie smiled knowingly across the table.

Emerson kicked at her sister under the table, but Millie had drawn her feet up causing Emerson to miss.

"Glad to hear it. You see any of your old friends, Honey?"

"You know Daddy, she did see some friends." Millie chimed in, "That was your favorite part, huh Emmy? Getting to see your _friends_?"

"Yes, it was nice to see some old faces."

Emerson didn't know if she should love or hate her sister at the moment. It had been a life time since they had sat around this table with easy banter, and good moods. For years, the encounters had been full of tension, which had driven Emerson to limit her visits to a few short trips a year. But now, she could hardly believe her visit was half over. She had been so certain it was going to be a torturous two-weeks of her life, but it was passing in a blur. After the initial shock of apologies over her misfortunate split – and one gloriously naked Preston – wore off, Emerson found herself falling in love with her little town all over again.

_Careful what you wish for,_ the uneasy warning pricked at her skin.

_Just nostalgia,_ she told herself. She couldn't really be falling in love with this town again; her home was in the city.

"I ran into Julianne Davis. You remember her don't you, Daddy? Well, she's married now, with a daughter and a little boy due anytime now. Saw Ms. Ethel too. Of course, she didn't hang around long. She had to chase after some man that apparently still has all of his teeth. There were a lot of faces I haven't seen in a while. Of course, I saw Cooper."

Like most times when Cooper's name came up in conversation, her father's nose wrinkled with disdain. She didn't know what her family had against Cooper, but she simply acted as if she hadn't noticed. Just as she expected the meal to resume its customary silence, her father spoke again. "Men like that are wild cards. Quicksand. They got no intent on settling down and it makes them downright unpredictable."

"Daddy, Cooper's a good guy, but we are just friends." Actually, she would argue he was twice the man Michael had been. At least, he was honest about his relationships.

"It's not just him I am worried about. He's got that new fella hanging around town, too. What kind of man lets a girl get three sheets to the wind and then has to carry her home?" Laying his fork across the edge of his plate, he just shook his head.

So there was the truth. He was worried about Preston dragging her down. She glanced back across the table hoping Millie would help her out here, but clearly the sisterly bonding was over. Millie was quiet as a mouse. At this rate, she was going to be digging a hole in the back yard by sunset to bury her dead sister. Millie had started the conversation, but she wasn't about to help end it. Where was the sisterly love when you needed it?

"No one got me drunk, Daddy. I did that all on my own." And made a fool out of herself to boot, "Preston wasn't at the bar, he just picked us up and drove us home. Which I'm assuming the local authorities appreciate." She was trying hard to keep her voice even, which was pretty impressive considering the defensiveness she felt.

"It ain't right is all I'm saying." And with that, the conversation was over.

Picking up his fork, her father resumed eating his meal. There would be no more discussion on the matter, that much was clear.

# Sixteen

Preston woke in a rush, his body jolting upright in the bed, sweat dripping from his brow. Struggling to fill his lungs with air, his heart pounded against his chest. iHhfi His body aching like he had run a marathon in his sleep.

_Jesus Christ_ , he tried to focus on the room he was in. His room. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he tried to clear the fog still lingering in his head. The sun was shining bright outside his window. It was morning.

Reaching over for a bottle of water on the nightstand he glanced at the clock, surprised to see he had slept so late. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept till 8:00am. Rolling out of bed he pulled on his running gear, desperate to hit the pavement. Desperate to clear his head.

It wasn't the first time he had been struck by the nightmares of his past; it had just been a damn long time since they had been so vivid. Except this time it had been different. This time it was Emerson who had been in trouble. It was the fiery redhead he couldn't save.

He blamed the odd thump in his chest. The thump that had died the day his wife, Catherine, had died. The thump that he thought would never return, but had slowly begun to beat again the night he first laid eyes on Emerson. The thump that was more than a little unsettling. In the past twenty-four hours, he had thought about Emerson more than he had thought about anything in a long time. Another fact that was unsettling.

What was it about her that had him so hung up?

Don't get him wrong, the sex had been amazing. Her body like a dream park and he wanted the fast pass, but he didn't get hung up on women. It wasn't his style; wasn't his thing. He needed to let it go, to drop it.

He needed to let her go.

Taking to the streets, he headed out of town enjoying the quiet mountainous roads and cool morning air. Letting the sound of his feet beating against the pavement drown out the noise in his head. Like most runs, the steady flow of oxygen in and out of his lungs, and the burn deep in his calves, had him feeling more level headed in no time. He never had been one to enjoy running, more that it had always been a necessity; it was his sanity.

Three miles up the mountain, he turned around and headed back for town. He was definitely feeling more in control and it had only cost him about six miles. In the hour since he left his front steps, he'd rationalized that the reason Emerson got to him was purely because she had walked away. She was different in that regard. There was no beating her back with a stick or trying to convince her that she could not in fact change his mind.

No, with Emerson, she had taken him at face value. She had taken exactly what she wanted and left the rest out to dry. And she hadn't fallen all over him either. Well, aside from the fact that her falling into him was how they had met in the first place. She wasn't a stage-five clinger or crazy. She may be terribly clumsy, but there hadn't been the risk of her wanting more than he had to offer. There had just been the two of them and some seriously hot sex.

Reaching the edge of town, he slowed his pace to barely a jog, giving his heart rate time to gradually decrease. His muscles yearned to stop, begging him to knock it off already and let them rest, but he pushed on knowing it wasn't good to just stop. The moment the blue sedan with rental tags pulled into view, his heart jumped to a new pace, a yearning building low in his groin.

So much for not being hung up over a woman.

Picking up his pace, he watched the car turn onto Main Street, heading downtown. Cutting through a side street, he stepped on to Main just in time to see Emerson step out of her car and walk into one of the store fronts, her mood leaving a fierce trail in her wake. She was back to being feisty. Slowing to a walk, he causally strolled down the side walk, hoping she would reappear.

No such luck.

Glancing up, he took in the " _Satin & Lace"_ sign hanging from the awning. Peering into the window, he could just make out her amber waves standing at a counter talking to another woman he had seen around town. Mesmerized by her beauty, he just stood there like some stalker, watching her every move.

* * *

Parking her rental in front of Satin & Lace, Emerson felt her bitterness towards Michael flare. This was not her day. First, she had woken around four AM, images of Michael wrapped in the long legs of his assistant clouding her dreams. Then, she hadn't been able to fall back asleep after said dream. Now it was barely nine-thirty in the morning and she was already crashing. With sleep evading her, she had stared at the ceiling waiting for the magical hole to open up, and toss out the answer to all her problems, but there had been no such luck. And to top it all off, Michael had been the unfaithful ass that had ruined everything, but was he the one having to deal with the fall out? No, the pond scum was off doing God knows what in New York and here she was canceling all the reservations.

Walking through the front door of the small bridal boutique and tux rental store, a small chime sounded overhead, drawing all the attention straight to her. Fortunately, the store was empty except for the sales woman.

"Hi there, can I help you?" The woman looked up from her book at the sound of the bell.

"I need to cancel the tux order for my–" her words trailing off before her voice could crack.

"Right, no problem." The woman shook the mouse, bringing the computer to life. "I just need your last name, dear."

A few clicks and the woman handed her the printed receipt. The word canceled printed in red jumped off the page.

"Great, thanks." Emerson folded the paper, not wanting the reminder of exactly how she felt. Canceled. Turning from the counter, she headed for the door in desperate need of some fresh air. Not to mention, she was fairly certain the walls were caving in around her.

"Miss Grey?" The woman called before she could reach the door.

Stopping, she spun back on her heels, "Yeah?"

"Some men are just asses, but that's not your fault. Took me a while to realize it, but I finally figured it out."

Smiling weakly, Emerson nodded at the woman who looked to be in her early fifties. She didn't know if the woman had heard the rumors, or was just a really great guess, but she oddly appreciated the sentiment. Turning back towards the door, Emerson pushed her way into the fresh air and straight into the one person she was actively trying to avoid.

"Hey," heavy arms wrapped around her waist, as she collided into his dreamy chest, "you know, for someone trying to avoid me, you sure seem to love running into me. I'm beginning to fear for my health and wellbeing." His smile lit his entire face.

"Yeah, well apparently I'm great at not paying attention to what's going on around me." At least, she hadn't noticed that her own fiancé was busy sleeping with someone else.

He cocked a brow, "Are you okay?"

No, she wasn't okay. She was a train wreck of bad emotions carrying a load full of even worse decisions. She wasn't supposed to be canceling a long list of orders, she was supposed to be blissfully on Cloud 9 weeks from walking down the aisle.

"Emerson, what's going on?" He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ears and she felt her insides shiver.

"Nothing, I'm great. Fine! Perfectly fine."

"Fine?" He cocked his head, one brow lifting a little higher and she felt herself start to thaw a little. God he was sexy when he did that.

"Yep, just fine!" She tried to step around him, but he blocked her way.

What the hell?

"Last time I checked, when a woman says she's _"fine'_ it means the exact opposite."

"So now you're some expert on women?"

"I have my talents." His voice was low, sultry, as he inched into her personal bubble.

Her toes curled in anticipation at his closeness.

Letting out a deep, shuttering sigh, she took a step back, "Look, we had a good time, but let's just leave it at that. A good _one weekend_ _stand_."

"A one weekend stand?" he chuckled. "Nice term, but if we had such a great time, why are we leaving it at that?"

Good question.

Because she was emotionally challenged?

Because she didn't do friends with benefits?

Because he was incredibly irresistible?

Because he would shatter her already broken heart?

"Because I'm leaving soon" she blurted out.

Leaning in closer, so close they were sharing the same air, she wondered if a single piece of paper could fit between them. "All the more reason we shouldn't leave it at that, don't you think? We wouldn't want to waste any of our precious time."

So close. He was so damn close.

Stepping back, again, she felt like she had been dropped in the middle of an intense game of chess. Her King Pawn to E4, his Bishop Pawn to F5, tempting her; taunting her to take the bait.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to draw in a fresh breath of air to clear her thoughts, but his scent, his closeness, and the heat he was packing in his shorts were a swirl of chaos ringing in her head.

"I think it's for the best." She smiled apologetically barely able to hold her ground.

She expected him to push the issue further. Continuing to try and change her mind. And to be honest, she would have given in. But he didn't push at all. Instead, he stepped back, rubbing his thumb and forefinger across his chin.

"Well, I guess that leaves us at friends. Come on, follow me." A smug look crossed his face as he wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders, "I got just what you need."

"Um, I think you misunderstood the _friends_ part?" But she felt herself relax in his touch, "I didn't mean that kind of _friends_."

Glancing down, a wicked smile pulled at his lips, "and what kind of friends would that be exactly?"

"Oh, I think you know"

"What?" he laughed, a most glorious laugh "I was just taking you for coffee." He nodded at the metal sign hanging out front of the Roasted Bean.

Sitting at a small round table, nestled in the corner by the front window, Emerson blew gently across the steam wafting from her cup. "So, friends?"

She wasn't exactly sure who she was trying to convince more, herself or the expanse of pure, lust worthy testosterone sitting across from her, that made it more than a little difficult to breath.

"Friends." He nodded.

The coffee shop had been filled with round tables, all adorned with eclectic lamps, and large comfortable chairs, designed for long hours spent hovered over a laptop or time well spent with friends. A glass display case ran nearly the length of the far left wall, housing a variety of delicious pastries, small sandwiches, and wraps. It felt homey, relaxing. A place she could see herself spending hours of her day; sipping on mocha and drawing out plans. It was a cheerful place, no hustle of the street corrupting the atmosphere, no long line of people waiting impatiently as they headed to their offices. It was nice.

She missed that about the south. The slower pace, the Southern hospitality, the smile of a stranger as they passed you by. It was quiet, calming.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Preston's voice interrupted her introspective on southern living.

"Talk about what?" Did he really want to talk about southern décor?

"What's got you in a foul mood this morning?"

Oh, hell no, he was the last person she wanted to tell her troubles to, even if there were a genuine touch of concern in his eyes. "It's nothing, boring girl stuff really."

Leaning into the table, he flashed his million dollar smile, "I can talk about girl stuff. Try me?"

She wanted to try him alright, but the _try_ she had in mind didn't fit the guidelines of their newly defined friendship.

"Well?" He pressed. "I'm not getting any younger over here."

"Fine," if he wanted the truth, wanted to talk about girl stuff, then he was going to get what he asked for, "I was at Satin & Lace to cancel the tux rentals for my wedding. Happy now?"

A long moment passed, in which she assumed he was trying to come up with a clever way to avoid the topic after all. "It's shitty, if you ask me. You having to clean up someone else's mess. Hardly seems fair."

"See, that's my thought exactly. Why should I have to deal with this? I'm not the one that couldn't keep it in my pants. He just gets off scot-free, while I have to clean up the aftermath. I get life's not fair and all, but this just seems over the top. Not to mention he is probably screwing the skinny blonde as we speak. What is it with you men and skinny blondes? Do you have to be so cliché? What's wrong with the normal size girls, with natural hair color and a brain? We're fun too you know." The words flowed out of her like a river in the spring thaw, rushing, taking anything in its path. "Wait...you agree with me?"

Laughing, he leaned back in his chair, interlocking his fingers and resting them behind his head. "Well, I don't really favor blondes personally, but as for a woman with a brain, that I agree with. As for us men, you're right, we're asswipes. Plain and simple."

"Well aren't you just the exception to the norm."

"No, I'm an asswipe just like the rest." He smiled.

"I was referring to the honesty. Most men seem to lack in that department."

"What can I say, I'm exceptional, especially in some areas."

His sultry voice had just begun to crawl up her thighs, when his chair pushed back. "What are you doing?"

"Hold that thought..." he held out a single finger to her.

"Are you really going to..." the door closed as Preston jogged across the street, "...just leave me sitting here?" Her words trailed off.

Baffled, Emerson watched as he crossed the street, headed toward the salon, where of course, there was a skinny blonde walking in the door.

"So much for not favoring blondes," she muttered to herself.

# Seventeen

"Can I help you, sir?" Two hazel eyes perked up from behind the desk. The receptionist, in her early twenties, was sporting a stripe of hot pink against her platinum blonde hair.

"Hopefully, do you do those foot things here? With the polish?"

Preston was completely out of his element, and it showed. Big time. But he couldn't take the sadness haunting Emerson's eyes. Flashing a charming smile, he hoped it would compensate for his lack of knowledge.

"You mean a pedicure? Yes, we do manicures and pedicures." She stifled a laugh.

"What's the difference?" God he felt like a fool, maybe his spontaneous idea wasn't so great after all?

"A manicure is for your hands. Pedicures are for your feet."

"Right." Resting his arms on the high counter, he leveled her with a _come here_ smile that had gotten him what he wanted more than one time in his life, "I need two for the feet then. Could you give it to me now?"

This time her giggle escaped, "Umm...so, one pedicure covers both feet, we don't charge per foot." Flirty, her voice jumped up an octave.

At least, he still had charm, "I figured as much, the other one is for a friend. So can you do it?"

"Oh. Of course, give me just a sec and I'll check."

While the receptionist clicked her mouse, Preston glanced out the window, spying Emerson across the street, still seated in the coffee shop. The same look of dread twisting her face. He hadn't been able to stand it, the sad look marring her beautiful skin. He wanted to punch the jackass that had hurt her, but he knew that wouldn't help. So, he had done the next thing that popped in his head, he would treat her to something nice. She may not want more than a friend, but he could give her that.

A sudden pang of disappointment hit his gut, the word _friends_ churning like acid. He wanted to be friends, of course, but he also wanted more. More than he cared to admit. HE hadn't been this intrigued by a woman in so long. And now that he was, he didn't know what to do with that intrigue, especially when the only thing she continued to bring up was the fact that she was leaving soon. He wasn't sure how soon _soon_ was, but he intended to make the most of the time she was in town. Now he just had to figure out how to get her on board.

"Yep, looks like we could get you in now. Is your friend with you?" A sparkle of hope touched the receptionist's eyes as she searched the sidewalk. If he had to guess, she was hoping for another man to come strolling in.

"Just across the street, I'll take the appointments and be back in flash." Knocking on the counter top, he winked at the young woman and walked out the door.

"See something you liked?" Emerson tried to act nonchalant as he walked back in the coffee house, but he could hear the wariness.

"Actually, I found just what I was looking for." Grabbing her coffee off the table, he extended his hand out to her, "Come on, I have a surprise for you."

"What? Hey...give me my coffee back." He almost smiled as her arms crossed in protest.

"Oh, don't be a baby. Come on, you'll like it, I promise."

"Are you always so demanding?"

Laughing, he didn't answer, as he pulled her up from her seat and ushered her out the door. Reaching the far sidewalk, Emerson stopped short when he pulled open the salon door.

"What the hell is this? Some sort of intervention? You know, if you are trying to butter me up cowboy, telling me I need help with my hair is not the way."

"Just come in, please." He smiled down at her, batting his lashes like a fool.

"You're unbelievable." But to his astonishment, she walked in.

Following the receptionist, Preston eyed the wall of tiny bottles as though they were daggers that would torture even the strongest of men. Suffice it to say, the damn thing was intimidating as hell. There had to be every shade known to man. Baffled by the sheer number of pinks, he was a little worried they might be here for hours just trying to pick a color – like women needed more reasons to be indecisive.

Glancing down at Emerson – who still hadn't moved an inch – he locked eyes with the prettiest set of emeralds swirled with the slightest hint of deep blue. He may have even been a little turned on by them, if they hadn't currently been giving him a death stare.

_Don't all women love these spa shenanigans?_ He was a little taken back by her glare. Then again, she didn't act like the women he usually spent his nights with, so it shouldn't have surprised him. Deciding she needed a little nudge, Preston walked over to the wall and started fingering the bottles. Selecting a shade of red he thought would be pretty hot, he picked up the bottle and read the name.

"How about this one, _Foxy Lady?_ " wiggling the bottle between his fingers.

Not amused, she crossed her arms, inadvertently shifting her breast into the perfect display of cleavage. She was a foxy lady alright.

"So, that's a no to _Foxy Lady?_ "

Turning his back to her, he was unaffected by the brut on her face. Slipping the bottle back into its place, Preston continued to peruse the wall. Feeling the heat radiating from her body the moment she stepped up behind him, he ignored her and continued his scan through the reds.

"What are you doing?" she whispered harshly at him.

"Picking out a color, what about this one, _Booty Call?_ "

Holding the tiny bottle out, he watched the blush glow across her chest as she snatched the bottle from his hands, placing it back on the wall.

"Do I look like a _Booty Call_ kind of girl?" more harsh whispering.

"Well...." God, he loved it when she got all feisty.

"Oh my God, don't you dare say a word." She smacked his bicep.

He couldn't help the laugh that flowed from his mouth, "Well, then tell me, what kind of girl are you?" Stepping in close, that beautiful crimson deepened across her skin.

Avoiding his gaze, her eyes hooded, Preston watched as delicate fingers grazed along the shelf of soft pinks. "Here, _Angel Dust_ , that's the kind of girl I am."

He scoffed, not buying the sweet and innocent routine. Snatching the bottle, just as she had done, he slipped the polish back into its place, moving back to the deeper pinks. " _Naughty But Nice_ , now that seems a little more fitting don't you think?"

Holding up the bottle of hot pink, she tried to snatch if from his grasp, but he was on to her. _Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me._ Laughing, he raised the bottle just above her reach. He had to give it to her, she was determined. And honestly, she could jump all day if she wanted, because he kind of liked the way her body brushed against his as she went up and down.

"How are we doing over here? Can I help you find anything?" Another blonde, who introduced herself as Tiffany, watched them closely, assessing.

"Nope, we're all good. She wants this one." Preston handed the bottle over before Emerson could protest.

" _Naughty But Nice_ , that's an excellent choice, very popular. Y'all follow me this way." Tiffany's sweet southern drawl trailed off as she turned, heading for two large chairs that sat up on a pedestal type mechanism.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Preston nearly tripped over his own feet in shock. Expecting to find a glowering woman, stubbornly standing her ground, he could hardly believe Emerson was so willingly following after him, much less that she had a smile spreading across her sweet lips.

"See, now that's the spirit. You should be happy when someone does something nice for you."

* * *

Emerson didn't have a clue what had gotten into him, but she wasn't about to actually turn down a pedicure. But, that didn't mean she was going to roll over at his feet either.

Slipping out of her Rainbow flip flops, Emerson blessed the unseasonably warm day, and her choice of flops over boots. The cold was looming, she could feel it in the crispness of the morning dew, but with a cloudless sky, it was destined to be a beautiful day. Climbing up in the seat, her heart melted a little at the look of horror on Preston's face. He was staring; slack jawed, at the tray of instruments at the end of his chair.

"What's the matter? Worried those aren't going to be strong enough on your feet?"

"Is that a cheese grater? What the hell do we need that for?" Preston whispered, not taking his eyes off the instruments.

_Poor thing, he actually looked scared out of his mind,_ she laughed to herself. Well, this was his idea after all, now she was really going to enjoy it – on multiple levels.

Patting the seat, she coaxed him to climb up, "Come on, don't be a baby," mocking his earlier sentiment.

"I'm not being a baby. But that..." Preston pointed down to the tray, "looks like a torture tray Liam Neeson would use for anyone who kidnapped his daughter."

To her surprise, he slipped out of his sneakers and socks, hopping in the chair beside her.

"I don't think it's the tools you have to worry about killing you." She cocked a brow at him, his signature move.

"Admit it, you're having fun?"

She was, but she wasn't admitting it. Not that easy. "What's this all about anyway? You clearly aren't the metro pedicure kind of guy."

"You looked like you could use some relaxing." He turned back, eyeing the tray, "I thought this would be a nice treat, but looking at the tray down there, I think it might be more pain than pleasure."

"And?"

"And most people say Thank You." He winked.

Slipping her feet into the warm bath, Emerson closed her eyes against the crushing weight of his gesture. The swirling blue of his eyes and the softness of his voice had told her he was being sincere. Causing a wave of affection to move through her that released a swarm of butterflies in her tummy and made her heart swoon, warming her from the inside out. It felt good, too good. She had wanted to believe this was just an attempt at getting back in her pants, but there was honesty in his eyes saying otherwise.

Of all the things she had expected, had anticipated would happen when she came home, this weird ride with Preston had not been a part of it. What she had expected was to meet far more resistance with Millie. After years of endless tension, Millie had practically met her with arms wide open. Which made her wonder if it had always been one sided? Had all the blame fallen on Emerson? Had it really taken a decade for her to see she was the root of their problem? Or was it merely that Millie was ready to move on from the past, as well?

Then there was Preston. Nice, sexy, sweet, thoughtful Preston. As far as she could see, the man was as close to sainthood as a man could be – mind blowing sex aside, there was nothing _saint-like_ happening between his sheets. And though her subconscious screamed at her not to fall for another man's lies, something in those heavenly blues said he was trustworthy. He was one of the good ones.

There was only one problem...a good one was far more dangerous than one just wanting in her pants. Because good guys equal nice, and nice only meant one thing. She was in trouble.

Big, big trouble.

"Thank you! For this."

Opening her eyes, she smiled sweetly, while carefully calculating her escape plan. If she were smart she would go home, pack her bags, and head back to New York before he could break her heart. It's just too bad she was feeling reckless and dumb.

"You're welcome." Reaching out, placing his palm against the top of her hand, her heart melted. "That's what friends are for, right?"

Big trouble. She was in big, big trouble.

"Friends, right."

# Eighteen

"Red or white?" Millie called out to Emerson, who sat Indian style in front of her sister's coffee table, filling plates with various Chinese dishes she had picked up on the way over.

"White would be awesome."

Millie lived in a beautiful new townhouse, on the east side of town. Her sister had been one of the first buyers when the complex had been built a few years ago, but sadly Emerson had only been here one other time. She had always stayed with their father, or Cooper, when she would visit, preferring to keep their feud on neutral grounds. It was a pleasant change being here now, feeling welcomed in her sister's home.

Sitting in the floor, on the last day of her twenties, the eve of a new decade, Emerson couldn't help but think of all the things she didn't have. For starters, a place of her own. She had started looking for sub-let apartments online, but with only one income, she wasn't going to be able to afford much. Nothing like the townhouse her sister owned. She loved the city and her career, but being back in Spruce Pine with her father and sister had given her a sense of home she hadn't felt in far too long. Suddenly, the odd tug that had been pulling at her heart for the past few days, returned; confusing her more than ever.

It wasn't like coming home permanently was an option. Of course, her father had said the door was always open, but she had her career, she couldn't just walk away from her dreams. Not when they were this close to coming true. Sure, she would have to find a roommate to help supplement the cost of living, but that was just a way of life in New York. And if she made partner, she may not even need the roommate after all. This was her chance to shine. She couldn't throw everything away on small town living now.

"You okay?" Millie's soft voice startled her, bringing her back to the moment.

"Yeah...yeah, I'm good." Taking a glass from her sister, she took a sip; a sweet Moscato tingled across her tongue.

"I didn't realize how much I miss it." The words slipped out before she could stop them.

"Miss what?"

"Being here; the farm, Daddy...you."

"I thought you loved the city?"

"I do."

And she did love the city, she always had. She just wasn't sure how much of that had been Michael? Or how much her enjoying Spruce Pine had to do with Preston. Neither topic she wanted to think about. Feeling desperate to change the conversation, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"I had the most interesting pedi today!"

