Page 29 of Sterling Stone

“The next morning. I came down for coffee, and there you were, all smiles and bright eyes with a beautiful blonde and⁠—”

“A blonde?” I interject, racking my brain, completely mystified by this accusation before things eventually click into place. “Oh no. No, no, no, Taxi.”

I grip her upper arms and lower my head to level my eyes with hers. “That was not what you think.”

“I think . . . you had her all along and simply played me.” Her eyes widen like she’s suddenly thought of something else. “Or you picked her up after you left me.”

“No,” I bark, distinct and adamant. Clearing my throat, I try to lower my voice. “No, that is not what happened after the best kiss of my life.”

Her long lashes flutter as her breath hitches.

“I . . .” How do I explain the situation? How do I explain who Emerson is? “That woman was Emerson Milton. She’s a friend.”

Taxi scoffs, yanking herself out of my grasp like the words sting. She takes a giant step away from me, which forces her shoulder blades to hit the closed door.

“People assume . . .” I swallow thickly, scrubbing my hand down my face. “I don’t care what people assume. We’ve been friends for years. And she—” I pause again. “Her story isn’t mine to tell. But I swear on each of my siblings and my dead parents, I did not cheat on you with her.”

“You can’t cheat on someone you aren’t with,” she says, her flat voice matching the sudden lack of shine in her silvery eyes. She’s closing in on herself, like putting up shutters, blocking out a storm.

“Taxi.” I step toward her, but she stiffens her spine and lifts her head, plastering herself even tighter against the door.

With my hands up in the air, I whisper, “Delilah.”

“Don’t.” Her voice is sharp-edged, jarring and direct, as it was outside when she used the same command. A solid wall goes up between us.

My confusion hits a new level. We felt so connected that night. The thread between us easy and refreshing, so I don’t understand this moment, where she isn’t willing to hear me out.

“Explain this to me.” I lower my hands and point between us. “Explain what I’m missing. Explain what happened. Give me something.”

I’m not above begging, wanting to understand this shut down, that’s even colder than the chilly behavior outside.

“You don’t deserve it,” she whispers, like I’ve scorned her somehow.

The edge to her voice has me flinching.

I could blame Emerson for the charade we’ve built. Town mayor. County sheriff. Visually, we make sense, but Em and I have never been together. That’s the image she wants to portray to cover her secrets. As her friend, I want to protect her. It started as a united front. A fundraiser. A public event. But as the rumors grew, so did the lie.

For my own part, I might have used Emerson as well. Hanging out with her allowed me to avoid the complications of a real commitment. Protect myself from ever getting in that position again. I haven’t had the time or interest in dating anyone seriously, so Em was convenient for me.

Our little arrangement even worked for getaways. A false weekend here or there that allowed Em to go where she goes and me some rare time off, which is how we both ended up in Knoxville.

Not together, but seemingly together.

And I see now I’ve really messed up because what was always intended to skew perception has turned into a giant misunderstanding.

“Emerson and I were not together that weekend. Or any weekend ever. She wanted a weekend with—” I cut myself off before I share more than necessary. This isn’t about Em. It’s about me. “The timing was just convenient. She wanted to go to Knoxville, and I had a retirement party for an old college buddy. Plus, I wanted to check in on Judd. See his fight.” I pause. “Then I met you.”

A second encounter that I considered a twist of fate, when I didn’t believe in fate.

And yet, here Taxi is again, staring at me with narrowed eyes like she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. On the flip side of that disbelief is the fact she isn’t moving yet. Isn’t opening the door behind her and shutting me out completely. Which leaves me questioning once again what she’s doing here. If we had our chance, and lost it in Knoxville, what is Taxi doing standing in my bathroom, arms crossed, glaring at me like a bull prepared to charge a red flag?

I am not a red flag. I’m as green as they come, but that doesn’t mean I’m one-thousand percent innocent. I wear guilt in many areas, but not in relationships with women.

“I’ve never touched Em. Not like you might think. We aren’t involved, not even interested in one another, other than as companions in our respective civic duties. She’s the town mayor.”

Once upon a time, I might have been a bit enamored with Emerson. She’s pretty and intelligent, kind and devoted to this town, but Em loves someone else, and that’s her secret to keep.

And this moment right here is teaching me a hard lesson.