Page 155 of Rough and Rugged

He picks me up, careful to only touch me where the towel is between us. Walking us into the bedroom, he sets me on the edge of the large bed beside a folded t-shirt and gym shorts.

“I don’t think I’ll be working out for a while, Emmett,” I tease, picking up the shorts.

He barks out a laugh before he looks down at me, his pupils dilating as he takes in the small towel barely covering my body as I sit on his massive bed. Does he feel it, too? This…connection?

“I’m nearly twice your size, so nothing I have will fit you. They’re the only thing I have with a drawstring. You hungry?”

“Starving,” I grin.

“I’ll go make some food. Get dressed, and then I’ll wrap your ankle while you eat.” Without another word, he leaves me alone again.

It takes some awkward positions to accomplish it without hurting my ankle, but I manage it just before there’s a quiet knock on the door.

“I’m decent,” I call out, both amused and relieved by his manners.

“Against the headboard, sweetheart,” he instructs, watching me closely as I shimmy backward until I’m leaning against three fluffy pillows and the wooden headboard. When he’s satisfied, he nods and places a tray filled with a fragrant, brothy soup and thick slices of buttered bread over my lap. “Eat up.”

I do as he instructs, moaning obscenely as the flavors explode on my tongue. He perches on the edge of the bed and gently pulls my injured ankle into his lap, running his fingers over it delicately.

“I’m no doctor, but I’ve had some field medicine training,” he says. “I think it’s just sprained, but I’m going to ice it while you eat, and then we’ll wrap it before you go to sleep.”

I eat, transfixed by his touch and his voice, unwilling to say or do anything that might stop him from continuing. He tells me a little bit about himself while I eat, and I find myself wanting to know more.

He takes the tray when I’m done, swapping the ice for an elastic bandage and disappearing for just a moment. When he returns, he motions for me to scoot to the middle of the bed. Thinking he’s going to join me, I grin expectantly, disappointed when he pulls the blanket down and motions for me to move back.

“You’re gonna sleep in here, sweetheart. I’ll take the couch.”

Before I can protest, he holds up a finger. “No arguments. If you need anything, call for me, and I’ll be here.”

“Thank you, Emmett,” I say, our eyes meeting, neither of us looking away.

“You’re welcome, Briar,” he whispers; hearing my name on his lips is the most potent aphrodisiac. “Goodnight,” he says, clearing his throat as he rises from the bed and moves to the door.

Emmett carries me everywhere, unwilling to risk further injury by letting me put any weight on my ankle. I make a show of protesting his tyranny, but secretly, I’m thrilled to be in his arms.

This morning, he woke me up with a plate of bacon under my nose, chuckling when I woke up sniffing the air. He let me have one piece in bed before he picked me up and carried me into the kitchen, setting me on the island to watch him prepare a breakfast that rivals a Michelin-star chef.

It’s hard to believe this is only the second morning I’ve woken up here, but the more time we spend together, the more I crave to be around him, and the more it feels like I’ve always been here.

He serves breakfast on the deck, overlooking the beautiful river, and we talk while we eat. I know he’s holding back, but if I have any say in it, we’ll have plenty of time to learn everything about one another.

Chapter Seven

Emmett

HavingBriarinmyhome—my refuge—is a double-edged sword. She’s perpetual sunshine, and her bubbly optimism shines a light on the darkest corners of my cold heart, making me crave the warmth she promises. On the other hand, I know she’ll leave soon, heading back to college and leaving me here with just the memories of a few days of bliss to last me the rest of my life.

Hope blooms in my chest when I look at her and see her already watching me. Every now and then, I wonder if she could ever be happy here. CouldImake her happy? She’s young, just twenty-three. Untainted. With a bright future ahead of her. She deserves so much more than I can offer her.

She should be wined and dined by men her age who can make her dreams come true. I’m forty-one, and while I have money saved, I live alone on a mountain, and I’m happy here. She hasn’t yet mentioned wanting to leave, but it’s only a matter of time.

I look at her, sitting on the couch with my laptop on her lap, looking through photos she’s taken, mumbling to herself about edits she’ll make when she’s got her software.

“Briar?” I say softly, grinning as her head immediately whips around to look at me. “What’s your favorite dessert?”

“Cinnamon rolls!” she shouts without hesitation.

Nodding thoughtfully, I move around the kitchen grabbing ingredients, wracking my brain for ways to buy myself time until I can convince her to stay. She calls out for me just as I put the rolls in the oven. Her arms reach up for me when I walk into the living room, an adorable pout on her pillowy lips.

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