"Interesting? How so? And why wasn't I invited?" Millie graciously accepted the change of subject.

"Oh, like, I don't know...the kind where a hot guy whisks you into a salon, and buys you a pedicure just to cheer you up?" She smiled bashfully.

"Wait...what?" Millie nearly spit the wine across their make shift dining table. "Is he straight?"

"Oh, I am pretty certain he's straight." She winked.

"Shut the front door, you're not saying...no way? Preston?" Millie had sat her glass down, and was now sitting on the edge of her proverbial seat. "Dish, now! I want every last detail."

There was so much excitement in her sister's voice, she couldn't help but torture her just a little. Taking a bite of Sweet and Sour Chicken, Emerson chewed slowly, enjoying every second of it as Millie vibrated in anticipation, like a puppy waiting for a treat.

"I had stopped by Satin & Lace to cancel the tuxes, and I ran into him on my way out. As you can imagine I was in a pretty horrible mood..." Emerson continued on through the events of the morning.

After their little battle of the bottles, Emerson had grabbed the original bottle of _Booty Call_ he had picked out and tucked it into her back pocket as she followed him to the back. He'd clearly found himself funny handing over the bottle of _Naughty But Nice_ to Tiffany, but turnabout was fair play and she was hilarious.

Emerson had waited until Dani, his nail tech, had been ready for polish before she produced the bottle, telling Dani how he was always embarrassed to pick out his own color even though it was his favorite. Her plan had been for him to refuse, giving her an excuse to decline the polish he had picked out for her, but his male ego clearly got in the way, because he hadn't refused at all. Instead, he had smiled and shrugged at Dani, then let her proceed. With no out, and Preston playing along, she had no choice but to suck it up and let Tiffany use the color Preston had picked.

And were they just the pair; _Booty Call and Naughty But Nice._

"After that we walked back to my car and that was that. He walked away and I got in my car and went home."

"Wait, he just walked away? Where's the fun in that? That's too anticlimactic."

"Yep." The image of Preston too close for rational thinking flared in her memory.

After leaving the salon, Preston had walked her back to her rental. They had been standing there, toe to toe, practically sharing the same air. Emerson was convinced he was going to kiss her, and honestly, she wasn't going to stop him. Her body vibrating with awareness of having such an alpha male so close she had forgotten all about their agreement to be friends. The swirl of desire emanating had drawn her closer, until their bodies were nearly pressed together. An emotion she couldn't quite place had danced in his eyes, lighting them in a way she had never seen, and she braced herself for his lips.

And then he walked away.

Not another word. Not a sound. Just like that he was gone. But she wasn't about to add any of that to her story.

"He's got it bad." Millie smiled.

"No, it's not like that. He's just a nice guy."

"It's so like that. Emerson, guys that hot don't do things just to be nice, they do them when they like a girl. They fluff out their feathers, puff up their chest."

"There's no feather fluffing!" She scoffed. Maybe he had ruffled her feathers, but he hadn't been fluffing his own. Had he?

"Say what you want to, but no man paints his toe nails hot pink out of kindness." Millie grabbed up the empty glasses, heading for the kitchen.

"You're wrong, he was just being nice." Emerson called as her sister disappeared around the corner.

They may have had a one night stand – well, two nights technically – but that didn't mean anything. It was a fling, nothing more. And the last thing she needed was someone convincing her it had been more. She was here to get her head on straight, not get her heart in a bind.

It had been a kind gesture, by a kind man. Period.

Right?

Emerson woke the next morning feeling relaxed and refreshed, which was surprising since somehow her thirtieth birthday had arrived. She had tried to ignore the impending doom of her thirties, but regardless, the day had still come. She would never be twenty-something again.

She had expected to feel old and decrepit with wild, unruly grey hairs shooting out all over her head, and barely able to walk, except she felt exactly the same. Maybe even a little better.

It was odd really, given the recent circumstances of her life. She should have been wallowing in self-pity, drowning in her own tears, but her boss had been right, getting away to clear her head had been the best thing she could have done.

Sitting up, she stretched her arms high above her head – yep, they still felt the same, no new creaks or aches – when she heard the pitter-patter of nails clanking across the floor as John Wayne strolled into her bedroom.

"Hey boy!" She patted the bed, inviting the old man up for some snuggles. "Maybe being thirty won't be so bad after all, huh?"

John Wayne licked at her face in agreement, before flopping over for some good ole belly rubs.

"Happy Birthday, Sugar." Emerson looked up to see her father standing in the doorway, a tiny box wrapped neatly, with a bow on top, gently resting in his hand.

"Oh daddy, you didn't have to get me anything."

"Well it ain't much, so don't go getting too excited."

She loved her father's gruff nature; so down to earth and matter of fact. Handing the box to her, he sat down on the bed, taking over the belly rubs.

Gingerly pulling back the paper, Emerson unwrapped the black velvety jewelry box. Sliding open the lid, she gasp at the sight of an elegant necklace nestled in the tiny box. Running her finger over the cool, smooth stones, she felt the tears well in her eyes at the exquisite princess cut emerald, surrounded by tiny little diamonds.

"Oh daddy, it's beautiful. You shouldn't have." Her tears threatening their escape.

"It was your momma's. I gave it to her on your second birthday; I guess I thought it was important to celebrate her hard work on your birth, too," her father shrugged his shoulders. "Anyway, I had been walking down Clay Street, by the old jewelry store and it caught my eye; the way the sun shone on it through the window, it matched your eyes so perfectly. It'd been rough on your momma, having two babies so close together and the necklace was more than I made in a month, but she deserved something nice." His eyes drifted out the window, lost in the memory.

Gently touching his arm, he glanced back at his youngest daughter; she could still see, after all those years, how much he loved her mother. True love never died.

"Daddy, that's so sweet. I really hope I find a husband who is as good to me, as you were to Momma."

"Well, I had my short comings too Sugar, don't get me wrong, but what's important is that he thinks you hung the moon. I was going to give it to you on your wedding day, but I reckon this is more fitting anyhow. Happy Birthday, Baby." Leaning over, her father cupped the back of her head, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you!" she whispered into the bristly hair of his beard.

"Come John Wayne, come!" Emerson flexed her most authoritative tone at the golden retriever, who apparently was on sensory overload. Since leaving the farm, he had lost all ability to listen.

"Seriously, how much can one dog pee? Did you drink the Nile before we left? You know, this is pretty pointless if we don't keep our heart rate up."

The crisp morning had given way to a warm midday sun, as she and John Wayne walked down the river side path, in attempt to get them both some exercise. He was looking a little rounder than last time she had visited and it couldn't hurt her to shed a few pounds now that she was officially back on the market. Not that she was perusing the market – swearing off men and all – but a girl could never be too prepared.

John Wayne had been an excellent dog, never running off, spending his days following her father around the farm and laying under the shade trees, but it was evident he had never spent time on a leash. She was convinced at this point the only time the leash came out involved the veterinarian.

In the thirty minutes they had been on the trail, he had stopped a dozen times to mark his territory, each time immediately bounding off, pulling her arm nearly out of socket. There was no doubt she was going to be sore for this one. After about the fourth time of nearly being pulled off her feet, she'd learn to anticipate the launch, bracing herself as soon as his leg lowered and yelling "NO". He was either starting to get it, or bored of the game, – most likely the latter – because he'd managed to actually pee a few dribbles this time without pulling her into next week.

They, well more like she, had been fortunate there hadn't been much foot traffic on the path, since the big oaf had nearly taken out the first older man they had come into contact with. Bounding at the man, like a bull in a rodeo, he'd nearly pounced on the guy's chest with glee. Of course she had apologized profusely, but he'd still given her the _"you shouldn't be out here if you can't control your dog"_ look and kept walking.

The path was a rough paved walkway, no more than about six foot wide; a nice scenic route that ran down along the river's edge, making for a cool place to also run and bike. She had to give it to the city and the surrounding area, they did parks well. There were so many trails leading into each other that a person could head out four times a week and not have to repeat the same path for at least a month.

Reaching the one mile mark, Emerson admitted defeat. Between the pit stops and her arm nearly out of its socket, she decided to give up on their little adventure and head back. Next time they would have to enjoy a nice stroll on the property where a leash wasn't required. They could hike through the rows of Frazier Firs and accomplish burning more calories than they had today. Not to mention, she would save herself from the nearly torn rotator cuff.

She had just completed a U-turn, heading back to the car, when she noticed a runner fast approaching. Unfortunately, John Wayne's instincts were a fraction faster, pinning the runner before she could brace herself. Lurching forward, John Wayne bounded towards the on comer leaving her fate resting with the blacktop beneath her feet.

Trying – not so gracefully – to catch herself from a full face plant, Emerson's foot slipped off the edge of the pavement sending her body sailing towards the asphalt. Instinctually, both hands flew out in front of her bracing for the impact, as the leash slipped from her grasp.

Tiny shards of gravel bit into the palm of her left hand, while the right sank in the damp earth just off the path. Mortified, and wishing the dark angel of death would just take her now, Emerson looked up just in time to see John Wayne sit like a perfectly well trained dog.

Locked onto the strong hand that was petting the stupid mutt, she let her gaze stroll up the torso she knew far too intimately, before finally looking into the beautiful baby blue eyes filled with humor.

That was it, she was going to kill the dog...or at least refuse to give him any love the rest of the time she was here. While she lay there, covered in earth and gravel, he sat there like he was suddenly valedictorian of obedience school. Since when did the damn dog know how to behave, because he surely hadn't used any of those manners with her in the past half hour?

And then there was Preston. With a few clicks of his tongue he headed back her way, John Wayne in tow, like he was some kind of Cesar Millan.

_Men!_ she thought, giving some serious consideration to just lying on the ground and surrendering to Karma and her evil ways. It just seemed easier.

Standing up, she brushed off the early fallen leaves, grumbling at the stupid canine nudging his cold nose at her hand. Oh hell no, she was not about to praise him for his spectacular performance of taking her out.

"I didn't realize you had a dog?" Preston's words barely registering as she was too busy watching his hand reach towards her hair, pulling a leaf from a stray tendril of hair. Looking up into his crystal blue eyes every rational thought drifting away with the breeze; her legs turning to Jell-O.

"I don't" she spoke the only two, slightly coherent words she could manage.

Taking in his sweat dampened shirt, she was reminded how good his glistening body had felt pressed against hers. The way his strong hands had moved across her skin in gentle glides. Cocking his beautiful, slightly damp head to the side, she felt the pull between her thighs, desire engulfing her when he raised a sun-kissed brow in curiosity.

"So does this make you a dog thief or a dog walker?" He gestured to the leash still grasped in his hold.

Laughing to cover her burning need, she shifted her weight and felt the stinging pain in her right ankle; the searing pain twisting her face in discomfort.

"Are you okay?" Preston asked in a rush, but before she could play it off, he was kneeling before her, examining her ankle.

"I'm fine, really." She gave him a mirthless smile he clearly wasn't buying it.

"Here, let me see." His hand stroked the back of her calf, lifting her foot.

A zing of electricity jolted through her, her body twitching at his sudden contact. Misreading her reaction, he shifted into full alpha mode, handing her the leash as he barked out an order, "Climb on my back."

Turning his back to her, he crouched down in front of her knees.

"What? No, I'm fine, really I am." She just needed him to go on about his run so she could hobble painfully back to her car, without an audience. And not to mention, if she climbed on his back, she may not get off.

Ever.

Dark clouds swirled in his eyes as he glared up over his shoulder, willing her to do as he said. "You're not walking back. Now, save us both the argument and hop on."

The deep authoritative words sent a quiver through her girl parts, but before he could misread her body language again she wrapped her arms around his taunt shoulders. The warm brush of his palm against her thighs made her feel delicate in his touch. And turned on. Breathing in his heavenly musk, he smelled like trouble and sex, and wasn't that just about the best combination a girl could ask for.

Reaching the edge of the trail she leaned in, their cheeks mere inches apart, and pointed out her car parked in the tiny lot ahead. For the briefest of seconds, she would have sworn his step faltered when her breast pressed against him, but then he continued on without missing another beat.

Emerson had agreed to the lift back because the reality was she wasn't sure she could have actually made it back, especially with the _bull in a china shop_ dog tugging her along. And she had been right. Sitting her down next to the passenger door, she could feel the discomfort when she tested weight on her right foot. It wasn't horrible, more uncomfortable than painful, but it would have made for an impossible mile. Now she just had to make it around to the driver's door, but that should be easy enough. She thought about mentioning he could have dropped her on the other side, but thought better of it when she took into account he had just carried her a mile on his back, without a single groan. She would just wait for him to leave and then hobble around to the other side.

Opening the back door, she watched as Preston ushered John Wayne into the backseat, like they had done this a million times. He was good with the dog, maintaining a sense of dominance that she clearly lacked.

"Thank you for the lift back to the car."

Extending out her hand, she waiting for him to place his palm against hers and shake, but he simply laughed at her instead.

"Is that all I get for carrying you back, a hand shake?"

"Well...I ah..."

But before she could think of a better offering, Preston grabbed her hand, lacing her fingers into his as he leaned in and kissed her gently. It was soft, and sweet; a delicate kiss that melted her to the core.

And then it was over.

As quickly as he had started, he had ended it. Slowly pulling back, their lips parted, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. He was an amazing kisser. The best. His lips pulling her right out of her mind every time they touched.

Leaning his forehead against hers, he brought their interlaced fingers to his lip. Closing her eyes, he tenderly kissed every knuckle.

"Happy Birthday!" he whispered.

"How did you –"

# Nineteen

Preston knew the exact moment those beautiful green eyes had flown. It was the same moment he wanted to kick his own ass for opening his mouth.

"How did you know?" Her hard stare was actually rather hot and sexy, but he didn't mention that part since he had already opened his mouth too much.

"Cooper told me." There, short and sweet, and not at all the truth.

"Cooper? He's up to something isn't he? I told him I wasn't celebrating this one." Resting her hands on her hips, she huffed out a breath. He was pretty certain she would have stalked off too, if it hadn't been for the hurt ankle.

"No, it's not like that." Shit, what was it like then? Thinking fast, his mind flipped to an image of hot pink toe nails. "He saw my toe nails, thanks for that by the way –"

"Your toe nails? What's that got to do with my birthday?"

She had the oddest look of curiosity meshed with sass on her face and he had to fight himself not to lean in and kiss her again. She was rather irresistible when she got worked up.

"He wanted to know why I would paint my nails like a fruity fairy attacked by a Barbie. I told him it was for you and he asked if I meant for your birthday. I just agreed to shut him the hell up." He shrugged, hoping she was buying his story and not reading too much into this.

"Why did you?" Long lashes fluttered as she looked up into his eyes. "Let me paint your nails pink?"

"Technically, you didn't..." Stepping in close, he smiled down at her, "the salon girl did, but how could I say no when you clearly thought you were one up on me?"

He smiled jokingly at her, but he couldn't have said no if his life depended on it. He had needed to see her smile as much as he had needed his next breath. He would have painted his entire body hot pink if it would have ensured she was happy. Then she looked at him with such approbation in her eyes, it took all his strength to leave her by her car and walk away. He hadn't realized until that moment how much he wanted her approval. Hadn't realized how much he missed having a women truly adore him, not just lust after him.

Now, as she stood there looking up at him with the same look of appreciation, he felt his body crave more.

He wanted her.

Bad.

Knowing he was dangerously close to violating their _friends only_ agreement with more than a simple kiss, he reached around her waist, pulling open the passenger side door.

"You do know we drive on the left side of the car here in the United States, right?" her brows furrowing at the opened door.

"You do know you use your right foot to push a pedal down, right?" he returned her sass. Cocking his head, he glanced down at her right foot she was still favoring, "seems that might pose a bit of a problem for you. Come on, I'll drive you home."

* * *

Stopped in her father's drive way, Emerson waited as she had been instructed for Preston to round the car. She wasn't one for being bossed around – especially by a man – but when it meant having her body wrapped around his, well, a little damsel in distress never killed anyone?

She could have told him her ankle was feeling a little better, but who could blame her for not? The man was scorching hot.

Lifting her from the car, Preston moved with ease up the front steps as though he didn't have a hundred plus pounds cradled to his chest. Like a groom carrying his bride, she much preferred the view from the front than the piggy back ride he'd given her to the car. This time she could see his incredible smile that made her go all dopey.

Spotting her father's tractor move through the rows of firs, far up on the hill, relief washed over her. At least this time he wouldn't witness her being carried in yet again by the so called stranger.

"Your father?" Preston nodded in the direction of her gaze.

"Yes, he must be checking up on the trees. He still talks to them, just like my great grandfather did. He says it makes them grow better when they know they are loved. At least that's the folklore that has been passed down through the generations."

"Makes sense, everything thrives more when it's loved."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?" Walking into the living room, he set her gently on the couch.

"Do you...have someone that makes you thrive?"

"Ah," he chuckled, "No, I'm the exception to the rule. There is always an exception." Kneeling down in front of the couch, with a look of concentration on his face, he was choosing his words wisely, "Emerson, I don't do love, or relationships."

"Oh! No, that's not why I was asking." She felt the blush spread across her cheeks. "I'm out of that business myself. I didn't mean to make you think I was...that we were...I was just curious."

Except, now she couldn't help but wonder why he didn't do love? Not that she wanted him to do love, she was leaving. And she was serious; she was out of the market for now. It's just, well he seemed like such a great guy. He'd been nothing but kind to her, even if it was usually at the result of her making a fool of herself. And then there was the obvious; the man not only was gorgeous, but he knew his way around a bed too. He was kind of...perfect.

"Well, thanks for all your help. I think I am good from here." The sudden desire clouding her judgment felt a little more than just sexual. It felt like longing. Operation: Stay Far Far Away need to be reinstated; stat.

"I'll grab you some ice." He headed for the hallway when she threw out her hand.

"That's not necessary, really. You've done more than enough; I think I can manage from here." She flipped him a thumbs up. _Oh God, she just gave him a thumbs up_.

"Nonsense, you need some ice."

No, she needed him to leave so she could breathe and think straight again.

A few minutes later, Preston returned with a bag of frozen peas and a bottle of Ibuprofen. "Here, take these. It will help with the swelling."

Unfortunately, the tiny bottle reminded her of the last time he had been in her house. Not that she exactly remembered her drunken stupor, but the idea of having him in her bed was pretty entertaining.

She was starting to feel like a teenage girl around him. Hormonal and horny. She should have been focused on her ankle, but sitting there, foot propped up, with a bag of peas over her ankle, all she could think about was doing very dirty things with him.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" his strong, sexy voice broke through her naughty daydreaming.

"What?" her blush deepened at the thought of what he could do for her. Tilting his head in curiosity, she spouted out the first thing that came to mind, "Tea. Tea would be great."

_And a moment alone,_ she didn't finish the thought aloud.

Walking out of the room, Emerson threw her head back, closing her eyes, "You're such an idiot, why did you say no to the sex?"

"We can rectify that decision if you prefer?"

"Jesus Christ!" his sultry voice startled her, nearly knocking her off the couch. "I thought you were getting tea?" She rested her hand across her chest, hoping it would keep her heart from pounding through her ribs.

"I was, but I didn't know if you wanted lemon?" A wicked smile played across his mouth, as he eased down on one knee, kneeling in front of the couch. "So what does the birthday girl really want?"

"You to stop reminding me I'm older?" she coughed out a nervous laugh; trying hard not to notice exactly how close he was to her.

"From where I am sitting, you're just a day more beautiful than yesterday." The smooth voice and beautiful words were doing a number to the rabble of butterflies in her tummy.

Without hesitation, Preston leaned in and kissed her gently, his smooth lips sending a wave of heat throughout her body. It was a tender, sweet kiss; one that made her heart melt into a tiny pool. There was something in the delicate way he touched her that felt as though she had been placed on a pedestal, high above the world where he would protect her, nurture her.

From the moment she had met him, he'd put her first. Always attending to her needs, and rescuing her from ridiculous bad luck. There was something different about him, something more than his sweet nature and kindness, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Never pushing, or rushing her, yet knowing exactly what she needed, the moment she needed it.

Pulling back, his baby blues gazed over her wet lips, before pressing one more quick kiss upon her lips. "Still want that drink?"

Grabbing two fists full of shirt she pulled him back down to her, nose to nose, "I don't think I'm very thirsty anymore."

Gently tugging on his shirt, Emerson pressed her lips to his with a little more eagerness than his gentle kiss. Parting her lips, she felt his tongue brush against hers, a faint moan working its way up her throat. The taste of heaven fueling the fire growing deep within her as she let the fabric fall from her fingertips.

Locked in a passionate kiss, her brain barely recognized the faint tapping of nails across the hardwood floors. It wasn't until the cold wet nose pressed against the bare skin of her triceps, that she realized they were no longer alone. Pulling back instantly, she looked up into the cold stare of her father.

"Daddy!" she moved to stand, but Preston stopped her, delicately placing the peas that had somehow slid to the floor, back on her ankle.

Standing, Preston extended his right hand towards her father, "Mr. Grey, we haven't officially met, I am Preston White."

Her father hesitated, staring down at the open palm, before finally placing his own in a customary handshake, "Steven Grey"

"It's a pleasure to meet you sir."

"Uh huh," a sound of distaste filled her father's response. That was dear old dad, always a wizard with words. "What happened to you?"

"John Wayne and I had a little misunderstanding on our walk. Didn't we boy?" She patted the head that was still nudging at her arm.

"Misunderstanding?" His eyes rose in suspicion. "What kind of misunderstanding ends up with frozen peas?"

"He got a little overzealous when he saw someone on the trail and my foot slid of the path, it's just a little twist, nothing to worry over. Preston saw us and helped me back to the house. Its feeling much better already, I should be good to go in no time." Shifting her foot from side to side in a show of good measure.

"Huh," her father shifted one more glance back to Preston and shook his head before walking off towards to kitchen. "I'm making me a sandwich for lunch." He hollered over his shoulder and then he was gone.

Walking back over, Preston sat on the edge of the couch beside her, "I think that's my cue. Anything I can do before I go?"

_Finish what you started,_ she thought, but nothing said buzz kill like being busted by a girl's father. If she hadn't felt like a teenager earlier, she surely did now.

"No, I think I will make it. Thanks again," she smiled. "It really is feeling much better now."

Running a hand down her calf, he lifted up her ankle and pressed a gentle kiss to the tender area, "for good measure." Gently lowering her leg back to the couch, he wrapped both palms against her jaws, kissing her tenderly on the lips, "and that one was just for me. If you need anything call me."

"That's all great, except I don't even have your number." She laughed at the irony.

"Where's your phone?"

Handing it over, he quickly stored his contact information into her phone before shooting himself a text. "There, no excuses. I mean it; call if you need anything."

As soon as the front door closed, she picked up her phone to stare like a teenager in love at the information he had stored, and nearly died. Across the top of the screen where his name should have been, her phone read four simple words; _Knight in Shining Armor._ And then she read the text he had sent to himself:

Damsel in Distress

Well, wasn't he just the comedian of the day. Tapping the screen, she typed out a second message and pressed send.

Very funny!

A moment later her phone vibrated.

The most beautiful damsel I have ever rescued

# Twenty

"Do we really have to go? Can't we just pick up some take out and go back to your place?" Emerson grumbled, as Millie pulled the car into the lot at Oliver's.

"It's your birthday, and we haven't celebrated together in years, so we are at least having one drink...in a bar. Stop whining." Millie demanded.

Emerson had hoped the day would pass unnoticed, but Millie was right, they hadn't celebrated birthdays together in far too many years to count.

The parking lot was decently full for a Wednesday night, but she tried to ignore the fact. She hadn't wanted to come out, but she had failed miserably against Millie's pleading eyes, so here she was. She could endure a glass of wine to knock the edge off, eat quickly, then suggest they rent a good chick flick and relax back at the townhouse. They could be in and out in an hour tops, if the kitchen was appropriately staffed.

Waiting not so patiently, Millie stood, hands on hips, at the hood of the car. If it had been anyone else, Emerson may have mentioned that proper etiquette called for being nice to the birthday girl, but that was her sister, always carrying a chip on her shoulder. There were times as a teenager Emerson had literally tried to knock the chip off, but her sister had always been the serious one. The grown up. The mature one. She had never let her hair down the way Emerson had.

Unfortunately, Emerson's ankle was feeling better. No signs of swelling or pain, so she hadn't been able to use it as an excuse, either. Instead she had slid on a pair of flats and headed out. Walking through the bar entrance, she suddenly wished she had broken her ankle.

"SURPRISE!" The crowd roared in unison while Emerson's jaw hit the floor.

A row of high top tables had been pushed together, creating a long line through the bar while a very large "Happy 30th Birthday" balloon swayed from the center. Mossy green streamers, her favorite color, had been strung all around the bar, with balloons tied to random chairs.

Walking up to the table, Emerson began hugging her guests one by one. Family, and friends, all part of her past, had gathered around the tables awaiting her arrival. Reaching in to hug her Aunt Ruby, Emerson caught a glimpse of the smile on Millie's face.

It was a genuine smile, one she hadn't seen in a long time. Her sister was happy, truly happy. The spark of hope that they could move beyond the past tingled in her chest.

Working her way down the table, her skin heated when she noticed piercing eyes watching her. She hadn't noticed Preston at first, leaning back at the far end of the tables, but there in the cast of the dim light, he looked like a Demi-God, his hungry eyes tracking her every move and she felt the spark ignite between her thighs.

