Emerald Read online

  “No, I’m not sure I did.” His eyes are practically twinkling right now, lighting a fire in my belly.

  The words rush out of me like a waterfall of awful. “I said she’s building a log cabin.” Oh, god! I said it again! Why is that challenging look on his face making me do this horrible thing?

  He tips his head back and laughs really loudly.

  Amber is going to roast me alive for this. Unless she never knows about it. Desperation seizes me. She can never find out. I have to get him to shut up before she comes in here and asks us what we’re laughing about. “It’s not that funny.” I’m trying really hard to make him feel stupid for laughing at something so juvenile.

  “Oh, yes it is. Trust me.” He rubs his chest and takes another long drink of his beer.

  The chances of me getting any real sophistication back are pretty much nil at this point, so I do my best to fake it; I smooth down my hair and lift my chin. “I have to go check on my sister and take care of a few things. Feel free to help yourself to more beer or whatever you want in the fridge. I hear the food is pretty good.” I start to leave the room, but his voice stops me when I’m halfway through the door.

  “Emerald.”

  I turn my head to look at him. Time to face the music. “Yes?”

  “It was nice meeting you.” He tips his beer bottle at me before he finishes it off in one long pull. And now I know he is entirely too aware of how incredibly good-looking he is.

  “It was nice to meet you too.” I leave him in the kitchen and walk as quickly as I can back to my bedroom. As soon as I’m inside, I shut the door behind me, lock it, and run over and throw myself down on the bed face first.

  I cannot believe what a dingleberry I am. My sister is going to kill me when she hears what a great first impression I made on her boyfriend’s brother.

  CHAPTER SIX

  A few minutes after I’ve settled into the idea that my trip to New York City is completely doomed, there’s a tapping at my door and my sister’s voice follows.

  “Are you in there?”

  “Yes.” I’m lying on the bed staring up at the ceiling. It’s not the one I’m used to seeing. Strange. Why am I here? Oh, yeah. Too much wine. If I were at home staring at the ceiling above my bed, I’d know what I’d be doing next: I’d be getting up for the day; going outside to collect eggs; feeding the goats, dogs, cats, and horses; and then going back to the house to do my part to clean it up and make it look nice. I’d help with cooking breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I’d visit with people at the farm and maybe in town, too. I’d share lots of hugs and get into occasional tiffs with my sisters. I’d help out at the clinic if Rose needed me. I’d do what I always do, day after day after day . . .

  But I am not doing any of that today. This is not my bedroom at Glenhollow Farms. My life before this moment was so predictable and common and nice, but here in this high-rise apartment, I have no idea what’s going to happen to me next. Am I going to go out to a big restaurant or a fancy party filled with movie stars? Will I visit the Empire State Building? Will I hear a homeless man named Ray ask me if I’m going to have sex with my lunch? Or am I going to tell a guy I just met that my sister is pooping in the bathroom down the hall? Anything could happen at this point. I don’t like how unpredictable and out of control my life is right now. I don’t trust it.

  “You okay?” she asks.

  “I’m just resting.” I can’t tell her everything I’m thinking right now; she’ll feel guilty for inviting me, and it would be mean to do that to her. She didn’t come right out and say it, but I know she needs me here for moral support. She might be full of sophistication and big-city life now, but I know when my sister is feeling out of sorts. Up until now she’s always had someone she knows around her here, like the band or our mothers. This two-week period would have been the first time she was in the city totally alone, so I get why she called me and begged me to visit.

  “Could you come out? Sam’s in the living room, and I’ve got to figure out what we’re going to do.”

  I get up and walk slowly over to the door. My feet feel like they’re encased in concrete, they’re so heavy. I really, really don’t want to deal with any of this. My social anxiety is seriously rocking the party.

  After I release the lock, Amber enters and closes the door behind her, leaning against it and staring at me. Her complexion is on the pale side. She doesn’t look angry . . . more like stressed.

  I force myself to forget my problems and focus on hers. “You weren’t expecting him, were you?”

  She shakes her head, wrinkles appearing between her brows. She looks even worse than she did two seconds ago.

  “He seems nice enough,” I say, trying to ease her mind. “But I think he wants to stay here.” I cringe, knowing this is not good news for either of us. Houseguests, no matter how nice they are, bring complications . . . and I’m not even sure how nice Sam is. My first impression of him was not that encouraging.

  “He does. I guess he doesn’t have the money for a hotel.”

