What puzzles me the most is why he’s so hell-bent on my coming?
Chapter Nine
ASHTON
Leaning against the doorframe, I wait. I have no idea if she plans on coming back out, but I’m not leaving here without her. Grayson warned me earlier today that she probably wouldn’t show, and I knew he was right, especially considering she kicked me out of her house the last time I saw her.
I tried to tell myself I didn’t give a fuck whether she came or not, but I knew I was kidding myself. I’ve missed her, she’s all I’ve thought about. It took every ounce of strength I had to stay away, but she makes me feel things I’m uncomfortable feeling. I used that knowledge to remain firm. Unfortunately, all those logical thoughts went out the window the moment Carla waltzed through the front door alone. That’s when something inside me snapped.
I look down at my watch. “Three minutes, sweet-thing,” I call out and chuckle to myself when I hear a frustrated growl coming from the other side of the wall.
No woman can get ready in that short of a timeframe. Hell, even I take longer, but I will wait all damn night if I have to.
I blow out a long breath as the minutes tick by. What are you doing, Barclay? She’s probably not even coming back out, yet I remain unmoving. Gazing down at my wrist, I see it’s nearing her deadline. Crossing the room, I come to a stop outside her closed bedroom door. I lift my hand to knock, ready to deliver my final warning when it swings open, startling me.
She jumps back, grabbing hold of her chest. “Shit, you scared me.”
I’m expecting her to still be dressed in the oversized T-shirt she was wearing, but my breath hitches in my throat as I take in the view in front of me. To my surprise, she’s changed in under four minutes, I might add. And fuck me if she’s not the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Her long hair is cascading over her shoulders, framing her pretty face. She’s wearing a white linen, loose-fitting ruffled dress that stops mid-thigh. The puffed sleeves hang slightly off each shoulder only highlighting her long slender neck. The bright white material glows against her bronzed skin. The dress is tapered in at the waist with a thick tan belt, the color matching perfectly with the knee-high leather boots.
I’d love to fuck her while she’s wearing nothing but those sexy-as-fuck boots.
“Wow,” I say, drinking her in. “Not only did you get ready in record time, you look… stunning.”
“Thank you.” She gives me a slight smile, but the noticeable frown on her forehead tells me she doesn’t believe my words.
“I’m serious, Emma. You look beautiful. Are you sure you don’t have a team of stylists hidden away in your bedroom?”
She releases a small laugh while nervously tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Is she unaware of how effortlessly beautiful she is?
“Are you ready to go?”
“I guess,” she says. “You’re a pushy bastard, you know.”
Her sassy mouth turns me on.
When she grabs her bag and locks the front door, I reach for her hand.
Emma tugs it from my grip, making me chuckle. “What are you doing?”
“Holding your hand,” I say, reaching for it again.
“I don’t think so.”
“We’re friends, Em. And friends hold hands. No big deal.”
“No, they don’t.” She tries to pull away again, but this time I hold strong. I don’t want to let her go… she feels like my lifeline.
“I’ve seen you hold Carla’s hand, and you’re friends.”
“That’s different. And besides, you and I aren’t friends anymore, remember?”
“Why?” A smile tugs at my lips, but deep down, her words sting.
“Because you insulted my home and me. You made me feel… unworthy. Like I’m not good enough because I don’t have fancy things or a lot of money.”
I stop walking and face her, the sadness I see in her eyes makes my chest constrict. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. That wasn’t my intention.” I expel all the air from my lungs. “It was more about the area you live in. Nothing else. If you lived in a cardboard box, I’d still be right here holding your hand.” And fuck me if I don’t mean every word. “Is it wrong for a person to be concerned for their friend’s safety?”
“No, I guess not,” she says with a shrug, dipping her head.
Placing my finger under her chin, I bring her gaze back to me. “I’m a kick-ass friend, and you know it.” I try to make light of the situation, but I still hate myself for hurting her.
When she fights a smile, I lean in, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.
“We’re not friends, Barclay.”
“Yes, we are, sweet-thing.”
“Is this where Grayson lives?” she asks when we pull up outside his beachfront property. It’s the first time we’ve spoken on the drive over. I can hear the shock in her voice, and I’m starting to rethink my decision to bring her here, especially after she told me that I made her feel unworthy. It’s like I’m rubbing our wealth in her face. I saw the look she gave me as we walked toward my Aston Martin. The first thing she asked is where my Range Rover was, and I immediately kicked myself for bringing this car. Usually, the women I’m with are impressed by luxury cars but not her.
“Yes, this is his place.”
“Wow,” she says, unbuckling her seatbelt. “I can see why you thought my place was a dump.”
Reaching across the center console, I place my hand on her knee. “Your place isn’t a dump, Em.”
“Right,” she scoffs.
“You’ve made a nice home for yourself. You should be proud, not ashamed.” Although I’m very aware that I’m the one who made her feel that way, nobody else.
She reaches for the door handle.
“Hold on,” I say, exiting the car then rushing around to her side.
I extend my hand to her, and she graciously takes it. “Such a gentleman, Mr. Barclay.” There’s a touch of sarcasm in her tone, but I let it slide.
Things are different with her. Emma makes me want to be a better person.
Placing my hand on the small of her back, I lead her through the house and out on to the back deck where the others are all seated.
Carla squeals, jumping off Grayson’s lap the moment she spots her. “I can’t believe you came,” she says, pulling Emma into a crushing hug. My eyes dart to Grayson, and his gaze is fixed firmly on me. There’s a bemused smirk on his face as he raises his beer to his lips.
Fucker.
When I stormed out of here earlier, I didn’t tell him where I was going. He won’t let me live this one down in a hurry.
I shove my hands into my pockets and watch on as Carla does the rounds, introducing Em to the others. Emma embraces Chance and his wife, Aubrey, when she gets to them, kissing their cheeks, and I’m again hit with a pang of jealousy.
Why don’t I ever get one of those?
When she reaches Grayson, she extends her hand, and I chuckle to myself. At least I’m not the only one who gets a shitty greeting. He stands, engulfing her in his arms, and I bite back a reaction.