“And they approved.”
“They’re horny and—” An ill-placed yawn sneaks past my defenses. “And can’t be trusted.”
“I’m not fit to carry you to bed yet, Aspen. So if you don’t go on your own, you’ll end up in my bed.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
“And I’ll end up on the couch.” He’s wearing his serious face when he says it, and some of the tension drains out of me.
It’s for the best. I need to sleep on this and make sure that I’m willing to risk being with Emmett. If we try this and it falls apart, Emmett won’t stay and weather the fallout. He’ll run before he lets things get uncomfortable for me. And somehow, the thought of losing him already hurts.
I lift my hand to his chest, patting it. “Night, Hotshot. Sleep well.”
“Sweet dreams, Aspen.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
EMMETT
“As I live and breathe!” A guy I assume is Denver, shouts from where he leans on a rake at the edge of the neighboring property, which I know is where Atlas lives.
He’s in a pair of overalls, no shirt, and wearing a backward baseball cap. He looks exactly like the kind of guy who’d holler at strangers from across the yard.
Atlas shuts the door to his truck, gives me a look over the hood, and nods for me to follow him.
“Sorry about Denver; he’s a pain in everyone’s ass.”
Denver falls in step beside us as we continue toward the white farmhouse.
“I heard that.”
“You were meant to.”
Atlas dodges Denver’s hand just before it connects with his stomach.
Denver’s grin stretches wider. He’s exactly who I’d picture matching Briar’s bold personality, if I’d given it any thought. Loud, charismatic, and incapable of minding his own business.
“You owe me twenty dollars.” He wiggles his fingers in front of Atlas when we stop at the steps to the wrap-around porch.
“Such a cocky motherfucker about it too.”
I’ve been dreading this forced socialization ever since Briar ambushed me with the invite last week. If it weren’t for the awkward tension of running into Aspen around her property for the last four days since we almost kissed, I wouldn’t be here.
Being stuck with nowhere to go besides appointments and Aspen’s garage while I second-guess every interaction between us is its own kind of hell. All these years on my own and I’ve never been this lonely.
I guess that’s why I’m here—driven out of my own solitude because Aspen’s been dancing around me since our almost-kiss last week.
Now it’s Monday. Aspen went back to work this morning for a twelve-hour shift, and if she’s feeling even half the tension I am, she’s probably spent the drive home regretting every decision that led to letting me into her life.
Worse yet, I can’t open my nightstand drawer without seeing that flash of red lace and losing my damn mind all over again.
Needless to say, being here is the lesser of two evils.
Atlas yanks his money clip from his pocket, flipping through the bills until he smacks a twenty into Denver’s waiting palm.
“If it makes you feel better, I’d have bet against me, too.”