  “Do you have room for him?”

  “Yes. It’s just going to be . . . awkward.”

  Maybe I’m imagining things, but it seems like she’s looking meaningfully at me. She’s probably worrying that my stranger-danger issues will be a problem for her. I need to let her know that it’s fine . . . that he can stay and maybe—if I’m lucky—even be her plus-one for all the touristy things she wants to do. A spark of hope lights up in my chest.

  “Why will it be awkward?” I ask, trying not to sound too bright and cheery. Amber reads my thoughts way too readily as it is; I don’t need to make it easy on her. “I’m fine with it. Don’t worry about me if that’s what the problem is.” Crud. I sound too eager. She’ll probably think it’s because I find him attractive. But maybe that’s better than her realizing I’m hoping his presence will get me out of playing tourist. I mean, he is cute, but it’s not like I want to live here with the guy, even temporarily; he’s a stranger, after all. But I’m not going to encourage Amber to kick him over to a hotel just because it makes me feel uncomfortable to be staying in such close quarters with a man I don’t know very well. We do it all the time at the commune, so it shouldn’t be any different here. I’m going to keep telling myself this until I actually believe it.

  “Are you sure?” Amber asks.

  “Yes, it’s fine, really.”

  “I could offer him money for a hotel room, but I don’t think he’s going to appreciate that very much. He seems a little . . . touchy.”

  “Yeah, what’s up with that?” Touchy is a great way to describe his vibe, now that she mentions it.

  “There’s history there, between him and Ty. I don’t know all of it yet, but I get the impression it’s going to be a little weird around here until they figure it out.”

  I shrug, walking over to rub her upper arms in an effort to calm her down. “We can handle it. Nothing needs to change. Just set me up with an easel and some painting supplies, and I’ll get busy on that masterpiece you want for the other room. And maybe you can show Sam around the city. That’ll be fun, right?” Just ease her into it . . . Easy does it . . .

  She shrugs me off, pointing at my face. “Ha! Faker! I knew it. You think you’re going to pawn your sisterly touristing duties off on Sam, don’t you? Well, think again, scammer, because you’re not getting out of it that easily. You’re still coming with me to do some stuff, and that includes clothes shopping.”

  “Yeah, sure, no problem.” I lift a shoulder all casual-like, acting like it’s no big deal that she just completely and totally read my mind. God, I hate that I’m such an open book. I still have hope that I can weasel my way out of it, though; I don’t care what she says. And besides . . . she didn’t totally shut down the idea of showing Sam around, right?

  She rolls her eyes up to the ceiling and sighs. “What else could go wrong today?”

  “Hey, what’s going wrong? Nothing at all. I’m here to hang out and have some fun with
my sister, and Sam is here and he’s going to have some fun too. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.”

  She shrinks down, deflating like a balloon as she looks at me with her head tilted to the side. “Are you going to pretend that you’re happy to be here now?”

  I envelop her in a hug, guilt assailing me. “Stop. You know I’m happy to see you. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here with you.” I’m not lying either. I love my sister so much, and I can see she’s stressed out. If I can help her with that, I’m going to. There’s no question about it. And I realize this means that I’m probably going to have to do some shopping, but that’s the price I must pay for being a nice person. Ugh. The things I won’t do for family . . .

  She hugs me back. “Do you mean that?”

  “Absolutely. Let’s go get Sam and do something fun.” I squeeze her extra hard.

  She laughs. “You want to go have a hot dog? I have a serious craving.”

  My heart trips with fear. Perverted strangers . . . processed food . . . Sam . . . “Absolutely. I can’t wait to meet your friend Ray and see the present you bought for him.”

  She pulls away and stares at me suspiciously. “Why do I think you’re messing with me right now?”

  I look as innocent as possible. “I have no idea. I’m being totally sincere.”

  She grabs me by the face and kisses me, first on the left cheek and then the right. “I love you so much. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you and how much I need you right now.”

  “Oh, yes I do . . . About half as much as I’ve missed you.” I knew she needed me. I’m so glad I didn’t turn her down. As difficult as this is for me, it would be worse to know Amber was suffering alone. I just hope that whatever is bothering her is garden-variety loneliness and not something else. I’m not as good at reading minds as she is, and Amber isn’t the best at being vulnerable and letting people in.

  She opens the door and steps out, pulling me by the wrist with her. “Let’s go get our hot dog on.”

