Page 11 of That One Night (The Heartbreak Brothers Next Generation #4)

It was weird how welcome her question was. Like she was telling him he wasn’t in this alone.

When was the last time he hadn’t felt like it was him against the world?

“In the laundry room. Down the hallway on the left.”

She ran in, and he gently laid Frank on the ground. The goat looked up at him, his golden eyes hazy as he tried to work out where he was. There was no fire in the grate – not even logs waiting to be lit. The West Virginian heat required air conditioning in the summer, not burning wood.

“I got these,” Emery said, carrying a pile of old towels into the living room and dropping to her knees next to him. Between them they got Frank dry, then wrapped him up.

“Do we need to call the vet?” she asked him when Frank laid his head down on the now-wet rug and closed his eyes.

Hendrix shook his head. “I’ll watch him tonight and reassess in the morning.” He looked at her, taking in the way her soaking hair clung to her cheeks. Her skin was pink from warming up, but her pajamas were wet and muddy. She looked like she’d been rolling around on the ground.

He assumed he did, too.

“You should go home,” he said again, his gaze lingering on her face. Mostly because he didn’t trust himself to look below her neck. Despite the mud and rain, she looked stupidly enticing.

And she’d saved his goat. Wasn’t that the thing? He’d tried to push her away but now he wanted her even more.

She’s engaged, dumbass.

He tried to seize on those words, keep them in his head.

“I can stay here, with you and Frank.” Her voice was soft.

He shook his head quickly. He didn’t trust himself. That was the truth. He was already a hair’s breadth away from touching her. He wanted to pull those wet clothes off of her. He wanted to pull her into the steaming shower with him.

He wanted to slide inside of her until they were both breathless and aching.

As a kid, he’d never wanted what the other children had. He’d never felt jealous of a new toy or a pair of sneakers.

But right now all he could think about was how much he desired her. He wanted this woman who was taken.

And that, he knew, was the reason he’d tried to push her away. Not for her reputation. But because he wanted her and he couldn’t have her.

And now she needed to go home. Now . Before he did something he might regret.

“You’re wet and muddy. Go get cleaned up, get some sleep. I’ll let you know how Frank is in the morning,” he promised. It was a miracle that he kept his voice even.

“You’re wet and muddy too,” she pointed out. She had that stubborn sound to her voice again. But instead of infuriating him, it enticed him.

“I’ll take a shower in the morning.”

“No you won’t. You’ll take one now while I stay with Frank, then I’ll go home. Not before.” She folded her arms across her chest. Despite himself, his gaze dipped.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” he murmured.

“Nope.”

His lips twitched. He’d been brought up around enough strong women to appreciate them. And to know when he was beat. “I’ll be five minutes.”

“Take your time.” A smile pulled at her pretty mouth. “Frank and I have some chatting to do.”

Shaking his head, he stood, walking barefoot over to the laundry room to grab a fresh towel to dry himself with. He slid his dirty, goat hair-covered hands under the faucet to clean them before taking a black towel from the pile on the shelf.

And that’s when he saw them. Her panties. How the hell had he forgotten about them? He gave an internal groan, because not only were they in full view of anybody who walked into the laundry room, but she’d just been in here to grab some towels.

Christ, he hoped she hadn’t seen them.

Emery stroked Frank’s hair as he exhaled softly, his eyes closed, his body laid out on the dry towels. In the distance she heard the rush of water coming from Hendrix’s bathroom.

She’d never been inside this cottage before. Back when she was growing up it had belonged to an old farmhand of the Hartson’s – a loner who kept to himself. Her dad used to nod to him, but he’d refused all offers of dinner or trips out to the town, much to her mom’s disgust.

The cottage was much smaller than the farmhouse she’d grown up in.

And all on one floor. There was the living room, where she and Frank were, with whitewashed walls and a big brick fireplace.

The rug was Persian, a red and gold pattern, and the sofas looked lived in but comfortable, with tan leather casings.

Behind the larger sofa was the kitchen. Again, it was nothing fancy, but looked like it functioned well. A huge fridge-freezer, a range, and plenty of workspace if you needed it.

To the right was the door to the laundry room. Hendrix must be using the bathroom next to the laundry, because he hadn’t emerged from the hall.

Her cheeks pinked up. She’d seen the pair of panties in his laundry pile, and at first she’d felt a tiny bit jealous, assuming they belonged to another woman.

But then she’d realized they were hers. She wasn’t sure what to think about that.

The door to the bathroom opened and Hendrix walked back out in a pair of sweatpants and nothing else.

“I’m clean and dry.”

“I can see that.” She pulled her lip between her teeth. His eyes met hers, and she could see amusement in them. “Frank is still asleep,” she told him.

“Which is what we both should be doing. The rain has eased off a little. I’ll grab us a couple of dry raincoats and make sure you get home safely.”

“I can make my own way home,” she told him. “You stay here with Frank.”

“Are you always this aggravating?” he asked.

