Tease (12 page)

Whatever it took, I had to get him out of my life.

My phone buzzed again. I glanced down, fully expecting another message from Shaw, but no.

Annie:
You’re in

I frowned, confused. I typed back three question marks and waited, watching as she typed.

Annie:
The kink club. I’m a member now. After tonight, honey . . . of course, I am
J

Me:
Congrats

Really. What else could I say?

Annie:
You’re my first guest, girl. You better bring your game

My fingers hovered over the keys, unsure how to respond. I didn’t especially want to hang out with Annie anymore. And the idea of the kink club might have sounded fun at first. But now . . . I wasn’t that intrigued.

“Who is it?” Georgia asked.

“Annie.”

“Ugh. Her.” Georgia whipped her long golden hair into a messy knot on her head. “Let me guess. She trying to get you to go out?”

I nodded. “Something like that. She got into that kink club.”

Georgia’s eyes widened. “Really?” Her lips quirked. “Not surprising, I guess.”

I nodded slowly, thinking. “She invited me to go with her next time.” I lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Whenever she goes again. She’ll get back to me with all the details.”

Georgia’s amused smile slipped. “You can’t.”

I sat up straighter on the bed. “Why not?”

“Well . . . Shaw . . .”

I bristled. Clearly I was doing something wrong if my own friend thought I was so involved with a guy that I couldn’t carry on as normal and go to a kink club. She wasn’t hearing me when I said there was nothing between us. Okay, and maybe going to a kink club wouldn’t exactly be my normal. It would be a first for me, but I had always been the kind of girl who would have embraced an opportunity like that. At least before.

“I’m going,” I declared with a shrug. “Why not?”

Georgia looked at me warily, disapproval lurking in her eyes. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Em.”

Of course I did. I was taking control of my life again.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins
Publishers

....................................

Chapter 12

W
hen the unknown number
popped up, I was in the process of stuffing my laptop into my bag. Sometimes my hair salon called to confirm appointments and they didn’t always use the main line I had plugged into my phone. Zipping up my bag, I answered. “Hello?”

My art history professor, a Frenchman about my height, glared at me as I was squeezing out between desks. I sent him a small, apologetic smile. Class was over, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Emerson? It’s me. Justin.”

I stopped, my fingers clenching around my phone until my joints ached.

A girl bumped into me from behind at my sudden stop.

“Excuse me,” she said sharply.

I looked dumbly over my shoulder and stepped aside so she could pass, too shocked to even muster up an apology.

“How did you get this number?” My lips felt numb as the words passed out of my mouth. I stepped out of the classroom and walked slowly down the hall. It was crowded, lots of students buried in their phones or talking to the person next to them. Except for my snail-crawling pace, I didn’t look out of the ordinary. Even if I felt it. Even if I felt like I’d just gotten hit by a semi.

“Your mom.”

Of course
. My thumb started to stretch for the end button, ready to push it and put an end to his voice in my ear.

“Wait! Don’t hang up,” he pleaded. Like he could read my mind, like he knew what I was about to do.

I hesitated. I wasn’t sure why, but I stopped. I’d never heard his voice sound like that. There was a thread of desperation to it. He’d always been cocky and teasing, but he had never sounded quite so human.

Unable to keep walking with his voice in my ear, I stepped to the side of the hall and leaned against the wall, staring blindly into the ebb and flow of students.

Thumb poised, I waited for him to say something else, something more . . . to reveal that he was a different person. That what had happened between us was just a mistake of youth. That it had been the alcohol and poor judgment.

He sighed into the phone. “We want you to come to the wedding, Em.”

By “ we” I assumed he meant Mom and him. His father wouldn’t care either way. The good thing about Don was his lack of opinion when it came to me.

“I want you there,” he added, filling the silence.

“Why?”

“We’re family. Don’t you think time it’s time we move past—”

“Are you owning up to what you did?” I cut in. Because that would go a long way. If he just admitted it to me, I could maybe move on. If he admitted his mistake to Mom, even better. She had never believed me. She thought it was me being a pain in the ass and trying to wreck what she had going with Don.

He sighed again. “Will that change anything, Emerson? I want us to move on and not rehash old history.”

A pause fell between us as I processed this. Just the fact that he was even calling meant he had changed.

But I was different, too. I wasn’t as trusting.

“I just don’t think I can go.” Show up and pretend like we were the perfect family? No. I couldn’t play that game. I waited, expecting him to turn nasty on me, but that didn’t happen.

