The Truest Thing - Hart's Boardwalk

Four years, he thought as he hurried down the beach to her, sand getting in his shoes. He didn’t care about the sand. Emery had lived in Hartwell for four years and in that time, she’d kept to herself. As far as he was aware, the bookstore and coffeehouse owner had no friends, no family, and no interests beyond the store.

Jack had tried to get over whatever it was that pulled him in Emery’s direction, but as the years passed, it had gotten harder to ignore what she made him feel. He didn’t know her and she made him feel.

He still went nearly every morning to her store to buy a coffee to start his day. Sure, she made the best coffee in town, but he went out of his way for one because he got to see her blush at him every day. Four years and she still blushed at him. He loved when the pink stained her cheeks anytime he smiled at her. And that sweet smile she gave him in return. The way she’d flush redder when he deliberately touched his fingers to hers when he took the coffee. Jack wondered if she felt the tingles rush up her arm the same way he did.

After that moment at the music festival two years ago, when Emery saw him with the tourist whose name he was ashamed to say he couldn’t even remember now, the progress he’d made with Em halted. He’d watched her hurry away after seeing him with that woman and for some stupid reason, he’d felt like a jackass. Like a guy who had just cheated on his girl. It made no sense. But he got the distinct impression he’d hurt Emery’s feelings that day. Maybe he just wanted to believe that.

He told himself that was just wishful thinking.

Until he went in for coffee the following Monday and she would not look at him. Sure, she blushed, but she didn’t respond to his questions and not once did she make eye contact.

That went on for weeks.

Wearing on Jack’s nerves.

Yet he was a masochist who just kept going back for more.

Until eventually, she talked to him again. Two years later, he reckoned he was about the only one other than Iris who could get an actual conversation out of Emery Saunders. And she was cute and funny when she let her guard down.

It made him want to unwrap her slowly, find out what else went on in that mind of hers. Stephen Hawking once said the quietest people had the loudest minds. Jack suspected that of Emery. He suspected there was lots of fantastic stuff to discover about her.

“It’s late,” he said as he approached her.

Emery startled from her spot on the shore.

His eyes flickered down her body, and he swallowed hard. She usually wore long dresses or jeans and tops with lots of fabric on the arms. Not tonight. Tonight, she wore pajama shorts beneath her oversized sweater and Jack glimpsed her gorgeous long legs for the first time.

Jesus Fucking Christ.

Of course, she had the finest pair of legs he’d ever seen.

Everything about the woman was made specially to torment him.

Jack came to a stop beside her. Emery was tall for a woman, but he still had to look down at her. She stared up at him, a little wide-eyed, swallowed hard, and looked out at the ocean.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded, tucking a loose strand of her beautiful hair behind her ear. Silver rings sat on nearly every one of her fingers and long silver earrings hung from her ears. They were accompanied by two more piercings—little diamond studs that winked in the moonlight.

The woman was always jingling and jangling with jewelry.

Jack still imagined the sound of her jewelry making their song for a whole different reason—with every thrust of his body into hers.

Arousal flushed through him and he cursed inwardly. Every time he was around her, he felt like a fourteen-year-old boy with no control over his hormones. Jack looked away, watching the calm ripple of the waves.

“Are you okay?” Her soft voice filled the space between them, causing his skin to prickle with awareness.

He answered honestly. “No, I’m not okay.”

“Oh.” He could feel her looking at him, so he turned to meet her gaze. That ache in his chest only she caused made itself known. “Can I … help?” she asked.

It seemed to take a lot for her to ask him. Jack turned his body toward her. “If … if … okay …” He blew out air between his lips. “Say you have this friend. A good friend. And this friend has a husband.”

Emery nodded. It felt good to be the recipient of her undivided attention and focus. “So say you have this friend, and her husband—who you’ve made it clear to your friend that you don’t trust or like—makes a pass at you.”