Come Rain or Shine (16 page)

S
ilas sat on the kitchen counter as Emmie ran a cold rag along the jagged cut above his eye. Trick was at the kitchen table reliving the experience blow-by-blow. He and Silas laughed as they recounted fight that ended the party.

“You two are cavemen, you know that?” she asked, looking from one to the other.

Trick snorted, his voice still thick with whiskey. “You did a good job giving it right back to him Emmie. Chicago. That’s funny. I think Pat’s going to be officially known as Chicago from this day on. I’m going to make damned sure of it.”

“Chicago’s really too kind,” Silas said, taking the cloth from Emmie. “I was thinking something more along the lines of fuc—”

“Silas,” Emmie cut him off, “Jeeze. At first I was going to feel guilty about this fight but now I see that you two were probably looking for an excuse for a good brawl. I provided the match, but you were both already looking for a reason to build a fire. My smacking his freckled little face would have been enough. That boy seems to have more freckles than good sense, but I think he only meant it as a joke. A crude joke but I don’t think he meant to offend you. I’d hurt his pride by making his friends laugh at him. There was no need for that ruckus at the end.”

Silas leaned over and caught her face with his hand. “Joke or not, I’m not going to stand there and listen to a man, friend or foe, make jokes about me cracking you.”

“Cracking?” Emmie frowned.

Silas leaned down and whispered a string of synonyms in her ear. Her eyes grew wider with each word he added to the list.

“Cracking, wow. You sure do have a lot of words for it,” she said, laughing. It was probably the whiskey making this so funny. Four drinks was a lot for Emmie. She didn’t think she was drunk exactly, her tongue just felt like it was hanging loose in her mouth. Silas and Trick exchanged an amused expression as she repeated the list of the words Silas had whispered. “I’ve never heard most of them.”

“I wouldn’t go saying all those words in mixed company,” Trick said. “It might make people think that we’ve been a bad influence on you.”

Emmie laughed at his joke longer than she should have. “Well they don’t need to worry about that.” She pointed to Silas, “My chastity is a virtue he excels at. Guess I shoulda told ole Chicago that I’ve never had any Irish in me . . . I’ve actually tried,” she said, looking at Trick. “But clearly . . . I repel the Irishman.” Emmie’s head swam as she spoke loudly. Maybe she was drunk.

Trick looked down at the ground with an amused expression. Silas hopped off the counter and spun Emmie to face him. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Oh, it’s fine. I’m just teasing.” She turned to head out of the kitchen. Jemma and a few of Silas’s friends were now in the living room. Silas’s place had turned into something of an after party. Emmie was exhausted. She couldn’t remember the last time she had stayed awake this late.

Silas grabbed her arm and spun her around before she entered the living room. Trick moved around them silently. “You were not teasing. You’re hurt because you think I’ve rejected you.”

Emmie shrugged. “Maybe someday when I’ve had more experience . . . like that redheaded girl—”

“Will you stop saying that? You’re testing my patience here, Emmie,” Silas said quietly.

“You said it. You said I needed to live my life and have more experiences before you would have me. Before you would make promises to me. You don’t like your words thrown back at you? You don’t like the thought of me . . . becoming Irish with someone else . . .” she said in reference to the boy’s joke earlier. “Or I guess I could have some Italian . . . or Bo’s grandmother was half Cherokee, maybe I could become an Indian . . . I’ve got a whole melting pot of experiences ahead of me.”

“Damn it, Emmie,” Silas muttered. “You know I don’t mean I want you with other men. You’re drunk and feeling sassy. Your mouth’s running away with you and I’m tired of hearing it.”

“You punched that man tonight because you were worried he hurt my feelings. Well, I’ve got news for ya. He didn’t hurt me like you did today. I offered everything I am to you and you rejected me,” she said.

“I did not reject you. I said you needed to live a little before we got married,” Silas practically shouted, attracting stares from those around the room.

Emmie rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah that’s clear. Don’t you worry, Silas. I’ll sow some oats before I make an attempt at your hand again.”

