Her cell rang then mine only a few seconds later.
“Shit,” I muttered.
“I bet that’s Christy.”
“Which means that’s Paul on my phone.” I didn’t hide the irritation from my voice. Emory was kissing me. She was kissing me. She was being the pursuer, and I liked it. A lot.
“They don’t know we’re together. Together as in you and me.” She pointed between us. “And also as in the same room.”
I knew what she was saying. Did we want to keep us a secret or tell? I angled my chin. “Go. Answer it. I’ll take my call in the other room.”
Two hours later, I was pushing the speed limit on the highway, not wasting any time getting up to Wyoming, to the casino. I knew exactly where he was, on the closest reservation to the ranch. The closest place to gamble. When Emory told Christy what had happened the night before at her house, she'd pulled Paul into the conversation. Emory had made me sit down beside her on the bed, and we talked to the couple by speakerphone. If they were surprised we were together, they didn't let on.
Yes, someone had been in her house.
Yes, she was fine.
Yes, it could be my dad who was behind it all.
I had to face him. Emory agreed, but there was no fucking way I was letting her anywhere near him. This was an old score I needed to settle, and she’d only distract me. She understood, but Paul had even more and offered to have Emory hang with them for the day. Until we knew exactly what was going on, I wasn't leaving her alone.
I passed an eighteen-wheeler when my cell rang. I pushed the button for the handheld. “Green.”
“They’re painting their toenails.” Paul said. “She’s safe here.”
“Thanks. I just passed Cheyenne. Once I find him, it won’t take long.” I gripped the steering wheel. Hard. “I should be back before dinner.”
“Do what you have to. We’ll be waiting.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“You’d do the same.”
I would. I might just be Paul's trainer, but we were friends, too. Friends who watched out for each other. In the MMA world, it went unsaid, everyone knew no one messed with family. There was always a rivalry, shit talk, some fighters who fought dirty. That shit stayed at the gym, stayed in the ring. No man took it home with him. Fights could be resolved with fists, with words, but no one fucked with someone’s woman. With their kids. My dad had crossed the line, and I needed to shut that shit down.
Now I knew what Paul had been telling me all along while he trained with me. Between sparring rounds or miles on the treadmill, he'd told me more and more about Christy, and I’d seen him change. He became… more. He wasn’t pussy whipped either. Christy was perfect for Paul, and I knew she was everything to him. Everything.
Just like Thor. He would do anything for Laura, even buy a toilet brush. I understood now. Emory was everything to me, and I’d even go buy a fucking toilet brush for her. With her. If that wasn’t a sign I was in love, I didn’t know what was.
Chapter 21
EMORY
I had cotton balls wedged between my toes as I sat on Christy’s couch. Paul worked at the kitchen table, papers spread out before him, and he had his phone set to mute as he listened in on a conference call. They were babysitting me. It was obvious. A pedicure was just something to do to pass the time. I didn’t think I needed to stay indoors and under supervision until this whole house break-in thing was resolved, but if it eased Gray’s mind, I’d do it until he got back from Wyoming. If he were watching me, we would be busy doing more… enjoyable things.
I could feel my cheeks flush just thinking about what we’d done together, and I darted a glance at Christy, who was fortunately leaning forward and putting a top coat of polish on her right foot. I was sore in places I forgot even got sore. I wasn’t a virgin, but the way my body ached, I had probably reverted back to one. The way I felt with Gray was nothing, nothing, like it had been with Jack. If I’d known what I’d been missing, I’d have divorced Jack years earlier. But then I wouldn’t have met Gray. It seemed that he appeared just when I was ready for him. Was I ready for him? Was one ever ready for love?
“You must have been so scared,” Christy whispered. Paul could be heard talking about some kind of brief from the other room. I could talk medical emergencies and the science behind a specific drug, but torts and legalese were over my head.
I propped my feet on the coffee table. “Yeah. Very.” I didn’t want to go into details about what happened. I didn’t really want to think about it ever again, and perhaps Christy could sense it because she switched topics.
“Gray thinks his dad’s behind it?” She dipped her nail polish brush into the bottle. “He sounds like a complete ass.”
I didn’t want to tell her that the guy was well known in the business community, to have her impressed with him. It didn’t matter what his career was, how much power or money he had. A child beater was a child beater.
“Mmm,” I replied, trying to remain neutral. If Gray wasn’t telling people about his past, I wasn’t going to do so. It was something for him to share in his own way, in his own time. Or ever. The fact that he told me was… huge. His dad affected him so deeply, so painfully, I knew it had been hard to share. I wondered if he'd shared it with anyone. Thor, perhaps. The fact that he'd gifted me with the knowledge, that he'd made himself vulnerable to me, was telling. Overwhelming. My strong cowboy.
“I don’t know much, but it’s possible.”
Christy must have picked up my vague responses. “So, you and Gray?” She waggled her eyebrows as she grinned.
I flushed like a schoolgirl.
“Yeah,” I said on a sigh. “Me and Gray. I… I like him.” Perhaps more than that. A lot more.
She turned to look at me, eyed me carefully. “This isn’t some fling, is it?”
I shook my head, and she grinned. “Is he good?”
Oh yeah, he was good.
My cell rang in my bag, saving me from answering. I didn't want to kiss and tell. My heart skipped a beat at the thought that it was Gray, but I quickly squelched it. It was too soon. The drive to the casino was about three hours, so he was most likely driving, focused on dealing with his dad. He needed to work on that, not me, and I understood. I wanted him to be able to let go of the crap with his dad, to put it all behind him. If going to Wyoming could do that, I'd support him. Wait for him, just as he'd been waiting for me.
I didn’t recognize the number on the display. “Hello?”
“Emory, this is Quake Baker.”
I was a little surprised to hear from him. While I had his number on the matchbook Frankie’d given me, he didn’t have mine. Obviously, he did. “Hi, Mr. Baker. I've been meaning to call and thank you for the meal. It was excellent.”
“Quake, remember? I’m glad the meal was good.” He didn’t seem interested in lingering on small talk. “Heard your home was broken into last night. You okay?”
Concern laced his words. I had to wonder how he knew about the break in. It wasn't newsworthy.