Page 16 of That One Night (The Heartbreak Brothers Next Generation #4)

Chapter

Thirteen

“Emery!” The high-pitched voice made her jump.

She’d been talking to Jed about a tractor that needed repair – more expenses that the farm didn’t need right now.

He gave her a nod and started walking toward the field where the farmhands were waiting for him, and she turned around to see the owner of the voice standing next to a red convertible.

Sabrina Hartson was waving at her, a huge smile on her face. Emery couldn’t help but smile back. The woman’s natural positivity was infectious.

“Hi.” Emery walked over to where Sabrina was standing. “How are you?” she asked her, genuinely happy to see her.

“I’m good. But I’ll be better if you agree to come out with me on Friday night.” Sabrina wiggled her brows.

“What’s happening on Friday night?” Emery asked her, still smiling. Because the thought of going out with people her own age felt invigorating. Yes, she got to chat with Maisie, but the oceans between them made Emery miss her friend desperately.

Sabrina clapped her hands together. “It’s karaoke night at the Moonlight Bar in town. A few of my friends are going. I want you to come too. They’re all excited to meet you.”

Weird how warm that made her feel inside. It felt good to be bonding with this woman. Like it was the dawn of a new day.

“I can’t sing,” Emery admitted. “Will that be a problem?”

“Don’t worry, most of my friends can’t either,” Sabrina told her, shrugging. “Anyway, you don’t have to sing. We’re just going to drink cocktails and check out the hot men. So are you in or what? It’s going to be fun.”

From the corner of her eye she could see Hendrix’s dirt bike heading down the farm road toward them. She hadn’t seen him for the past few days. It had felt like he was avoiding her, truth be told, but maybe she was being too sensitive.

He didn’t owe her anything. If anything, it was the other way around. He’d helped her finish another item on her list after all.

“What’s going on?” he asked as he came to a stop beside Sabrina’s car.

“I’m just asking Emery if she’d like to come out with me and the girls on Friday.” Sabrina shrugged.

Hendrix looked from his cousin to Emery, like he wasn’t surprised. “Where?”

“To the Moonlight bar.” Sabrina lifted a brow at him. “Karaoke night.”

Hendrix looked at his cousin a moment too long. Like he was trying to work out her intentions. “I can drive you,” he told Emery. “If you’d like.”

“You’re coming to karaoke too?” Sabrina asked, looking appalled at the thought of it. Emery bit down a smile.

“Pres and Marley keep hassling me to play pool. Seems as good a day as any to head into town and make them happy.”

Sabrina rolled her eyes at him. “Shut up. You just want to make sure we behave.” Sabrina looked over at Emery. “He’s such a killjoy.”

She didn’t look like she cared, though. Emery got the impression that nothing bothered Sabrina.

Maybe she should try being a little more like that.

“Yeah, well we’ll meet you there.” He looked over at Emery. “Won’t we?”

“We will.” She nodded, grinning. Her day was already looking up.

“Whatever.” Sabrina shook her hair out. “Your moods are so swingy they belong on a kid’s playground.” She poked his chest with her finger. “Just make sure you get her there on time.”

Hendrix’s eyes met Emery’s. “I will,” he murmured. And it made her heart gallop.

Because yes, he was just driving her to the bar to meet up with his cousin. It wasn’t a date or anything. But he wasn’t avoiding her, either. Whatever it was that was happening between them, she liked it. Way too much.

Hendrix was running late, dammit. A baler had jammed, and he’d spent the last hour fixing it, sweat soaking his skin. And by the time he’d gotten home he was covered in sticky dirt and bits of hay, and needed a long, hot shower.

Being late was the last thing he needed, because he didn’t want to give his cousin another excuse to be annoyed at him. She’d already called and given him hell for offering to drive Emery.

“I thought you wanted me to be her friend,” Sabrina had complained.

“I do. I also want to make sure she gets home okay.”

“You’re so aggravating,” she told him.

“Right back at you. I’ll see you Friday at seven.”

Truth was, he didn’t want Emery walking into the bar alone. He didn’t want other guys looking at her and thinking she was fair game.

