“Oh, I am,” she says simply.
We pick our way across the slick, uneven stone floor. It smells dank in here.
A curse, then Wynona abruptly jerks down on my arm. I just manage to catch her before she wipes out on the ground.
“Damn it, my stupid flip-flops,” she says, lifting a broken blue plastic one miserably.
“Not the best for cave exploring,” I say.
She shoots me a withering glare. “Well, if I’d been warned...”
I crouch down, then gesture her forward, onto my back. “Lucky for you, you have a superior method of transportation.”
Wynona doesn’t move. “Emerson, I don’t know.”
I turn to scowl at her. “Think I can’t handle it? Try me.”
She shrugs. “If you fall and kill us, it’s your funeral.”
I just smile. “Nah. It’s both our funerals.”
She rolls her eyes. “Great, that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.”
She comes up and clambers on my back, then we venture in further until the entrance is a speck far behind us.
“How far are we going?” Wynona asks.
“This far enough?” I ask her.
“Five minutes ago was,” she says, getting off and sitting down. “But this will do.”
“Good,” I say.
“Good,” she says.
The cave makes our voices echo.
There’s no more slickness here. Just us and rock.
“Sorry about before,” I find myself saying.
Wynona doesn’t say anything.
“This is all new to me,” I admit.
“And it isn’t to me?” she asks. “You broke my heart, Emerson. I hated you for a very long time.”
“Maybe you were right to.”
“That’s it?”
“No. Just... that’s what made it harder for me. That I had chosen to do this. To end things with you.”
“You’re not going to get any sympathy from me.”
“I don’t expect any.”
A sigh. “I’m sorry. I keep meaning to be less bitchy, and then I go and be bitchy again.”
“It’s all right,” I tell her. “I’m sorry too.”
She lets the silence sit. It’s almost nice, her easing into my arms.
Only, there’s one thing that’s missing right now.
“Kiss me,” I say.
“You first,” she says.
I kiss her and then she snuggles into me further, and I hold her.
Of course I want her. Of course I want to fuck her right here, right now.
I know how hot her lithe body is. I know how it moves with mine.
But this moment—right here, right now—it’s enough.
Just as it is.
Right here. Right now.
**
Back at the hotel, I walk Wynona to her door. We kiss goodnight.
By the time I think to check my phone messages back in my room, it’s almost midnight. One is a spam call, but the last one makes me sit down on my bed and listen to it.
And another time. And another time.
And then I lie on my bed staring at nothing.
Chapter 13
Wynona
“You free tonight?” Emerson asks when he calls me at noon.
The morning was waking up so late it felt luxurious. I had a quick catch-up French toast breakfast with Josie in person and Mom over Skype—apparently, the dogs have stopped knocking over her plants—a nice long shower, and coming up with and dismissing the idea of calling up Emerson several times.
I almost smile “Maybe.”
“Fine,” Emerson says, suddenly short. “If you don’t want the VIP suite I booked—”
“Whoa,” I say. “What’s your problem?”
“You’re playing games again.”
I sigh, then chuckle a little self-consciously. “Maybe I should be asking what my problem is.”
“That’s obvious,” Emerson says, back to good-humored confidence. “You’re not in the VIP suite I booked us yet.”
I smile. “A mistake you’re about to rectify, by the sound of it?”
“I’ll come get you in two hours,” he says.
Those two hours I spend sketching out a colorful new logo for my tattoo business—the old one is very out-of-date—and then stalking Emerson on Google. There’s not much to find, other than a few very handsome photos, so I actually get around to hanging up my clothes.
By the time he shows up, I’ve had on my black velvet skater skirt and deep blue velvet tee for about an hour, my black cat-eye makeup done for a half-hour.
“You look great,” he says.
It almost seems repetitive, his saying it, with the way his eyes are resting on me already.
“You too,” I say.
My own gaze lingers on him, on his powerful shoulders in the deep purple dress shirt he’s wearing and on his black tailored pants.
I feel underdressed, even though Josie agreed my outfit was ‘fancy enough’.
It’s a quick walk down the hallway, rounding a corner, and then another, then, opening the door until...
“Well, damn,” is the first thing I say when I set foot into the VIP suite.
It’s like walking into a work of art, with every last detail customized to please. Floors, walls, and ceiling are a creamy rose marble twined with gold while the muted teal and gold bedspread and gold-leaf furniture are nothing short of gorgeous. Even the smell seems to match, a subtle, classy mix of vanilla and roses.
Emerson indicates a balcony visible through the glass doors. “That’s what convinced me this would be worth it.”