Page 38 of That One Night
“Good.” He smirked. “You’re gonna hate me even more when that tattoo hurts like hell in the middle of the night.”
She looked down at the tattoo, all wrapped up to keep it clean. “If it hurts, I’m coming over here and banging your door down.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but then he looked over her shoulder. “Your mom’s watching.” He took a step back, like he knew it looked bad for them being this close.
Emery looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, her mom was on the porch, pretending to plump the cushions on the swing.
“I should go,” she said reluctantly.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Thanks for keeping me company this afternoon.”
“Thanks for listening to me scream.”
The way his eyes narrowed made her realize exactly how bad that sounded.
But then he winked and gave her a grin. “Go home, firefly.”
“I’m leaving.” She smiled back at him, because he could have made it so much more embarrassing. And just as she turned on her heel she muttered, “Goat dick.”
“I’m not gonna lie,” Maisie said, a grin all over her face as she talked to Emery on a video call. “This guy sounds like perfect number seven material. Either the original or amended version.” She wrinkled her nose. “Though I like the original the best.”
“He thinks I’m engaged,” Emery pointed out. “So that’s not gonna happen.”
It had been a week since their trip to the tattoo parlor. Apart from a couple of meetings in the lane – where Hendrix had asked her about her tattoo and whether it was healing – she’d barely seen him. And yeah, she’d thought about going over and drinking all the beer in his fridge again, but her mom had been a lot more present the last few days. She’d notice if Emery went over there and she wasn’t ready for that drama with her mom.
Instead, she’d settled for swigging at the whiskey bottle under her bed and thinking about how he made her breathless. There was something about the way he looked at her that made everything in her body tighten up, including her ribcage, making it difficult to inhale.
“So tell him,” Maisie said. “It’s not like you owe your asshole ex anything. Call the agreement off. You’re a free woman. That gorgeous hunk of a cowboy is a free man.”
“He’s not a cowboy, he’s a farmer,” Emery told her.
“Ah, same thing.” Maisie wrinkled her nose. She was sitting in her Airbnb in Barcelona. She’d found the perfect rental, including a great Wi-Fi connection that meant she could video call instead of just audio. She’d already given Emery the tour, and it looked beautiful. The apartment was built in the last century but had been updated, so along with the tall ceilings, floor-length windows, and beautiful parquet flooring, it had a modern kitchen, great internet connection, and air conditioning – which Maisie had raved about.
It had been a last-minute cancellation, which meant her friend had picked it up for a steal. And she was so clearly loving every minute.
“It doesn’t matter whether he’s a cowboy or a farmer, it still can’t happen.”
“You need to stop thinking about everybody else and think about yourself. Just go for it. What’s stopping you? You haven’t heard from Trenton, have you?”
“No. He’s too busy working on that real estate project in Charleston.” Thank god that above all things Trenton was a workaholic. The thought of that lien on the farm was still making her feel nauseous, though. She hadn’t told Maisie about it. Mostly because she knew her friend would be outraged. And she couldn’t cope with that.
Maisie didn’t know Trenton like Emery did. He’d make her mom’s life a living hell if she didn’t keep this going until the end of the summer. After that, well, then she’d be free.
It wasn’t too long away. And she’d always been a patient woman. Once she’d gotten her mom moved into a new place, then she could concentrate on her own life.
“At least tell me you’ve ticked another item off the list,” Maisie said, scooping a forkful of salad into her mouth. It was almost two o’clock in Spain, seven in Hartson’s Creek. Emery’s mom was watching a rerun ofLaw and Order: SVU, and Emery had closed up the chicken coop for the evening and was sitting in her bedroom, cross-legged on her childhood bed.
“It’s only been a week since I ticked off the last one,” Emery pointed out. “The tattoo has hardly stopped itching. I don’t think I’m ready for more pain.”
“It’s been a month since you got home. You’re not even fifty percent of the way there,” Maisie pointed out. “I knew we should have agreed to a penalty if you didn’t do them all.”
“The list is the penalty,” Emery pointed out. “I don’t think you could give me anything worse if you tried.”
Maisie grinned. “I bet I could. I tell you what, if you don’t do another one this week, I’m changing number seven back to the original.”
“That’s not fair.” Emery’s chest tightened. “I’m doing my best.”
“I know. But this is for your own good. So that’s it. Either tick another one off the list before I call you next, or seven is back to doing the dirty with a guy.”