Suzanne walked into the building right then and spotted me. She was bundled up like she was going on an Arctic expedition. The usual for her. She was cold when it hit sixty degrees. She claimed that was her winter back home in Texas. She waved energetically and headed in my direction.

Justin sighed again. “All right. I had to try. Maybe you’ll feel differently in the future.”

I flexed my fingers around the phone. “I have to go.” Suzanne was almost to me now, and the last thing I wanted was for her to hear any part of my conversation with Justin.

“Sure. Take care, Em.”

The line went dead. I pulled back my cell and stared at it for a moment, not sure how I felt about the conversation. I’d made Justin out to be a monster for so long now. It was easier than accepting him as something real. As my stepbrother. And yet even though I’d turned him into this villain from the shadowy past, a part of me always knew the real villain was someone much closer to me.

Mom’s betrayal wounded me the most. She was the one I couldn’t expel from my life. Justin was nothing. No one. My mom . . .

She would always be my mother. And the hurt she’d inflicted went deep. It was like a wound that could never fully heal. The moment it would start to close up, she would come along and tear it back open.

I tucked my phone into the deep front pockets of my coat and smiled at Suzanne. Maybe overly bright, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Hey, you,” she greeted me, her cheeks chapped from the outdoors.

“Hey, Suz.”

“Finished with class?”

“Yeah.”

“Want to go see that new Bourne movie this week?”

I hesitated for a moment, thinking about whether I should spend more time in the studio preparing for the upcoming showcase or not. No matter how much time I labored over my work, I never felt ready to reveal it to the world.

Apparently she misread my hesitation because she lifted her eyebrows. “Unless you’re all booked up with . . . special plans with someone?”

I stared at her blankly.

“You know.” She nudged me with her elbow.

I shook my head. “No.”

“Hottie Shaw?” She lowered her voice and looked around. Like we were in high school or something and she didn’t want anyone to overhear us talking about a boy. She was conservative like that. Discreet. A little like Georgia with her small-town roots. For her, hooking up with a guy overnight was a big deal and not something she would just talk about in front of other people. In other words—the polar opposite of Annie.

“Why would you think I had plans with Shaw?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. I saw ya’ll together, Em.” Her voice dropped to a hush again. “And you brought him to your room.” Her big brown eyes widened meaningfully. “You never do that, Em. Thought he might be . . . different for you.” She looked almost hopeful as she said this.

I resisted agreeing with her. Yeah. Shaw was different. But that didn’t mean he was suddenly in my life to stay.

“I don’t have plans with Shaw. Let’s go to a movie. Not before three though. My dad’s in town and I have to see him.”

She nodded, her smile subdued. Almost like she wished I did have plans with Shaw.

“Hey, you’re not hoping I get all settled down and boring like Georgia and Pepper?” I nudged her with my elbow. “Who’ll be your wing-girl then?”

She shrugged and smiled easily. “Hey, I don’t want to be single forever. I wouldn’t begrudge you finding someone. I want that for both for us.”

I groaned. “Not you, too.”

“What?” She arched her dark eyebrows.

I started walking toward the door. “You. Pepper. Georgia. You’re all leaving me for your happily-ever-afters.”

“I’m an optimist, what can I say?” Then she shook her head, almost sadly. “But I’m not abandoning you. Haven’t met anyone yet. Still looking.”

She walked backward from me, inching toward her classroom door.

I shook my head at her. She wouldn’t be for long. Sweet, attractive girls like her found boyfriends. Got married. Had kids.

I pointed. “You better start looking now because you’re about to run into someone.”

She whirled around seconds before colliding with a guy who was walking with his nose buried in his phone. She warded him off with a hand, narrowly missing him. He looked up from his phone and said something. Suzanne laughed, tossing her rich mane of brown hair. Her laughter was a tinkling sound I only ever heard from her when she was getting her flirt on. Yeah. The girl was looking all right.

Smiling, I turned and stepped out of the building. I had walked only a few feet before the smile slipped from my face and my mind drifted back to my phone call with Justin. I hated that he’d called. That all of it came flooding back. That I would be thinking about it and him and Mom and everything I had worked so hard to bury.

I needed a distraction.

My phone vibrated from my pocket. I dug it out and read the screen.

Shaw:
Hey

My heart did a stupid little flip.
God
. I so wasn’t that girl. The type who waited for the boy to admit he really really really liked her. That he wanted to
be
with her. I wasn’t that sad. I knew he wanted me. This was the same guy who had declared I was going to ask him for sex. It was my job to make sure that didn’t happen.

Me:
Hey back

Shaw:
Let’s go out

Well, that was to the point. Not such a surprise though. I was coming to expect it from him.