“Sowing oats . . . you really are a ridiculous woman. You know that? This isn’t about me not wanting to get you in the sack. There’s more to living than sowing oats. You’ve never done half the things you should. This is probably the first time you’ve been out of Kentucky,” he whispered angrily.

Her frown told him he was right about that one.

“Oh, don’t you go making excuses, Silas. You know we could travel together. You’re just afraid you’re corrupting me or that I won’t know what I’m doing. I’m not sure which one yet, but you’ve always been full of excuses. ‘Oh, it’s not the right time. Emmie, you’ve had too much to drink. No, doll, your ribs are broken.’ You’ve always been full of some excuse not to see my
flour sacks
. Excuses, excuses. Did you make excuses for that redheaded floozy when you were with her or did you oblige her quickly?” Emmie knew she should stop talking but couldn’t seem to make her lips stay closed.

At first she thought Silas may laugh but when he composed himself he ground his teeth together. He leaned his head back and groaned, “Fine.”

He picked her up and tossed over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She screamed in surprise, “Silas McDowell.” The last time he had carried her like this was when he found her in the blind pig.

Jemma stood and started to walk over to them, a couple of guys put their arms out to stop her. “Keep your hands off my sister,” he grumbled as he walked by them.

“Silas what on earth—” Jemma said, but he paid her no mind as he carried Emmie down the narrow hall that led to his bedroom.

He leaned over and flipped her onto the bed. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him standing over her. His hair was no longer neatly slicked back. It had fallen forward and kept covering his right eye. He pushed it out of the way. Without a word he took of his suit coat and threw it on the floor. Then he slid his arms out of his shoulder holster. The leather and metal made a loud thump as it landed on the table next to the bed. He never took his eyes from her as he worked the buttons of his shirt with more force than necessary.

“Are you mad at me or your shirt?” she tried to tease.

“You,” he said, tossing it to the ground. With one arm he reached down and unbuckled his pants. They fell low on his hips.

“What in the world are you doing, Silas?” she asked, crawling backward on the bed.

“I’m putting an end to this argument,” he said.

“What?” Emmie’s voice caught in her throat as he reached for her hips and pulled her closer to the end of the bed. Silas’s hand slid up her thigh and made quick work of undoing her stockings.

“Maybe we should talk about this for a second,” Emmie said, pulling her dress back down.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’ve talked enough for both of us tonight,” he said as he pulled her dress up to her waist. Silas mumbled under his breath and leaned in closer to her. All she could hear was something about Indians and Bo Johnson.

“This isn’t what I meant. This isn’t how I want it to be,” she whispered.

“You coulda fooled me. You’ve been out there telling me I don’t want to be with you like this. Telling me I’ve been making excuses. I’m done with it. You’re wrong, Emmie. I’ve wanted to be with you like this since the day I saw you coming up out of the pool at Ava’s house. I’ve thought about it every day since. Each time you touch me,” he grabbed her hand and put it on his bare chest for emphasis, “I think about it. But I’ve worked really hard to be patient with you. Patient for you. You deserve more. Like a good whiskey, you’ve always been worth waiting for. But you don’t appreciate that. So I’m done. We’ll do it and figure out the rest as it comes.”

Emmie’s head was swimming. “Then why did you say you wanted me to have more experience? That’s all I wanted to know. Are you ashamed of me? Do you think I’m just some backward girl from Kentucky?”

Silas put his face on her bare leg and exhaled a long audible sigh. “Damn it, Emmie. Experience isn’t just about getting naked with somebody.” He looked up, saw her flour-sack underwear and couldn’t help but laugh. “I knew when I saw Trick flipping you around out there on the dance floor you were wearing these flour sacks.” He ran a finger over the Gold Medal emblem.

“Glad you are amused by my underclothes right now,” she said, annoyed.

“You’re wearing them because they remind you of home aren’t you?” he asked, looking up at her sincerely.

She nodded. “Why are we talking about my flour sacks?”

