Page 162 of The Billionaire Boss and the Barista

Emma quickly realized those visits hadn’t been about her.

But while Mariana later admitted to a past relationship with the younger man, she never went out with him again. She never even called him by his real name, always referring to him by his title.

Emma had been afraid to ask what happened between them.

“It’s the sheriff,” she warned.

Mariana’s face went blank. Emma made a motion to go to the door, but her mother stood and brushed off her hands. “I’ll go see what he wants.”

Chapter Sixty-Three

EMMA

Emma waited until the footsteps receded. Wide-eyed, she took up vigil by the window.

Garrett arrived just as Mariana went out the front door, parking their rental on the street to avoid blocking the sheriff’s vehicle.

Jesse Warner climbed out of his SUV, standing in front of the hood with his arms crossed.

She could picture Garrett’s expression without seeing his face. It was clear in his posture. He had not wanted this to happen.

The sheriff didn’t move to the house or make any other moves, friendly or otherwise. He was waiting for Garrett to go inside.

Her husband paused by her mother, inclining his head and saying something she couldn’t hear.

It better be an apology.

Her mother gave Garrett a curt nod. He was not forgiven. Mariana dismissed Emma’s billionaire husband like a queen banishing an unruly subject.

Emma caught his grimace before he came inside.

She waited on tenterhooks, torn between running down the stairs to meet him and staying at the window to watch the drama play out.

“Why does the sheriff look angry?” she asked the moment he entered the room.

Garrett made a rough noise in the back of his throat.

“My fault,” he grunted.

But he didn’t explain. He simply swept her into his arms, kissing her and squeezing her half to death.

Something about the tightness of his hold, the urgency of it, warned her that Garrett was going through something.

“What happened?”

“I met Jesse at the site of your accident,” he mumbled into her hair.

“Oh.” Emma hugged him back. When he had said he was going out to meet the sheriff, she had assumed he’d be going to the man’s office.

A shudder passed through him. “The steepness of the slope, the closeness of the trees, and that fucking scar on the tree trunk where the car hit it brought it all home. I could have lost you that night. Ididlose you that night.”

“Not forever,” she said into his chest, deciding not to tell him about her trip out to see the accident site.

She’d gone with her mother about a year after she’d gotten out of the hospital. But that wooded road had been as foreign to her as any other place.

He didn’t answer her, tightening his hold until it was almost painful. But Emma didn’t complain. She let him take what he needed.

The sound of raised voices made them turn their attention back to the window.

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