Approaching the end of the table, he stood from his chair and she took in the sight. Dark faded denim jeans hung low on his hips. The long sleeves of a casual cool grey button down had been rolled up, pushed to the crook of his elbow. The top buttons left open, revealing the white Henley that hugged his body so tight. She felt a little jealousy towards the simple cotton caressing his skin.

His beautiful, glorious lips turned up in a slight smirk, his cool blue eye winking beneath a cocked brow. And then he walked away, heading to the bar. For ten minutes he had watched her work her way down the table, and then he just winked and walked away.

_That was it?_ she felt her temper begin to boil.

He was just going to sit there all alpha, exuding sex like a Greek god, and then walk away when she finally made her way down the table? Oh no, not if she had anything to do about it. Besides, this was her party, and she was supposed to get what she wanted...which just so happened to be him.

Walking over to the bar she squared her shoulders and poked a firm finger into the back of his shoulder, getting his attention. Half glancing over his shoulder, she huffed and put her hands on her hips until he slowly spun in place in his bar stool.

"You know you're hot when you're all worked up," a smile spreading across his heavenly face.

Oh God, she was in trouble. Because he was gorgeous and she'd had just enough wine while working her way around the table that she was feeling brave.

"You knew about this, didn't you?" She poked a finger into his chest this time, her voice steel. "You lied to me."

"Not entirely, no." Reaching up, he hooked his finger around the one she had pressing into his chest, "you assumed Cooper was up to something, you made no mention of your sister."

"Same difference, you still should have told me." She scolded.

"And ruin the fun? Your face was priceless."

She meant to respond. She meant to be angry that he had enjoyed her humiliation, but his thumb had begun running tiny circles over her knuckle, causing her brain to misfire. All coherent thought evaporating. She was at a complete loss, her tough act deflating faster than a balloon with a pin prick, thanks to his simple touch. She was too busy melting into a puddle at his feet to be angry; her eyes locked on to their entwined fingers.

It took a long moment and a helluva lot of effort, but she finally pulled herself from his spell.

"I should get back over there." Her voice was much weaker, lacking any trace of the confidence that had gotten her over here in the first place.

Gently lowering her hand, he released her finger, and without saying a word, nodded back toward her waiting party.

* * *

Preston spent the next hour mentally arguing with himself whether he should stay or go. He didn't belong here. He was a stranger amongst her friends. Hell, he was practically a stranger to her, although it didn't feel that way to him now.

They had shared some very intimate moments, his mouth exploring her most secret parts, but more than that they had shared a kiss that morning that left him with a burning need; a need for more than just sex.

A need he was fully intending to ignore.

The only problem was he couldn't seem to make himself get up from the damn bar stool. Much less, walk out the door.

"It's none of my business, but are you going to sit here and sulk all night? You're killing my bar mood." Clay leaned on the bar from the back side; his hands shoulder width apart, watching the crowd.

"You're right, it is none of your business, and I'm not sulking."

"If you say so?"

"Yeah, I do." Preston turned back to the bar, twirling his empty bottle in a circle.

"You know, running a bar makes me the town's Dr. Phil?"

"Isn't the patron supposed to tell you all their problems, not you meddling in their business?"

"All I am saying is piss or get off the pot." Clay cocked his head smugly.

"What are you two ladies talking about? And I need a PBR." Cooper asked, as he saddled up to the bar.

"Nothing. Since when do you drink PBR?" Preston jumped at the chance to change the subject.

"You're boy here is pining worse than a teenage girl over Justin Bieber." Great, Clay wasn't giving up.

"Did twinkle toes here show you his pretty pink toes?"

He was giving some serious consideration to taking one of them out when Emerson sat her glass down and headed for the restrooms; effectively running into a table on her way.

She'd had three glasses of wine, not that he was counting. Okay, he was counting, but only because he had seen what happened when no one slowed her down. And, based on the animated movements of her hands, it wouldn't take too many more before she wouldn't remember this in the morning.

Preston tuned out the shit talking that was happening at his expense and waited for her to come back out.

And he waited.

"Christ," he muttered, as he stood and headed towards the back.

Just as he was about to knock on the women's bathroom door, it swung open; a dramatic Emerson standing in it's thresh.

"Well, hello there!" She sauntered over to him. Well, maybe sauntered wasn't the right word for what she was doing, but he was guessing it was much sexier in her lush mind. Pressing her body up against his, he wrapped his arms around her, steadying her on her feet.

"You good?" He looked down in to her green doe eyes.

"Oh, I'm great. Don't you worry about that!" She was running a finger up and down his chest. "Actually, on second thought, I could be better!"

Her words were still coming out pretty smooth, no slurring, so he guessed she was just tipsy.

"And what would make you better?" He asked, taking the bait.

Reaching her hand around his waist, he heard the click of the door behind him springing open, "You...in there."

Preston let himself get pushed backwards until he landed ass first in oversized black leather chair. A small lamp resting on the edge of a battered wooden desk cast a dim light throughout the small space. It was cluttered and tight, but he didn't really care about the particulars; he was more interested in what the feisty red head looming over him had in mind.

"You have me where you wanted me, now what?" he teased her lightly, sinfully egging her on.

"You'll see," her voice was husky, full of need.

Preston sat still as stone as he watched Emerson bend over, placing her palms on his upper thighs, mere inches from his growing erection. Leaning in, she pressed her lips to his, kissing him slow and soft, her tongue tracing the lines of his lips.

He let her keep control; let her trail sweet warm kisses down his neck, nipping at his collar bone. The bow in her back had her breast brushing softly against his abs, her ass gloriously raised high for him to see. He ached to grab it, caress it in his hands, but he was too mesmerized by her movements, frozen in a moment of bliss and yearning.

Closing his eyes, he relaxed his head against the back of the chair, focused completely on the feel of her lips against his skin. Tiny fingers worked their way up to his belt buckle and he felt himself go ridged. Pulling the belt free, he sucked in his flat abs giving her the room she need to pop open the button of his jeans and pull down the zipper. He smiled at the quiet hitch in her breath when she found him bare beneath the denim.

No longer able to restrain himself, Preston grabbed her by the hips, pulling her astride his lap and kissed her. His lips moved against hers, greedy, taking what he wanted; what was _his._

* * *

Stepping back into the hallway, Preston pulled her tight against his chest before she could protest.

"Hey! Someone might see us." She tried to push against his chest, but he wasn't letting go.

"And?"

"And I told you, people will –" Crushing his lips to hers, her words were cut off before she could protest further. Feeling those warm, soft lips pressed against her once more had her instantly forgetting her thought.

"And by the way," releasing her lips he leaned in real close, whispering in her ear, "you've been gone for a while and you're glowing...I think it's too late to worry about talk."

"Oh! There you are!" The sound of Millie's voice had them both pulling back quickly. "Sorry, I was just coming to check on you, you sort of disappeared...for a while."

Oh God! How long had they been gone? It felt like minutes. "Yeah...sorry about that, I got a little...distracted."

Millie's eyes grazed over the two of them. She could still feel the flush faintly on her skin. It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to know what they were up to.

Reaching up, Millie smoothed her hair back into place, "There, now you don't look like you just broke into Clay's office to get it on with the hot new guy in the back of the bar." Without another word, her sister turned and walked away.

Emerson stood there shocked, unmoving.

"So..." Preston drew the word out far too long, "your sister thinks I'm hot, huh?"

Whirling around, she shot him a steady gaze, but he erupted in laughter.

"Oh, shut up! Everyone thinks you're hot." She smacked him square in the chest.

"Good to know." He winked.

# Twenty-One

Emerson woke with a nagging headache and pounding memory of a big alpha male in Clay's office. Sitting up on her sister's couch – where she had passed out the night before – she drew her legs up Indian style and scrubbed her face. Of all the times she actually remembered her drunken debacles, this had to be the time.

"You're such an idiot." She scolded the little voice in her head that had convinced her sex with Preston in a bar was a great idea.

But that was the problem, it had been great. Beyond great. It had been amazing, earth shatter, thigh quaking. The big sexy lug was incapable of mediocre sex; even when cramped in a tiny, cluttered, dark office. He had taken her out of her world - which was both annoying and impressive all at the same time. She wasn't sure what had come over her. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the alpha brut trying to watch after her, but something about him made her brain shut off whenever he was close.

Oh God, what kind of girl did he think she was?

She wasn't the kind of girl that hooked up with men in the back of bars, was she?

"Why are you an idiot exactly?" Millie asked, plopping on the couch.

Emerson debated ignoring her sister, but then she smelled the piping hot coffee and caved. Lifting her head up, she reached for the extra mug in Millie's hand.

"I'm such an OMAS."

Setting her mug on the coffee table, Emerson collapsed her head into her sister's lap.

"Oh Sweetie, you're not OMAS. What exactly is an OMAS, by the way?" Stroking gently, Millie ran her fingers through her sister's hair, trying to soothe her wayward thoughts.

"A _One Man Alpha Slut._ All he has to do is walk in the room and my brain stops working. I swear it's a disease."

"Oh Honey," Millie giggled under her breath, "you've been in a relationship for a long time; you're just not used to this sort of thing."

"So you're telling me that screwing a guy in a bar office is a normal thing now?" She grumbled up from her sister's lap.

"Well, no, not exactly. Look all I am saying is you are a good girl, you're not an OMAS, or skanky or any of that. You are a beautiful, successful business woman that just had some crazy fun for her birthday. People hook up, it's no big deal."

Just then, Emerson heard her phone vibrating on the end table, "Daddy knows I'm here right?" she scrambled to reach her phone.

The last thing she needed was her father sending Reed out looking for her again.

"Yeah I told him you were staying with me. You want some breakfast?" Millie stood from the couch and headed back towards the kitchen. "I have bacon and eggs."

Unplugging her phone, the screen came to life, displaying the time.

"Holy geez..." her eyes widened at the clock, somehow she had slept until almost ten. Pulling up her messages she smiled as _Knight in Shining Armor_ appeared across her screen.

Do you have plans for Saturday?

Emerson stared at her phone, unsure how to answer. Did he mean Saturday morning, Saturday night? All day? There was a wedding happening at Ridge Haven this weekend, and she had offered to help, but she didn't technically work for Millie, so she wasn't obligated to be there. Plus, it wasn't a huge event; it was one of Ridge Haven's simpler weddings.

What time on Saturday?

A moment later, her phone vibrated in her hand. Reading the words, she nearly dropped the phone.

All day...Sunday morning also?

Before she could conjure up a response her phone buzzed again.

Have lunch with me, I Don't Know 12:30

Well that explained what kind of girl he thought she was.

Following the smell of bacon, she walked into the kitchen where Millie was preparing their very late breakfast. Hopping up on the counter, she snagged a piece of bacon fresh from the pan.

"So, question. What does it mean if the man you just hooked up with in a bar, asks you if you have plans all day Saturday and Sunday morning? Because I'm thinking maybe I should say I am busy."

"WHAT?" Dropping the spatula, Millie's jaw hit the cool tile floor. "Explain, now."

Turning the phone around, Emerson showed her sister the text messages. Of course, she forgot the tiny little detail that it read _Knight In Shining Armor_ as his name.

"Please tell me you know his real name?" Millie laughed, pointing to the nickname Preston had entered.

"He did that, not me." Emerson snatched the phone back from her sister's paws. "Anyway focus, what do I do?"

"You go to lunch and see what he has to say."

* * *

Preston sat anxiously in a booth at I Don't Know Café, feeling a sense of irony, because the truth was he didn't know what he was doing.

After their little romp in Clay's office he had given up the fight, and stayed at the bar. It was a public establishment after all, and he hadn't had anywhere else to be, so it seemed logical enough to stay. Logical indeed, except for that small part where deep down he had really needed to make sure Emerson was safe; a driving need to protect her that was about as irrational as his obsession with her.

Hours earlier, he had tossed and turned in his empty bed, his mind flipping back and forth between fantasy and reality. Images of her sweet smile playing across his closed lids like the flickering of a film on the silver screen. He knew she would be blowing out of town as quickly as she had appeared, and he knew that time was drawing near, but he still wanted her all the same. Something about her had drawn out a side of him he hadn't felt in years. Aside from that, try as he might, he couldn't seem to shove it back in its tiny box he kept buried deep in his soul.

As the café door opened, a heavenly scent drifted in with a soft breeze and his nerves tingled. Glancing up, he was caught off guard by her beauty; amber waves hanging loosely over one shoulder, exposing the bare skin of her neck.

"Before you say anything, I just need to get something off my chest." Her words came out in a rush before she could plant herself in the booth.

Curious, he sat back, crossing his arms over his chest and nodded, "Okay?"

She looked nervous. Hesitant.

"Could you actually lean back over here? It's sort of a private conversation." She whispered across the table.

This had his imagination doing a very happy dance.

Leaning way in, breathing the same air, he smiled watching her squirm. "What is it?"

The electricity hummed between them and he prayed there was no gas leak. One arc of their current and the whole place was going up with a bang.

"Right..." she drifted back a fraction before continuing, "Before you say whatever it is you have on your mind, I just wanted to tell you that...well...I'm not the kind of girl you think I am. I have never done this sort of thing and surely not in public. What I am saying is...I'm a good girl –"

"Emerson," he tried to interrupt but she shushed him, so he let her continue with her monologue.

"I just don't want you to get the wrong idea here. I think I may have given you some mixed signals." At that his brow arched and she corrected her phrase, "okay, definitely mixed signals. And I am sorry for that. It's just...you mess with my head...I can't think straight when I am with you. And then I do _those things_...I mean it's great. God, I'm not saying it isn't great, because it is, but I mean I just don't normally you know..."

"Do _those things_ , got it." He finished her sentence.

"Right! I just thought you should know. You know incase whatever you wanted..."

He couldn't help it, he laughed. She was stumbling through her words; far more nervous than he had ever seen her. And damn if it didn't turn him on.

Everything about her turned him on.

Composing himself, Preston leaned in close, and spoke with a firm voice. "While I appreciate your concern of my perception as to the kind of girl you are," he chuckled, his composure slipping, "I was wondering if you would be my date to a wedding?"

"Oh?" Her expression softened.

"The thing is, I really don't want to go, but I have to."

Relaxing against the booth, he ran a hand through his hair, "I thought it might actually be enjoyable if I had some good company."

"Oh!"

"You said that already."

"Right."

"You said that too." He flashed an asshole grin that he couldn't help.

"Before you come up with any other one word answers, there's a catch."

"What kind of catch?" Her eyes had gone brows up at this and he was pretty certain she was back to assuming he just wanted a tussle in the sheets.

"It's in Raleigh. Annnnd..." he drew out the one syllable word.

"And what?" She slid instinctively to the edge of her seat.

"There is the small issue of your safety. If I leave town for the weekend, I'm not sure who will come to your rescue? So it's my professional opinion, as your Knight in Shining Armor that you should come; for your own wellbeing."

There was a reason the phrase " _If looks could kill_ " had been coined, for moments like these, and the look he was receiving.

"I think I could manage." She glared, but he ignored her.

"We can drive back Saturday night if you want, but it will be late. I thought we could just stay the night at the hotel. I went ahead and booked an extra room for you, but they assured me I could cancel if you don't want to go."

"Pretty presumptuous on your part; figuring that I would go?" She was idly stacking packs of sugar, when he reached over and took her hand.

"No, not at all; I just wanted to be prepared on the off chance that you said yes."

Touching her skin, he could feel the energy racing between them, and he wasn't the only one. The moment their hands had connected, her breath had caught and her hand flicked involuntarily. He didn't know what it was about this one, but she made him tenser than Tom Brady in Super Bowl XLIX.

"I think you should cancel the other room." Her eyes were focused on their joined hands, not meeting his own.

"Sure, of course. Should we order?" Pulling back, he searched for the waitress. Who of course was nowhere to be found?

A gentle hand rested on his wrists, "I don't think there is any reason to pay for two rooms, when we can share one."

A smile spread across his face like a wild fire, out of control, burning him from the inside out. He felt ridiculous for being so girlishly happy, but the mere thought of an endless night with her, might actually make this wedding bearable after all.

* * *

"For the record, I hate shopping." Emerson sighed heavily through the dressing room door.

She had fought, and lost, with Preston over the two-hundred dollars that he had stuffed in the back pocket of her jeans that were now lying on the dressing room floor. The wedding was formal, a black tie affair, and at the mention that she would have to buy a dress, Preston had been insistent that he pay.

"You do not; you love it, now open the door and let me see." Millie was sprawled across the oversized chair in the lounge of the dressing room, legs slung over the arm, her phone in her hand.

"It's too much for a family wedding." She slowly emerged from the dressing room.

"Oh Emmy, it's beautiful, and perfect." Hopping up from her perch, Millie joined her in the mirror. "He's going to die when he sees you in that dress; fifty bucks says he can't keep his hands off you."

"Which is why I can't go."

Stepping off the platform, Emerson made a bee-line for the dressing room, but Millie beat her to the door, spreading her arms across the opening like the Great Wall of China.

"Before you say anything," Millie held her off, holding her hand palm out at Emerson, "he said there were no expectations, right? So there's absolutely no reason you can't go. And you're totally getting this dress. Just think of it like he's Richard Gere in Pretty Woman"

"Millicent Grey! I'm not a hooker. Not helping."

"Okay, not the best analogy, but think about it. He wasn't paying her for her services; he just wanted her for her company. The sex thing just kind of happened."

"Yes, but if I spend his money, then it's implied."

"Is not. And what's the big deal? Clearly its great sex or you wouldn't be a frequent flyer."

This got a blush out of her. Darting into the stall, Emerson slammed the door before her sister could stop her.

"It is great sex, isn't it? That's what's wrong with you, you're afraid of great sex."

"I'm not afraid of great sex..." she was afraid of the man that came with it, because she was dangerously close to falling.

"Then what is it? Because I sure as hell wouldn't kick him out of my bed."

"I'm not discussing this through a dressing room door. Or ever, actually." She tried to keep a firm voice as she stuffed herself back into her jeans.

"All I am saying is the man took you for a pedicure, carried you a mile on his back when you hurt your ankle, and now he's buying you a dress for a wedding. All on top of the fact that the sex is great; I just don't see the problem here."

The problem was that she was leaving. And though her heart may have been in pieces when she arrived, she was trying to make certain all those pieces went back with her.

"Honey, if a man is willing to wine and dine you and the sex is great, I don't see what the problem is either!" An elderly voice drifted over the stall wall.

Dressed, Emerson swung open the door, mouth gapping at Millie who just shrugged. "She's got a point."

Just then the stall door next to her opened and a woman in her early seventies stepped out. "If you have one willing to work hard to earn the deed, you got a good one Honey."

Emerson's cheeks went up in flames. Had she really just been schooled on sex by someone's grandmother?

"I couldn't agree more." Millie stood and followed the woman out.

# Twenty-Two

"You really like her, don't you?"

Preston watched as his least favorite Grey sister slid onto the empty bar stool beside him. Not that he disliked Millie, but she wasn't the one he had hoped to have by his side tonight.

The fact that he hadn't seen Emerson since they had left I Don't Know the day before was making him more than a little nervous she might back out of this weekend. Even the text she had sent earlier thanking him for the dress she had purchased hadn't given him the reassurance he had hoped for, because no matter what happened after this weekend, he knew she was leaving. A thought he desperately wanted to forget.

"Are you always this straight forward?" Of course he liked her, and wasn't that the damn problem. He hadn't had a woman make him feel this alive since...too damn long.

"Do you always avoid questions?"

He had to give it to her, the chick had balls. He out-weighed her by a good eighty pounds of muscle, but she wasn't backing down. "Yes..." he sagged back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, "I do like her."

"Good, otherwise I was going to have to kick your ass, and I just had my nails done."

"Is that so?" He laughed into the long neck bottle of his beer.

"Let's just put it this way buddy, you hurt my baby sister and I won't mind having to get another manicure." Millie flashed him a no bullshit smile; she was serious.

Preston was still laughing when the front door swung open, lighting Emerson in a neon glow. Like the first break in the clouds after an afternoon thunderstorm, she lit up the room. And the burning desire in his groin. The sight reminding him intimately of the last time they had been together in this bar.

"Mark my words, I know the perfect place to bury a body where no one will find it." The petite blond patted his arm before turning to greet her sister.

Something told him she wasn't lying about the last part. Finishing off the last drop of his beer, Preston sighed, releasing the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"Are we eating?" The sweet sound of Emerson's voice nearly knocked him off his stool.

And just like that, he knew he was in trouble.

* * *

Sliding the key card through the lock, Preston heard the soft gasp as Emerson took in the beautiful suite before her. Soft cream colored walls captured the early afternoon sun raining through the open balcony shades; soaking up all its warmth, the sitting room basked in the golden glow. Gracefully lifting his arm, Preston gestured for her to enter, following her in with their overnight bags in hand.

"What do you think?"

"It's beautiful..." her voice trailed off.

"There sounds like there is a ' _but'_?"

She ignored the question and walked through the small foyer that gave way to the modern sitting room that housed a sleek bonded leather couch tucked neatly against the wall, two earthy green chairs swirled with neutral reds, oranges and yellows, and a glass top coffee table nestled in front of the couch. Along the adjacent wall, a linear desk held a work space, as well as a decent sized flat screen TV. Stepping through the open, glass paned French doors, he watched her fingers trail over the silky satin of the duvet spread beneath a mountain of throw pillows.

"So are you going to tell me what the 'but' is?"

Sitting the bags at the foot of the bed, he ignored the desire to throw her across the satin and have his merry way with her. Stepping into her, however, he lightly ran his hands across her shoulders, and down her biceps, waiting patiently for her to speak.

"Are you sure this isn't too much, it looks pretty expensive?"

He held back his laugh, "There's a discount for guests of the wedding...not that you aren't worth it," he amended. The truth was he hadn't paid a dime for the room. "Of course, if you are truly worried about it, I can think of a few ways you can pay me back." His lips skimmed a fraction of an inch above her skin, not quite touching her.

"Preston, I –"

"Emerson, I'm only kidding." He pressed a finger to her lips because she could finish whatever she was about to say, "There's no expectation here. I told you, I can get you your own room if you would be more comfortable. I'm just glad you're here."

Scrubbing his hands through his tousled hair, his brow creased as he selected his next words carefully, "I like you Emerson. You're smart, funny, and well, there's never any shortage of entertainment when you are around..." she glared at his implications of her mishaps, but he kept going, "You're leaving soon, I get that, I just thought we could spend some time together before you go."

He felt the knife twist in his gut at the thought of her leaving.

"So, you brought me as entertainment since I'm sure to embarrass myself again?" He could see the smile in her eyes, even if she was keeping her lips locked in a firm line.

"Something like that..." Leaning in, Preston locked his lips to her sweet honey mouth. He was really going to miss those lips when she left.

"I should get ready. Take a shower." She barely whispered when he pulled back.

"Is that an invitation Miss Grey?" God, he could only hope.

"I'm not sure we would make it to the ceremony?"

"I'm not sure I care."

Pulling her tight against his chest, the sudden hitch in her breath had him questioning if they would indeed miss the ceremony. Her big beautiful eyes were staring up at him with such longing he nearly threw in the towel. He wanted so much to stay locked up in this very room. To bury himself so deep inside of her, and not surface for at least twenty-four hours, but the sound of his phone ringing brought him up short.

It was his mother's ring tone. The one he had set so he would know not to answer unless he had time to spare. The same ring tone that reminded him, that maybe this hadn't been the best idea after all.

"I need to get that." He pulled back, dread washing over his senses, "Get ready, I'll be waiting."

Preston sat on the couch, watching the highlights on Sports Center as he waited, his thoughts drifting off to his parents, mostly his mother. He had called his mom a few days ago to warn her, not wanting anyone to be surprised that he was bringing a date to the wedding. He knew she would be beside herself, but he had hoped that some of her excitement would subside by the time she actually met Emerson.

Based on the phone call, he didn't have a prayer.

The quiet click of the bedroom door drew him from his reflections, as a boulder dropped to his gut. He wasn't sure he was ready for this, but it was too late to turn back now. Glancing up, the sight of Emerson standing in the doorway took his breath away. She was stunning, dressed in an elegant black cocktail dress that grazed the tops of her knees. Smooth fabric hugged her sensual curves, running up her gorgeous body, before gathering in an intricate pleating over her left shoulder, adorned with a lovely rosette at the crest of her collar bone.

The smooth, exposed skin of her right shoulder had him yearning, deep in his abdomen, momentarily forgetting all his worries. He wanted to touch her; to trail a delicate line with his fingertips from her neck, down her arm. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

And her shoes.

Holy fuck, those shoes.

He couldn't even look at the strappy black heels for fear they would never make it out the door. The black satin screaming to be wrapped around his waist.

Standing from his place on the couch, already dressed in a pristine black suit and deep red tie that matched her hair, he let the draw of her pull him across the room. Placing a tender kiss to her forehead, a mass of nerves settled deep in his gut.

Running his knuckles gently down her cheek, careful not to mess up her makeup, he ignored the growing anxiety, "You are absolutely breathtaking."

"Thank you!"

She smiled sweetly, her fingers absently trailed soft lines down the lapel of his coat; the sensual touch barely able to fight against his overwhelming sense of angst. "You clean up pretty well, if I do say so myself."

