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“You need anything?” I ask, curt and a little mean.
Her eyes narrow, and there’s a flash of hurt in them before she shields her gaze with her lashes. “Mom sent me down with these.”
She pushes a pile of towels toward me that I hadn’t realized she’d been holding before. I was too busy memorizing her face. Her copper-colored hair looks more brown outside of the sun, and her hazel-green eyes have an inner glow. Her cheeks are round, and her nose has a straight slope to it. Her lips are redder in the center than at the corners as if she often nibbles on the middle of her lips. Completely understandable. I want to bite them too.
I inhale sharply and take the towels. Being in her presence sucks because the more time I spend with her, the less I want to honor the pledge I gave Frank when he saved my life.I owe you. Anything you ever need, I’m your guy.Why in the hell did I say that?
“Thanks.”
“You don’t have to be a dick, you know. Biscuit is in the same unit as you, and he’s nice as a puppy. Just because you fly a plane doesn’t make you better than any of us.” With that, she spins and slams the door behind her.
I toss the towels on the bed and curse. At least she doesn’t know about my money. A lot of guys in flight school hated me because I was born with a gold spoon in my mouth. I beat all of them out so eventually they had to respect me, but all through training, everyone wanted to take me down a peg or five. Frank was never like that. He didn’t care how fat my wallet was as long as I hit the targets he spotted.Don’t embarrass mewas his only request. We got along great since I never missed and never embarrassed him.
But now he’s asking me to do something I think might be impossible. Emma’s presence lights me up like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Flight jockeys are not known for their restraint. We’re slightly, okay, really unhinged. That’s the only way you think flying in a tiny can of metal at forces as strong as a rocket is more fun than a dozen clowns inside of a cake. Actually, that visual is kind of terrifying. I’ll take the sky over clowns any day.
I wonder how Emma feels about clowns. Oh, fuck, I cannot be thinking about what she likes. That way lies madness. I give myself a little slap and then drag my hand along my stubble. Better shave. Not that I’m going to be putting my face next to anyone for the stubble to matter. No. I’m getting clean because that’s what respectable people do when they’re visiting. It has nothing to do with maybe getting my face between Emma’s sweet legs and rubbing my chin against her inner thighs. That’s not happening. I glare at my bulging cock. “It’s not happening.”
He only swells bigger. I’m so fucking screwed.
CHAPTER4
EMMA
What the hell was that?Vincent was not what I was expecting at all. On some of the calls I’d gotten from my brother, he talked so highly of him. I have to be honest; I’d been excited to meet him. But that hasn’t gone as I planned. Honestly, it’s been all-around shocking.
I’m not sure what I was expecting him to look like, but he is way hotter than I ever could have imagined. But that doesn’t make up for the fact that he’s also an asshole. I never took my brother as the type to be best buds with an asshat, but what do I know? He’s been away for a long time, and I guess I don’t know him as well as I used to. And he was an asshole to Melody without even knowing it.
I pull my phone out of the back pocket of my jean shorts and try to call her again. There are four years between my brother and me. Melody was a year behind him in high school but a few grades above me, so we never spoke a ton. I knew she had a thing for my brother, but I didn’t know how bad it was until I’d rushed out to a call at the elementary school where she teaches.
She’d fainted, hitting the back of her head on the corner of the desk. Everyone was in full panic mode by the time I got there. Head wounds tend to bleed heavily and look worse than they often are. The aftereffects are what can be a lot more worrisome. Concussions are always a worry as well as brain swelling or bleeding.
It didn’t take me but a few seconds to realize why Melody fainted when I’d heard her phone going off with an alarm. I’d pulled up the sleeve of her shirt to see there was a sensor in her arm, alerting me to the fact that she was a diabetic. As Sam and I had gotten her onto the stretcher, I’d ordered someone to get me a soda or something sweet to drink quickly so I could pour it down her throat once we got her loaded into the back of the ambulance.
When she’d come to and noticed it was me, she was still a bit out of it. She started to ramble about my brother and how she worries about him and misses him. It was utterly adorable. After we got to the hospital, she really started to come around. Once the emergency room doctor placed a few stitches in the back of her head and got her blood sugars leveled out, she remembered pouring her heart out to me about my brother.
She was utterly horrified. So I did what I had to. I told her it’s me that keeps fucking with police chief Blake Finley. A series of unfortunate events have been happening to him since his daddy, the mayor, appointed him to the job. Mayor Finley isn’t a terrible person. His son is, though, and the old man has a blind spot for the prick. I’m just the karma Blake deserves. Melody is the only one I’ve ever admitted that to.
After that confession, we of course had to be best friends and have been ever since. She doesn’t answer my call, which is not like her. I’m going to swing by her place after dinner. Mom will kill me if I miss it since it’s Biscuit's first night home and we have a guest. I roll my eyes. A big jerk guest, but that’s beside the point. All I’m saying is Vincent is lucky I have to save my shenanigan ideas for Blake.
“Sweetheart,” my mom calls as I enter the kitchen. “Help me finish up dinner.”
“Not like cooking, right?” From the smell, I think everything is pretty much done. My stomach growls.
“No, I want the food to be edible. How about you set the table and put those sides out.” She motions to the kitchen island that has a basket full of fresh baked rolls, a giant bowl of mash potatoes, and corn. I do as I’m asked.
I turn to go back to the kitchen for another round of food and run into a wall of a chest. I let out a scream of surprise. Vincent grabs my shoulders to keep me from falling backwards.
“Where the hell did you come from?” I gasp.
“Downstairs?” His answer annoys me for some reason.
“Make some noise or something when you move.” How does someone so big not make a dang sound?
“Habit.” His mouth turns up in a half smile.
“Right.” I stare up into his eyes. Eyes I’m sure have seen things that would scar my soul and give me nightmares. It’s a reminder of what he and Biscuit have been through. Maybe I should give him a break. He’s obviously not used to being around regular people. That’s a big maybe, though.
“Everything okay?” Mom pops into the dining room. Vincent drops his hands from my shoulders and steps away from me quickly.
