Page 58 of Worth the Fall

GRANT

“Call Emerson and tell her you’re running late and then turn your car around and go home.”

Desi sputters on the other end of the phone. “You’re cute and all, but that doesn’t excuse you for being a bossy asshole.”

I glance over to where Emerson is sitting at the bar about fifty feet away. Her strawberry blonde hair is tucked behind her ear, her fingers twirl the straw stuck in her drink, and those long, tan legs call to every man in here. The thought alone has me itching for a fight or any excuse to get my anger over the Keely situation out of my damn system.

“I’ll owe you one,” I say between gritted teeth as another man sits beside her and offers small talk she doesn’t encourage. But still, she smiles. Still, she’s goddamn gorgeous.

“How do you know I’m meeting her for a drink?” Desi asks.

“Because I’m sitting in a back booth at Davenport’s, drinking away my shitty day, and I’m watching Emerson sit at the bar and ignore every man who dares pull up a stool next to her.”

Desi snorts. “So, in other words, you’re pissed at every man going near her, and the sight of them has started the testosterone-laced caveman part of you to finally make your goddamn move instead of sitting on the sidelines, playing games like you have been.”

“I am not playing games, Desi. I am making sure she knows she can’t control this like she’s controlled every other relationship she’s ever had . . . at least according to you.” I let that dig sit there to let her know if she talks about our conversations to Emerson, then I’ll talk, too.

“Are you blackmailing me, Officer Sexy?” she teases.

“Just stating the facts, ma’am.”

Another man. Another clench of my fists.

“Well, it’s about damn time. I was getting dried up over here waiting for you to act.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Just so you know . . .” The four words every man cringes when he hears. “You’re I’m-in-control shit doesn’t fly with me any more than it flies with Em. I’m only calling her and doing what you ask because you two need to get over this cat-and-mouse game and eat the damn cheese already.”

“Goodbye, Des.”

The call ends, and I sit back and wait for Emerson to pick up her phone. As if on cue, the moment I think it, her phone rings. She looks at her watch while talking to Desi, and she shrugs, flinging one hand up as if to question Desi when she’s nowhere in sight. She may be irritated, but that only serves in my favor in the end.

As soon as she sets down the phone, I’m already ringing her.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m heading out to you right now for my jump.”

There’s resignation in her sigh over the connection, and I physically watch as she slumps her shoulders back against the chair. “Not today. I can’t.”

“I thought you said any time, though.” I push her buttons.

“Yeah, well, any time is not right now. Besides, I’m not even there.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m meeting Desi.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Just a shitty day all around.”

“You and me both. Wanna talk about it?” She’s silent for a moment as a man sits too closely next to her and she shifts to regain her personal space. “Tell him to back the fuck off, Em.”

It takes a second, but I can tell the moment awareness hits her. Her spine stiffens. Her fingers tighten on her drink. But ever cool, she takes her time scooting back and looking around the bar. She finds me right away. Our eyes lock. A smile flickers and fades before I hear her sharp intake of breath on the phone.

“Tell him, Emerson. Tell him you’re with me.”