“I’m sorry, but why aren’t we singing karaoke yet?”
Emma looked up and sighed in relief. “You made it!” She threw herself at Vaughn, then pulled Lindsey into a group hug before she could take off her coat.
“Seriously, though.” Vaughn pushed toward the bar and leaned over to talk to Pat. She laughed and reached under the counter, then handed him two microphones. Vaughn snapped his fingers and pointed to the small stage in the corner.
Emma’s heart started to race. One Place was packed, and she was more the type to sing to two old cowboys passed out in a booth after everyone else left for the night. But then she saw Tyler and Ginger moving her way and bolted from the table.
She would have fun tonight, damn it. If Tyler wanted to play his games and stay in his box of short, meaningless relationships, fine.Fine.But she wasn’t going to pretend that something better didn’t exist. That people couldn’t have fun and hope to fall in lovefor real. So to hell with it. To hell with his flirty messages, his heart-to-hearts that obviously meant nothing, andgirls licking his washboard abs.
“What song do you want, babe?” Vaughn asked, flipping through the black book.
“I’ve Got Better Things To Do. Terri Clark.” A down-home Alberta girl who knew what she wanted and wasn’t ashamed to say it.
As she stepped onto the small stage, Emma felt a surge of adrenaline course through her veins. The music started, and she grabbed the microphone. She belted out the lyrics, trading lines with Vaughn and harmonizing on the angry chorus.
Tyler was watching her, and she ate it up, making eyes with anyonebuthim. She bowed to raucous applause, then handed the mic off to a girl sitting next to Darcy and sat back at her table.
Emma ate. She laughed. She congratulated Sean. And she didnottalk to Tyler. An hour or so later when it looked like he might make his way to her end of the table, she grabbed Lindsey’s hand and smacked her other palm on Vaughn’s knee.
“Ready?”
She pulled on her coat and waltzed out of One Place without looking back.
* * *
Tyler left the pub not long after Emma and her friends took off. His body had screamed for a hot bath and sleep. It had been complaining since they walked into One Place, but he couldn’t tear himself away. Not with Emma putting on such a show.What kind of show, Tyler?She’d been all nervous and adorable in his truck that night before practice. Now the student had become the teacher.
Ginger was relentless. Even after the other night when he insisted on dropping her off at home instead of bringing her back to his place, she wasn’t getting the hint. She was friends with Darcy, which explained why she kept showing up after practice and games, but that also meant that letting her down hard was going to be messy. Especially since the guys ended up at Dusty Rose at least once every couple of weeks.
He tried to put all of it out of his head over the weekend. The massage he booked Saturday morning was borderline celestial, and after sleeping in on Sunday and going for a light jog followed by a quick pump at the gym, he almost felt like his old self.
But today it was back to reality. His heart hammered as he pulled up to the property first thing Monday morning. There was less construction today since one of the crews wouldn’t be there until Wednesday to finish off the drywall upstairs.
The landscapers would be able to start in a couple of weeks now that the soil was warming up. Right on track for their community open house scheduled the first weekend in May.
Emma’s car was parked up the street. The sight of her singing country songs next to Vaughn at the pub had hounded him all weekend. His mouth went dry every time he thought of her shirt hitching up above the waistband of her black jeans when she danced, or the way she threw back her head and laughed at something Jess or Lindsey said and exposed the smooth skin of her throat.
He wanted her, and the more he tried to fight it, the more torturous that realization became. He’d been tempted to bring Ginger home just to blow off some steam, but everything about that felt wrong. He’d never been with a woman wishing he was with someone else—he’d never ached for someone this badly and not done something about it.
“Morning.” Paolo, their pastry chef, stalked up the walk in a wool coat with his close-cropped salt and pepper hair sticking up in the back. He carried a covered tray in his hands.
“I’ll get that.” Tyler pulled open the door for him.
“Grazie.” Paolo went straight to the kitchen where Tyler assumed Emma was. It took everything in him to stop in the sitting area and set up his laptop. She hadn’t said a word to him Saturday night. Hadn’t even waved goodbye. That, after she’d been hollering from the stands before overtime.
He’d thought that excitement was for him, but maybe she was caught up in the excitement of an extra period. Maybe she’d texted everyone on the team good luck. No. He’d seen her face reading his texts at One Place.
Tyler ran a hand over his face and logged in. More risk assessment this morning for a new client out of Windsor. Then penetration testing for a bank in Sioux St. Marie.He wished he was penetration testing a different client, but he had no control over that.His eyes flicked to the stained glass window, but there wasn’t enough light coming through for him to make out any shapes in the kitchen.
Emma’s laughter floated into the sitting area, and Tyler adjusted his pants. He put in his headphones and searched up a playlist of Canadian punk bands from the nineties. If anything could kill a hard-on, it was remembering he once wore a chain that connected his wallet to his belt loop.
It worked. Mostly. Until about ten in the morning when the laughter and the husky voice of Diana Krall became intrusive. Was this what photo shoots sounded like? If so, he’d chosen the wrong career.
He plucked out his earbuds, stalked across the room, and leaned through the open door. Emma, dressed in navy slacks and a pale-pink, long-sleeved top giggled as Vaughn held her in a traditional waltz position, crooning the words of the song at full volume. Her chestnut hair was piled on top of her head with a clip, tendrils that had broken loose framing her face.
Vaughn stepped back and lifted his hand, twirling her, then pulling her back with a hand on her waist.
Tyler’s chest felt like an air compressor tank. He put two hands on the door frame and gripped. Hard. “Is this what we’re paying you for?”