Stepping off the elevators, on to the second floor foyer, he watched as Emerson took in the elegance surrounding them. It held a much more industrial feel, compared to a venue such as Ridge Haven, but for being smack in the middle of the city, the design made it an elegant venue.

"It's so magnificent." Emerson stared up to the painted ceiling, covered with white, fluffy cumulus clouds that made you feel as though you were standing outdoors.

"That it is." Preston tried to mimic her awe, trying hard to shake the tension crippling his body.

"You've been here before?" she stared speculatively at him, clearly mistaking his anxiety for a lack of interest.

"A few times." He admitted, not wanting to take away from her enjoyment. There was something so magical about watching her, the pure appreciation donning her face.

"Oh," her face had fallen a bit, the wind knocked from her sails.

"Please, I want you to enjoy this...." He gestured to the halls around them, "how about later, I take you around and show you all the best views."

"The best views, huh? Do you bring all of your dates here?" Her face was passive now and he couldn't tell if she was joking or actually upset.

"No it's not like that, my father –" he started to explain, but was cut off by the tight grip of his mother's arms.

Wrapped in his mother's embrace, he shot Emerson an apologetic smile, hoping she would forgive him for what was coming next. Turning to her, there was no surprise she had been lurking, waiting to pounce the moment he exited the elevators. He had wanted Emerson here, wanted the time with her, but suddenly he was anxious. The idea of introducing a woman to his family was beyond anywhere he thought he would ever find himself again. The tension coiling tight in his shoulders felt like any minute it would snap.

"Oh, Preston! It's so good to see you son! I've missed you terribly." His mother cooed, smoothing the lapels of his suit.

He loved her, even if she were a little overbearing at times. "I've missed you, too." He pressed a gentle kiss atop her head.

Pulling back from him, she wasted no time assessing Emerson, who was looking a little shy.

"And you...you must be Emerson. It's so lovely to meet you dear." Without any question or approval, she pulled his date into a tight embrace.

"Mom!"

Releasing her hold, his mother took Emerson by her hands, raising them slightly as though she were trying to get the full view of her. "Preston, she's beautiful."

"Yes, she is." He winked at Emerson, who was already three shades of embarrassed. "Emerson, this is my mother, Eleanor."

"It's so nice to meet you Mrs. White."

"Oh dear, please, call me Eleanor."

"Ah, there's my handsome son." Preston felt the clasp of his father's hand on his shoulder. "And my, my, who is this lovely young woman?"

"This is Emerson...my date. Emerson, this is my father, William White."

"It's a pleasure to meet you young lady. How do you like your room dear? Is there anything we can have sent up for you? Anything at all? You name it and I will have my staff take care of it." His father picked up Emerson's right hand, kissing the back of it as he spoke.

"Dad!" Jesus, between the two of them, they had touched her more than he had in the past twelve hours.

"Your staff?" Emerson tilted her head slightly towards him, a quizzical look playing across her expressions.

"This is my father's hotel." Preston slid his hands into his pockets, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

"Oh Sweetie, you always were so modest." His mother patted his arm, turning her gaze upon Emerson, "Yes dear, William built this hotel a few years ago. It really is quiet the spectacle if I do say so myself; his best one yet."

Emerson eyes darted between him and his father, "You own multiple hotels?"

William laughed, a throaty sound as he wrapped Emerson's arm around his and led her towards the ceremony, "a few my dear, just a few."

# Twenty-Three

Multiple hotels...

And not just any hotels, five star. Emerson kept playing the conversation over in her head. Preston had never mentioned anything about his father being a hotel tycoon. Not that they had talked much about his family at all. Come to think of it, had they ever talked about his family? Or his past?

She had to admit, the fact that Preston had made no mention of his family's wealth had caught her off guard. And it wasn't that she cared about money, because she didn't, she just never would have guessed. Preston had always been so laid back, so down to earth. She had worked with many wealthy men and women in her career, working on designs for 5th Avenue suites and Brownstones on the Upper East Side, but he had never acted like he belonged to those ranks. For that she was thankful.

But it wasn't the lack of background knowledge that bothered her the most.

From the moment they had stepped on the elevator, there had been a shift in his demeanor. Like a small spark of angst.

Had he changed his mind? Wished he hadn't invited her?

Because somewhere between their suite and the sliding doors of the elevator, the calm, cool, down to earth Preston she knew had disappeared. Replaced by an edge she couldn't quite figure out.

An edge that was making her far more self-conscious than normal.

"Would you like a drink?" Preston asked, as he led her to the assigned seating for the reception. The ceremony had been short and sweet, yet beautiful. Now, all of the guests had been ushered into a large banquet hall that was stunning beyond belief.

"Yes! Please." The words rushing out a little too quickly, "white wine would be wonderful." She tried to calm her tone...and nerves.

"If I may, I would love a glass of wine also, dear." Eleanor appeared behind Preston, her smile gleaming.

"Of course." Preston kissed his mother on the check, and headed for the bar.

Emerson took a deep breath to still her nerves, watching as Preston headed towards the bar. He was stunning in a suit, just as he had been the first time she laid eyes on him. His strong masculine features accentuated by the stark lines of his coat.

Not that she had minded him in gym shorts covered in sweat either, but seeing him now, back in that suit, reminded her of the night they met. She had been hopeless against his gorgeous face.

"Emerson dear, I am so very pleased you are here with our Preston." She turned to find an eager Eleanor now in Preston's seat.

"Thank you Mrs. White, I am very happy to be here. It's a lovely wedding." She tried to match his mother's eloquent speech, but it sounded fake, rehearsed almost.

She had grown up in the country, and although she had manners, _poised_ and _proper_ were not her strong suits. She needed a _"Debutant For Dummies"_ manual.

"You must be a very special woman Emerson, for Preston to bring you to meet his family." Eleanor crooned.

The woman sounded so pleased, excited even, which made Emerson cringe deep inside. If a woman of her stature knew the truth of their _relationship_ , Emerson guessed she wouldn't be so pleased. Could that be the source of Preston's angst? Was he worried his family would find out he was just knocking boots with some small town girl?

She wanted to tell Eleanor the truth. She wasn't special. But somehow saying _"I'm just sleeping with your son"_ didn't seem like the words you spoke to a woman of such grace. She also wasn't sure what Preston had told his parents about their _relationship._ If she had to guess, based on Eleanor's curious tone, he hadn't told them anything at all. ,

"That's a very kind thing for you to say, but I am not sure that I would use the word special, Preston and I are just –"

"Oh Emerson, you are too modest. I see the way my son looks at you. I assure you, you are very special to him."

"He is certainly a very special man. You raised a wonderful son." Emerson wasn't sure what else to say, her mind wandering to just how special he made her feel.

As quickly as the thought emerged, Emerson fought to push it back deep down. What was she thinking? This was a fling. Nothing more. In two days she would be gone, back in New York.

"It has been far too long since I have seen my son happy..." Eleanor let out a deep breath, her shoulders visibly relaxing, "I wasn't sure my son would ever let his heart open to another woman."

_Another woman?_ Emerson felt the weight of the two simple words.

She had been certain he and Cooper were soul mates, destined to search the world over for every wild fling they could find, but she had never imagined him as one to settle down. And like Cooper, she had assumed it had just been a choice, but clearly, there was more to his story than met the eye.

"You are the first woman he has brought home to meet us since Catherine. I feared for so long he would never let himself feel again, never take the risk. I tried for years to persuade him, urging him to see other women, but he is as unmoving and stubborn as his father."

Emerson had no idea who Catherine was or what their status had been, but she could connect the dots that it had been significant. Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted Preston at the bar, a beautiful smile upon his lips as he laughed with an older gentleman. She had never heard him mention anyone by the name Catherine, not that they had discussed exes, well not his anyway, but it was starting to make sense why he had been so sympathetic of her situation.

He had clearly been hurt.

"It is so very relieving, as a mother, to have a worry lifted off." Eleanor continued on,

"You will understand one day when you bare a child. You do want children, don't you dear?"

Children?

Emerson spun back to face his mother head on, eyes popping wide. Was his mother really inquiring about her desires to have children? Was she insinuating Emerson would be the one giving her grandchildren?

Oh God!

She could feel the panic building in her chest. The heat burning her pale skin. She needed to tell Eleanor the truth. She wasn't special, wasn't _the one_ , she wasn't anything but the woman her son had slept with a few times.

The panic must have shown on her face, because suddenly Eleanor was backpedaling.

"Oh dear," Eleanor rested a hand upon her chest, "I fear I have said too much. Please forgive me; he has always been so private about the matter."

"Which matter would that be exactly?" Emerson choked out the words.

"About Catherine my dear; he looks at you the same way he did with her."

This stopped her in her tracks.

What was she supposed to say to that? Eleanor obviously thought she knew who Catherine was, which solidified the fact that she had been an important part of his life.

"Ladies, your wine."

Before she could conjure a response, Preston had returned to their table.

"Thank you!" Taking the glass, Emerson pressed it to her lips, and drank nearly half the contents.

"Is everything okay?" his voice was close to her ear, full of concern.

"Peachy! I just need to find the ladies room."

Excusing herself from the table, Emerson stepped out into the hallway; heart pounding. Spotting the door leading out on to a terrace, she didn't hesitate.

_Fresh air_ , she thought, _you just need some fresh air._

* * *

Asking Emerson to his cousin's wedding had seemed like the logical solution to his little problem of wanting to spend time with her. What he hadn't factored in was the real problem; how it would feel to have a woman in his world? There had been plenty of women in his nights, but he never once considered introducing them to his parents. He had played it cool, trying to not let his nerve show, but the fact that his date had went MIA about ten minutes ago, had him twitching in his skin.

Stepping into the corridor, Preston glanced around, but there was no sign of Emerson. He was giving thought to raiding the women's bathroom when he caught sight of a couple entering from the terrace.

Bingo.

"What's a beautiful woman like you doing out here all alone?" Stepping in behind her, Preston placed his hands on either side of Emerson, encasing her against the railing. Below, through a thin patch of trees, cars raced down the freeway; their lights flickering between the branches. With her back pressed to his chest, he could see the soft glow of her skin bathed in the light of the moon. She was astonishing.

"I was coming back," she spoke out into the dark before slowly spinning in his arms, meeting his eyes, "I was...a little warm, so I thought I would get some fresh air."

"You should have told me, I would have come with you." Even in the dim light, he could see the blush creep across her cheeks. She was lying. "What is it?"

"Nothing." But her eyes dropped from his.

"Emerson, talk to me. What happened?" His earlier fretting washed away by the thought that something had happened.

He had only left her alone for a few short moments while he got their drinks, and then she had excused herself to the restroom. What could have possibly happened in such a short amount of time?

And then he knew. He had left her with his overbearing mother.

Tilting her chin up to face him, he spoke softly. "What did she say to you?"

"She didn't –" Lifting a brow, he shot her a " _don't even try it"_ look. "I think your mom wants me to have her grandchildren."

"Christ!" he scrubbed a hand through his golden locks. "I left you alone with her for five minutes. I told her not to do this, not to overreact."

"Let's just say she can pack a lot into a few minutes." A nervous laugh escaped her.

"What else did she say?" he tried to hide the worry in his voice.

"Well, she thinks I am special."

Tucking a stray hair behind her ear he let his knuckles brush against her jawline. "She's right about that, you are special."

"She says she hasn't seen you this happy in a long time."

He paused, not sure how to respond, "Emerson, I –"

"And then she was inquiring as to whether I intended to have children." She cut him off before he could explain.

Pulling her against his chest, Preston held tight, breathing her in. His mother was right, he hadn't been this happy in a long time; the feeling was unbelievable. It also scared the shit out of him. "She's right...about me. I am happy."

"Me too." The words whispered into his chest made his heart swell.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, "I'm so sorry if she upset you, Baby."

He felt her body stiffen.

He had been caught up in his mother's questioning, so afraid she had upset Emerson that the four little letters had joined together and slipped across his lips without consent. He felt the delicate weight shift in his arms and he braced himself, unsure of what was coming next.

Two doe eyes locked on to his, "Can I ask you something, personal?"

"Anything"

"Who is Catherine?"

# Twenty-Four

The night air went still. And so did he.

Emerson regretted the words the moment they had come out, but it was too late now. There was no rewind button on life. No mulligans. She hadn't intended to ask. As much as her curiosity was killing her, she was going to let it go. He would tell her when he wanted to, which meant never. But then he had found her on the terrace and somehow the conversation had felt real. Deep. Open.

And then he called her baby.

A fact she wasn't touching with a ten foot pole.

Somewhere in her mixed up emotions of the night, she had grown brave and asked about his ex, except now he wasn't talking. Or moving. Clearly a touchy subject. Wracking her brain, she tried to think of a way to remove the awkwardness she had slammed between them, but of course all she had was crickets filling her head.

"She was my wife." His words were a matter of fact.

Emerson had assumed there would be significance, but a wife? Her head spun at the idea on an ex-wife, leaving her feeling inadequate. "Do you still talk to her?" She asked quietly, praying to God he said no.

"Not in the traditional sense, no."

"Oh!" She felt her eyes drop to the concrete beneath her feet. What the hell did ' _not in the traditional sense'_ mean?

Tenderly, Preston took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look up at him. "What exactly did my mother tell you?"

Emerson wasn't quite sure what to say. It was obvious it had been Eleanor who prompted this conversation, but she didn't want to cause any riff between he and his mother. "That you haven't brought another woman to meet your parents since Catherine, that you..." She hesitated, not wanting to continue with the last thought.

"What is it Emerson, what else did she tell you?" There was an edge to his voice, not one of anger, but concern.

"That you look at me the way you looked at her."

The feel of his hands drifting down her arms sent a shiver up her spine. Lacing his fingers in hers, Preston led them over to a cluster of chairs arranged around an open gas fire pit. Pulling off his jacket, he wrapped it around her arms, before sitting her down in a plush chair. His warmth lingered in the coat and she soaked it up; his scent filling her senses.

"We were young and in love, Catherine and I. We were twenty-two when I proposed; both just graduating from college. It had felt right, the next logical step in life."

She watched as he paced for a moment longer, and then settled into a chair next to her. Staring into the fire, he continued. "We were spending the week with her family out on Bald Head Island, and I was a nervous wreck. I had done the honorable thing and asked her father for her hand in marriage. Thankfully, he gave me his blessing since I had already bought the ring."

"The last night, I took Catherine for a walk down to the point, under the guise of enjoying the last night in the salt air. We had reached the point, when she turned to head back and I bent down on one knee. I had practiced so many things I wanted to say, but when it came down to it I couldn't keep a single thought straight. I rambled through incoherent sentiments before finally blurting out the words _Will You Marry Me?"_ He laughed at the memory, shaking his head in embarrassment.

"She said yes that night and we were married in the exact location a year later. Everything had been going perfect; we were happy and in love, we had bought our first home and our jobs couldn't have been better. Life was perfect, too perfect."

Emerson caught the shine of a tear glistening, threatening to make its escape and her heart broke.

"About six months after we got married, Catherine found out she was pregnant. It had been an unexpected surprise. I was so shocked when she told me the news that I had just stared at her like she had two heads. We had planned to wait a few years, but life had different plans. It took a few weeks for the shock to wear off, but when we finally went to the doctor, I was overwhelmed with emotion as we listened to the heart beat. In that moment, I realized I had never known true love until I heard my baby's heartbeat."

"We were waiting until the first trimester was over, as the doctor had suggested, before we told the family our news. The doctor had said after thirteen weeks, the chances of a miscarriage decreased immensely. We agreed, never believing it could really happen to us, to wait just in case."

"Catherine was eleven and half weeks along when she called me from the hospital where she was a nurse. She had started bleeding and went to the OB floor to be checked. The doctors say they never know what causes these things, they just happen, but she had lost the baby and my heart broke. All the love replaced by pain and anger."

Emerson pressed a hand to her chest, her heart shattering for him.

"It was February and the weather had turned nasty; it was beginning to ice out. Normally she would have stayed on at the hospital to help handle all the incoming emergencies from the storm, but given the situation, her boss thought it would be best for her to go home, take a few days off and rest. I still remember the exact conversation. I tried to get her to stay there, to let me come and get her, but she insisted she was okay."

His voice grew weak and trembled, but to her surprise, he continued.

"I was beginning to worry when she hadn't arrived home. I knew it would take longer in the bad weather, but it had been a while since I had heard from her. I tried calling her cell phone several times, but she never picked up. I remember pacing the living room when the phone finally rang. Glancing at the caller id, I saw the name of the hospital and began to relax, assuming she had decided not to drive after all."

"When I answered, the voice on the other end of the phone was male and unfamiliar. He told me there had been an accident and that I needed to come to the hospital as soon as possible. I begged for information, but he said he needed to get back and I should ask for him when I arrived at the emergency room."

Emerson felt the tears stinging her eyes, his words reverberating in her mind _"she was my wife"_. Her heart aching for a life she never knew.

"The drive to the hospital seemed to take an eternity, everything passing in a blur. When I finally met with the doctor who had called, he told me that a truck had been unable to stop, sliding on the ice and hitting the driver's side of her car. She had died on impact. In that moment, my whole world stopped. The pain and anger I thought I had felt before paled in comparison."

Emerson couldn't stop herself. Standing from her chair she went to him, climbing in his lap, hot tears striking her face. "Preston, I'm so sorry."

Strong arms snaked around her waist, pulling her in tight. His warm breath grazing the curve of her neck, his lips pressing soft wet kisses against her skin, and she felt her body heat. She felt cheap to want for a man who was pouring his heart out, but there was no denying the effect he had on her.

"Preston, I –"

"Shhh..." he brought his lips to hers, kissing her tenderly.

She meant to protest, to tell him she had only meant to comfort him, but her wires crossed and she melted into his kiss instead.

Standing, he pulled her tight to his chest, "let's get out of here." His words were smooth like velvet against the cool night.

* * *

Sliding into a back service elevator, Preston lifted his sexy little date, wrapping her soft legs around his waist as the car began to lift. All evening he had felt the weight of the past holding him down. The anxiety of introducing a woman into the graces of his family had been crippling, but it was wasted energy. Now that the truth was out, he felt weightless, free.

And extremely turned on.

The creamy exposure of her silky skin, and the way that little black dress hugged her curves – especially her ass – had been killing him for hours. He had fought the urge to rip it off of her the moment she walked out of the bedroom, but he was throwing in the towel, waving his white flag.

Resisting no longer.

"Are you sure you want to do this now?" Emerson pulled back, her eyes studying him.

For the longest moment Preston just held onto her, feeling the rise and fall of her chest pressed against his own; her soft body somehow soothing his soul. Lost in her wonder, he barely registered the faint feel of her hands against his jaws, cradling his head in her palms.

"That's all in the past, nothing I can change. But this..." he pulled her tighter to him, "this I can control."

A soft, warm kiss caressed his lips, pulling him further under her spell. His lips moved instinctively, desire consuming his body. Her lips parted, a soft moan emanating from her sweet, sensual body, sending waves of heat to his groin. He kissed her deep, and long, until they were both panting for air.

Pulling back, he stared into the kindest eyes he had ever seen.

In that very moment he felt loved, not pitied; felt her strength and compassion, not sorrow. Not once, had he ever told another woman about Catherine. And he knew then, as the ice melted around his heart, he was in trouble.

Several hours later, with a smirk permanently etched on his face, Preston stared at the ceiling above their hotel bed. He could feel Emerson's heart pounding against his own, her damp skin splayed out across his chest. Her breathing was finally beginning to slow.

He wasn't sure when, or how, but Emerson had snuck her way in, wrapping herself tight around his heart. For years, he had kept his heart locked tight, but in the blink of an eye, she had opened the gates, torn down all his walls.

Gliding a finger lightly over her skin, he let himself hope for the first time. He knew she was going to leave soon, but suddenly, it didn't seem to matter. They could make this work. One way or another.

"Emerson?" He spoke softly, twirling a strand of her hair. It was confession time.

"Yeah?" She shifted slightly, turning her head towards him.

"I..." _Just say it, jackass._ "Emerson, I just wanted to say –"

The Sex and The City theme song cut off his words, ringing out from somewhere across the room. Emerson shot up off the bed.

"Is that your ringtone?" He laughed mildly.

"It's my ringtone for Millie!"

Preston glanced at the clock. It was two in the morning. "Does she always call you in the middle of the night?" But she had already answered the phone, and from the way she went white, the answer was no.

Preston shot out of bed, grabbing his jeans as he crossed the room. There were tears welling in her bleak eyes. Grabbing the phone, he pressed speaker, tucking her into his arms. Cooper's voice was thick as the words "Mission Hospital" came through the lines.

"Who?" Preston asked.

"Steven. He's in CCU."

"We're on our way." Preston hit end, and pulled her in close. "It's going to be okay."

Preston wasn't sure what had happened to her father, but he had sensed the urgency in Cooper's voice.

He kept one eye on Emerson, who methodically dressed, while he hurried around the room stuffing anything he could see into their bags. He would call his father in the morning, have him sweep the room, but for now, he just needed to get them back to Spruce Pine.

# Twenty-Five

A few nights after her mother's accident, Emerson entered the funeral home in a deep denial. She would wake up from the nightmare. Any second, her eyes would flash open, her body jerking upright in her bed, as she struggled to get her breathing under control, because this couldn't be real. Her mother hadn't died.

And then she had seen the cold, lifeless form that had once been her mother.

In that instant, that infinitesimal fraction of her life, she could no longer deny the inevitable. Her mother was dead. Bile rose from the depths of her hollow stomach. Heaving herself over a metal waste can, her stomach twisted in knots, retching until nothing was left. After an eternity hunched over the cold metal, Emerson swiped a hand across her mouth, too broken to care, and looked up into the burdened blue eyes of her sister.

Emerson had never understood the guilt that would haunt her sister's eyes for years to come, but it had continued to burn, like a steady flame in the night. But what had Millie known of burden? She wasn't the one who had been a spitting image of their mother. She wasn't the one who woke every morning, to face the ghost of their mother staring straight back at her in the mirror. She wasn't the one who faced the solemn eyes of her father, whom with every glance was reminded of his lost love.

It had taken Emerson years to face her own reflection; to look herself in the eyes without seeing the haunted shadows of her mother. No matter how short she had cut her hair, or how black she dyed it, she couldn't get past her emerald green eyes, an exact replica of her mother. It had been time and distance that had finally won the battle. Memories, buried deep in her soul, blurring over the years; details in the edges fading.

The rhythmic beeping broke through the early morning, as Emerson kept vigil over her father. Her own breathing matching the steady push and pull of oxygen through the ventilator. She concentrated on the ebb and flow, the task keeping her thoughts from drifting astray. She focused on the facts, not allowing her deepest fears to sow seeds of despair. Her father was in a medically induced coma. He wasn't waking up, because the doctors hadn't wanted him to.

This wasn't the same as her mother.

From what she knew, her father had been in one of the barns, doing God knows what, when he must have slipped from the ladder. He had been conscious, at least long enough to reach for his phone.

Millie had answered the call, but there had been no response on the other end. She hung up, immediately returning the call, but there was no answer. Panic had run through her as she grabbed her keys, heading straight for her father's farm. She had continued to call, praying she was wrong, but she hadn't been. She had searched the house, with no sign of their father anywhere. And then the barking registered.

Running from the house, the screen door slamming in her wake, she headed straight towards John Wayne, who stood cast in the light from the barn door; his bark incessant, urgent. Millie nearly fainted at the sight of their father, lifeless in a pool of his own blood, as the sirens rang out through the night. When she hadn't been able to reach her father, she had called 911, dispatching them to her father's farm. More thankful than ever, that only in small towns would the dispatcher believe in your "bad feeling."

Not wanting to call Emerson until she had some concrete information, but unable to handle the emptiness of the room they had placed her in, Millie had called Cooper. A fact, that had the magnitude of the situation not been momentous, Emerson would have not believed.

* * *

Bypassing rows of empty slots, Preston continued through the parking deck until he reached the upper level. Dawn had barely broken the horizon, as he slouched back against his seat. Silently, watching as the pink sky transformed into a burning orange, the gravity of the last twenty-four hours set in. The drive had been long, and excruciating, but the only thing he had been able to focus on was the eerie silence filling the space, and Emerson's warm palm pressed against his.

Emotional Rollercoaster.

It was the only way to describe the last twenty-four hours. There had been so many flips, twists and turns, Preston no longer knew which way was up. He had been terrified to introduce Emerson to his family, but she had taken everything in stride. Or so he had thought until he realized she had disappeared.

Thinking back, he couldn't remember a time he had panicked at the idea of a woman running off on him. Had he ever? Nor, could he remember a time when a woman's presence had put him so at ease. When he had walked out on that terrace, every ounce of worry had faded away, as though nothing else in the world mattered. Then telling Emerson about his past had been far more relieving than he had ever dreamt possible. For the first time in years, he felt like the chain around his heart had been broken, setting him free; no longer smothering him with the pain of his past.

And in that freeing moment, he had known. He loved her. But those three little words had seemed far too inadequate for what he felt. And so he had done the only thing he knew, he had made sweet love to her. For hours he had worshiped her body, caressing every inch of her perfect skin. Pouring himself into her.

He was going to tell her. He had needed her to know the truth of his heart, but those simple little words, all seven little letters, had gotten caught in his throat. Clearing the wall of apprehension in his throat, he had started again.