She was engaged, he reminded himself. That’s why he was feeling protective of her. Not because he wanted her.

Squeezing that thought out of his mind, he pulled his dark t-shirt over his head and made a vain attempt to get his damp hair under control.

His muscles ached. Before the baler broke he’d spent most of the day wrangling his uncle’s cattle, moving them to a shadier spot.

A few of them hadn’t wanted to comply so he’d spent too much time coaxing them, then dragging them.

And then he’d cleaned out the cattle sheds, then forking hay from the delivery van into the barn.

He rolled his head from side to side to loosen the muscles in his shoulders. A year or two ago he would have planned to drink his way through the pain, but the fact was he had to be up early in the morning to do this shit all over again.

Truth be told, he loved it.

Grabbing his keys, he strode out of his little farmhouse, automatically looking to his left to make sure Frank’s shed was closed tight. That had been another chore – repairing the door, installing a new lock, and making sure that Frank was comfortable in there.

When he got to his gate he stopped, unsure whether he should go over and knock on her door. Emery hadn’t told him not to, but he knew her mom was high strung. He didn’t want to cause any more problems than she already had with that relationship.

Before he could make a decision the door opened and she walked out.

And his heart damn near missed a beat.

She was wearing a red silk dress, the bodice cut in a crossover that skimmed her chest, giving him a delicious hint of the curves hidden beneath it. The skirt was short and tight, with a slit on her thigh.

Her eyes met his and he could barely breathe.

Her hair was glossy in the warm evening light, her dark waves tumbling over her shoulders.

She curled her fingers around her black purse and walked down the steps.

And he grinned, because even though she was dressed up to the damn nines, the woman was still wearing sneakers.

His eyes darkened as he strode across the road to open the gate for her. The smell of her perfume filled his senses. Floral but delicate. It made him want to ride a steed and win her hand.

“You’re gonna create mayhem in the Moonlight Bar looking like that,” he said, his voice thick.

A half-smile pulled at her lips. “Should I take that as a compliment?” she asked. She genuinely looked unsure.

Did she really not know how beautiful she was?

“Yes, you should. You look…” he let out a breath, shaking his head. Fuck, he couldn’t find the right words. He never could. He was a do-er, not a talker. “So damn good.”

Yeah, that wasn’t right. But her smile still widened, like she knew his words had a different meaning.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she replied softly.

Hendrix looked down at the dark jeans and black t-shirt he was wearing. The shirt was cotton, light, because it was still so damn hot outside.

But the truth was, he’d wanted to wear something she’d like. Wanted her to enjoy looking at him. He wasn’t a vain man, but he knew that heads usually turned when he walked into the bar.

He also knew that when they walked inside tonight, the heads wouldn’t be turning to look at him. And he was more than okay with that.

“We should go,” he murmured. “Before Sabrina sends out a search party.” He put his hand on the curve of her back, feeling the warmth of her through the silk. This close, it was impossible not to think of kissing her.

She’s marrying another guy.

Taking another breath, he steered her toward the passenger side of his truck, helping her into the cab. Her legs looked so damn enticing as she crossed them once she was situated. Supple, warm. With the lightest of tans.

Closing the door, he took his time walking around to the driver’s side, needing it to center himself. Emery in cut-offs and a tank was one thing. Hell, her wearing barely nothing after skinny dipping was pretty good.

But seeing her like this? Dressed up so damn classy that he knew she was out of his league? That was something else all together.

He started the engine as soon as he climbed in, determined to make the drive as fast as he could. It felt dangerous to be alone with her like this. Dangerous to his self control and dangerous to her engagement.

He wasn’t stupid, even if he’d tried to make his cousin think he was oblivious. He knew when a woman was interested in him. Even if she shouldn’t be interested.

Especially then.

“Can I choose the music?” Emery asked as he pulled onto the farm lane.

“Go for it.”

She leaned in, the short sleeve of her dress riding up to reveal her toned arms. Her biceps brushed his as she pressed the button to search for another station, and it made his jaw tighten.

“Sorry,” she said, giving him a genuine smile. Like she thought she’d done something wrong.

