“Okay, Sloane. ItisSloane, right?”
Heavens.Why were those flutters picking up in her tummy again? Because he’d said her name in that deep, low voice of his? “Oui,” she squeaked. “Yes, I mean.”
He grinned, and the flutters multiplied.
Get hold of yourself, Sloane.“See you in twenty minutes.”
“Sounds good to me.” With that, Emmitt walked out the door, pulling it closed behind him.
Sloane took a step back and breathed out a shaky sigh. A few blinks later, she forced herself to get moving. Sure, she wanted to clean up her own appearance and tidy up the cabin too, but more importantly, she planned to use the time to mentally regain her ground.
Gabe’s words came back to her. Something about women becoming putty in the hands of a charming man. With Emmitt, the physical attraction was there, no doubt. Luckily, he lacked the charm it would take to test that theory. She grinned inwardly, feeling empowered by that last thought. Yes, she would get the upper hand once again.
When Emmitt Duran strolled back through that door, Sloane would no longer be playing defense.
Chapter 5
Why in heavens name did that woman bring out the ogre in him? There was no getting around it—she did. And that said a lot, considering Emmitt was one of the most laidback guys around. He was also a flirt by nature; it came as natural as breathing, but not when Sloane was near. No, he turned into some pestering kid on the playground, name calling and everything.Ms. Safety Beret?He groaned. Where had that come from?
Emmitt steered his jeep around the grounds of the inn, watching the clock on the dash as time ticked down. Three more minutes. Should he head back to her neck of the woods now or be casually late?
He should head back now, he decided as quickly as the question came to him.
She hadn’t taken well to his teasing—not that he could blame her. In fact, the two seemed to spur one another into new levels of irritation whenever they were near.
A vision of her surprising appearance floated through his mind. The first time he’d seen the French aviation instructor, she’d been polished to perfection. Her blonde hair flowing like strands of silk while that pretty pout of hers—lined in bold, beautiful red—practically demanded his attention.
Emmitt had been attracted to her then, there was no denying it, but seeing that other side of her just now…wisps of hair falling from the messy bun on her head. The way those baggy sweats made her slender waist look even smaller. Never had he guessed she had an insecurity in the world, but it was plain to see she felt self-conscious about her appearance when he showed up unannounced. Readjusting the strap as it slipped down her shoulder, running a hand over her pants, as if they’d magically change into something other than what they were—large, baggy, and well-worn.
A laugh snuck up his throat. He almost felt bad for taking advantage of her—something he fully intended to do. Nothing egregious. Just a little flirting, maybe a little kissing too if she was game. Soon, the pretty blonde would start seeing things his way. But none of that would happen if he couldn’t get his energy to shift.
It came down to perspective, he realized. He needed to stop seeing Sloane as the enemy and start seeing her as the person who could give him what he wanted.Ifhe played his cards right.
A slash of guilt tore through him at the thought, hot and sharp like a poker straight from the fire. He could hear the team of hisTriple Ppodcast now, berating him for his selfish ways. They’d tell him that he needed to see Sloane as a woman who was simply doing her job. He shouldn’t put her in a tough situation by pressuring her to do something dishonest. And giving him credit for hours he hadn’t earnedwouldbe dishonest.
But would itreally? Emmitt hadmasteredhis class the first time around. He hadn’t cut so much as a corner. So what could it hurt?
He was doing just what Dr. Ross warned about—justifying to get what he wanted. Man, he really did need to change. But what about the guests who were looking forward to the tours? Didn’t they matter?
What he needed was a compromise. And then it came to him—he’d start reading the book tonight. The first two chapters at least. He’d just have to pull it out of the garbage first.
Already the guilt was starting to wane. He rolled his shoulders back and pushed out a pent-up breath. Yeah, it seemed like a fitting compromise. He’d utilize his playboy skills one last time to get the tours up and running—anything for The Homestead—then, as penance for his behavior, Emmitt would simultaneously mend his wicked ways by diving into Dr. Ross’s book.
After his unsavory behavior, both the playboy and the PhD’s approach would call for an apology. He could do that. He’d say sorry for being a jerk, agree to do whatever was necessary to move forward, and take it from there. If that shift in attitude happened to score him any points, he’d take it. If it didn’t, at least he could say he’d given it the old college try.
Emmitt pulled up to her cabin and shut off the engine. She had decent taste in cars, he’d give her that. The black Charger, a rental car by the look of the plates, said she liked adventure and speed. So did Emmitt. It’s what had him wanting to get his pilot license from a young age. He never pictured giving helicopter tours for a living—with billions in the bank, who had the need?—but he was surprisingly pumped about the prospect. It would be rewarding to hear the ohs and ahs of his passengers as they flew over the snowy valley of Haven Hills—a view that would change rapidly with each season. It’d be a memory guests would cherish for years to come.
The crisp air felt good on Emmitt’s rather flushed face as he stepped out of his jeep and sucked in a breath. Be nice, Emmitt, he reminded himself. Keep it fun and flirty, but nottooflirty.
As he stepped up to her door again, hand lifted in anticipation, a text sounded from his phone.Crap.If it was from one of his siblings, they might expect a quick response. May as well check before he went inside.
He tugged the thing from his jacket pocket and squinted down at the screen.
Alisha: You going to the Pub & Grill tonight? Thought maybe we could reenact our first encounter…
Emmitt cringed and shoved the phone back into his pocket. First andlastencounter. And to answer her question—no, he wasn’t. It was a Monday, for crying out loud. His encounter with Alisha entailed nothing more than a make out session in the corner of the club. Sure, she’d logged her number into his phone with the hopes he’d call her afterward—a lot of women did—but that didn’t mean he owed her anything.
With one last reminder of his purpose, Emmitt lifted his hand and knocked in the center of the Christmas wreath hanging there. He stepped back, adjusted his hair, and tried to guess at what she’d be wearing this time. Yet before he could think on it any further, the handle jiggled.