And then her phone had rang. The world had instantly gone dark.

Entering the hospital, Preston took the stairs two at a time. Walking out of the stairwell, he followed the signs marked for the CCU until he spotted Cooper sitting in a chair, his head leaning against the waiting room wall, eyes closed, arms folded across his chest.

"What's the status?" He asked, settling into the seat beside Cooper.

"Same. The doc hasn't been back in a while, but they are taking him down for another MRI and Cat Scan in an hour. Doc wants to keep any eye on his swelling, see if it has started to subside."

"How's Millie holding up?"

Cooper shrugged. "She's either calming down a bit or deep in shock. A woman shouldn't have to see that kind of scene."

They sat in silence for a long time, like two giant statues watching over the waiting room, when Cooper cleared his throat. "So how was _it_?" he asked, not bothering to look in Preston's direction.

"The usual." Preston shrugged, "Bride, groom, cake, my overbearing mother running off my date. What more could you ask for?"

"I thought you told her Annie was just a friend?" Cooper questioned.

"I did, it didn't seem to matter. She was lurking as soon as we walked in. I left her alone with Emerson for five minutes so I could get us some drinks, and she pounced on her like a mountain lion. Went as far as to question Emerson whether or not she wanted kids."

"Damn." Cooper's laughter echoed through the waiting room, earning them some nasty looks from the other families.

"Oh, it gets better. She even managed to throw Catherine's name out there, and then decided that it was my place to tell Emerson if I chose to do so." He shook his head at his impossible mother.

"How'd that go for you?" Cooper's tone turning more serious, he knew that was one subject Preston didn't take lightly.

"She wanted to know who she was, of course."

"Did you tell her? About what happened?" Cooper was looking at him now, a cross between concern, and curiosity.

"Yeah, I did."

Cooper gave him a knowing nod, and true to the male form didn't press the issue any further. Leaning his head back against the wall, Preston closed his eyes.

# Twenty-Six

"Hey, Daddy"

Emerson sat, watching her father's motionless body, as the steady beeping of machines ticking off each agonizing second he lay unconscious. The room was eerie calm, now that it was just she, and her father. Unable to take Millie's restlessness any longer, she had convinced her sister to take a break. Go for a walk. Get some fresh air; lunch. Anything, that didn't involve pacing the room.

"I don't know if you can hear me, but I am here."

Sliding up to the edge of the bed, Emerson slipped her hand into her father's, surprised at his icy cold touch. He had always been so hot natured; the kind of man that would walk around in a T-shirt in the middle of winter.

Placing his hand back upon the bed, she reached down and pulled the blanket up snug around his body. Rubbing his forehead, she began to speak softly. "The doctors say the medication has you good and asleep, they don't want you using that hard head of yours, but I need you to know that I love you so much." She felt the tears welling in her eyes. Images of her mother's lifeless body filling her mind.

"And you aren't allowed to die, you hear me? I can't do this without you." Her voice trembled with emotion, but she pressed on, "I barely survived losing momma, I can't lose you too. Not now, not yet. Besides, Millie will drive me insane if she doesn't have you to focus all her mothering on. So you just rest up, but you come back to me. You're a stubborn old man; you can't let some ladder get the best of you."

She tried to keep her voice light, but the truth of her words was weighted. She couldn't lose him, not now, not like this.

A soft rap at the door pulled her thoughts from heading down that dark road. Wiping the tiny tears from her eyes, Emerson looked up to see Preston standing in the door way, a small black bag in hand.

"Hey?" she eyed the bag suspiciously.

"I passed Cooper and Millie getting off the elevator," he nodded towards the exit, "I can go, if you want? I just thought maybe you wouldn't want to be alone." For someone who always seemed in control, he sounded so unsure of himself.

"No, please stay." She nodded in the direction of the small innocuous bag, "what's in the bag?"

"Oh!" Holding it up, he shrugged as if it was no big deal. "I thought you might need some things. And I went to check on John Wayne." He smiled sheepishly.

Handing over the bag, Emerson peered in at the toiletries. Reaching in, her tongue swiped the back of her teeth, as she pulled out her tooth brush. She had been so distraught hygiene had never entered her mind.

"Thank you!" She headed for the sink, when his last sentence registered. "Wait...how did you get in the house?"

"Cooper told me where the spare key is kept. I was going to come ask, but I hated to bother you, so he told me where I could find it. I hope that's okay?" He was starting to sound a little worried he had made a mistake.

"It's wonderful, thank you!" She flung herself into his arms before he could see the tears stinging her eyes once again. Bittersweet tears. He was perfect, and she was leaving.

Preston pulled back to kiss her forehead, but she was glad he mistook the pain in her eyes, for that of her father and not the fact that she was falling in love with a man she couldn't have. "It's going to be okay. He will be okay."

Preston moved to kiss the tears streaking down her cheeks, and then to kiss her lips. "I should take care of this first." She pressed her finger to his lips, holding up the toothbrush in the other hand.

He chuckled, but moved across the room to sit in an empty chair, the tension instantly easing with his presence. "John Wayne was convinced he was starving to death. You should have seen how quickly he scarfed down his food. I am pretty sure he wouldn't have made it another hour on his own."

Emerson rinsed her mouth and smiled, "Oh, he's just a big, spoiled baby that gets way too many treats throughout the day." She patted her father's hand, just in case he could hear her.

"I told him not to worry, that I would be back." He seemed to hesitate, letting the words drift.

"Thank you," walking over, Emerson leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Emerson thought back to the contact information saved in her phone. The _Knight in Shining Armor_ may have started as a joke, but it was a joke no more. He had come to her rescue more times than she could count, and from the look of it, he didn't seem to plan on stopping anytime soon.

Settling into the comfort of his strong arms, she let her eyes drift closed. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept. She didn't have the brain power left to even think about it. It had been far too long was all that mattered. Her body, unable to fight any longer, had been putty melting in Preston's warm strength.

"Oh no!" Emerson jolted upright in her chair.

"What? What's wrong?" Her sudden movement had Preston on high alert.

"My flight...I need to change my flight. And call my boss. There is no way I can fly out in the morning now."

An odd expression marred Preston's face as he opened his mouth to speak, but then the door opened, highlighting Millie in the glow of the hall lights.

For weeks, Emerson had enjoyed being home. Far more than she had expected she would. Coming home had been a means of escape; a dying need to be as far from her unraveling life as possible. But the endless time with her family, and the unexpected adventure with Preston, had been far more distracting than ever imagined. And she nearly had forgotten she had to go back.

Life in Spruce Pine was simple. Life in New York, however, was complicated to say the least, but it was the life she wanted. Complicated or not, she was living her dream. And Preston had known she was leaving. Hadn't he? At least, she thought she had told him. But based on the look he had shot her, this was news to him. She had fully intended to tell Preston she was leaving in the morning, but every time she was within speaking range, her mind went a little haywire; lines got crossed. And every good intention flew right out the window. Along with her clothes, half the time.

"You were leaving, tomorrow?" His voice was strained, when she hung up the phone.

The world may have been under some false illusion of their arrangement, but she had known the truth, they were just two consenting adults having a good time. So why did he seem so shocked she was leaving?

"I was supposed to yes. Rachel, er –, my boss is trying to push back my meeting with my next client. I'm certain she can reason with them, given the situation. They seem like reasonable folks." At least, she hoped to God they were.

"When were you going to tell me?" Piercing blue eyes stared at her, calculated and cool.

"I meant to, several times, I just get a little..." she gestured to the area between his thighs, "distracted where you are concerned."

After a day that went on for an eternity, Emerson stood under the hot spray of her shower, reflecting on the day's events. Several rounds of tests and a few scans later, it had been determined that her father's condition was stabilizing; the swelling around his brain was subsiding. There were no signs of infection and his organ functions were perfect. All in all, he was doing great considering. And with all the good news, and stable condition the nurse had politely informed them visiting hours would resume in the morning.

The doctor, who had been beyond wonderful, had informed them their father would remain in the CCU until the swelling decreased enough to take him out of the coma. Once he was fully awake they would be able to see the full extent, if any, of brain damage. Until then, there was only waiting.

Waiting, and obsessing over the possibility of permanent brain damage.

Emerson had tried to find strength in the doctor's words, holding onto his optimism that her father would be fine, but no matter what anyone said, something didn't feel right. They were far from the edge of the woods, and _"only time will tell"_ scared the hell out of her.

And to add insult to injury, there was the small problem of her career.

It felt cold and heartless, but as it stood, she was to fly out on Thursday. Her entire career resting on a meeting that must take place before her clients left the country again, next week. The very opportunity that had once seemed to hold all the answers to her future, now felt like the weight that was pulling her under. The guilt plaguing her.

Then there was Preston. As much as she hated to admit it, she was falling.

Hard and fast.

She hadn't wanted to fall. She had only meant to have a few fun nights. To feel alive, and free, but then who could blame her? The man was a saint. Her White Knight, in low slung jeans and button down. How was she supposed to not fall for a man like Preston?

Except he wasn't really a problem was he?

No, she knew Preston didn't do love, and she knew she would never stay even if he had. Preston was her feel good hurt, her _float like a butterfly, sting like a bee_. He was the fun she had had, that she was going to miss terribly. Because she knew, deep in her heart, this had only ever been about fun for him.

It would have been a ridiculous notion to ponder, even if their feelings on the matter were different. She hadn't been able to satisfy her fiancé living under the same roof. How would she ever satisfy a man hundreds of miles away?

At that, she stopped her thoughts dead in their tracks.

There was no room for fantasizing about the impossible. She had come here to find herself, to clear her head; not get tangled up in another man – even if he was a really sexy one with a heart of gold.

Toweling off, Emerson slipped into an old pair of flannel pajamas, and long sleeve t-shirt. It was far from sexy, but after a day in the CCU, she needed comfort for her soul, and maybe a little barrier around her heart, too.

# Twenty-Seven

Hesitating outside her father's hospital room, Emerson took a ragged, deep breath as the onslaught of old memories seized her mind. She had been a young teenager when her mom passed away, but it had been sudden. There had been no bedside vigil kept. No hoping she would wake. No, her mother's life had been stolen; taken from everything she loved in a blink of an eye.

A few years later, on the night of Emerson's high school graduation, Millie had made it her personal mission to ruin the night for Emerson. Their argument had started out about the dress Emerson was wearing beneath her purple cap and gown – other than black, Emerson couldn't remember what the dress looked like now. Nor could she remember why they were even fighting about it, but arguing over every step had become their norm.

Emerson was still fuming when the ceremony had ended and crowds had begun to gather outside. Everywhere you turned, flashes lit up the sky, as families captured this key moment on film. Emerson had been taking some pictures with friends when Cooper had come up from behind, wrapping his arms around her. She hadn't expected to see him – he was a college student after all – and was shocked to feel his strong arms around her. She had hugged him tight, so happy to see her best friend until he had nonchalantly asked where the graduation party was happening.

The party Emerson had very carefully not mentioned to her sister.

Not surprising, Millie had pounced, forbidding Emerson to go to the party. It had quickly escalated into a cat fight amongst sisters. Both girls screaming at each, forgetting they were standing in a crowd of hundreds. They had both said some pretty terrible things, but it had been Emerson who topped the cake. Anger had burned through Emerson, she had had enough. It was time to settle this once, and for all.

And without a thought, she let the vile words roll off her tongue. _"You're not my mother! She's dead! I wish it would have been you that night, not her!"_

A deafening silence fell over the crowd. And in the quietest voice, Millie had coincided, _"Me too."_

Before Emerson could let the guilt of her words in, she grabbed Cooper by the hand, and stormed off. And just to prove how in control of her own life she was, and a lot because Millie had always disapproved of Cooper, Emerson's next decision bordered on one of the worst ideas of her life.

She got drunk. And slept with Cooper.

The intention had been to brag to her sister the next day, to rub it in Millie's face, in whatever teenage logic that made sense. Except, the next morning, sober, and aware of just how foolish she had been, she had made Cooper swear to never speak a word of it to anyone. All the way home, Emerson had practiced an apology. She had hit well below the belt, and for once she knew it was a low move. But when she arrived home, her sister was nowhere to be found. When her father returned home from church, she asked where Millie was, but he just shook his head and walked up to the barn. She knew then, she had hurt him as well.

Millie had left and never returned that summer.

And for Emerson, she never apologized.

It was the final straw, the final blow. After that night, nothing had ever been the same. With time they had become cordial, but the bond had been broken.

Pausing, Emerson tried to calm her frazzled nerves before entering her father's room. He needed all the positive energy she had to offer, and there was no room for the past now. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door aside.

Millie was there, already curled up in one of the chairs, a blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

"Hey," Emerson spoke, her voice barely a whisper. "How's he doing?"

She felt a stab of guilt for not being here already. For not being the committed daughter who had stayed in a hotel across the street for the past two days. For leaving all those years ago.

"He's getting stronger...Aren't you Daddy?" Millie reached out, affectionately rubbing their father's arm. "The doc came in this morning, said his latest scan looked good. He wants to do one more. If all is well, they are going to take him out of the coma."

Her heart surged with hope. "That's fantastic news!"

A huge unknown still lingered in the balance, – would there be permanent damage – but the simple fact that the swelling was decreasing sparked an optimism she hadn't felt since learning of the accident. Optimism albeit, laced with guilt.

She hadn't been there when it happened, and now she only had one day before she had to leave.

For hours, Emerson and Millie shifted restlessly around the hospital room, as the hours slowly ticked by. Stretching her legs, Emerson stood by the tinted glass, staring out over the beautiful Appalachian Mountains. It was a magnificent view, if you could look past the sea of asphalt sprawling below. Something she was used to overlooking in the city.

The quiet creak of the door snapped Emerson to attention as two orderlies rolled their father's bed back into place. His latest scan was complete, his IVs still in tact. It appeared not much had changed, aside from the five years Emerson had aged in the hour and a half since they had wheeled him out. It had felt like a lifetime.

"Dr. Roberts should be in shortly." The nurse spoke in her gentle voice from the doorway.

Stephanie had been the nurse assigned to their father's case when he arrived in CCU, and they had learned tiny bits of information about her each time she did her rounds. Information such as her husband had passed away a few years ago after a massive heart attack, leaving her with three grown children, and her first grandchild due next month.

"I think it's time Dad get back out there. He needs someone in his life. A woman. Like Stephanie." Emerson whispered as the door had closed behind the nurse.

"Who?" Millie glanced over, confusion coloring her face.

"The nurse...Stephanie. Anyway, I'm just saying I think it's time he found someone to spend some time with, you know, have a little companionship other than with a ball of fur."

"Is that why you were nosing all in her personal life yesterday?" Millie had an accusing look about her.

"No! Well not entirely. Okay, I really just wanted to know if she had ever been married." Emerson shrugged, not wanting to admit her actual curiosity.

"Why do you care if she has ever been married or not?"

"It's just she's nice, and kind. Like the kind of woman someone would want to marry. I was just wondering if she had been or not? Is that a crime?" She turned back to the sprawling mountainous view.

What she had really wanted to know, was it possible to be that kind and generous, and not completely bitter if she ended up alone? Could she still be happy? Her thoughts absently drifted to Preston; his kind and gentle nature, his willingness to help others out, and his saint like tendencies. He had lost the woman he loved, and yet he seemed to be at peace; content to spend his days alone. Could she do it, be at peace?

"I've mentioned it a few times to him...dating that is." Millie's voice filled the room, "I keep telling him he needs a woman in his life. But all he does is shrug me off and mumble some nonsense about having enough estrogen in his life."

"You've talked to him about other women?" The surprise was evident in her voice. Millie had never mentioned this. Then again, it wasn't like they were a super chatty bunch.

"Well not about anyone in particular no, but I have told him many times he needs someone to grow old with." Her sister shrugged like it was no big deal, nothing interesting.

"What did he say?" The possibility bloomed in her heart. "Maybe we should throw some hints his way that Stephanie is single?"

"Yeah, good luck with that. That man is more stubborn than an ox." Millie laughed, "He's determined to be old and grumpy all by himself. At least he has John Wayne."

The knock at the door stopped the conversation short. Dr. Noah Roberts entered, clad in his white coat and seal blue scrubs. The near sight of him had both women melting into a pool of lust. He was relatively young, maybe early thirties, and absolutely Drop.Dead.Gorgeous.

"Good afternoon ladies." Dr. Roberts spoke over the tablet in his hands, studying the information displayed on the screen. Satisfied with the results, he shut off the screen and looked from one sister to the other.

"I have the results from your father's latest CT, and everything looks great. With your permission, I would like to start taking him off Pentobarbital, the medication that is keeping him in a coma. Each patient responds differently to the effects of the medication, meaning the time frame in which the body takes to metabolize the medication varies. It could take a few hours or a day. Also, remember, we won't know the full extent of his injury until he is awake." He spoke in a soft, but confident tone.

"I need you to be prepared for anything, as best you can. I am very optimistic that your father will make a full recovery, but there is a chance that he won't. At worst, he may have amnesia –"

"AMNESIA?" Emerson bounded from the seat in which she had just sat. Oh God, was it possible? Would he not remember his own flesh and blood? "He won't know who we are?"

"Miss Grey, please have a seat. I don't mean to alarm you. As I said, I am very optimistic he will recover quite nicely. Amnesia is worst case scenario." His voice was soothing, coaxing her back down.

"Emmy, he's going to be fine. I feel it." Millie's hand rested on her forearm and she relaxed instinctively.

"We will just have to wait and see. I wish I had a better option for you, but this is our course of treatment for now. We need to see what we are dealing with before we can proceed."

"Okay." Her voice was weak and strained.

"I will need both of your signatures to stop the medication and begin waking him up. We will monitor him closely, but as I said, there isn't a set time for these things."

When all the "I's" were dotted and the "T's" crossed, her father's nurse entered the room carrying a new bolus of IV fluids. She worked diligently trading out the bags and checking his vital signs. Emerson noted the way she moved fluidly around the room, making her job seem effortless. She was good, and it gave Emerson a little more hope. Closing the door behind her, the nurse slipped from the room, leaving the two sisters to wait – not so patiently – for their father to wake up.

Which was going to be far easier said than done.

Emerson had managed an entire fifteen minutes of remaining positive before her mind started to drift down the dark and dangerous road of what ifs.

What if he didn't wake up?

What if he did, but didn't remember who she was?

What if the man she had loved and looked up to her whole life was suddenly gone forever, trapped in a mind that no more recognized her than a stranger on a street corner?

What if he woke with no ability to control his own body? He would never survive a life trapped in a body that couldn't function for itself!

What if...

# Twenty-Eight

The list of unanswered questions inundating Emerson's mind, with no way to relieve the possibilities, was excruciating. She needed a distraction, something to pull her mind from the negative train of thought; an intervention of the god's...or _Cosmo_.

Reading the headlines on the cover of _Cosmopolitan_ , Emerson idly flipped to the article titled " _5 Ways to Keep Your Relationship Strong"_. Maybe _Cosmo_ could fill in the blanks of where her life had gone wrong. According to the opening paragraph – from some editor in a 7th floor suite on Madison – all Emerson needed to do was follow five tiny little steps, and it would lead to a full and happy life.

"Let's see what you got _Cosmo_?" she whispered to herself.

"What are you over there whispering about?" Her sister missed nothing.

"Oh, you know, just the five reasons my life has failed miserably."

"What? Your life is not failing miserably. Give me that!" But before she could stop her, Millie jerked the magazine out of her hands. " _Step One: Make a Five Second Connection._ Really, that's step one? This is crap, who reads this stuff!" Millie mocked the article.

"Speaking of reading _Cosmo_ , you'll never guess who reads that stuff!" Emerson laughed at the recent conversation with Cooper. It had only been a few weeks, but with everything that had happened in those few weeks it felt much longer.

"Preston?" Millie raised a brow.

"God no! Well...I don't think so anyway, but his roommate does."

"Cooper reads _Cosmo_!?!" Millie howled with laughter. "That has got to be the funniest thing I have heard all week. Why the hell would he read _Cosmo_?"

"To get inside _'our'_ heads! He says it's because he is a genius...and I kind of agree. I mean, why not read the woman's bible? Bibles are supposed to hold all the answers after all."

"That's cheating! Besides, it's not like he needs any help getting girls to fall all over him." Millie rolled her eyes and kept going. " _Step Two: Make "Me" Time a Priority._ Okay now we are talking. Hell, I must have the best relationship in the world then, I got all the _'me'_ time I can handle."

"I guess Michael forgot that _'me'_ time meant time alone, not time with another woman." Emerson swallowed the bile rising in her throat.

"Hey, just because that douche bag couldn't see the gem he had in front of him doesn't mean you aren't a rare and precious diamond. Some men are just born assholes, especially the suit wearing variety." Emerson just stared at her sister. That may have possibly been the nicest thing her sister had said in years.

"Yeah, I guess" But the thought of Preston dressed in a suit just a few short days ago brought a smile to her face. Turning back towards the window, she tried to hide the smile from Millie.

"What are you cheesing about?" Millie set down the magazine, focusing her attention directly on Emerson.

"Nothing."

"Oh, that's not _nothing_." Millie stood in her chair, trying to see over Emerson and out the window. But her face fell, "there's nothing out there?"

"I didn't say there was."

"Then why are you cheesing like its Christmas morning?"

"I'm not."

"You are."

"God, we sound like kids." Emerson laughed. "I was just thinking about this weekend. Not all suit wearing men are that bad...at least the ones that wear suits occasionally and get pedicures."

"Awe! Now see that's a good man. I still can't believe he let you get away with that. Speaking of hot toes how was your trip? Did you have a good time? How was his family? Does he have a gorgeously hot cousin you can introduce me to? Please say yes."

"It was a beautiful ceremony."

"No offense, but I see beautiful ceremonies every weekend. I want gritty details." Millie spoke, as she tossed the magazine up on the end of the bed.

"Well, his dad owns 5-Star hotels. Including the one we were at."

"He's rich?" Millie trilled.

"His parents. I am pretty sure he's not doing too badly for himself either, but I didn't exactly ask to see his bank account."

"How many hotels are we talking about? Can we get a discount somewhere warm and sunny?"

"I don't know where or how many, his father just said a few. Oh, and then his mom cornered me and asked me if I wanted kids. That was fun."

"What? Is she crazy? One of those psycho moms?" Millie adjusted herself in the chair, angling so that she was facing Emerson straight on.

"No, it's not like that. She's very sweet and proper. It's just..." She paused, knowing that it was wrong to tell his story, but this was her sister. "Okay, I'm going to tell you something, so that it will all make sense, but you can never tell him I told you."

"Of course!"

"He hasn't introduced anyone to his parents since his wife –"

"He's married?" Millie nearly fell out of her seat, "Preston is married?"

"Not anymore. And keep your voice down. She was killed in a car accident." Emerson ran through the cliff note's version of the story, not wanting to give everything away, but enough that she would understand where Eleanor had been coming from. "Eleanor never thought he would settle down again. Not that he has, but I guess she just got a little overly excited about the possibility. I have to admit, I was looking for my exit when she started talking about kids, but after he told me everything, I kind of get it. She just jumped the gun a little."

It was a rare occasion when Millicent Grey was rendered speechless. Emerson watched her sister process the information. "He's really never dated anyone since then?" Millie asked a few minutes later.

"No, not in the long term sense anyway. He seems pretty content just living his life on his own. I am pretty sure he and Coop are soul-mates when it comes to their love lives."

"Cooper's a fool..." Millie waved her hand dismissively, "but I wouldn't count your eggs before they hatch with Preston, if I were you."

"What do you mean?"

"You really don't see it Emmy?"

"See what?"

"Oh my god, that man is smitten!"

Honestly she wasn't sure what he was, but smitten was too soft of a word for a man like Preston. "He's not smitten. It's just great, you know..."

"Give yourself some credit, its more than great sex."

"Shhh..." Emerson looked over at her father, still lying peacefully in his hospital bed, "would you please not say that word."

"Oh for crissakes, he can't hear us." Millie scoffed.

She wasn't sure if her father could hear them or not. She wanted to hope that he could. She also wanted to hope Millie was right, that it was more than just great sex, but that was a dangerous road to travel. No matter what it was for her, she knew where Preston stood.

Alone.

And she was leaving.

Technically, she was supposed to be gone already. If it weren't for the accident, she would be hundreds of miles away and none of it would matter. Her wants aside, she would be away for the lure, away from the desire for more.

"It's not like that." Emerson blurted, fighting off the confusing swarm of red hearts and feelings invading her logical thinking.

"No? So what do you call carrying you back to your car when you hurt your ankle? Or buying you coffee and a pedicure? Or waiting around to drive you home from your birthday party? Oh, or I don't know, inviting you to a family wedding when he hasn't taken a woman home to meet his parents since his wife died?"

Emerson stared out over the parking lot, ignoring her sister. It was a beautiful, sunny day. She could see the wind gently whistle through the trees, as leaves fell to the ground below. Overnight, fall had snuck in and stole the show.

"And should I even mention how he has been here every day since the accident? Any man out for a quick fling isn't going to hang around a hospital and take care of your father's dog." She could see Millie's reflection in the window coming closer. "All I am saying is maybe this one is special? You may want to think about that before you go skipping town."

If she was being honest, her sister had some seriously valid points, but she couldn't let herself get caught up in a fantasy. She had been single for all of three minutes. She needed to put out one fire before starting another.