“You’d have to ask my friends about that.” She rolled her eyes at him, but there was still a smile on her lips.

“And your fiancé.”

Wasn’t that just a bucket of cold water dumped over her? “I guess.”

“You guess?” He frowned. “Surely the man you’re going to marry knows you better than anybody else.”

She shifted her legs. “Of course he does. I just…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

He walked over to where she was with Frank, his body looking huge as he loomed over them. She could see the little droplets of water clinging to his skin.

“Why does it feel like you always walk around half naked?” she asked him, changing the subject because she didn’t want to talk about her engagement – or lack of it – right now.

“You’re one to talk.”

She bit down a smile. “That was a dare,” she said.

Hendrix blinked. In the half light his eyes looked almost black. “You were the only one there. Who dared you to go skinny dipping? Frank?”

The goat gave a little snore. God, she loved that sound.

“It was on a list,” she admitted. “My friend gave it to me before I came home. She dared me to complete them all.”

His brows lifted. “What kind of list?”

“A…” Okay, she couldn’t tell him it was a fuck-Trenton list. “She thinks I should go a little wild. Before…”

“You get married.”

“Something like that.” It wasn’t quite a lie. It wasn’t the truth either. And that sat way too heavy on her.

Hendrix hunkered down on the other side of Frank from where Emery was sitting. He patted the goat’s neck. “He feels warmer.” His gaze flickered to hers. “So your friend…”

“Maisie.”

“What did she put on this list?” he asked.

“Well, go skinny dipping, obviously. And get drunk.” She pulled her lip between her teeth, remembering the night she drank with him. “Those are the only two I’ve done.”

“Two beers doesn’t exactly constitute you being drunk,” he pointed out.

“Stop raining on my parade.” She pouted at him. “And I’m not a big drinker.”

He shook his head. “What else is on there?” he asked her.

“Get a tattoo.”

“Of what?” Hendrix looked genuinely interested. And yeah, there was still the unspoken panty situation between them, but she liked how easy this felt. Two friends, chatting. Not the guy who told her to stay away, or a guy that her ex hated.

Just two people and a goat in a living room. Your every-day kind of situation.

Emery shrugged. “She didn’t specify. But I’m thinking a firefly.”

“Why a firefly?” He tipped his head to the side. Up this close she could see the dark shadows of his beard growth on his jaw.

“My dad used to call me that when I was a kid.”

He nodded. “What else is on the list?”

“Ride on the back of a motorcycle.”

His mouth twitched. “You’ve never done that?”

“My dad hated them. Trenton too.”

“Then you definitely need to do that.”

She almost laughed. Damn, it felt good to be laughing. When was the last time life felt this easy?

“And dance on a bar,” Emery said.

“So skinny dip, get drunk, get a tattoo, ride on a motorcycle, and dance on a bar,” Hendrix murmured. “Not exactly pushing the boat out too far.”

“Oh, I forgot. Also to stay up talking all night. And maybe it is for me.” Her gaze held his and he lifted a brow.

“Is that it?” he asked.

She let out a soft breath, remembering Maisie’s list. Of course there was something else. But she couldn’t tell him that one. Not just because she’d have some explaining to do about why an engaged woman would kiss somebody else.

But because right now, with him half clothed and her own clothes sticking to her body like a second skin, it felt too intimate.

“That’s it,” she breathed.

“Seriously? Nothing more… dangerous?”

“Getting a tattoo is pretty dangerous.” She folded her arms over her chest and he grinned. “I could get all sorts of infections,” she said, her voice serious.

“You’re such a good girl,” he murmured. The way he said it sent a tingle down her spine. And between her legs, if she was being honest.

“What does that make you?”

“What do you want it to make me?” he asked. There was no way he couldn’t feel this. The throb of attraction that made her skin feel too tight and too hot. His eyes were trained on her lips as she exhaled again.

Like he was trying to learn every curve and dip of them. Or maybe he was just trying not to look at her skimpy clothes.

“I think you like to be bad,” she murmured. “And you do it well. But underneath all that hard assedness, there’s a good man.”

He shook his head. “Your opinion of me is way too high.” It came out raspy.

“A bad guy doesn’t go out in the middle of a storm to save his goat,” she said, watching as he patted Frank’s fur.

This time when he looked at her she could see the heat in his eyes. Could feel it, too, deep inside of her. Neither of them looked away. She knew she couldn’t if she tried. And she didn’t want to try.

Her heart slammed against her chest.

“Emery…” His voice was as soft as silk. The kind of voice that made her want everything she couldn’t have.

That made her want to hear his murmurs, close against her ear, as he moved inside of her.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I was a dick. I didn’t mean it.

” He shook his head, looking like he was trying to think through his words. “What I said…”

“It’s forgotten,” she told him. “It’s okay.”

“No it isn’t. But I’ll make it up to you,” he told her.

“How?”

“I don’t know. I’ll think of something.” He took a deep breath. “But in the meantime, you need to go home.”