Page 55 of Miles Apart
“Nice. The weather is good. Just got off work.”
“Look at you. Maybe this will keep your ass in one spot for more than two weeks,” he chuckles, like he wasn’t in and out of the country himself. “Did you head over from Jersey?”
“Nah.” My grip tightens on the leather steering wheel. “Had some business to see about in a few spots.”
If T knew Emma and I were fucking, he’d lose it. Any fallout would cause tension that would end with him in the doghouse or catching a stray. Jeopardizing mixed gatherings now that he and Jay are back together would be an issue. We have to be extra careful now that I’m staying at her spot.
“Always on the go,” Terrence chuckles.
“I know you ain’t talking.”
Hair from his goatee bristles against the phone as he scratches his chin. “I’m straight. The right one will keep your ass at home. I won’t lose her again.”
We shoot the shit for the rest of my drive. I pull up to Emma’s garage and park. “Let me let you go. I’ll hit you up later.”
“Enjoy the new spot. Talk soon.”
“Tell Jay I said hi.”
“Will do.”
It’s a short walk from my Audi to the door that separates the main sidewalk from the private entrance. Not one damn camera in sight. I make a note and punch in the code to the keypad. There’s a waist-high gate the same weathered oak color as thewood near the front of Emma’s house. The tiny thing separates the private beach from her front door in concept, but it isn’t a practical security measure. Any serial killer could skip his sadistic ass up the steps from the level below without anyone noticing. The two lights on the side of her house aren’t motion sensor and don’t illuminate the full surface of her patio. The balcony in the back is a straight shot, just feet away, ready for someone to stalk her.
Said serial killer.
A greasy neighbor with a foot fetish.
Rich people don’t put blinds on their windows, like they’re cool with showing off their shit inside their fancy fishbowls. Fuck all that.
Emma is one of many waterfront homes off a road that feeds to the Pacific Coast Highway. Yeah, the view is nice, but how is she keeping herself safe with a Fisher-Price gate, questionable safety lights, and no window coverings? If there’s no security alarm, I’ll kidnap her myself.
A saltwater breeze sweeps over the back of my neck. I knock on the oversized wooden door and wait. I have the code but don’t want to scare Em. Turquoise flashes by the thin window panel before the door opens.
“Why didn’t you just come in?” Emma’s face scrunches, twisting up her pouty lips and pulling her brows up toward her hair. She’s still in her work clothes, minus the blazer concealing the crop top.
“I should’ve the way this setup has you ready for an intruder.” I step past her, careful not to inhale her addictive scent. “Your security measures are shit,” I tell her, toeing off my loafers. “I’ll have everything set up tomorrow.”
“The hell you will,” Emma snaps. “You’re here all of thirty seconds, and you think you’ll turn my house into someCriminal Mindsheadquarters? Forget it.”
“I was here for ten minutes looking at the bullshit you call security.”
Her arms fold firm into her chest, pushing up the breasts I miss in my mouth.Focus. “I have security.”
My lips twitch. “A nail file?”
“A security alarm, you ass,” she seethes through a scowl. “I have a keypad down here and one in my bedroom. There haven’t been any break-ins or concerns since I bought the place six years ago.”
“It’s getting an upgrade tomorrow.” I already planned to work remote so I could settle in. l’ll spend half the day playing Mr. Fix It.
Emma steps closer, her hands now on her wide hips. Anger sweeps across her face and anchors itself into her rose-tinted cheeks and tightened jaw. We stand toe-to-socks, neither of us bending to concede.
“This is my house, Miles. I won’t have anyone telling me what to do here.” Her voice is low.
I don’t miss what she doesn’t say. I had a front-row seat to witness it. Emma deals with enough of her family’s meddling. It wouldn’t surprise me if her decision to live on the edge of California was to keep maximum distance. Em is a boss. She takes no shit and commands respect. The same moss-green eyes impaling me for my audacity silently plead for me to understand. That her house is her sanctuary, impenetrable to control. I’m the first man she’s allowing into her space, and with that comes trust. She wants me to fuck her, but not over.
“I want to keep you safe, kitten. Will you let me?” I keep my voice calm and my gaze steady. I’d set the world on fire if anyone harmed her.
Emma blinks away her fury and nods. “That’s…fine.” She studies me but shakes away a thought. “Come on, let me show you the house.”
