Emily’s heart is fickle and flighty, but she gives it all, wide open every time. And there’s nothing she likes better than turning a bad boy good. She’s got a line of guys in her wake, each of whom would swear they’re better off for having loved her, even though they lost her. She counts her exes as friends and has even gone to some of their weddings when they’ve moved on from their post-Emily heartache.
There’s a tiny stitch somewhere in my chest as I think about Cowboy seeing Emily, though, how he’d look from her to me and choose her. It’s happened more times than I can count. Not her fault. She’s just the easier edition of our particular model. I’m like the beta test version, with glitches and bugs and no manual.
“He was so hot, and we had a connection, you know? He might’ve acted like he was immune to my charms, but I like a challenge.”
I can’t help but smile at her determination. And as long as she’s focused on her mystery guy, she won’t be up in my business, which is a good thing.
“What about the woman he left with?” I ask carefully.
“The more I think about it, I think they really were siblings or friends or something. He didn’t light up when he looked over and saw her, you know that goofy-cute smile guys do when they see their girl? And they weren’t holding hands and didn’t kiss hello. Maybe I jumped to conclusions a little bit?” She holds her finger and thumb up an inch apart, looking sheepish.
“Maybe.” I agree because that does sound reasonable, though I’m still not sure. Emily is a bit too trusting sometimes, so it’s possible that’s wishful thinking on her part?
“Mark my words, Rix. We’re going to the resort bar again. I’m going to find my broody asshole and make those dark eyes really see me next time. I think I’ll wear my red dress, the strapless man-killer one. What do you think?”
A horrible thought occurs to me. An ugly, awful one that I want to deny, but it’s sitting right in front of me.
“Dark eyes?” I glance to my side, where Cowboy is watching my side of the exchange with an amused smirk on his face. I realize he can’t see Emily over the truck and is happily eavesdropping.
“Yep, so dark they’re almost black. Like hot little charcoal briquets.”
“At the resort bar a few nights ago?” Brody’s brows climb up his forehead. He’s sensing something . . . and I wonder if I’m the first in on a big joke. “Beard or clean-shaven?”
“Neither, it was like somewhere in the middle. One of those five o’clock shadow scruffs you want to feel on your thighs.”
Brody’s lips quirk, and Reed and Manuel stop working at that, Emily’s words painting a picture no one can ignore. But she’s long since stopped editing herself for Reed and Manuel. They’re basically family, and she spends too much time with my foul mouth as a verbal role model.
“He didn’t happen to have on a hat, did he?” I ask slowly, not wanting to hear the answer as we dance closer to the danger line.
“Yes! Oh, God, Rix . . . you’re so smart! Maybe I can track down the logo, like it’s where he works or something. What was on it?” She closes her eyes and rubs at her temples.
I swear to God if she says he was wearing a black hat with a camouflage silhouette of a cow, I’m going to die. Maybe of laughter, maybe of something more sinister.
“A cow! A camo cow . . . that’s it.”
Brody’s eyes go so wide I can see the whites all the way around. He even pulls the hat off his head, double-checking it himself. He curls the brim, something it looks like he does often, and shoves it back on his head. I can’t help but smile at the confused look on his face.
Emily stomps her heeled foot. “Don’t laugh at me. I’m gonna find him, claim him, spread my legs, and invite him into my life, if you know what I mean.” She teases out the last bit seductively.
Reed raises his hand like we’re in elementary school again. “I know what you mean, Emily.”
I sigh heavily, knowing what I have to do. I’ll step aside for her anytime. It’s what you do . . . for family.
A painful knot in my belly whispers that he probably thinks I’m her, anyway. If they met at the resort and flirted, when he saw me here today and almost kissed me . . . he would’ve naturally assumed I was Emily. Flirty and fun and sexy . . . Emily.
That burns hot and sour through my blood, and I’m glad we didn’t kiss. Or at least I tell myself I am.