“Because, Emmie,” he crawled up and sat resting on his knees, so his legs straddled hers, “can’t you see? Your flour sacks are the perfect example of what this is about. One. I’ve never been with a girl that I knew what kind of underclothes she had on. Hell, I never even cared if she had on any at all. Two. I know you. I know you made those yourself. That says so much about you. You are resourceful and skilled. Three. The sight of you lying there in them now is almost more than I can take. You are beautiful. Four. Those are mine. I claimed them and you as my little Gold Medal gal, remember when I told you that? I still mean it. The thought of anyone else seeing them makes me crazy. Especially when you bring Bo into it. Five. I know why you wear them. I knew before I even saw the little peek of them when you were dancing with Trick that you’d be wearing them. It’s the same reason I packed that apple pie moonshine in Louisville at the Halloween party. You love the little reminders of home.

“Just the pure and simple fact that I know all of this about your ridiculous little flour-sack underwear should tell you how different you are to me. That’s why, even though I want to, I’ve not taken you to bed yet. But I’ll do it Emmie. If this is what it’s going to take for you to know that I love you. To know that I don’t want anyone else with you, I’ll do it and enjoy it.” His eyes were smoldering as he added the last phrase. She felt herself melt under his gaze. A tear slid down her cheek. Only Silas McDowell could turn plain old flour-sack underwear into something so thoughtful.

Chapter Twenty-four

S
ilas reached forward and wiped her tear with his thumb.

“I cannot imagine that I’d ever want to experience life with anyone else,” Emmie said quietly.

He rubbed his jaw for a second before he spoke. “It’s not
who
you might experience. That’s what you’ve taken the wrong way. It’s
what
you need to experience.”

“Stop speaking in riddles, Silas. There’s nothing I want to experience without you. You’ve seen me at my best and my worst. I’ve seen you the same way. Don’t shove me out of your life because you’re afraid of my questions. Or afraid I’ll try to get in your business. I’ll do my best to stay uninvolved but I can’t make any promises. I want to help you, if I can.” Emmie leaned forward and rested her weight on her elbows.

“There will always be parts I can’t share with you. You know that,” he said with a sad look in his eyes. “It’s for your own safety. I can’t let it happen again.”

It. They both knew the
it
he was referring to. The kidnapping. The cabin. The murder.

“Silas, bad things happen sometimes. You cannot always stop things from happening,” she said, touching his face. “And I’m sorry. I love being close to you like this, but this isn’t what I was asking for earlier.”

He arched an eyebrow and started to repeat her phrase about Bo. “You told me you wanted—”

“Yeah, I was a fool. I was mad and wanted to hit you below the belt because you’d hurt my feelings earlier. I know what it takes to get a rise out of you.” She pushed his shoulder. “I want to sleep with you every night. I want to wake up in the morning with you by my side. I want to kiss you when you leave for work. I want to help you think though cases and problems with revenuers. I want to be your partner.”

“I thought you wanted to go to school. I thought you wanted to be a teacher. Because you can’t have both,” he said, looking down at her.

Emmie frowned. She’d never thought of that. Of course she couldn’t go to school and be a teacher if she married Silas or even got engaged. No one would hire her. It was against the rules.

“I’ve called or written nearly every school district between here and Tennessee. No one takes married teachers. I guess they think you’ll corrupt the children’s minds with your vast womanly knowledge,” Silas said, before rolling off her. He stepped away from the bed and grabbed a cigarette.

“So you’re saying I’d have to choose to be with you or to become a teacher. I can’t have my cake and eat it too,” Emmie muttered to herself.

“I’m not saying that. I don’t want you to choose. I’d never ask you to choose,” he said, taking a deep draw from the cigarette.

Staring up at the ceiling, she heard him move around the room. Her mind sobered a little as she contemplated the problems of the reality Silas had brought to her attention. How had she not already thought of this? She felt an envelope smack her square in the stomach. It caught her off guard. She sat up as she moved the thick paper through her fingers.