"Skip town? I'm not skipping town, I'm not running away from anything, I am going home. I've been here long enough, too long already." An old defensiveness rolled off her tongue.

"You are home, Emerson! Maybe you've forgotten that when you ran away to college, but this is your home. _WE_ are your home! You know what, forget it. I see now this was all just for show." Pain laced her sister's voice.

"Mil...I didn't –"

"Just don't Emerson. Just don't." Millie threw her hands up, defensively, as she backed out of the room.

Standing in silence, the words echoed through her thick skull, " _WE are your home!_ " She hadn't meant it that way, hadn't meant to offend her sister. She had only meant that she had to get back to her life. Whatever life was left.

Resting her head back against the cool glass of the window, she sighed heavily, "What am I going to do?"

"For starters, you can actually apologize to your sister this time," croaked a ragged voice.

"Daddy!"

# Twenty Nine

Picking up the sopping wet tennis ball, Preston propelled the ball across the front lawn as far as his arm allowed. The large, over joyous bundle of strawberry-blonde fur chased after the ball with all his over-weight might, before retrieving it and returning back to where Preston sat, perched on the steps of Steven Grey's farm house.

"Who's a good boy?" Preston crooned, running his strong hands through the tangled mess of fur.

John Wayne wagged his tail and panted, his eyes darting between Preston and the ball in a, _"Come on, throw it. Throw it. Throw it. Throw iiiittt,"_ manner. He was ready to pounce the moment the ball went sailing through the air.

"Sounds like your old man might be coming home soon." He spoke, as if the dog could understand a single word he was saying.

Emerson had been overrun with joy the last time she had called him. Her father had woken from his coma. And better, there hadn't seemed to be any lasting brain damage. Tension Preston hadn't realized was present eased from his shoulders at the cheerfulness in her voice.

But it was a double edged sword. Wanting for her father to improve, but knowing his improvement would bring her closer to leaving Spruce Pine.

He knew his time was ticking, it had been from the moment he met her. He just hadn't realized how much he had wanted her to stay, until the moment he knew for certain she was leaving.

From the beginning, their intentions had been clear, both only wanting to enjoy the ride; neither one wanting anything more. But somewhere along the way, his fun had turned to something real. Something more. And more was all he could think of. She was going back to her life in New York, but it hadn't stopped him from hoping that life could include him. In what capacity, he didn't know, but after their night in Raleigh everything had changed for him.

He had been so close to telling her, so close to revealing his heart. Though he had vowed long ago never to let his heart at risk again, she had plowed into his life like a wrecking ball. A force he had never seen coming. Now, he had to find a way to tell her.

Picking up his phone, Preston thumbed through his photos until he came to the one image he had of Emerson. It was a photo from the wedding. One she was unaware he had taken. She had been standing in the main corridor, outside of the chapel, admiring the splendor of his father's hotel. She was stunning in her black fitted dress. He hadn't been able to resist capturing the moment; the sparkle in her eye.

He let his eyes drift over the soft lines of her body, over the soft curve of her lips twisted into her awe-inspiring smile. She was magnificent; her piercing green eyes full of appreciation as she stared towards the heavenly painting above. The photo jostled, as John Wayne nudged his head under Preston's arm, weaseling his way into Preston's chest.

"Is someone jealous of their Auntie Em?" Preston shut off the phone, tucking it away in his pocket, he tousled the dog's head. Approvingly, John Wayne inched his way further into Preston's personal space, determined to work his way up onto Preston's lap. "Come on you big lug, time to go back inside." He stood against the dog's protest, ushering John Wayne back into the house.

Standing in the elevator at Mission Hospital, Preston hit the floor for CCU, when a hand slid between the closing doors. A man, about his age, dressed in slacks and a tie, entered the car. Carrying a bundle of wild cut flowers, the stranger's nerves filled the tiny space.

"Which floor?" Preston asked.

"Three."

"Family member?" Preston glanced down to the bouquet of flowers.

"Oh," the plastic crinkling, as the man slightly raised the bouquet. "For my fiancé."

"I hope it's not serious?" Preston felt an ache for the poor guy.

Stopping on the third floor, the doors opened and the man stepped off, "Thank you, I'm hoping things take a turn for the better."

As the doors closed once again, he made a mental note to buy Emerson flowers. He hadn't bought a woman flowers in ages, but all women loved flowers, and she deserved something nice after the rough few days. Sliding out on the fifth floor concourse, Preston heard the sound of an incoming text ring from his cargo pocket.

Just got daddy settled in a regular room. #307

He felt a mix of emotions moved through his gut. If Steven had been moved to a regular room, it meant his recovery was on the fast track; drawing Emerson's time closer to the end.

Riding back down, he felt the weight of his _now or never._ He was going to tell her. He had the damnedest idea what she would say, but it didn't matter. He had to put it out there, once and for all. He had to tell her how he felt before she could leave.

Stepping out of the car, the sign posted on the wall pointed him in the direction of room #307 and he stopped dead in his tracks.

There at the end of the hall, he watched as slacks and tie handed the bundle of wild cut flowers to Emerson, and then pulled her into his embrace. Even from thirty yards, the embrace felt too intimate. And then slack's lips pressed to hers.

" _For my fiancé...I'm hoping things take a turn for the better."_ He heard the words echo through his mind.

He was vaguely aware of the second elevator car arriving and the sound of light footsteps stopping as abruptly as his. "Holy shit! What's he doing here?" Millie's voice was laced with disapproval, confirming what he already knew.

Her ex-fiancé.

"Hey, where are you going?" Millie called out to him, as he threw his hand between the closing elevator doors.

"Something's come up," was all he managed.

Sliding in, Preston jabbed at the key marked for the main floor until his finger throbbed. As the doors closed, he sagged against the back wall, a burning need to be far away from the hospital consuming him. He wanted to be the guy who rushed in and saved the day, telling the evil son-of-a-bitch to back off, but this wasn't his fight. Hell, he wasn't even sure Emerson wanted her ex gone. Or was he even her ex? She had said she called it off, but that hadn't looked like the kiss of someone who had called off their wedding.

" _I'm hoping things take a turn for the better."_

* * *

Emerson sat quietly at her father's side, as he drifted off to sleep. He was making progress in leaps and bounds, but the excitement of moving had taken its toll on him, exhausting him far more than she thought it would have. It was going to be a long recovery for his aged body, but she felt confident he would return to his old self.

A soft wrap at the door had her heart leaping into her throat. It was crazy to be this excited to see Preston, but as they say, a heart wants what the heart wants. And these days, her heart and her head weren't seeing eye to eye. Soft light from the hallway spilled into the room as the door slowly opened. Her heart froze.

There, like a ghost in the night, stood a tall, lean man holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

Shocked beyond belief, she stared down the ghost of her not so distant past. Unable to believe what was standing in front of her. This couldn't be real. Her mind had to be playing some cruel joke, because there was no way in hell she was really looking at her back-stabbing, lying, cheating, no good ex-fiancé.

And then he spoke.

"Emerson." His voice was the same silky smooth.

Glancing over to her father, she was surprised the sound of her pounding heart had not woken him. At this rate, she was pretty sure her heart was going to explode out of her chest. The last thing her father needed was to wake up to the cheating bastard standing in his room. He didn't need that kind of stress. Not when he was still so fragile. Rising to her feet, she not so gently escorted Michael back into the hallway. She needed to handle this quickly, and quietly before her father woke up alone.

"What are you doing here?" Her words came out in a quiet rush, as she pulled the door closed behind her.

"I saw the post on Facebook, about the accident. And since you won't answer any of my calls, I came to make sure you were okay."

Go figure, the bastard actually sounded remorseful.

"Well, I am fine! And there is damn good reason why I don't answer your calls. I assumed you could figure that one out on your own." She snapped.

"I brought you these." He grinned sheepishly, holding out the bouquet of flowers.

Before she could protest, Michael's arms closed in around her, hugging her tightly. Somewhere in the mix of old feelings and her new found hatred, her wires got crossed and her arms lifted, wrapping around his familiar torso. And then his lips were on hers. Soft, warm, and all too familiar.

It only took a moment for her brain to catch up and she quickly pushed him away, leaving a trail of confusion where his hand lingered down her arm.

She wanted to hate him. She wanted to dismember certain parts of his anatomy – of course that hadn't worked out for other women, so she opted against it – but for the first time in weeks, standing so close to him, finally face to face, she wasn't sure what she felt. It had been easy to hate him from afar, but now her mind was swirling with nine years of memories and one fateful day.

Could he really be the monster she had built him up to be these past few weeks?

_Of course he is,_ her sensibility scolded.

"You shouldn't have come." She stepped back, a little furious with herself for falling so quickly into an old habit.

"Em, please." His voice was pleading, "We need to talk." He reached out, but this time she was wise to him, dodging his hand.

"There's nothing for us to talk about. You've wasted your time coming here."

And he had wasted his time; she wanted nothing more to do with him. But God he smelled so good and he was wearing the tie she bought him for his birthday, the one that matched his eyes perfectly.

_Don't you even dare think like that!_ This time it was her heart chiming in, refusing to beat one moment longer for him.

The flash of movement caught her eye and her heart sank. The moment she had seen Michael, her mind had begun shifting frantically through a frenzy of emotions, forgetting completely that she had just given Preston her father's new room number. Distracted by the closeness of her hardly forgotten ex, she hadn't noticed Preston stepping off the elevator. Or Millie starring, her lips pressed in a hard line.

"You should go." Emerson's tone was icy cold.

"Please, can we just go somewhere and talk?"

There was a time in her life when Michael's smooth tone would have had her doing anything he asked, but those days were long over. And it was high time he realize it – and time she remember it.

"The only thing we need to discuss is me getting my stuff from the apartment and that can wait." God knows she didn't want to show up at her own apartment to any more surprises.

"Emerson, I'm –"

She was pretty certain " _sorry"_ was the next word coming out of his mouth, but Millie had joined them, cutting his words like a knife.

"You have a lot of nerve showing your face around here!" Millie spoke through gritted teeth, her natural intimidation swirling around them.

On a different day, Emerson would have loved the fierceness in her sister's tone, but she needed to handle this on her own. "Daddy's sleeping if you want to go check on him." Emerson shot her sister a " _please don't cause a scene,"_ look and hoped she understood.

"I'll check on him...but if you need anything, I'll be eavesdropping from the other side of this door."

Giving Michael a cold stare, Millie sauntered back into their father's room. As soon as the door closed, Michael's closeness was invading her space. He was entirely too close. Being under the same roof was too close. Even the same state felt too close.

"Emerson, I'm so sorry...for everything. You have to know –"

"Please, Michael," she cut him off before he could say anymore. She couldn't do this now. Not with her father lying in the other room. Not with her sister, who was barely speaking to her mere inches away, hovering on the other side of the door. Not with Preston...she let the thought fade. Not ever. Period.

There would be no time or place in which she cared to hear his list of excuses, his empty apologies, but especially not here.

# Thirty

"Michael, please, I can't do this right now." Emerson felt the churn in her stomach, threatening to revolt.

"Emerson, you have to hear me out. We've been together nine years you can't just throw that all away on one stupid, stupid mistake."

"Me? Throwing it away?" She scoffed, swallowing back the bile. "I'm pretty sure you took care of that all on your own buddy."

And the hell she couldn't. Actually, she could damn well do what she pleased, because it wasn't her stupid mistake, nor would she ever believe it had been just one time. He was a bigger fool than she thought if he believed for one second he was going to convince her she was the one making the mistake.

Not so gently grabbing Michael by the arm, she started pulling him away from the room, and away from prying eyes.

"Emerson –" he started to protest and then shut his mouth when she cut a cold hard glare at him.

Thirty yards from her father's room, Emerson pulled Michael into a corridor that held a variety of offices, but no patient rooms. It was carpeted, with one wall holding a long running bank of windows. It looked more like an office building that a hospital floor. The offices looked mostly vacated and that worked for her. She didn't need an audience for this conversation.

"I need you to leave. –"

"Em –"

"No! You don't get to talk. Not now." She shoved a hard fingered to his chest, "I can't deal with you and my father. It's too much. If you really love me, which I am pretty sure was about to be your next words, then leave. Just go. Just let me deal with this for now."

"I do love you Em, so much, but I'm not leaving until you talk to me. Let me explain."

"Explain! You were banging your assistant. Which I saw! With my very own eyes! There's nothing else that needs to be explained!" Her voice was full of fire.

"Christ, I swear to you it was a mistake. I'm so sorry."

"It doesn't matter. It's over. You've clearly moved on and so have I." Emerson folded her arms across her chest, closing herself off.

Shoving his hands in the pockets of his slacks, Michael slowly blew out a long sigh, "I haven't moved on. And I know you haven't either. You love me Emerson, I know you do. And I'll win you back, just wait and see. I'll be in town tonight, at the B&B."

Sure, there was a sick twisted side of her that was actually curious what he had to say. Not because she would ever believe him, but her morbid curiosity wanted to see just how far he was willing to go to cover his ass. But she wasn't going to listen; she wasn't going to give him even a fighting chance. Even still, his smooth confidence that he would get what he wanted, pissed her off royally.

"Contrary to your popular belief, I am seeing someone."

He laughed. The bastard laughed. "Is that so?"

"Yes, it is very so." He wasn't buying one bit of this, and if the shoe were on the other foot, she probably wouldn't either. It had only been a few weeks after all.

"Who, Cooper?" He chuckled and her skin heated. He was mocking her.

"No, it's not Cooper, nor is it any of your business who it is."

"Then where is he?"

Good question. After, what she was certain he saw he was probably long gone.

"That's not important. You leaving is."

"Fine." He stepped in, trapping her between him and the wall, her body registering the familiar pull of his closeness. "I will leave...but this conversation isn't over."

In a single instance of clarity the world seemed to stop. Like the calm before the storm, she saw him for the man he was.

Manipulative.

She may not have come any closer to finding herself, and things with her sister may have taken ten steps back, but there was one thing she knew for certain; she was done with him.

When she didn't reply, Michael leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek, igniting a rage deep in her gut. It was instinctual – like channeling her inner Fight Club – Emerson brought her knee up hard, connecting to his manhood before his lips could touch her skin. Michael bent with a groan of pure pain, but she wasn't finished, not yet. Grabbing the back of his head, her knee once again made hard contact, this time with his face. Michael dropped to his knees, as the first few drops of blood hit the floor. With one swift push, her foot connecting with his shoulder, Michael toppled over onto his side, curled in a fetal position.

"For the record, this conversation is finished."

Adrenaline still coursing her veins, Emerson walked away, heading back to her father's room. When she passed the nurse's station, she politely informed them there was a man bleeding in the hallway, as though she had no idea why.

It was like a drug, the adrenaline. She felt invincible. She felt free. Until she walked into her father's room...

"You called him here, didn't you?" Millie pounced the moment she walked in the door.

"Are you crazy? No, I didn't call him. I didn't ask him to come." Hell, she couldn't even remember the last time she had thought about him. She had been too preoccupied to even give him a thought.

"Then why is he here? If you want to ruin your own life by going back, after what he did, go for it! But you won't bring him around this family. You just think you can do whatever you want, and it doesn't affect anyone else's life. Well you have another thing coming." Millie's voice was tight, clipped.

Emerson felt her adrenaline surge, but she didn't react. Instead, she took a deep breath, and let it pass. She had hoped they could move past this. Build back the relationship they had once had, and it had seemed to be working. The weeks she had spent here had been the best she and Millie had had in a long time, but underneath the surface things hadn't really changed, had they? It had taken one single sentence to tear it all down. And now, with Michael showing up out of the blue, she had lost every yard she had gained with Millie.

It was time to cut her losses.

Resting her hand against the door handle, she took a long look at their father, and then at Millie. "I'm sorry Millie. I'm sorry I hurt your feelings yesterday, it wasn't my intention. And I am sorry I hurt you, all those years ago, at my graduation. And most of all, I'm sorry I couldn't fix this."

Closing the door softly behind her, Emerson left the room before the onslaught of tears could break free. It hurt like hell, but she knew it was for the best. It was time for her to go. There was just one last thing she had to take care of.

* * *

"Hey there, handsome!" Thin foreign fingers snaked their way across Preston's shoulders, slicing through the tension coiled tight.

He had come here to unwind, to drink the sight of Emerson's lips pressed against that unfaithful bastard away, and maybe a little because he was too much of a coward to face the feelings kicking his ass. No, he would rather drink the past few weeks away. He hadn't asked to feel, hadn't wanted any of it, but damn if he didn't hurt like a son of a bitch.

"Hey yourself." Ignoring Clay, and the glare coming from behind the bar, he tipped his beer up at the cool calculate eyes of the blonde he had met the night of Autumn Fest.

"Where are all your friends?" Barbie's voice was silky smooth, as she climbed in the empty seat beside him.

"Just me," he shrugged. Exactly the way he wanted it; just him, this bar stool, and a beer, or two...or five.

It was early evening, but the waves coming off Barbie said she was trolling and he might just be inclined. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to be, now that Emerson's ex – or not so ex – was in town.

"You look like you could use some company?" Long tan legs slowly crossed one over the other, making damn sure she had his attention.

"Do I?"

"Oh, I think so."

"Oh, for fucks sake." Clay grumbled from behind the bar, but Preston ignored the bar manager, and raked his eyes over the feast in front of him.

She was long and lean, curves in all the right places. A little too much make-up and her nails were way too bright, unlike the natural beauty of Emerson. And her voice a little too pitchy, unlike the soft sexiness of Emerson.

_She's with her fiancé_ , his subconscious kicked his ass off the Emerson train.

"What do you say you buy a girl a drink?" Barbie was leaning in, giving him a sight full of her medically enhanced breast.

"Clay, I think the lady is thirsty." He spoke, not surprised at the bullshit look Clay was giving him.

"What'll it be?" Clay rolled his eyes, but did his job.

"Tequila, salt and a lime."

Preston watched as Barbie licked the inside of her wrist, sprinkled on the salt and licked it again. Shooting the tequila down, she wrapped her plump lips around the lime and sucked hard. He'd bet twenty bucks that lime wasn't the only thing she knew how to wrap her lips around. A thought that should have had him raring to go, but she did nothing for him. He was too busy still preoccupied with the last images of Emerson. And then the bar door swung open, the dying light of the day spilling in around a soft silhouette of preoccupation. Her glare was hard and cold, and still his body began to burn.

And then she walked out.

# Thirty-One

"Fuck." Preston jumped from his stool, hitting the door in a few short strides. He could smell the trail of furry left in her wake.

"Emerson" He yelled across Oli's lot, but she didn't slow down. "Seriously, you're going to come here, and then just walk away."

That got her attention.

"Walk away?" He watched as she spun on her heels in the middle of the parking lot. "Why in the hell would I stay when you seem to be plenty entertained in there?" Her hand flew violently in the direction of the bar. She was spot on with what she had seen.

"Entertained? Last I checked, I'm not the one that's was being _entertained_ today." He felt his blood boil. Whether it was fury or desire he wasn't sure.

"I didn't ask him to come here if that's what you think?" Her chest was burning crimson.

"No? Well, you sure as hell weren't turning him away."

"Not that it's any of your business, but he kissed me, not the other way around, you ass."

"Looked pretty damn mutual from where I was standing." Definitely fury burning. _None of his business, huh?_

"What's it matter to you anyway? You don't do relationships, remember?" She threw his words back at him.

She was right. He didn't do relationships. And now that his lapse in judgment had passed, he intended to keep it that way. But that didn't stop the sting piercing his heart.

"Are you the pot or the kettle? You've had one damn foot out the door since you came in to town."

"And I was just a means to end for you."

"Is that what you think?" God, he wanted to kill her and kiss her at the same time.

"You know what, I actually came here to apologize, big mistake that was. All of this..." she waved her hand, gesturing towards town. "...was just one big mistake." She turned and headed for her car.

For reasons he may never understand, Preston pulled her tight to his chest, and kissed her. Kissing her with the passion and pureness he had felt for her that night in the elevator, letting his lips speak the words he couldn't find.

The sting that burned across his face stunned him. He could feel the outline of her hand burned into his cheek. Hesitating, just long enough, she slipped in her car; rubber squealing as she hit Main Street.

* * *

Emerson put her rental car in park, and stepped out into the late afternoon sun. The scent of Frazier Firs and the crispness in the air meant the Christmas season was fast approaching. Soon these hills would be alive with families and vendors alike, but for now it was peaceful.

It was just what she needed.

Walking along the outside edge of the field, Emerson headed for the unmarked trail head she had stumbled upon a few days ago. Following the familiar path a few hundred yards into the forest, she made her way to the dilapidated cabin. There were so many fond memories surrounding this place – her place – that she almost hated to bring the ruins of her life into this sacred world.

In the early years, the cabin had merely been a place to let her tomboy ways run rampant. It had been the place where she met Cooper – and the place she shot him. In the months following her mother's death, however, it had been her serenity, her place to escape reality.

Cautiously, Emerson tested her weight on the first step, before she climbed the three small steps that led up to a covered porch. Peering in the doorway, she glanced around the open room. She hadn't been here in years, not since leaving for college all those years ago, and other than the wood aging, nothing had changed.

Kneeling down, she picked up a stack of CD's, smiling when she blew the dust off the Green Day album. Longing for a time when life was much simpler. Setting the CD back in its place, Emerson stepped back onto the covered porch and sat down. With her back leaning against the front wall, she could feel the warm sun rays, as it shone through a break in the trees.

One by one, beautifully colored leaves had begun to drop, creating a fresh layer of crunch to the forest floor. There was something calming about the way the leaves fluttered gently to the ground, even if nothing else in her life was calm.

How had her life gotten this off course? She felt defeated, as her time here had been a complete wash. She was no closer to figuring her own self out, as she was to mending her relationship with her sister. In truth, she felt more distant than ever.

Closing her eyes, Emerson rested her head against the wall, and let out a heavy sigh. By choice, or by fate, it was time for her to leave. She had taken care of Michael, – if her knee wasn't a strong enough message, well, she wouldn't mind repeating it – fixing things with her sister was a lost cause, and well...her distraction with Preston, was just that, a distraction.

Her career, however, had never faltered. It was the only steadfast thing in her life. And it was waiting on her.

Emerson wasn't sure how long she had sat there, strategizing her exit, before she had drifted off. She had come to the cabin to clear her head, to figure out where to go from here, but with leaving her only option there hadn't been much to decide.

The crunch of leaves beneath heavy footsteps had pulled her from her slumber. Her heart spiked, and her skin prickled as she quickly sat up, searching the darkening woods around her. It was just past dusk, leaving her with nothing but deep shadows to comfort her. There shouldn't be anyone up here in these woods; her father had never allowed hunting on his property, and very few people knew the cabin was here.

Carefully, sliding her body inside the door, she gingerly pushed the door closed; the creaking of the hinges sounding out like a gun shot in the quietness of the forest. She prayed whoever was out there hadn't heard the noise, and would continue on their way.

Placing her foot on the bottom edge of the door, directly beneath the hinge, she made sure that the door wouldn't move. Straining to hear past the roar of blood pumping though her ears, she listened for any sign of the newcomer. She could faintly make out a second set of steps, but they were softer, from someone either lighter in weight or softer on their feet. A woman perhaps?

Her breath was coming in quick, short bursts when the footsteps stopped at the base of the cabin steps. Her body screamed for her to flee, but she knew the moment she moved the floor would creak, and her location would be known. It took all her will power to sit motionlessly, trapped in the old run down cabin.

Patting her pocket for her phone, it dawned on her where she had left it; in the car. So no one could bother her. Dammit.

The creak of the front step kicked her fight or flight response into high gear. She needed to be ready; she would be a sitting duck from her position on the floor. Moving slowly, in precise movements, Emerson rose to her feet careful not to shift her weight, risking the floor groaning.

She had just managed to stand, fully erect, when she heard the deep voice. "Where did she go, huh?"

Her heart froze in her throat.

* * *

Pulling his laces tight, Preston slipped on his shirt and headed for the front door. He needed the road, needed his feet pounding against the pavement, drowning out the thoughts screaming in his head.

"I figured you would be at the hospital?" Cooper spoke through a mouth full of chips.

"Well, I'm not."

"What the hell crawled up your ass and died? Your girlfriend get tired of your sorry ass already?" Cooper's howl was pissing him off even more.

"Fuck you." He flipped his buddy off, making a bee-line for the front door.

"Seriously, what's up?" Cooper clicked the TV off and sat up straighter on the couch. "Something happen with Steven?"

"No, he's fine." He felt the anger drain from his face and shook his head. "It was just getting a little crowded, so I didn't stick around."

"What are you talking about, crowded? You mean, you didn't win over the old man and he kicked you out?" Cooper chuckled.

"I didn't get kicked, I...." he paused, his hand resting on the knob to the front door, "her fiancé is in town."

Preston stepped out on the front porch, closing the door a little too forcefully behind him. He didn't need to explain himself, not to Cooper, not to anyone. Nor did he care to hear Cooper's smartass response.

Taking the steps two at a time, he headed down the drive and took to the street, his feet quickly sliding into a steady rhythm. There was no destination, no time frame to his movements, only the singular goal of pounding himself into a stupor.

Pushing himself harder than normal, Preston headed west out of town, taking to the mountain roads. The endless twists and turns lending him the escape he was looking for. The cool breeze in the air felt good against the moist sheen already covering his body. He needed this, needed the solace only the open road could offer. His muscles yearned for the freedom, the feel of each stride melting away at the tension coiled tight in his body.

