Page 67 of The Love Destroyers

My fingers rise to her cheek, tracing it, and her lips part. I can feel my will crumbling, so I say, “You’re not wearing any makeup.”

I like seeing her like this, but I know she’ll misunderstand me, which is for the best. Better for her to think I’m a dick than for me to think with my dick.

She pokes me. I’m reminded of the other night, after she won the first hand of poker. She looked at me with a glimmer of victory in her eyes, and the need to kiss her punched me in the gut. But I didn’t go for it. If I didn’t then, I can hold back now.

“I think Jeffrey and Ellie might be on the outs,” I say.

“Nicole told me,” she replies. “She also told me about the mask. I don’t buy that Jeffrey will come running just because he sees her with another man. He’s too prideful.”

“But if she’s feeling relaxed, loose, she might let something slip,” I say. “I want to know what they were arguing about today. Plus, Damien’s going to Charlotte to follow him. See what he does when she’s out of town. Maybe figure out a way to get him here.”

There’s a sound of approaching footsteps. The door opens a quarter of an inch, but Emma grabs the knob, tugging it inward. “Occupied.”

“Come on,” a woman whispers on the other side, her tone annoyed. “You’ve got to stop sexting your boyfriend from the supply closet, Ashley. It’s not your personal break room, for God’s sake. I need fresh towels.”

Emma watches me, her eyes dancing with mirth. Her expression seems like a dare—her way of sayingwhat’s next?

I arch my brows at her. Dare accepted. I’ve yet to meet one I could walk away from, however much it might have benefited me.

I swing the door open and hand a startled red-headed woman a stack of towels. “Sorry—” I glance at her badge. “Madelyn. That’s a nice name. Look, Madelyn, we’re trying to hit up one supply closet on every vacation. You know how it is. It’son our bucket list.” I wink at her. “We’ll be done soon. I’ll make sure my lady keeps quiet.”

I shut the door and give Emma a wry,what-do-you-think-of-that-?grin.

“They’re going to have to fumigate the whole closet,” she tells me in a whisper.

“I don’t feel guilty. They probably should anyway, since there’s rats.”

She gives a little squeak I find very gratifying and glances around before shoving my chest hard enough that my back hits the shelves. Emma steps between my sprawled legs, making my body buzz to attention. For a second, I entertain a very pleasing fantasy about her making good on my lie, but she wrinkles her nose and then offers me her soft hand. “Come on. I’ll sneak you into my room so you can take a shower. I’ll text Nicole.”

Well, fuck me, sometimes reality’s even better than my depraved imagination.

My mind whirring, my control very much slipping, I grab one of the towels.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EMMA

Conversation with Nicole

Where are you?

Buchanan Brewery, duh

Do you suffer from memory loss?

I’ve convinced this teenage kid who works here to let me wreak havoc. But it’s cool. I’ve known the owners for years.

I mean, sure, they told me not to do stuff like this anymore, but they’ll get over it.

WTF. You told Seamus and me to meet you in the closet!

Was it fun? He looks like someone I played seven minutes in heaven with when I was fifteen. It was a good time. Not as good as seven minutes in a closet with Damien, obviously, but who the fuck wants to peak when they’re fifteen?

Nothing happened between us.

Gifts are wasted on you.

Shaking my head, I stuff the phone back into my pocket and glance at the bathroom door. I bite my lip. There’s a glowing strip of light along the far edge of the door, and my eyes keep getting drawn back to it. Seamus left it a crack open when he shut the door. Did he do it purposefully to mess with me?

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