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Chapter Six
Perhaps I should have considered the ramifications more thoroughly before I agreed to do whatever Emery wants today. I don't understand her, but I feel oddly better when I'm with her. What barmy thing will she say next? I feel almost excited at the prospect of hearing whatever she might spout. I've never met anyone who surprises me as often as she does.
But I had no idea what would be involved in having "fun" with her.
The only other times I'd engaged in one-night stands, I hadn't stayed for more than an hour. Why couldn't I walk away from Emery? It makes no sense. But I've given myself these two days to explore the mystery of her, so maybe by tomorrow night I'll better understand my reactions to the lass.
The "fun" starts at Emery's hostel. I've heard the term before, of course, but I never knew what precisely that meant until today. I would've thought a clever lass like Emery would think to warn me what I'm walking into, but she does seem to relish every opportunity to shock me. That might explain the fact that she gave me no warning whatsoever.
The Quisby turns out to be an unusual hostel that occupies a historic building with the original Audubon Hotel sign still posted on its front. I appreciate the history and architecture, until we go inside. I seem to have developed a permanent wrinkle over my nose, one that I feel pinching my forehead, but it only appears once Emery leads me into the room she shares with three other women, a room equipped with two sets of bunk beds.
"Stevie and Ronnie are super nice," she tells me. "You'll like them."
My jaw goes slack. "You share a room with men?"
Emery shakes her head, clearly struggling not to laugh. "Chill out. This is a girls-only dorm. Besides, I'm not into orgies."
Thank heaven for that.
I do the only thing I can when she retreats into the bathroom to change her clothes, leaving me alone in this bizarre place. I resort to pacing the length of the room. By the time she returns a few minutes later, I'm examining the room from my stationary position near the door, with my hands linked behind my back. When I see her new outfit, I can't resist skimming my gaze over her entire body. I stand up a bit straighter, suddenly wanting to look… I don't know. Masculine? No, that sounds ridiculous.
She raises her arms and twirls for me. "Like my duds?"
"Aye." My voice sounds deeper now, almost lustful. Well, I cannae help it, considering the way she's dressed. I stride toward her, spanning the distance in two steps. "I like it very much."
And aye, that's no lie. Emery wears denim shorts that expose nearly all of her luscious legs and a neon-pink T-shirt that has short sleeves and a neckline so low that I can't stop my gaze from drifting down to admire a tantalizing glimpse of those bonnie tits. On the front of her shirt, images of colorful flowers stretch across her bosom and snake up on either side of her plunging neckline. I love the way she's drawn her hair up into a ponytail, and I even like the puffy pink thing she has used to secure her hair.
I glide the back of one finger up her arm, from her wrist to near her shoulder, where the sleeve of her T-shirt ends. "I liked the ComicCon shirt, but this one suits you better. It's full of color and life, like you."
Though I still don't know why I keep saying idiotic things like that, I've decided not to think about it today. Or tomorrow. Am I capable of forgetting to be uptight for two entire days? I'm about to find out.
I hook a finger inside the neckline of her shirt and peer down into the space between her breasts. "No cash?"
She holds up a small pink item that I think is called a clutch. "Got a purse today."
"Ah." I trace her neckline with the tip of my finger. "Stay with me tonight. You'll have more room and privacy."
"I don't know," she says, sounding far too uncertain for my liking.
Had I expected her to leap up and down while waving her arms in the air and shouting wordless cries of joy? Well, perhaps I did hope for that. A wee bit.
"Please. I have no expectations, for sex or anything else." I clear my throat. "I would very much like to have another night with you."
"I'll consider it."
Linking my hands behind my back again, I nod crisply. "Good."
Five minutes later, we climb inside my hired car, which is a luxury model. I can't decide if my wealth makes her uncomfortable, or if it's strictly me who makes her feel that way. I focus on driving as I navigate the car down the streets of New Orleans, which Emery informed me earlier is called NOLA for short. We've rounded one corner when Emery finally answers the question I asked her back in the hostel.
"Yes," she says, "I'd love to stay with you tonight."
My lips peel back from my teeth as if I might smile, but I resist the impulse, my mouth returning to a neutral expression. I hope it looks neutral, at least. Aye, it does. With my composure reasserted, I speak in a matter-of-fact tone. "I'm sure you'll be more comfortable at the Ritz-Carlton."
I had wanted to grin. The uptight solicitor wanted to smile like a dafty at the bonnie lass who has captivated him. My family would never believe it. I still remember what Aidan told me when he and Lachlan said goodbye to me as I was heading off for my working holiday.
"Donnae be an ogre," he said. "You'll scare the Americans. And try to dislodge that caber from your erse."
Why my brother insists I have a caber up my erse, I can't explain. Aidan is much younger than I am, and he thinks he should turn everything into an excuse for a great joke. The caber humor escapes me, though.