He couldn't remember the last time he had truly been wound this tight. He had worked hard to keep himself out of situations like this, ones that resulted in far more pressure and strain than he was comfortable with. His life had been easy and carefree, just the way he liked it.

And he had fucked that up, royally.

It bothered him that he had been so cavalier with his emotional state, getting involved in an affair with such reckless abandonment. He had known the score, known there were things happening in her life that were unpredictable, and he had known she was simply blowing through town like a summer breeze. He had banked every move on that one simple truth, she would leave town as quickly as she had come.

Only one small problem; like a fool he had gone and opened up his heart.

Running harder, pushing the limits as his legs strained, Preston tried to outrace the voices in his head. The voices telling him he was crazy not to fight, that he would forever regret not taking a chance and throwing his hat in the ring. And part of him wanted to, part of him wanted to go crawling back with his tail between his legs and beg her to pick him, but his pride wouldn't let him.

He could get past this. He had certainly fought through much worse heart ache in his life, so this would be nothing.

Just a small bump in the road.

Just one more obstacle to overcome.

Pushing himself through the steep climb, Preston saw an outcropping in the road and slowed his pace. Fortunately, there seemed to be no tourists, no "Sunday afternoon" strollers up on the mountain today. People were working, moving about their day to day lives, so he stepped over the guard rail, staring out over the valley below.

The view was majestic. The day was clear for miles, not a single cloud obstructing his view. From where he sat, everything appeared as though it were right in the world. The bright, colorful leaves creating a powerful motif as far as the eye could see.

Coming to Spruce Pine, had been a temporary fix to his hemorrhaging life, but with views like this, he could really get used to the small town life. He would always love the city, but there were no words for the feeling a sight like this could give a man.

As the sun sank in the late afternoon sky, he let himself wonder what it would be like to settle down again. He had always imagined himself a family man, maybe having a couple of kids to chase around the yard on Saturday afternoons. But that dream had died with Catherine. He had been so close to having it all, but life was cruel and unpredictable.

After the accident, he had given up all faith on that dream; the wife, the kids, the white picket fence. And so he had locked up his heart and thrown away the key. Or so he had thought. He had crafted a life of contentment. But wasn't that just it? It had always been just content, nothing more. He had been good with contentment too, until Emerson had walked head first into his life and into his heart.

At the sound of a car pulling into the vacant lot, Preston stood from his seat on the guard rail and stepped back on to the correct side of the barrier. As the car came to a stop, two young boys popped out of the back seat and gawked at the view, their mom and dad slowly sliding their way from the front seats. He allowed himself only one self-pity glance at the family he would never have, and then hit the road once again.

Winding his way back down the mountain, Preston slowed at the crossroad that lead back to the Grey's property. Regardless of his wallowing in self-pity, he had promised to look after John Wayne while Steven remained in the hospital, and he was nothing if not honorable to his promises.

Preston didn't know the first thing about growing trees or farming in general, but this was one hell of a beautiful business. Acres, upon acres, of trees in various stages coated the hillside in every direction. Only a small, in comparison, plot of land had been left unsown where the family house had been built in the early 1900's. Opening the front door to the farm house, he was met head on by the panting, smelliest breath of John Wayne, who had bounded up to his chest.

"Did you miss me boy?" He scrubbed his hands rapidly through the golden mane. "Where's your ball, huh?" Looking around the foyer, it was nowhere to be found. "Go get it boy! Go find your ball!"

Blonde fur bounded up the stairs, his nails tapping against the hardwood as he searched fervently for his tennis ball. A moment later, Preston heard the thudding of the ball bouncing its way down the staircase, followed by the shuffling of four legs chasing after the green felt. Opening up the door, Preston watched as first ball, followed by golden, bounced their way down the steps, through the open front door, out across the porch and into the grass.

Following John Wayne around to the side yard to make sure the dog did his business, he caught sight of the setting sun glinting of glass at the forest's edge. There was a car parked at the edge of a field, a car that hadn't been there earlier in the day. It was vaguely familiar, he was certain he had seen it around town. And then it dawned on him.

He had seen the car, and the red head driving it. It was Emerson's rental.

# Thirty-Two

Searching his surroundings, Preston walked uphill towards the abandoned car, but there was no sign of Emerson anywhere. It seemed like such an odd place to park, so far away from the house and barns, and at dusk. It didn't make sense. His chest tightened.

Reaching for his pockets, it dawned on him that he had run here, which meant he didn't have his phone with him. He couldn't stand running with the damn thing, but now it pissed him off that he didn't have it when he needed it. Coming up to the car, he looked inside for any signs of where she might have gone, but all he could see was her cell phone lying in the passenger seat.

"Dammit." He cursed.

Scanning the shadowed rows of firs once more there was not so much as a breeze stirring amongst the trees. Heading up the edge of the field, he came across an overgrown path that led into the woods. In the dim light, he scanned the rows of immature firs once more; there was no movement.

Whistling for John Wayne to join him, Preston entered the woods.

The trail weaved in and out of trees in no certain direction. It was old and nearly overgrown, years of neglect had lent way for the forest floor to sweep in, but there were fresh tracks, damp leaves turned upright and sticks kicked to the side; someone had been through here recently.

He walked calmly.

Telling himself there could be a million reasons why she had come out here, why she would be wondering the woods at dusk, except for the life of him he couldn't come up with one damn reason. Why wasn't she at the hospital? Why would she be out in the woods at nightfall?

His heart pounded harder the further in he went, his eyes scanning the ground, looking for any sign that whoever had passed through had not deviated from the path. Topping a hill, the outline of a dilapidated cabin came into view. The thing looked like it was straight out of serial killer flick, bathed in the deep shadows of the forest. He picked up his pace, as did his heart.

Reaching the end of the path that stopped at the base of the steps, Preston stilled himself, listening for any sign of life. Dusk had fallen, only the sounds of nature rustling in the trees pierced his ears. She had been here, he could feel her. Smell her scent still lingering in the air.

A cold wet nose touched to his palm and he nearly jumped out of skin. He had been listening so intently to his surroundings he had nearly forgotten John Wayne sitting at his feet. Pressing his weight to the top step, he took a cautious step to make sure the old ragged board would support him. It seemed sturdy enough. Rubbing a hand through his companion's head, he eased his full weight onto the step and began to climb.

"Where did she go, huh?" He gently petted the dog's head, hoping like hell they didn't both end up underneath this God forsaken deathtrap.

The door to the cabin swung open and a shrill, high pitch shriek pierced the silent woods, stopping his heart.

* * *

"Jesus Christ! What are you doing here?" Emerson shrieked. Her face pale white, as though she had seen a ghost.

"What am I doing here? What the hell are you doing out here?"

"I live here! You scared the living daylights out of me! I thought you were some masked murderer, out to kill me." He didn't point out the fact that she didn't live in a shitty old cabin, nor did she even live in Spruce Pine. No, she was hell bent on leaving. "Why are you out here anyway?"

Sitting on the top step, he ran a hand through his sweaty hair, "I saw your car parked up by the woods. I was just making sure..." he trailed off, feeling a bit ridiculous for thinking...what? Her ex had drug her off into the woods? She was lost and needed saving? He wasn't sure what he had thought exactly.

"Making sure what?"

God he was going to miss her feisty nature, and the way her hands rested on her hips.

"That you were okay." He sighed.

She hesitated; staring out into the forest like the weight of the world had been placed on her shoulders, and the silence just about killed him.

"Oh!" Her tone had slipped, a little less defensive now.

"And, I was already here, figured I might as well make sure your fiancé hadn't drug you off into the woods to hide your body."

"Ex-fiancé." She corrected.

"So he's still your ex, huh?"

"Very much so."

At her confirmation, Preston felt a weight lift off his chest. He knew there was no real future for he and Emerson, but he'd be damned if she threw her life away on that piece of shit. Not that he could stop her, but he damn sure would try. Wouldn't he? At least he liked to think he would, except the truth was he had run like a scared child the moment things got real.

"Preston, I –" she took a deep breath, and he had a pretty good feeling what was coming next, "I didn't know he was coming. He heard about Daddy, and came on his own. Of course, maybe if I had listened to any of the eight thousand messages I might have known, but I don't have time to waste on those, or him."

"You don't need to explain anything. I get it." He cut her off before she could say the words he so desperately didn't want to hear. He knew their time was coming to a close, and fast, but he had hoped to get by without the awkward conversation. Just because he felt something for her, whatever that something was, didn't mean they needed to discuss it.

She was leaving.

Period.

"I just wanted you to know –" she took another deep shaky breath; "Millie said you were there. I didn't mean for you to see any of that."

"Look..." scrubbing at his head, he searched for the right words, "I get why you came here. Why you came home. After Catherine died, I needed space, lots of space, but space doesn't make those feelings just disappear. I left because I wanted you to have the space you needed." He lied. He left because the woman he was dangerously close to falling for was kissing another man. "Emerson, I –" He could hear the emotion dripping from his voice.

What was he supposed to say? That he hadn't felt this good in years. That he hadn't wanted to be with a woman so much since his wife died. That he was jealous of her ex? That he wanted her to stay?

"You what?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay." He let the words he so desperately wanted to say fall short.

The briefest emotion crossed her face, and then it was gone. Had he blinked he would have missed it entirely, but there had been something there.

"Well, I'm great." There was a new edge to her voice now. "You shouldn't have interrupted your plans for me."

"Plans?" Barbie's face came to mind, "that wasn't...I didn't have plans."

"Sure looked like she had plans for you. You know what, never mind. I don't want to know. It doesn't matter. None of it ever mattered. We were just having fun after all, right? You're a free man; you can do whatever, or whomever you want."

He felt like she had slapped him once again. Only this time the sting wasn't across his face, but his heart.

"I didn't have plans, but yeah, you made it quite clear you were just passing through." Standing, Preston headed towards the trail. She had been the one kissing someone else today.

Not him.

"Of course you would walk away." She mumbled under her breath.

"You want to talk about walking away?" He stopped short, turning back to her. "You show up here on some high horse, saying you want to find yourself. Well look around Emerson, this is you. This town. These people. Your family. You want to accuse me of walking away, fine! But tell me, are you the pot or the kettle? Because I'll tell you now, I'm not the one running."

"I'm not running! I'm going home; back to my life, my career. Why can't any of you see that?"

"Careers aren't everything. And you'll be wise to learn that now, before one throws you out on your ass." He knew all too well how easily that could happen.

Shaking his head, Preston turned his back, heading up the path. If her family couldn't keep her here, he sure as hell couldn't either. Exiting the forest, he headed towards the house; John Wayne on his heels.

"My career is the only thing that's never let me down." He hadn't realized until now she was following him. "So sue me for hanging onto the one damn _good_ thing I have in my life."

"You think it won't ever let you down?" He scrubbed a hand through his hair; he wanted to shake some sense into her. "You think it's going to keep you warm at night? Be there when you need a shoulder to lean on?"

She just stared at him blankly.

_Exactly_ , he thought.

"Says the man that doesn't do love, or relationships. What keeps you warm at night, huh? Oh right, which ever woman is standing next in line. But I bet a big, strong man like you doesn't need a shoulder to lean on, does he? You accuse me of running from my life, but it's not exactly like you have let go of your past either. Why haven't you taken a woman to meet your parents since..." Her words trailed off.

_Dammit._ "You want to know why I never took a woman to meet my folks, because I never found one worth the introduction. As for my bed, you're the only woman that's been in it...in a long damn time." It was more of an admission than he had wanted to make, but it sure as hell beat admitting the truth. That she was the _only_ woman he wanted in his bed.

This time she said nothing.

"Stay!" He warned John Wayne.

And without another word, he jogged down the drive.

# Thirty-Three

The sun had long since set, leaving only a crescent moon casting light across the land, as Preston disappeared into the darkness.

It was over.

She supposed it was for the best. Her time was up, she was leaving. And as rotten as it sounded, at least this way he had been the one to walk away. Not her.

Still, she hadn't expected it to end this way. Had it really only been yesterday that everything had seemed so perfect? Baffled, her mind replayed through the argument. For a moment, she had let herself believe he was going to show the soft underbelly of his heart; admitting their feelings were mutual. There had been so much emotion in the way he said her name, she had been certain. But then he hadn't admitted anything at all. And she felt like a fool.

She knew better than to listen to anyone else. He hadn't changed his ways for her, no matter what Cooper, his mother, or Millie said. He had been clear before that he didn't do love or relationships. And he certainly had not rebutted it today. Nor had he bothered to even say goodbye.

For the second time, in two short weeks, Emerson was once again amazed at how quickly the tide could change. At least, Michael – hopefully – was now out of the picture for good. It had been a pretty strong hint. And with the Preston situation... reconciled, there was only one task left. She had to tell her family goodbye.

Walking up the steps of the farm house, Emerson heard the crunch of gravel beneath tires, and her heart spiked. In the brief moment, blinded by the head lights, she let herself hope that he had come back. When the headlights died, she watched streaks of blonde step from the Ford Flex. Not the Jeep she was praying for.

"When you didn't come back to the hospital, I thought maybe you had skipped town." Millie headed towards the house.

Those few words said it all. Her sister really believed she would have left town without saying goodbye. And there was no use arguing.

"I moved up my flight. I leave in the morning."

Turning away from her sister, Emerson walked up the steps and into the house. She could feel the tears stinging her eyes, and she didn't care much for an audience. The day had been too long, too overwhelming, and she couldn't handle much more.

Sitting down on her childhood bed, with her knees to her chest, Emerson let the first tear slip, and then another. She hadn't known it was even possible, but her life was officially in more disarray than when she had arrived. And she had the slightest clue what to do about it.

Between the mountain of sobs and her blurred vision, Emerson felt the bed shift as her sister took a seat beside her.

Millie cleared her throat, and with a voice that was somehow stern, yet trembled, her sister spoke.

"There's something you need to know..."

For the past fifteen years of her life, Emerson had watched the guilt slowly fade from her sister's eyes, but tonight, it burned brighter than she had ever seen. Feeling the bed shift, Emerson had braced herself for one last confrontation, one last round of failed sisterly bonding, but instead, it was a confession uttered from Millie's lips.

"It's my fault. It's always been my fault." Millie sobbed from the edge of the bed. "If I wouldn't have called her, none of this would have ever happened."

"Called who? Millie what's going on?" Emerson could hear the fear in her sister's voice, as she tried to make out the words between Millie's sobs.

"Mom...I called mom that night. I was upset. She was coming home because of me. You were right to wish it were me instead of her."

Emerson couldn't believe what she was hearing.

As unbelievable as it seemed, all the pieces fell into place.

The guilt.

The mothering.

The constant obsession over Emerson's life.

Everything had been an attempt to make up for something that had never been in her sister's control. Emerson's heart suddenly felt heavy with sin. All the years of fighting, all the time wasted on anger, all for guilt wrongly placed.

"Oh, Mil..." Emerson clutched her sister to her chest, hot tears streaking skin that felt all too raw. "This was never your fault."

"How can you say that? I called her, I was upset, I put her behind that wheel."

"Millicent...No! You can no more control the actions of that man, than you could have stopped Michael from having an affair. People do bad things, and bad things happen to good people. The only fault, the only blame, is that of the man who got behind the wheel drunk. He took our mom's life, not you."

"But she wouldn't have been in the car if it weren't for me." The words were barely audible between her cries.

"Mil, you've got this all wrong. Listen to me. Mom got behind the wheel because you needed her, because she was a great mom, who cared about us. But you never put that alcohol in his hand. If that man hadn't been drinking, if he had been sober, they would have passed each other like every other car on the road. It's because he was drunk that she died that night. No other reason."

Memories of every fight came rushing back. And for the first time, in a long time, Emerson regretted every foul word she had ever spoken. For every hour lost to an unnecessary burden.

And in that moment, clinging to her sister, Emerson wept for all the years they lost.

* * *

The minutes, and hours continued to tick, ever so slowly, as Preston lie staring at his ceiling; analyzing, over and over, the past twenty-four hours like a broken record. He never would have thought things would end the way they had, but then again, had it mattered? She was leaving all the same.

" _My career is the only thing that has never let me down."_ Her words continued to echo through his thoughts.

He had let her down.

He had seen it the moment she walked into Oli's, and again when he couldn't admit why he had truly shown up at the cabin. At the moment, the emotion had been so brief, and he had been so focused on being right, that he hadn't been able to place what he saw.

But lying here in the dark, her face etched in his mind, it was clear as day.

Disappointment

He had let her down.

He didn't know what she had expected him to say, but what could he? There was no use in groveling over something that was already gone. No use begging someone to stay that had one foot out the door. She was leaving town, going back to her life and that was that.

Besides, what if he had begged her to stay? What did he have to offer?

A man who was broken?

A man who ran the moment life got hard?

A man who shut the world out?

A man who still had nightmares of his dead wife?

Sure, he could buy her a house with a white picket fence, but he couldn't give her the life that went with it. The life she deserved.

Running away had been his specialty.

He had run hard after Catherine's death. And when the rest of his world had fallen to pieces, he had run away to this small town, where no one knew his failures. And tonight, he had run from Emerson.

" _Says the man who doesn't do love or relationships."_ Her words...his words reverberated around his thick skull.

And she was right. Hell, he was right. He didn't do love, until she had come into his life. But he hadn't been able to admit to the four little letters. Love.

He realized then, as the last chunk of ice broke free from his heart, he loved her. More than he had loved anything in far too long. She had brought him back to life. Her smile warmed his heart; her body warmed a helluva lot more than just his heart.

Preston sat up, scrubbing his hand across his face. The revelation so loud in his head, he was surprised the entire neighborhood couldn't hear it. Slipping out of bed, he pulled on a pair of gym shorts. It was 4:00am, but he didn't care. He may have had the revelation of a lifetime, but it was too late. Nor did it matter. Loving someone wasn't the same as them loving you in return. Loving someone didn't keep them around. And sometimes, loving meant letting go of the one person who had finally made him feel alive again.

Stepping quietly out the front door, Preston took a deep breath; the cool mist filling his lungs. Pulling on his sneakers, he grabbed the hood of his sweatshirt and tossed it up over his head. He needed solace, needed to escape the regrets building in his mind.

He needed the open road.

The night was silent, still, as he stretched his legs on the walkway leading down to the road. The moon hung high above him, half-full, casting a soft grey light over all the land. Glancing around at the sleeping houses there was no sign of any movement. It was just him, and the hard pavement beneath his feet, that would pound away his misery.

The earth moved in a steady rhythm, as he pushed his body hard. His chest burned, as tiny bits of frozen mist invaded his lungs with every even breath; his lips cracking against the cold of the early morning.

He felt alive.

The road had been his only freedom. Pushing all thoughts from his mind, he focused on the burn of muscle as his legs carried him higher up the mountain. The way the wind brushed against his exposed, over-heated skin. Stride and stride, he focused on the way his legs took the impact of the hard ground beneath him. Letting go, he freed his mind of angst, and became one with the calm of the night air.

He had nearly run the entire length of the drive before he realized where his freedom had taken him. Straight to the one thing he was trying to escape. Stopping in the lane, he could just make out Steven Grey's farm house, as he rested his hands on his knees, catching his breath.

The house was still dark, no sign of movement. Images of that first night, slipping Emerson's drunk self into her bed, filled his mind. Even in the moment, her kiss had moved him. The energy that surged between them had been so powerful, he had barely been able to pull himself away.

He had wanted her from the moment he laid eyes on her, in that sensual black dress. Only now he wanted so much more than the curves that had caught his eye.

" _What are you doing here?"_ He panted to himself.

The walk down memory lane wasn't helping. Roughly two-hundred yards stood between them, and already he missed her. He was never going to survive the seven-hundred miles.

A flicker of light caught his attention, as the porch light came to life.

Captivated by the feminine silhouette, cast in the dim light, it took a fraction too long for him to figure out what was happening. Hoisting a bag over her shoulder, Preston watched as she gingerly shut the storm door, and walked to her rental car. Throwing the bags into the back seat, she paused, surveying the house, and the land around her. Reality dawned like the sun over the eastern sea.

She was leaving.

A crack the size of the Grand Canyon opened up in his chest.

He wasn't sure what he had expected after today; a goodbye at the least.

His thoughts drifted to their first night together. How she had snuck off in the middle of the night. The hurt didn't even begin to compare to the pain in his chest now.

The flash of head lights on the trees brought him back to the present. He could stand here, and force her to give him the goodbye he so desperately felt he deserved. Maybe scare her half to death in the process.

Or he could move. Hide amongst the trees until she had passed.

Stepping behind a large oak, he let her have her way. There was no use forcing something she hadn't wanted. No matter how much he wanted her. She could have told him she was leaving, but she had chosen not to.

As the tail lights passed, he stepped back into the lane. Eyes fixed on the red glow, he watched as Emerson pulled away, leaving him, and this world behind.

In the still, darkness of the night, Preston felt the single tear slide across his cheek.

# Thirty-Four

"How long are you going to drag that dog around before you admit you fucked up?" Cooper asked.

They were over halfway up the trail to Ryan's Peak when Cooper had stopped dead in the trail, blocking the way. "I didn't fuck anything up, and he likes it. Don't you buddy?" Preston leaned down petting the golden retriever on the head.

"It's been three weeks, and all you've done is mope, and host doggie daycare. You haven't even looked at another woman. Just admit it, you're hooked."

For three long weeks, there had been no word from her. Only silence. Not once had she made an effort to reach out to him. He hadn't exactly expected her too, but it hadn't stopped him from hoping either. And so he ran.

He had been running so much lately that he had almost worn the sole right off his Nikes. Except his little magic trick had stopped working; the road no longer cleared his head. Since that night, watching Emerson drive out of his life, running had become his obsession. The harder he pushed himself, the further he lost himself in her memories. Many days he would find himself arriving at the cabin, without an inkling of how he had gotten there, and his chest would ache.

And then yesterday he had almost been run over by Mrs. Needlemyer, one of the town's elders. He had been so lost in thought of that last night, standing at the edge of the field, the disappointment coloring her face, that he hadn't seen the car coming. Of course Mrs. Needlemyer, who wore glasses as thick as Coke bottles, hadn't seen him in broad daylight.

It was time to move on, time to let go of the past, all of it, and move on. And so, when Cooper had inquired about a hike up to Ryan's Peak, he had traded his running shoes in for hiking boots.

"I don't mope, and the exercise is good for John Wayne. Look at him; he's already lost four pounds. I'm just helping the old man out. It's called being a Good Samaritan you ass. Maybe you should try it sometime?" But Cooper was right; he had been moping, for weeks. But that was going to change. He was turning over a new leaf.

"Mandy what's-her-name was pretty hot and heavy for you the other night, and you never even took your eyes off the game."

Preston sat down on a nearby boulder and removed his water bottle from his day pack. Clearly Cooper wasn't planning to let this go anytime soon, he might as well hydrate. "It was a damn good game. And did you hear her laugh? It was obnoxious." Pouring some water in a hiking bowl, Preston sat the bowl at his feet for John Wayne.

Mandy, if that was her name, had been pretty, and also pretty young. There was a time in his life, when the young twenties, barely college graduate would have been appealing. But nowadays, he needed quality over quantity.

"Good game, huh?" Cooper laughed from the tree he was leaning against. "And who gives a fuck about her laugh, when her moan was sexy as hell?"

Preston had left Oli's as soon as the game had ended, not feeling the crowded bar scene. So there had been no surprise, when a few hours later, he heard the high pitch giggle as Cooper carried her through the house. Cooper had always had a thing for blondes, but the only thing on Preston's mind was his fiery red head.

"Just because I don't have women crawling in and out of my bed, doesn't mean anything." Preston let out a sigh, unsure who he was trying to convince more, himself or Cooper.

"Really kettle? Because I'm pretty damn sure that's been your MO since Catherine died. You haven't let the same woman in your bed twice, and now that you have, it's scaring the shit out of you."

"Don't bring Catherine into this! It has nothing to do with her."

"It has everything to do with her. You can't see the good thing you had in front of you because you're too damn busy with your head stuck in the past. Maybe if you would get off that damn pity train, you might actually see that you let your future walk out the fucking door."

"I didn't let her walk out." Preston dropped his head, wiping the sweat from his brow. It was a half-truth, he hadn't let her leave; she did that all on her own. But he hadn't stopped her either. "She made her choice to go back to her life there. Hell, she was always leaving, and you knew that. It wouldn't have mattered even if I had tried to stop her, she wasn't staying."

"Really, playboy? Then why does she keep calling me, asking me how _I_ am? How things at the store are? And in Spruce Pine in general?" Cooper cocked a brow in his direction.

"What's that got to do with me?"

"Everything." Cooper shook his head, "the last time she called this often, _for no apparent reason_ , was when she left for college. She had been terrified of the unknown, but too proud to admit it. I'm just guessing here, but maybe she's scared of the rejection, because she sure as hell is fishing for information."

Pulling up in front of the old farm house, Preston opened the door, and stepped out of his jeep, John Wayne following suit. The dog spotted the movement at the edge of the field before Preston, and had trotted off to his master.

He was a little surprised to see the old man out in the field. It was the first time he had seen Steven away from the house since he had come home from the hospital. Her father was healing up nicely, but he was starting to get the feeling Steven wasn't quite sure of his movements yet; sticking to the house, or the front porch for comfort.

