Page 15 of Higher Ground
It took twenty.
Twice.
Finally, in one swift flick, she threw the blankets off the couch. The sudden rush of air from the room hit her bare legs and made all her tiny hairs stand on end. It made her shiver even though it wasn’t that cold.
Rolling over, Emory had to drag her body over the edge of the couch and force her feet down onto the floor. Pulling the tie of her dressing gown tight, she tucked the fabric around her body. She wanted to hide under as many layers of comfort as possible. Maybe if she didn’t look at all appealing, Byron would go along with her plan tonevermention the events of the previous night. Ever.
That would be the ideal, but Emory wasn’t kidding herself enough to think it was likely. Not with Byron.
He was always so forward. Full of sarcasm and jokes and the kind of banter that tugged at her inner romantic, even if he never meant it to. She could just imagine the puns he had probably been planning all morning.
Her worn-down Ugg boots dragged along the tiled floor as she made her way to the kitchen. The smell of bacon guided her, but she held her breath as she stepped toward the large archway that connected the rooms. Clayton laughed from around the corner, his squeaky giggles and claps warming the chill that had settled in Emory’s bones.
Byron’s husky voice cut across the giggles. “We might have to take breakfast to Mummy if she isn’t awake soon.”
“I get her!” Clayton, she assumed, clapped as he squealed.
A chair scraped against the tiled floor, followed by the sounds of Clayton jumping down and the distinct crunch of an egg cracking.
“Shit!” Byron grunted as Emory took a deep breath and stepped into the chaos of the kitchen.
Clayton, the little parrot, stared wide-eyed at the egg he’d knocked to the floor. His mouth dropped open as he gasped. “Shit!”
“No, Clayton, don’t say that,” Byron corrected him.
He was crouched on the floor, wiping up the eggy mess with a paper towel. Looking between the floor and Clayton, he hadn’t noticed Emory enter the room. She wished it could stay that way, even if only for a moment longer.
With his knees bent low to the ground, Byron’s faded jeans pulled tight across the muscles of his legs. Thick thighs stretched the fabric. It sat flush against the round of his ass and heavens help her, Emory had never thought of herself as an ass and thighs girl but ifthiswas the view, maybe she was after all.
It wasn’t just Byron’s legs that had her heart rate spiking, though. It throbbed under her ear and deep in her belly as she watched Byron scoop her son into his arms. Clayton’s lower lip had started to tremble, only a little, but enough to show his remorse at repeating the word. Byron had, quite literally, taken Clayton under his wing. With one arm supporting the young boy, he wiped away the last of the mess with the other hand.
Emory stood, transfixed, unable to look away as her heart melted into a pool of goop that oddly resembled the egg whites Byron had just finished cleaning up. This was why she had been terrified of staying here during the flood. Her heart was not going to be able to cope.
She had mostly convinced herself that until this moment, her feelings for Byron had been entirely physical. She didn’tlikethe man, she just dreamed about how it would feel to come apart inhis hands, under his touch. She just swooned a little when the muscles of his strong arms bulged under the weight of whatever farm-related item he happened to be carrying at the time. It was a perfectly normal, biological feeling to have. Especially around a man like Byron.
There was no denying he was an attractive man; his chiselled jaw and the sprinkle of salt and pepper in his beard were enough to make any woman drool. Emory had overheard the gossipy bitches in town talking about it many times. So, okay, she imagined sharing his bed, and maybe last night wasn’t the first time she made herself come while thinking about him. But that didn’t mean her attraction was anything more than a physical one.
Except that in a small way, it was. Byron was more than just the attractive older man to Emory. He was the generous man who welcomed her in when everyone else shut her out. He was the caring man who always made sure she had what she needed. He was the loving man who stepped up when Clayton needed a fatherly figure. Seeing Byron with her son did nothing to quell the emotions that had been slowly rising since the day she met Byron. Even back then, still clinging to Jaxon’s arm, she saw something in Byron that made her heart flop and her insides spin. Being alone only made the storm of emotions stronger. She’d been fighting them off ever since, holding her breath at every passing, every shared family dinner because she knew it was so wrong. So, any time that flicker of emotion had started to swell, she’d shoved it away and told herself it was all physical. Only, if he kept up this happy family act while they were all stuck together, her ovaries might not cope. Her heart definitely wouldn’t.
Emory held her breath, biting her lower lip. She would do well to remember that Byron was only including her because he wanted to include his grandson. She closed her eyes, still holdingher breath as she reminded herself that Byron was only acting this way around Clayton because he had a personal investment in the boy’s life. It wasnormalfor Byron to want to be involved in Clayton’s life. It had nothing to do with Emory. She was nothing more than the baggage in this scenario.
Knowing it didn’t help, though. No matter how many times she repeated the words in her head, she still couldn’t shake off the memory of how Byron had whispered her name.Thathad nothing to do with Clayton, she was more than sure of it. But even so, there was no logical way he felt the same way that she did. Last night was simply an anomaly, nothing more. A physical reaction to what he heard. Just like how she’d had a physical reaction to the feel of his cock pressed against her back. That was all.
She had to get a grip on herself or the next few weeks were going to be excruciating.
Byron stood, and Clayton wriggled in his arms. Emory knew she should announce her presence sooner rather than later. She’d been watching them for a while now, and it was getting a little too close to the creepy line for her liking.
She cleared her throat, bouncing on the spot and shaking her arms like it might quell the sudden burst of whatever was racing through her.
Hearing his mother, Clayton wrestled free of Byron’s bear hug and jumped to the floor. His bare feet landed with athwackon the cold tiles. Emory stepped forward and scooped him up. She cradled him high in her arms, blowing a raspberry on his tummy.
Byron coughed. Cleared his throat. Turned back to the stove and started pushing bacon around the pan.
“Morning,” Emory mumbled. She didn’t trust her voice with anything more than that. It was a good thing, too, because Byron just huffed in response.
Maybe—and this was the hopeful part of Emory thinking—they’d be able to forget about the previous night’s escapades after all.
“Papa made breakfast.” Clayton giggled in her arms.
