Page 19 of Dirty Cowboy

His lips brush against my cheek, featherlight, but the sensation sears into my skin like a brand.

He steps back, opening the door. Cold air rushes in, breaking the moment. There’s something unreadable in his expression, like he wants to say something more, but instead, he just nods.

"See you tomorrow, Emma Silver."

And then, just like that, he’s gone.

I press a hand to my cheek, his warmth still lingering. The scent of him clings to my skin, haunting and intoxicating.

"See you tomorrow," I whisper, though he’s already disappeared into the night.

The door clicks shut, leaving me standing there, breathless,utterlywrecked, and painfully aware that I may have just made the biggest mistake of my life—or the best decision ever.

Igrip the armrests of the absurdly expensive chair, my heart heavier than it should be as I stare out at the cold steel and glass of New York City’s skyline. It’s a stark contrast to the wheat fields of my childhood, and a reminder of how far I’ve strayed from home. But nostalgia has no place in this meeting.

I shift in my seat, bracing for the lies I’m about to spin.

In mere moments, I’ll be weaving a web of deceit, tangling Emma in half-truths that taste bitter even before they leave my mouth. My instincts scream at me to stop, to tell her the truth, but desperation is a cruel master. And to make matters worse, last night’s unrelenting need for her still lingers in my veins, threatening to betray me in front of her brothers.

Julian and Tristan murmur something about a new doctor for their father, their voices background noise as I keep my focus anywhere but Emma’s office door. I avoided her this morning. Seeing her would stir memories I can’t afford—memories of soft gasps, flushed skin, and the way my name sounded when she was begging for my help.

Then she walks in, and the room shifts.

Her pin-striped suit hugs her in all the right places, exuding quiet power. Her hair, freshly trimmed, frames her determined face, but it’s the misplaced gem above her brow that damn near does me in. The leftover relic from last night catches the light like a beacon, reminding me exactly where my hands were.

I subtly motion toward her forehead, hoping to save her from further embarrassment, but she mistakes it for a formal greeting, clasping my hand in a firm shake that sends heat straight down my spine. I hold her gaze, trying to silently communicate about the gem, but confusion mars her expression.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have the chance to prepare, but Mr. Waters hasn’t told me what the case is about,” she announces, the gem twinkling like a damn neon sign.

Julian chuckles, easing some of the tension. “Ems, you have a gem above your brow.”

Her hand flies to her forehead. “What?”

The blush that rises to her cheeks mirrors the heat coursing through me. She plucks the gem away, recovering quickly, but I see the flicker of last night’s memory behind her eyes. My hands on her. My face inches away from her pussy, and her breath catching in her throat.

I shift in my seat, regretting the thought when I realize I won’t be able to stand for the next fifteen minutes.

Emma, completely unaware of my predicament, composes herself and takes her seat.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she says, voice slightly unsteady. “I stopped by Mom’s and Dad’s, and the traffic was awful. There was an accident, and they closed the freeway.”

Tristan checks his watch. “You’re right on time, Ems.”

She folds her hands on the table. “Right. So, what’s this case about? What can I do to help?”

She eyes the papers in front of her brothers, waiting for them to pass her the files I know have nothing to do with my case.

Time to sell the lie.

I lean in slightly. “I need your help back in Lords Valley.”

Julian, feeding into the charade, nods. “Eric needs help reviewing estate documents.”

Emma’s sharp mind ticks away, suspicion already forming in her gaze.

“My grandfather’s ill. I’m hoping you’ll come to Lords Valley to look over his transfer of assets,” I add, keeping my tone even.

She flinches slightly. “I’m sorry about your grandfather, but I’m not a lawyer. You already know the Wagners… I thought this was a case?”

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