IT WAS THE SECOND MORNINGSophie had woken up and found Emerson gone. She might have suspected he hadn’t come home to sleep if it hadn’t been for the note he’d left for her detailing her breakfast options by the box of tea in the kitchen. He signed itEddington, which made her smile, and she wasn’t complaining. How could she when he was going so far out of his way to protect her? She couldn’t think about what might have happened if she hadn’t met him. She was as grateful for that as she was confused by the fact that someone shot at her in the first place. She couldn’t think the wordswanted to killor she might start freaking out and not be able to stop.
She popped an egg and veggie breakfast bowl—one of the choices from Emerson’s note—into the microwave and made herself a cup of tea. She peered out the peep and saw a guy she didn’t recognize standing like a sentinel in front of the door. He wore a black Southerland Security polo and looked like he was more than capable of taking down anyone who made a run at the apartment. Not that she expected anyone to. Whatever was going on, there was no reason for anyone to connect her with Emerson. Of course there was no reason for anyone to want to shoot at her either.
She knocked on the door, which was weird because it wasn’t like the guy could open it from his side, or maybe he could. He probably had the code, but she didn’t want to startle him. He put a hand to his ear, said something and seconds later, her phone began to ring.
“Sophie, is everything okay? Do you need something?” asked Emerson.
Well hell, apparently they were back to the never-ending questions again. And now she felt foolish. She hadn’t meant for the guy at the door to bother Emerson.
“No, it’s nothing.”
“Smithson said you knocked on your side of the door.” He waited, and she was pretty sure she wasn’t getting out of the conversation without an explanation.
“I thought he might like a cup of tea. I was making one for myself and thought I could make one for him too.” It was an honest impulse. The guy was stuck standing in a hallway at eight in the morning because of her. The least she could do was keep him caffeinated. Listening to Emerson’s silence on the other end of the line just made her feel foolish. “Never mind. I’m sorry to bother you. It’s silly.”
“It’s not silly.”
She didn’t know him well enough to be sure, but she thought he sounded amused, which blew a big old hole in hisnot sillyargument.
“It’s sweet of you to think of it, Sophie, but my men don’t eat or drink while they’re on duty. Someone will be up in a couple of hours to give him a break. He’s fine until then.”
Of course he was. It had been a long time since Sophie had felt naïve about anything. Maybe since before her mother got sick. She’d been taking care of herself for a long time, and wide-eyed innocence wasn’t a sustainable survival plan. But something about being with Emerson made her feel younger than her years instead of older. She didn’t like it, and it was moving in the opposite direction of herhelp Sophie lose her virginityplan. The last thing she needed was for him to addtoo youngto his list of barriers to taking her to bed.
“I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He paused for a moment and she tried to picture him on the other end of the line, running his hand through his hair the way he did when he was trying to figure something out. “Did you find something for breakfast?”
“Your note and the microwave were both very helpful. Thank you.”
“We have very high culinary standards at Casa Southerland.”
She snort laughed.
“Nice,” he said and this time she didn’t have to work to picture him smiling. She could hear it in his voice. “Don’t try to ply my men with food or drink before I get home tonight.”
She liked the wayhomesounded when he said it. It was stupid. If she got her way, they’d be friends with benefits—hot, sweaty, naked benefits—but home and happily ever after wasn’t in their future.
“Like I’m going to cook.”
He laughed and she was glad no one was there to see her standing in his apartment grinning like a fool. She liked being the one to make Emerson laugh. She had a feeling he didn’t do it nearly often enough.
“Brat,” he said, still chuckling. “I won’t be late.”
––––––––
WITH THE WHOLE daystretching out before her and literally nowhere to go, Sophie grabbed her jeweler’s kit from the spare bedroom and set up on Emerson’s small kitchen table. There wasn’t a lot of natural light in the apartment. She wouldn’t have been comfortable sitting in front of the window anyway so she appropriated one of the lamps from the living room and made herself a makeshift studio. It wasn’t as good as her bench at the store but given everything that had happened, she wasn’t sure when she’d feel safe at the store again. Even uncovering the tray of pearl flowers she’d been working on the night of the first attack made her stomach twist.
She could dig through her materials for another project, but she loved the bridal set. She didn’t want to let the stupid attacks take any more from her. Spreading the tiny pearls she still had to match out on a piece of velvet to keep them from rolling away, she started pairing petals with silver leaves. It didn’t take long for her to sink into the work and lose herself in the necklace coming to life in front of her. She forgot the last of her tea and worked through lunch. She’d have kept going if a knock on the front door hadn’t broken her concentration.
Stretching her stiff legs, she crossed the room to peer through the peep. Instead of Smithson or another of the huge guys wearing black Southerland Security polos, she found a petite, friendly looking older woman. She had a pair of reading glasses propped on her head and carried a huge tote bag that said, “When nothing goes right...go left.” Her guard stood behind the woman, which meant she probably wasn’t dangerous—not that she looked it to begin with. She looked like a librarian. A warm, helpful one, and Sophie was letting her stand in the hallway. She hurried to open the door.
“You must be Sophie,” said the woman before Sophie even got out a hello. “I’m Sarah Southerland, Emerson’s momma. I hope I didn’t startle you. Thank you, Daniel.” She nodded to the security guy, who smiled back at her.
Given the lack of emotion Emerson’s men usually showed, he practically beamed at the woman as she stepped through the open doorway and made a bee line for the kitchen. Sophie nodded to Daniel—she felt like a bitch for not knowing his first name earlier—before closing the door and following Emerson’s mother.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, searching for something to say that didn’t start withwhat are you doing here and does your son know.
“You’re kind, sweetheart, and I’m not here to intrude. Gabe said you were stuck here alone and I know my son doesn’t usually keep more than protein bars in his cupboard.” She shuddered, and Sophie decided she liked Emerson’s mother, and that the older woman must have more in common with his brother Gabe than with him. “I brought a few groceries so you wouldn’t starve.” She unpacked a clamshell of lettuce and some other vegetables, pausing when she opened the refrigerator door and saw it was already full.