Me:
I don’t date

Shaw:
Except we did

Me:
That wasn’t a date, remember?

Shaw:
Yes, it was. Remember?

I swallowed back a sound that was part laughter and part snort. Cocky jerk. I could almost imagine his too-good-looking face—calm and devoid of expression. Just matter of fact.

Me:
No offense. I just don’t date

Shaw:
Is this some kind of rule of yours? You know what they say about rules

I smiled. I couldn’t help it. I knew what he was implying.
Rules were meant to be broken
. And yeah, usually I would agree, except my no-dating policy was of my own making. I only had a few self-imposed rules, and those I didn’t break.

Shaw:
You seem like a rule-breaker type

Me:
Not about this

And not with him.

Shaw:
I can’t stop thinking about you. The sound of your laugh. And the little sounds you make when I touch you . . .

Heat flamed my face. I gulped and glanced around like someone could
hear
the seductive whisper of his words. Thankfully, no one was looking at me. I wanted to see him again, too. It was an ache in my chest. And in other parts. He made me feel special. Like maybe I was unique to him. Dangerous thinking. I shoved the phone back in my pocket, determined to ignore him, determined not to look again even when I felt it vibrate against my hip. I wanted a distraction, true, but he wasn’t it.

Facing forward, I resumed my trek across campus, tilting my face into the cold, welcoming the bite of wind, letting it chase away the lingering heat from a simple text conversation with Shaw.
Simple?
Nothing about him and how he made me feel was simple. And that was the problem.

In time he’d forget about me.

Even if I didn’t forget him.

I could live with that. I’d learned to live with a lot. This would just be one more thing.

The Grapevine was a
French-style country bistro just a few blocks from campus. I didn’t need to drive there. I walked swiftly, determined to be on time. I jogged lightly over the crosswalk, my boot heels clicking sharply on the gravel street. Dad hated it when I was late.

It was the type of place you went on a nice date—if the guy really wanted to impress you. It was a little pricey. At least that’s what I’d heard. Some guy took Suzanne there once. She thought maybe he was “the one.” At least she’d said that then. She’d said that a few times. Clearly he hadn’t turned out to be the one.

It was also the type of place where parents liked to eat because it wasn’t overrun by college kids. Parents like my dad. A Dartford alum and member of the board of trustees. He came to campus at least twice a year for meetings, and we always had breakfast or lunch on those occasions. Never dinner. He never stuck around long enough for that. He attended his meeting, checked in with me, and was gone by three. In and out and back to his life.

As I pushed through the heavy wood door, the hostess greeted me with a warm smile. “Hello, welcome to the Grapevine.”

My gaze skimmed the tall brunette, immediately recognizing her. “Beth?”

She blinked, angling her head to study me. I was dressed more conservatively than the last time she’d seen me, wearing a long wool skirt, my hair tamed smoothly around my face. I couldn’t hide the magenta streaks in my dark hair but I could style it less dramatically. My turtleneck sweater peeked out of my coat. “Uh . . .”

“Hi. I’m Emerson, remember? Reece and Pepper’s friend. I was at your engagement party.”

Recognition lit her eyes. “Ah, yes.” Her smile returned. “That was such a crazy night. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you right away.”

I nodded. “That’s okay. There were a lot of people there.”
Including your cousin
, I was tempted to add. I could see a little bit of Shaw in her—in the width of her high cheekbones.

“Yes.” She stepped closer, dropping her voice. “And I might have had a few too many margaritas.”

“You had cause to celebrate.”

Her eyes softened. “Yeah. I did.” She was obviously thinking about her fiancé. Cynic that I was, I was happy for her. This girl who had lost so much—a brother—deserved some happiness.
And so did Shaw.
I couldn’t stop my thoughts from going to him.

I knew I didn’t know the whole story, but it just didn’t seem right. “I’m friends with Shaw, too,” I added without thinking.

And maybe I shouldn’t have because the softness faded from her eyes and she just looked flinty-eyed and uncomfortable then. “You are.” It wasn’t a question. Only a statement. Turning sideways, she reached for the menus beside the podium. “Table for one or . . .”

“I’m meeting my father.”

“Oh, he’s here.” She set the menus back down with a nod and smiled. It was the fake hostess smile again. The other friendly smile she had given me when I reminded her of who I was had vanished. “Right this way.”

I followed her to the table where my father was sitting, talking on the phone with someone. He gave me a small wave.

Beth motioned to the chair and started to turn, clearly eager to escape.

“Thanks, Beth.”

She looked back slightly, her hostess smile still firmly in place on her lips. “My pleasure.”