It threw me off balance. I recovered slowly, like I’d suffered a career-ending injury.
Kobe and his torn Achilles.
Beckham and his snapped Achilles.
Durant and his torn Achilles.
Why are all these motherfuckers injuring their goddamn Achilles?
I swore, I felt my heels burning.
“Oh, my God. What is that?” Emery stared at Rosco with her nose scrunched up.
It was almost enough to make me laugh.
Almost.
“He’s a Hairless Chinese Crested dog.” Delilah rocked him against her chest. “They get cast in a ton of movies and shows.”
“For their ugliness.” I regarded Emery’s blank shirt again. “Let it be known, they often win competitions for world’s ugliest dog.”
“Hmm… I kind of like him.”
Delilah offered Rosco to Emery, who stroked his naked flesh twice and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
I opened the front door and said, “Delilah, your rat looks like he's ten seconds from pissing himself.”
She took the hint, sparing me a parting arched brow. Rosco barked when she scooped him up. “Come on, baby. Let’s go for a walk.”
Emery rounded on me as soon as I slammed the door shut. “What the fuck, Nash?”
“You’ll have to be more specific than that. To which fuck are you referring?”
“Remove the canvas from the statue.”
The fucking statue. I knew it would bite me in the ass.
I didn’t budge. “No.”
“No?”
I eyed her lips. “Nope.”
Now that I remembered what it was like to kiss, I kicked myself for stopping in the first place.
“That’s all you have to say? We made a deal.”
“Actually, the deal was that you ate, and I found us a centerpiece.” I wandered into the kitchen. “Neither of us said anything about anyone seeing it before the unveiling. You’d make an awful lawyer, by the way.”
“So, we’re just supposed to design without knowing what it is?” She followed me and propped her hip against the island. “What if it doesn’t go with anything?”
“Nice try. It’s mostly metal. It goes with everything.”
“But—”
“No buts, Emery. It’s non-negotiable.”
“What if it’s ugly?”
“It’s not.”
Far fucking from it.
“I’m supposed to believe you found a centerpiece and had it delivered in under twenty-four hours?”
“Yes.”
“What nice centerpiece can be found, bought, and shipped in twenty-four hours?”
“One I already own.”
I’d been housing it on its side in a barn at the far end of my thirty-acre property in Eastridge like a mistress hidden in a secret apartment. Out of sight, out of mind.
“Oh.” Her head tilted, nose wrinkling.
“Yes.” I studied her shirt, conjuring some scenarios on what happened.
She ran out of ink.
The words washed off in the laundry.
I’d become selectively blind.
She left her shirt at some douche’s place after making out with me last night.
Emery blew a lock of hair from her face, eyes lighting up seconds later. “What about the placard?”
“The placard will be engraved and ordered once it’s written.”
“I can write it if you’ll tell me what the centerpiece is.”
“Cute, but no.” My eyes flicked to her shirt again.
“I put it on backward, okay?” She threw both arms in the air. “You can stop staring now, or I’ll have to assume you’re a creep.”
I stared for one more second because I loved riling her up, then tossed her the lunch bag. Emery caught it on instinct. Her brows pushed together when she realized what it was.
“It’s Turkey & Ruffles.” I set the knife and cutting board into the sink.
“Wait.” She studied the bag as if she had X-ray vision. “You ordered a rush on the kitchen today… and the first thing you made was my lunch?”
I swallowed, twice, and wondered when my throat had gotten so dry. “Technically, it’s a snack, considering midday has passed.”
“If we’re getting technical, it’s technically a sweet thing to do.”
“Just eat the fucking sandwich, Emery.”
A glint returned to her eyes. It screamed mischief. “Let us remove the cover.”
“No.”
I shouldn’t have given up that sculpture in the first place. It belonged on the corner of my farm, never to be seen again. I only did it, because Emery had been right. Ma would be at the grand opening.
Why the fuck would I disappoint her if I didn’t have to?
“Fine.” Emery slid the lunch onto the island. “I’m full. I think I’ll head to the lobby and figure out if neon pink rugs are neutral enough to compliment your canvas-covered monstrosity of a centerpiece.”
“There’s a note in the lunch sack.” I approached her side of the island. “Maybe I should toss it.”
Her hand darted out and snatched the bag. I smiled, disguising it as a taunt. She craved my words, just like I craved the ones on her shirt. I didn’t know when that had happened, but could you blame me?
The girl looked like a dictionary. Ink-colored hair on pale skin. Rare words printed across her chest. I wanted to devour her, memorize her words, and dog-ear my favorite pages.
Instead, I swiveled, strode to my desk, and sat. “Are we done here?”
“The centerpiece—”
“Will remain covered.” I opened my laptop. “If that’s all…”
Her eyes found the scorched leather on the perimeter of my desk. She cocked her head to the side and trailed a finger down the spine. My pulse choked me. I considered snatching the ledger and shoving it into my drawer.
I left it out, because like my penance tattoo, it reminded me to never lose sight of revenge. Delilah knew not to touch it, but Emery clearly wasn’t Delilah. She had no sense of boundaries. Just her and a world she thought belonged to everyone equally, which apparently meant what’s mine was also hers.
She released the leather, looking unperturbed by its current condition. “That looks kind of like Virginia’s notebook, except it’s, um, burnt.”
“What?”
If she hadn’t already had it, she’d have my full attention now.
“The notebook.” She motioned to it with a tilt of her chin. “Virginia has one just like it. Well, similar. The same shape and size, but hers had a crown logo on the front and was less… burnt. Like yours, leather wrapped all around it to protect it from fire, water, and dirt.”
I remembered what it looked like, considering that was how this ledger had looked before I tossed it into the Winthrop’s fireplace, barely retrieving it in time.
Finished leather was resistant to fire at high temperatures, so the encasing had protected most of the interior pages. The exterior looked charred as fuck and unrecognizable, however. Obvious proof that I’d tried to burn evidence, which was pretty damn illegal and why I never turned it in to the F.B.I. or S.E.C.
I’d thought I could handle it myself.
I was wrong.