I also want to personally thank her for prying me open. She’s the one who first encouraged me to be honest and real. Without her, I’m not sure I would’ve had the courage to open up to Emma. And if that hadn’t happened…
Well, I wouldn’t be where I am now. Falling for an incredible woman, feeling whole and happy for the first time in forever.
Passing Daddy’s trophy case, I smile. I’m one hundred percent certain he’d be proud of me. I know I’m becoming the man he raised me to be.
And that feels pretty fucking great.
But it’s not so great finding my brothers already hard at work in my gym. Beau is doing leg lifts in a corner; Hank is dripping sweat while kicking the shit out of my boxing dummy, who we’ve un-affectionately nicknamed Olly.
“What the fuck are y’all doing here?” I growl, grabbing a towel from the pile beside the door and flipping it over my shoulder. “Don’t you have your own damn gyms to work out in?”
“Baby’s sleeping,” Beau grunts.
Hank keeps one gloved hand glued to his cheek while he begins pummeling Olly’s eyeless face with the other. “I was overwhelmed with shit, so I needed to blow off some steam. This weekend’s been insane.”
“So y’all came here to harass me. Great.”
“Hey.” Beau spears me with a look. “It’s only fair, considering you’re the one who’s always pestering everyone else. Where the hell have you been?”
Hank stops punching Olly. “Yeah. Where have you been? No one’s heard a peep from you since you left the barn yesterday.”
I look at Beau. “I picked up your call this morning, didn’t I?”
“I mean none of us have heard from you. The family. Mom thought for sure you were dead somewhere on the side of the road.”
Shit, how did I forget to text Mom back?
Because I was too busy making love to Em. Right.
I make a mental note to text Mom when I’m done with my workout, and then I grab a pair of dumbbells.
“I’m alive. But if y’all don’t get gone, one or both of you might not be.”
“You brought someone home, didn’t you?” Beau asks, grinning.
But Hank’s expression is wary. “Did you, Samuel?”
Beau wouldn’t be grinning if he knew who I took home. In fact, he’d probably grab those gloves from Hank and punch my face.
I forgot I need to iron that little detail out too. Considering what a dope he’s been about the whole Annabel situation, maybe he’ll have a little sympathy for my less-than-stellar decision-making when it comes to Emma.
Wait. I refuse to think opening up to Emma was a bad decision. Telling her I wanted to fuck her without a condom? Meh, maybe that’s a little reckless. But I stand by my decision to tell her how I feel, and to share what I want.
At the end of the day, I just want her.
Thankfully, I’m saved from answering my brothers’ questions when Beau’s phone chimes loudly. He immediately stops what he’s doing and digs the phone out of his pocket.
“Baby’s up, and Annabel’s hungry.” He blanks the screen and drops the phone back into his pocket. “Gotta run. Y’all be good. Samuel, I’ll give you a call later to check in on how things are going in the kitchen.”
“So far, so good,” I reply, already breathless from the seven bicep curls I’ve done. Granted, I’m using a fuck ton of weight. But damn, maybe sex with Em is exercise enough for the day. “They’re slammed with room service requests, but I called in a few favors from friends downtown—most restaurants there are closed, so their employees are available for extra work. Got two dishwashers and four sous chefs, plus a pâtissier from that bakery you love so much on Biltmore. I offered to jump on the line myself, but Chef Katie just laughed at that. So I put calls in to our suppliers to assure them the roads on the way up here are plowed. Generators are operational, and we’ve got plenty of dry wood for the smokers. We’re making it work.”
Beau pats my shoulder on his way out of the room. “Good work, brother.”
My heart twists. Part pride. Part guilt. If only he knew the kind of work I was doing with our sommelier this morning.
Whatever. I’ll figure out how to make Beau see the light about Emma and me. In the meantime, I just gotta get through today.
Hank and I are quiet during our workouts. Normally, that silence doesn’t bother me. Hell, most times I don’t even notice it. But this afternoon, it feels off. Maybe because Hank is beating the shit out of Olly, throwing punch after punch after punch. Sweat flies everywhere, and his face is bright red.
“You okay?” I ask.
He cuts me a look. “Fine.”
“You’re not fine. Talk to me.”
“I’d rather not.”
I hold up my hands. “Your call. But I’m here if you want to tell me about this girl who’s bothering you.”
“Who says it’s a girl?” Hank wipes his forehead with the back of his gloved hand.
“I do. I haven’t seen you like this”—I nod at the sweat covering the floor at his feet—“in an age.”
“It’s nothing.” He delivers a stinging blow to Olly’s left kidney. “Just a shitty situation. Love sucks.”
I arch a brow. “That all you’re gonna give me?”
“Yup.” He goes silent again, the only noise the slap of his gloves as they meet with Olly’s increasingly battered body.
“Do you want some food? I’ve got leftover lasagna in my fridge. And a pint of that peanut butter cup ice cream I made for Milly’s birthday.”
“You don’t have plans for dinner?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m just offering you some good shit in your time of need, that’s all.”
“Do you?” He pauses. “Have plans tonight?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I do. Why?”
He starts jabbing Olly again. “No reason.”
I roll my eyes. Hank isn’t usually a drama queen—in fact, he’s the opposite—so I’ll give him a little space to figure out whatever shit he’s got going on. I grab my phone and turn on a playlist, Drake blasting through the speakers in the ceiling. Determined to mind my own damn business.
But as I watch Hank pummel Olly, I can’t help but feel there’s something desperate about the way he punishes the dummy.
He’s punishing himself.
Clearly, he’s hurting over this girl. Since he won’t tell me what happened, all I can gather is that she broke his heart.
That does suck. As much of a pain in the ass as my brother can be, I love him, and I want him to be happy. Now that I know how fucking great love feels, I want him to find it too.
I arrive at the restaurant twenty minutes early. I order a Manhattan and a water, and try not to chug both as I wait. Why am I so nervous? It’s not like I fell for someone else on purpose. It just happened.
Besides. Maybe this makes me sound like a dick, but V is a stranger. She’ll be a stranger after we part ways tonight. It’s not like I’ll ever see her again.
I just have a bad feeling about this that I can’t shake. Maybe that’s why I finish the water and most of the Manhattan by—I check my watch—five till.