Page 49 of Whiskey Proposal

Emerson would probably appreciate some space. Absence and a fonder heart or some shit. I scrub a hand down my face. I don’t have much longer with her.

Myles needs my help and she needs to recoup after what we did in the shop. “I’ve got those too. Get some rest and make your wife happy.”

“Thanks. I owe you.”

Not when I owe him almost everything. “I know you’re good for it.”

He clears his throat. “Wynter also wants a big Foster get-together. It’s the weekend after I would’ve returned home.”

We love gathering with the Baileys, but it’s nice to have a smaller crowd and connect more. We missed out on too many years. “I’ll be there.”

There’s a beat of silence, and I wait. He’s not one to sit on something he wants to discuss. “How’s the marriage going?”

Ah. He doesn’t like being nosy, but he’ll get over it if only to pass along info to the wife who’s probably asking him for details. “It’s going.”

“Downhill or uphill?”

“I’m just helping her get her property. But I wanted to talk to you about her pitch for a holiday campaign.”

“We have a marketing department,” Myles says with a note of censure. He’s as loyal as they come.

He should also know that I am too. “Foster House Gold doesn’t.”

He exhales and it ends with a deep-chested cough. “What do the guys think?”

“I haven’t talked to them.”

“Because they know you want to fuck her and might not be purely objective?”

“Were you objective when you hired Wynter as your assistant?”

“I didn’t hire her. My assistant did on a temporary basis to cover a procedure. And I fired Wynter when I first saw her.”

“Hired her back fast enough. Couldn’t get her out of your mind?”

He grunts and it’s not from his cold. I grin because I’m right. He made decisions he normally wouldn’t have when it came to her. But she’s good at what she does. So is Emerson. “I’m telling you, she’s right. We’ve strayed from our original message.”

“You want my blessing, you got it. But you have four other guys to clear it with first.”

I’m not worried about them when it comes to the campaign Emerson outlined. She’s ready to run, and I don’t want her to think I’m hiring her to manipulate her into staying. I want so much more than sex. I want Emerson in my bed. I want her in my home.

If I trap her, then I’m no better than Hutch. But how do I get her to willingly wear my ring on her finger?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Emerson

When I wake up the next morning, Lane’s still at home. Dammit. I’ll have to face him. I have some work I need to do. Two queries came in overnight for free consults, and I need to schedule them and try not to get supremely excited only for one or both to go with another option.

Yet it’s nice to have a distraction. Last night, with my body still thrumming, I made myself a sandwich and retreated to my room with my laptop. He didn’t chase after me. He also didn’t laugh as I fled. I replayed the event over and over and over. I almost masturbated, but I was afraid he’d hear.

What is he thinking? Does he regret it? Does he want more?

No, I can’t keep mulling this over. I have to get to work.

I manage not to sprint across the hall to the bathroom. After I clean up, I return to my room and get dressed. Facing my door for way too long, I run through affirmations.

I can do this. No biggie.