"Everything okay?" Preston asked, approaching the row of firs where Steven Grey stood.

"Oh, I'm good Son." Steven ran his fingers gently over the needles of the tree, "Cold weather's coming; soon these hills will be alive with folks trying to find the perfect tree."

The first few times Preston had shown up for John Wayne, he had received quite the look from Steven. The man was a tough old bird, and Preston had to admit, it was a little odd to have a stranger show up for your dog, but he had promised to look after him while her father was healing. Okay, so maybe he had initially meant while her father was in the hospital, but the old man was still trying to heal, and wasn't up for getting the fur ball the exercise he needed.

On the fourth visit, post Emerson's departure, Steven had offered him a glass of sweet tea when he returned from a run, with John Wayne.

By day six, Steven had invited him to stay and watch TV. Preston had assumed the man was bored, or lonely, maybe both, so he had obliged the man. He had seen the look of surprise, when Millie had come in later to find the two men camped out on the couch. But she hadn't said a word. He couldn't help but wonder if she would tell Emerson that he and her father were getting rather chummy? But if she had, Emerson hadn't bothered to call him about it.

By the second week, Steven had asked if he knew how to work a tractor. With a few diagrams, and explicit directions, Preston had managed to drive the tractor out of the barn, with the walls still intact. Lowering the deck, he had begun to make his way up and down the rows, mowing the fields. The similarities of Pauly Shore, in _The Son-In-Law,_ hadn't escaped him. At least he wasn't carving his name in a corn field.

Three days ago, Steven had called him son.

Preston had walked in to find Steven anxiously awaiting his arrival. " _Did you get everything, son?"_ Steven had been a little hesitant the day before, but as Preston stood to leave, Steven had made a request. Handing over a small strip of folded paper, Steven had asked if he would mind picking up a few things for him in town. Preston had seen Millie bringing in grocery bags on several occasions, so he had assumed whatever was on the paper had been personal. Not something he wanted to ask his daughter for. Preston happily agreed, and left. Sliding in his Jeep, Preston unfolded the paper, and began to howl with laughter. It was something he hadn't wanted to ask his daughter for all right.

There scribbled on the scratch piece of paper, was a list of very manly items indeed: Red Meat, Potatoes, Salted Peanuts, Chips, Caffeinated Coffee, Whole Milk, Frosted Flakes, and _"Damn Regular Bread, not that wheat shit"._

Preston had seen the health food Millie brought with his own eyes, and she would not have approved of this list, which is precisely why he did it.

"Do you know what these trees represent?" Steven paused at the third tree in from the end.

"Christmas?" Preston asked, not wanting to sound like a smartass, but wasn't it pretty obvious?

"No, Son these trees represent Hope. Love. Life." He was considering getting Steven back to the house, since he was sounding a little delirious when the man continued. "Each one of these trees requires nutrients to grow, from the soil and the sky. As saplings they need protection from the elements, and guidance to grow strong and hearty. Like all living things, they need help along the way."

He followed silently, as Steven continued to work further down the row, touching each tree with the most delicate hand, as though it were a child. "Soon, people will come. They will walk the rows, until they find the perfect tree. And without even realizing it, the tree has spoken to you, chosen you. Its beauty will bring you hope. And with hope, love grows. And it is in love that we truly live. Do you understand, Son?"

Preston stood there speechless, unable to clear the lump in his throat. He was being schooled on love, by an old man and tree analogies. And somehow it felt...real.

"The tree may choose you, but it is up to you to carry it home, and nurture it. Just remember that son. Now, let's get on back, my legs feel like wet noodles, and don't you dare tell Millicent. She'll be carting me back to that quack of a doctor if she thinks something's wrong."

"Your secret's safe with me, sir."

Walking into his dark house, Preston soaked up the silence, thankful he was alone.

He needed a hot shower, a cold beer, and to be left the hell alone about his "feelings". He wasn't sure what people expected, Emerson was the one that had left, not him. She was the one who felt her life was anywhere, but here. How was that his fault?

Stepping out of the shower, Preston toweled off, and threw on a pair of old faded jeans. Walking his bare feet into the kitchen, he snagged a beer from the fridge and turned the bottle up. The crisp bite of hops washed over his tongue, and he felt his shoulders begin to relax. This is what he had needed, not someone pushing advice from Cooper, not tree analogies, or the sidelong glances from Millie, just an ice cold beer, and a whole lot of quiet.

That's when he saw it.

The small, elegantly scripted Post It that read _Ridge Haven_ across the bottom. In beautiful, flowing hand writing an address had been written. Above it in a much more manly scribble read the words _"Shit or get off the pot."_

Picking up the innocuous square, he slowly focused on the only two words that meant anything at all, _NEW YORK._

# Thirty-Five

"This is exquisite dear!" Mrs. McAllister crooned, admiring her new master bedroom.

"Thank you!"

Although the price tag had been excessive, there had only been one major renovation to the apartment. As for the three bedrooms and great room, mostly walls had been stripped of outdated floral patterns, and brought into the modern age of solid colors with accent walls. Furniture, bedding, and window treatments had all been replaced. But the most elaborate room, the ensuite master bath.

Emerson opened the French double doors that led to the master bath, allowing her client to lead the way. The heated floors had been tiled with white Volakas Greek Marble tiles. His and Hers dark classic cabinetry ran along each wall as you entered the room, contrasted perfectly against the soft grey Agia Marina Marble vanities. And the open concept shower had been tiled in slate, across the floor, up the walls, and stretching out across the ceiling. Only a downward sloping, semi-circle half wall encased the shower's six faucets and rain showerhead. Neatly tucked away, the toilet sat behind a mirroring semi-circle half wall, creating a bit more privacy.

And then there was Emerson's favorite part of the design. Sitting dead center of the wide expanse, with three steps leading up the narrow end, sat the most elegant infinity tub she had ever laid her eyes on. Completely made of glass, the rectangle beauty sat deep in a marble mold. On each side, pond stones, and river rocks had been hand placed to fill the six inch gap between glass and marble, effectively hiding the ugliness of the plumbing. With water gracefully lapping over the edges, it felt as though you were sitting in a natural warm spring.

And even more impressive than the tub, was how money could move a person. With a near endless budget, Emerson had managed to complete the project with two weeks to spare.

Mrs. McAllister had been insistent the project be complete before Thanksgiving, allowing her to show off the new design when all of her children gathered over an enormous feast, no doubt prepared by her endless amounts of hired help. And, just as before, Emerson had delivered exactly what she had promised, with plenty of time to spare. She was good at her job; pushy when she needed to be, with just the right amount of ass kissing. Her boss had always told her it was a rare talent, to be so well balanced.

"With work like this, you are going to go far young lady. I have a dear friend who is looking to revamp a few things, and for a new designer. She's going to absolutely love you."

This is what she had dreamt of, spiraling upward into the clouds of client referrals. The sound of a new prospect should have had her bouncing like a kid on Christmas morning, but the natural state of bliss hadn't come.

In fact, she had felt off all day.

More like weeks.

She loved her work. And she had enjoyed every hour she had spent on the project, but the completeness she had hoped to feel, was nowhere to be found. For weeks, Emerson had been throwing herself into her work. Pushing herself to exhaustion, so that she wouldn't have to think about all the ways her life was still lacking. But no level of exhaustion could fill the void deep in her chest.

Not everything was terrible; after Millie's confession to years of self-blame, things between the two sisters had finally begun to look brighter. Emerson had had no idea the burden her sister had carried, and suddenly all the hard feelings seemed to melt away. Years of wasted frustration no longer seemed to matter. They were starting over.

Still nothing felt the way she had envisioned, and that confused her. This was everything she had worked for, everything she wanted, so why wasn't she breaking through the roof with joy?

"Are you alright dear?" She felt the soft weight of Mrs. McAllister's hand rest just above her elbow.

"Of course. I apologize. Where were we?" She sputtered, trying to regain her composure.

She had been staring sightless into the flowing bath. Hopefully her client would mistake it for wonder, instead of worry.

"Is it your father? Ms. Cavanaugh mentioned there had been an accident when she called to reschedule our original meeting." Worry it was.

"He's doing good, getting stronger every day. I'm just..." _completely lost in my life,_ the thought cut the wound in her chest, deeper. "I just worry about him, I guess. But I suppose that's my job, to worry."

"It's perfectly natural to worry." Mrs. McAllister ran a supportive hand down her shoulder, "If you need anything at all, you just let me know, and I will make it happen."

And Emerson had the odd sense Mrs. McAllister wasn't just being nice, she was telling the truth. Except, it wasn't her father who occupied her every thought, she was too cowardly to admit her life was in ruins.

Emerson felt her phone buzzing in her front pocket. Hope sprung like an antelope across the African savannah; the same as it had every time her phone rang. And like every other time, her hope went up in a cloud of smoke, the moment she peered at the caller ID.

It was her father. And although she loved him dearly, he wasn't the man she had hoped would call.

"I'm sorry, it's my father. I'll only be a moment."

"Take your time dear." Mrs. McAllister excused herself, leaving Emerson alone in the great white expanse. Resting on the edge of her pride and joy, with her heart tucked nicely in her throat, she answered the call.

"Daddy? What's wrong?" She waited for the tragic news; for another bomb to drop. Her father never called her, especially during work hours.

"Nothing's wrong. Can't a father just call his little girl?" He sounded normal. Maybe a little grumpy, but then again that was a normal state when it involved a phone call.

And had she slept any decent amount in the past few weeks, the answer to his question may have been yes, but her capacity for rational thinking had been far over stretched. "Of course Daddy, you can call any time you want."

Even if he had picked the most inopportune time to exercise that right, but she wasn't about to correct him. She wanted to think that their relationship had progressed to a point in which her father called just to say hi, but she knew better. The man had never used more words than were necessary, and she doubted he had suddenly changed overnight. So the question was, why was he calling now?

The thing about Steven Grey, and his greediness for words, was that when he finally decided to use more than the bare minimum, you couldn't get the man to cut to the chase. It was a complex game of cat and mouse.

"Was there something that you needed?" She asked, hoping to speed the process up since she was on a job.

Emerson called her father every evening to check in. It had been three weeks since she left, and almost a month since the accident, but she still hadn't been able to shake the feeling something else would go wrong. They were short conversations, him not bothering to beat around the bush, but she needed the reassurance he was okay. Then, immediately after hanging up with her father, she would call Millie. Because where her father would down play anything into nothing, just to get off the phone, her sister was a straight shooter.

And for good measure, every few days she called to check in on Cooper. They both knew the truth behind those calls, but he had been kind, as best friends should be, and hadn't given her one ounce of grief. She felt like a hamster on a wheel, her mind running in circle after circle, without getting anywhere at all. It was exhausting.

But the fact still remained, her father hadn't waited for the call he knew was to come, which meant that whatever information he wanted to share, he had deemed it important.

"I just wanted to check on you for a change, is that such a crime? Make sure you were okay up there?"

"And?" She asked when he hadn't finished his thought.

"Well I could use that dog walking fella to show up. John Wayne's staring at the door, whining like there is a bitch in heat out there."

Well this was news; Millie hadn't said anything about a dog walker for John Wayne. "You hired a dog walker?"

"No, I didn't hire him. Why would I pay someone to walk a dog, when John Wayne can walk himself?" Her father scoffed at the thought of anyone helping him.

"Daddy, are you sure you are okay? You aren't making a whole lot of sense. Do you want me to call Millie and have her come over?"

"Don't you dare call your sister. I'm fine!"

Emerson ran a hand through her hair, trying to suppress the sigh stuck in her throat. She was glad her father was okay, but she needed him to say what was on his mind, so she could get back to work. "If everything is fine, I'm with a client at the moment. Can I call you later this evening like usual?"

"You know, I've never been good with matters of the heart. That was always your momma's piece." Her father's tone had turned serious now, and she felt the tension coil in her neck, but she waited patiently for him to finish. "Look Sugar, I just wanted to tell you we're not all bad apples. Sometimes even the ripe ones fall from the tree, but you can't look it over just because it's on the ground. I was wrong about that man, he's a Fuji. Well, you get back to your work, no need to call later. Your old man is just fine. "

And just like that her father was gone.

" _We're not all bad apples...Fuji",_ her father's words swirled. Fuji? Had her father just called another man a sweet apple? And, why was Preston still walking John Wayne? The thought of his name sent a shiver down her spine.

Emerson wasn't sure how long she had been standing there, staring at her cell phone, when Mrs. McAllister cleared her throat. "Is everything okay, dear?"

"Yes...I think so?" If she could manage to process the fact that her father had just given her...love advice? Is that what he was doing? The whole conversation had been so bizarre; had she been dreaming? Had her father really called Preston a sweet, ripe apple? And why hadn't Cooper, or Millie for that matter told her Preston was still coming around?

She couldn't think of those things now, she had a job to do. Pulling a smile back to her lips, she slid her phone back in her pocket, and turned back to her client. "I'm sorry for the interruption, let's continue shall we?"

There was a long awkward moment as her client gazed at her, deep in thought. "Emerson, you have done an excellent job here. Your work is magnificent, beyond anything I dreamed possible..." Mrs. McAllister guided her back to the bedroom, towards the newly furnished sitting area. "But dear, it seems as though your heart may be somewhere else."

Was she that transparent?

"No ma'am, I assure you my heart is fully here." Her southern accent drew, as the two of them settled into the couch. She had to admit the thing was ugly as sin. It looked like a Victorian couch had been swallowed by the modern day and spit back out. It was beyond words in its asymmetrical design, and fire red fabrics, but it had been perfect for the space; and surprisingly quite comfy.

"Have you ever heard of town called Moxville, Georgia?" Mrs. McAllister asked.

"I don't believe so, no."

"Neither have most people outside of its twenty mile radius. It's a small town, with the population peaking around eight hundred and ninety people. Other than a Quick Stop, the Cut 'N' Save, and a distribution center, there isn't much else there. No reason for anyone to know such a place."

Emerson didn't have a single clue where this conversation was going, but considering the very room she sat in had just earned her a year's salary, she sat politely and listened.

"There is a family there, the Wilson's. They make up about ten percent of the town, a southern family through and through. They aren't wealthy, most aren't even educated beyond high school, but they have the one thing that all the riches in the world can't buy: love."

Emerson couldn't help but wonder how a sophisticated and successful woman like this knew about a small town family in nowhere Georgia.

"We've owned multiple homes for a long time now..." her client continued on, "but the one in Moxville will always be the most important, because family will always be the most important thing in my life. Dr. McAllister and I have been blessed beyond our wildest imaginations, but I will never forget where I came from. We can travel the world, seeing all its wonder, but going home to family will always be my favorite destination."

Emerson was stunned silent. Staring at the woman who sat before her, the picture of sophistication and grace, she couldn't imagine for a second that she had come from a backwoods town in the south. It had been only just now, as she spoke with such fondness of her family, that Emerson had detected even the slightest accent.

"Never forget where your true wealth lies dear, for it will always be in the ones you love."

Walking out of the McAllister's building, Emerson felt a weight lifted off her shoulders. She had completed her first major project as lead, and in record time, none the less. Add a whopping paycheck on top, and there was serious cause to celebrate. But it was none of those things that had given her such joy.

Stopping on the sidewalk, Emerson closed her eyes and listened to the noise around her. The blaring horns, the voices of angry pedestrians, and the constant bumping as people pushed their way down the street. This was New York, a constant hustle. A city where you could wander aimlessly for hours and not one person would so much as ask if you needed directions. It was there, in all the craziness of the streets, that she found her peace.

Opening her eyes, she smiled in satisfaction, and headed for her next destination. Fifteen blocks later, Emerson walked into the suite that housed SkyView Designs, past Carlos who congratulated her success. Even though he looked like the kind of guy you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley, she knew deep inside he had a soft spot for modern furniture. And her choice to let him handle the furniture had been spot on.

Stepping into the large glass cube of an office, she waited patiently for her boss, Rachel, to get off the phone. Rachel was dressed like a million bucks, and based on her conversation she was putting her money where her mouth was.

Walking over to one of the exterior windows, Emerson watched the world moving around her. The office was on the north west corner of the building, which lent itself to one spectacular view of Central Park.

"So my little protégé, I hear we have a very satisfied client." Rachel's silky voice crooned, hanging up the phone.

"Yes we do. And what can I say; I did learn from the best after all." Coming back around the desk, Emerson sat in one of the white leather chairs.

"Well, it's not hard to teach when you have an excellent student. And now she's all grown up and ready to go out on her own."

"About that..." Producing a white envelope, Emerson gently slid the letter across the clear glass top of Rachel's desk, "We need to talk."

"What's this?"

# Thirty-Six

Preston eased up in his bed and glanced at the clock on the nightstand; 7:00 AM. He had been dreaming of a certain redhead, but it was just that, a dream.

Standing under the hot spray of the shower, Preston let his thoughts wonder. For so long, he had held on to the memory of Catherine, clinging to his past, avoiding his future. Now his subconscious was kicking his ass, telling him it was time to move on. And maybe it was? Maybe it was time to take a risk? There was nothing holding him back, he could go anywhere he wanted, do anything. He just had to go for it.

_Baby steps_ , he decided.

It had been four excruciatingly long weeks. He had been certain Emerson would call. Sure, she had left town, but there had been something between them, he had felt it. And she had too. But she hadn't called. Not once.

"... _but she had been too proud to admit it,"_ Cooper's words drifted back to him.

Maybe they had both been too proud to admit it.

Showered, Preston slid on a pair of dark denim jeans, and a black button down shirt, sleeves rolled up to the crook of the arm. Grabbing a carryon from his closet, he threw a few clean changes of clothes and toiletries in the bag, and hoped for the best.

Walking through the kitchen, Preston started the coffee and grabbed a pad from the drawer, scribbling a note for Cooper. _"For risk of it going to your already out of control ego, I won't tell you, you were right. Be back in a few days. And tell Millie thanks for the address."_

There was no grand plan.

No well thought out romantic ending.

Hell, he didn't even have a plane ticket yet. What he did have, however, was a change of heart and an opportunity he refused to let pass him by any longer. He would figure the rest out when he got to New York. He would stand outside her building, 1980's boom box on his shoulder, if that's what it took.

He had been a fool for letting her walk away, for not telling her the truth. He had let his pride and fear get in the way of something amazing, and he hoped like hell it wasn't too late.

Walking out the front door, coffee and courage in hand, Preston opened the back of the jeep and tossed in his bag. Closing the hatch, he watched the reflection off the back glass, as a small silver sedan stopped at the curb in front of his house.

" _For crissakes,"_ he grumbled under his breath. He didn't have time for this.

Preston waited, his temper fueling, as the driver took their sweet ass time getting out. He was about to give up and leave, when he saw the striking amber waves blowing gently in the soft breeze. And his heart froze.

He couldn't move.

Or think.

Nor could he believe the woman walking up his drive; tight fitted jeans and a faded flannel shirt. She was absolutely gorgeous.

"Hey." The sound of her voice felt like the brush of angels wings against his heart.

"Hey."

"Going somewhere?" Emerson nodded towards the bag he had thrown in the back.

"I ah..." he shook his head, trying to find his cool. Hell, he would settle for finding his tongue, "Yeah, I am."

"Oh," she fidgeted, stuffing her hands in her back pockets, studying the concrete as though it held all the answers to the universe. "Where are you headed?"

Preston fought the urge to pick her up and hug her tight to his chest. For weeks, he had dreamt of wrapping his arms around her perfect body, and now she was so close, he could hardly resist. He knew the moment he touched her, he was never going to let go, but there was something he needed to say first.

"Well..." he paused, waiting for her to look up again, "there is a small matter of business that I need to take care of, some unfinished business of sorts."

"How long is this business going to take?"

"Hard to say, depends on the girl." He took a slow, calculated step closer.

"The girl?" Her voice cracked, and he nearly smiled.

"Yep." He took another calculated step. This time a warm glow erupted across her skin, "seems I owe her an apology."

"An apology? For what?"

"For one, being an idiot." He shrugged, gliding a step closer.

"Well," she cleared her throat, "that's certainly a good reason to be sorry."

"Secondly..." he stepped in closer, leaving only about a foot between them, "for lying, –er half-lying"

"Lying?" A confused look twisted her face.

"Half-lying" he qualified.

"Okay, half-lying?"

"I told you I didn't do love, or relationships, but that's not true. Not anymore. I was terrified of letting my heart feel, terrified of getting hurt again. Hell you still terrify me, but that doesn't change anything. It doesn't change what I feel for you, doesn't change what I want." Closing the distance, his knuckles brushed across her pink cheeks, "Emerson Grey, I'm in love with you."

Before she could respond; before she could contradict his feelings his lips crushed against her honey lips, consuming her. He was prepared to go to New York, to beg, crawl across burning coals, and fight dirty, if that's what it took to win her back. There was no length he wouldn't have gone for the woman he loved, but here she was, melting into his arms, and every last shard of ice fell from the wall around his heart.

He kissed her long, and deep; kissed her for all the days he had missed her lips pressed against his. Kissed her for all the time he had wasted being too scared to see the truth. He had loved her from the moment he met her, the moment her body had collided with his.

Pulling back, he stared down into the misty emerald eyes of the woman he loved, "You saved me, Emerson." Tucking her hair behind her ears, he cupped the nape of her neck. "You taught me how to feel, how to breathe again. Hell, how to live. I'm sorry I didn't realize it until now, but you saved me from the hell I've been living in."

Her eyes glistened, as moisture pooled at the edges. "Preston, I –"

"Lastly, and most importantly," he interrupted, before she could say anything else. "I will follow you to the end of this earth, if you will promise me one thing. Where ever you go, whatever you do, no matter how far you try to run, promise me, you'll always run to me."

"Always."

# Epilogue

"For crissakes, can you two get a room?" Cooper yelled through the empty store room of River Rock General Store.

"Your office count?" Preston laughed. Holding Emerson tight in his arms, he smiled at the memory and her growing blush.

"Hey! Stay the hell out of my office. Get your own damn place."

Apparently, Cooper was holding on to his grudge from their last little late night trip in his office. There was a new, brown leather couch to prove it.

"Actually," Emerson piped up from her perch on the checkout counter, "I am. And we are celebrating tonight. I'm buying a house!"

It had taken exactly 11.5 days of giving up her life in New York, and returning to Spruce Pine, before Emerson realized she needed her own place. She loved her father, and her sister dearly, but she had been out on her own for far too long to share a space with any of her family. Not to mention, nothing killed sex appeal like a grumpy old man under the same roof.

Three houses in, and Emerson was sold. The first two houses the realtor had taken her to were definite no's, and then she saw it, the adorable Cape Cod. And not a moment too soon, she received her commission check from the McAllister project, and placed her offer.

An hour ago, the offer had been officially accepted.

"So they accepted the offer?" Cooper asked as he dropped a box on the checkout counter beside her.

"Yep! We're going to Oli's. And don't be late. You know that pisses Millie off." She gave him a hard stare.

"Everything pisses off Millie."

"Please, try and play nice." Emerson begged, "For me." She batted her eyes.

"He'll behave; I'll make sure of it." Preston kissed her forehead softly.

"Awe, you would do that for me?" She nuzzled up to his neck, causing Cooper to gag.

"Throwing up now!"

"For you, I would do anything." Preston kissed her softly.

"For fucks sake, please tell me you are taking him with you?" Cooper grumbled. "I can't handle this love sick shit in my house anymore."

"What's a'matter? Afraid it might actually rub off on you?" Preston chided, laughing at his own joke, "Cooper Whitley, a one woman man. Now that's something I would pay to see."

"Don't hold your breath on that one...better yet, do."

Cooper disappeared into the back store room. Emerson had been certain Cooper's comment was a joke, but it was the exact thought that had been on her mind.

The second time she had viewed the house, she had asked Preston to accompany her, under the guise that he knew more about construction than she had. And she wanted to make sure it was a good house. He had happily obliged, but she had found herself watching every emotion that crossed his face. He seemed to love it, as much as she had.

"Would you want to? Come live with me?" She held her breath, waiting for his answer.

"For you, I would do anything."

The End

Dear Reader,

Imagine my embarrassment, while leaving the bank on a hot July afternoon, when I ran into a six-two hunk of military uniform. And, when I say _ran into_ , I mean literally. Smack into his chest and dress blues. Now, being the intelligent one I am, I randomly blurted a string of incoherent words hoping it sounded similar to an apology. He nodded politely and was on his way, but that wasn't the end for me.

It was the moment Run To Me was born. Slipping into my car, I pulled out my cell and texted my best friend with the simple words _if I ever write a novel._ It took two years, a lot of hard work, and a lot more revisions, but my story has finally come to life.

And it's because of wonderful readers like you that I now get to live my dream of being an author. From the bottom of my heart I thank you for your support. Please visit my website www.LeslieRayAuthor.com and follow me on social media (Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and Instagram) to stay up to date on news and new releases.

Coming soon, find out just how deep the past runs in FORGIVE ME, when Millie finds herself leaning on the one man she never thought she could trust, Cooper Whitley.

From my heart to your home,  
Leslie Ray

LESLIE RAY lives in a small town in North Carolina with her husband, two beautiful daughters, and their small horse er–, Russian Wolfhound/English Mastiff mix dog. Combining love and laughs with an emotional intensity, Leslie loves to bring you those stories you can't put down. Find out more about upcoming books and news at www.LeslieRayAuthor.com

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