Page 31 of Higher Ground
He was still mulling over how exactly he could stop himself from loving Emory the way he did when she hopped into the room.
“Thought I might find you down here.” She hummed, holding the book he’d lent her loosely in one hand. “I came to return this.”
Byron leant his hip on the edge of the table and triednotto look like he’d just spent the afternoon dreaming of a future where they could be together.
“You read it already?”
She nodded with that gorgeous smile of hers and hummed. “It was better than I thought it would be.”
“There’s plenty more where it came from. You’re welcome to borrow as many as you like.” Stepping forward, Byron gestured towards the top right section of the large bookshelf. “Now and after the flood.”
That had Emory stopping in her tracks. “After the flood?”
“We won’t be stuck here forever, Emory, and you’re welcome to stay as long as you need, but I’m sure you can’t wait to be back in a place of your own.”
Her face dropped a little, but as quickly as she blinked, Emory pasted the smile back on her face. Byron saw it all, though, and wondered what it meant.
“Thank you,” she said when she reached the shelves. She slid the old romance novel back into place and began tracing her finger along the fading and sometimes broken spines until she stopped to pull out another book. Byron watched as she read the blurb, her face lighting up. “Ooh, a woman who falls into bed with her ex-boyfriend’s dad? Sign me up.” She tucked the book under her arm.
Byron held back his chuckle. Josie had been the same. Just because Emory liked the thought of reading about a love so forbidden didn’t mean she was interested in it for real life.
He turned back to his puzzle, but all the pieces blurred under his vision. He couldn’t focus knowing Emory was right there, in the room.
“You want to help me?” he called over his shoulder.
She was there in a heartbeat. Less than, given the way his heart was acting all funny. Skipping beats and then racing around all willy-nilly now that she was near. Emory’s hand dropped to the table so close to Byron’s, and when she turned to talk to him, he could feel her breath on his neck.
“Never pegged you as a puzzle guy.”
Byron nudged her with his elbow. “It’s good for your brain.”
His hand fell back to the table, and he hadn’t meant to, but his pinky finger brushed against Emory’s. He slid his hand away, then froze and held his breath. It was nothing, right? There was no need to act like a bloody teenage boy with his first crush over it. But his finger still tingled all the same.
Forcing his attention back to the puzzle, Byron sifted through pieces, separating the greys from the blues and trying to find something of a strategy here. Truth was, he wasn’tmuchof a puzzle guy. He did one every now and then, mostly when he had too much on his mind and couldn’t focus on a book instead. Beside him, Emory was completely enthralled in placing the border pieces. She at least hadn’t seemed to notice the way his finger had brushed against hers. Or had she? Because in the corner of his eye, Byron saw her flex her hand against the table. She kept it in place, but he swore she inched it closer.
“Will Betty be okay tied to the house?”
Byron took his eyes off the puzzle to look at Emory properly. Her hand was still there, on the edge of the table between them, but she’d turned her upper body towards him. The long strands of her hair hung loose around her shoulders, but she’d pinned her fringe off to the side. It framed her face like she was a piece of art, and Byron supposed she was. Beautiful, unique, and he could stare at her all day. He did, for a second, until she pinched her eyebrows together.
He cleared his throat. “She’ll be right. I got some hay out for her, and she might complain, but there’s nothing else we can do about it.”
Emory looked pleased. “Clayton seems to like her.”
“He does. He always marvels at her colour, and she loves the attention. They’ll be fine together when you take him outside to play, but I can show you how to shorten the lead while you’re out there if she gets annoying.”
“Please, even if it’s just in case.” Emory looked away, down at the puzzle. She picked up a piece, secured it in place, then dropped her hand back between them. Only this time, Byron was certain it was closer to him.
She looked up again. “And the other cows? Will they go for a swim too?”
“I doubt it,” Byron chuckled. “None are as brave as Betty. But I messaged Tucker. He’ll come past in the boat and secure the gate.”
“Good. That’s good.” Emory’s voice was soft, like a whisper, but … breathier. It floated out from her and coasted its way along Byron’s skin.
He moved his hand along the edge of the table, over the leather pocket. “Emory?” he said on a whisper of his own as his hand reached hers. Pinky fingers first, and when she didn’t pull away, he hooked his finger around hers and covered her hand with his own.
Her hand was soft and smaller than he’d imagined. But their fingers fit perfectly together. The touch spread through him like warm honey, oozing into his bloodstream and wrapping around his heart. Emory whimpered.
And then Clayton cried, calling out to his mother as he woke and found her gone.