“Not a problem.”

She chose a 70s soft rock station. Boston was playing. “More than a Feeling” blasted out of his stereo.

“Do you mind if I open the window?” she asked.

“Works for me,” he told her. “Nature’s air conditioning beats man’s.”

So she did. And the image of her sitting in his truck, her hair lifting in the breeze, her lips singing along, seared itself into his vision.

And into his brain. Permanently.

As a kid he’d been a punk. The kind of annoying little shit that made his brother’s lives hell. And then, as a teenager, those hormones had surged like a damn tsunami. He’d discovered his looks, that girls liked his swagger, his self assurance.

But most especially they liked his driver’s licence and his ability to borrow his older brothers’ trucks.

Friday nights were date nights. And he dated his way through town. Until that day when everything changed, and he became a social pariah. No self respecting parent would let their daughter go out with him after that.

He was known as the wild one. The dangerous one. The one good girls avoided.

And Emery was a good girl. He had no doubt about that. She’d worked hard during school, dated one guy, got her college degree, and gotten engaged.

Their roads couldn’t be anymore different.

“How’s the tattoo?” he asked her, trying to break the silence. And ignore the weird sensation in his chest that happened every time he looked at her.

She looked down at her ankle. “It’s so pretty. It makes me smile every time I look at it.”

He swallowed, because her smile made him smile. And wasn’t that all kinds of messed up?

“They say it’s addictive. You gonna get another one?”

She laughed lightly. “That kind of pain is definitely not addictive. I’m all about the pleasure.”

Her cheeks pinked up, the way they always did when she said something she kind of regretted. He was getting to know her. Starting to learn her tells, the way a poker player could watch your face and figure out what kind of hand you had.

“Me too,” he murmured, pulling into the town square. “And here we are. Welcome to the pleasure dome.”

There was a parking space right to the left of the bar, and he pulled in, cutting off the engine. The place was already busy. It always was on a Friday night. Full of workers spending their paychecks and wanting to relax after a hard week.

Full of guys wanting to find a woman without having to swipe on a damn phone app.

The low hum of music escaped through the door as they walked toward it. And yeah, his hand was soft on her back again, because the urge to protect her was strong.

“I’m gonna be in the pool room,” he told her. “If anybody gives you any trouble, come get me.”

There was a smile playing at her lips. “The only trouble I’ll get in is if I try to sing. Rotten vegetables will be thrown at me.”

He shook his head. “You have no idea how good you look, do you?”

Her lips parted as she stared at him. “Maybe you should tell me.”

He wanted her. Wanted to drag her home and keep her there. Like some kind of caveman staking his claim.

“I don’t have the words.”

“How do you usually tell a woman she looks pretty?” she asked him, her voice breathy. She tipped her head to the side, her lashes fluttering as she waited for his answer.

He lifted a brow. “I’m more about showing than telling.”

Oh, that made her blush. And he liked that way too much.

“Now go have a good time. But not too good a time.” He opened the door for her. “If Sabrina starts acting a fool, let me know.”

“She’s a wild one, isn’t she?”

“She has the Hartson blood in her.”

“Hey!” a voice shouted from the corner. His cousin was waving at them. Okay, she was waving at Emery. “We’re over here. We have drinks.” Sabrina pointed at the glasses stacked up on the table.

Oh boy. This wasn’t going to end well.

“Stop looking so worried,” Emery told him. “I’m a big girl. I can handle your cousin.”

“Just don’t let her lead you astray.”

Emery wrinkled her nose, her eyes shining as they locked with his. “Now you’re making it sound fun. Go.” She pushed his arm, a laugh rumbling from her throat. “Chill out. And have a good time, too. You deserve it.”

Before he could say anything else, she rolled onto her tiptoes and pressed her soft lips against his cheek, her breasts grazing his arm. His body froze for a moment. Then he reached down to steady her, his hands curling around her hips.

And then she was gone, walking over to Sabrina’s table, as his cousin stood and threw her arms around Emery, introducing her to her friends.

He was glad his cousin was taking Emery under her wing. The woman deserved to have a good time.

Just not too good.