  I stop in my tracks, forcing her to turn and look at me.

  “What’s wrong now?” she asks.

  I bite my lip, knowing I have to tell her this but hating it. “I kind of have to confess something.” If she finds out from Sam what I said before she hears it from me, she will die of embarrassment. I can’t let that happen to her; she’s already freaked-out enough.

  “What?”

  “Don’t get mad at me.”

  She puts her hands on her hips. “The more you warn me off, the more upset I’m going to be.”

  “Everything’s fine.” Kind of. “I’m just telling you . . . first . . . that it wasn’t intentional, okay? I panicked. You know I’m not good in social situations.”

  She folds her arms over her chest. “I’m waiting.”

  I cringe as I tell her. “When Sam and I were waiting for you to come out of the bathroom, I might have let it slip that you were building a log cabin.”

  Her arms drop like deadwood to her sides as her jaw falls open. She probably wants to say something to me right now, but I think she is physically incapable of it.

  I hurry to patch things up. “I promise I wasn’t trying to be mean or silly. It just popped out. I think I’ve spent too much time on the farm.”

  She answers in a loud, angry whisper. “I think you have too, you goofy hippie!” She grabs the hair on either side of her head and squeezes. “You are in so much trouble! I can’t believe you’d do that to me!” Her face is bright red.

  I should be scared at her reaction, but now that’s she’s dropped her hands and has two big clumps of hair sticking straight out from the sides of her head, it’s taking all my internal fortitude just to hold it together. She looks like a deranged chicken, and I should know, because I have a few back home. I start giggling at her beet-red face. I can’t help it; it has to be the wine making me think she looks like Agnes, my Gold Laced Polish hen. “It just came out. I don’t have any control of my mouth sometimes.”

  “If I didn’t love you so much, I’d march straight into that other room right now and tell Sam about the time you pulled your pants down and touched the electric fence with your bare butt cheek and fell facedown into a cow pie.”

  My laughter falls away as I gasp. “No! You double-dog dared me to do that! That was your fault!” I’ll never forget that totally humiliating moment for as long as I live. I had no idea the shock would make my body spasm like that. And for the record, cow pies taste twice as bad as they smell.

  “I swear, I’ll tell him.” She stands straighter, asserting her older-sister-with-a-secret dominance over me.

  I blanch at the idea of that hulking man in the other room hearing about me getting cow turds up my nose and between my teeth. He’d never picture me as anything but a hayseed hippie after hearing that story. “You’d better not. He already thinks I’m a great big hick as it is, but at least he doesn’t picture me with my face covered in cow shit.”

  She frowns. “Why? What did he say? Did he say something rude to you?”

  Oh, dang. She thinks he insulted me. I feel bad that I’m making a poor impression for Sam before he’s even had time to really get to know my sister.

  “No, he didn’t say anything. He’s been perfectly nice.” And perfectly sexy and perfectly hot and perfectly dangerous, too. I’ve only talked to him for twenty minutes, but I already know he’s trouble. I just need to stay clear of him so I don’t open my big mouth and share any more way-too-personal information.

  “Come on,” I say, urging Amber down the hallway. “We’re not getting anywhere with this silliness. We’ve left him alone for too long. We’re being terrible hosts.” She mumbles something under her breath, but I push on her back, keeping her going forward. “I’m not listening to you. Just keep moving.”

  Amber, normally the take-charge type, is suddenly dragging her feet. But it’s my sisterly duty to make sure that she’s at least polite to her houseguest, just like our mothers taught us to be with people all our lives, so I continue, even though I’d love nothing more than to lock myself up in my room and take a nap to sleep off the effects of the alcohol.

  “How bad can it be?” I ask, using my most cheerful voice. “He’s the brother of the love of your life, right?”

  She stops just outside the living room and leans in close, whispering in my ear, “Yeah, but you’re my sister and you just told him—a perfect stranger, I might add—that I was pooping in the bathroom. So yeah . . . That’s how bad it can be.”

  I nod, imagining being in her shoes right now. “Mmm, yeah. You might have a point. It is pretty bad.” I think about it for a second. “It’s possible I might need to crack open another bottle of wine to survive this day.”

  She rolls her eyes and takes my hand. “No way, lady. No more wine for you, you stinkin’ lightweight. Come on.”

  We walk into the living room and stop, side by side in the entrance, to view what awaits us. Sam is on the couch with his legs splayed open and his arm thrown over the back cushions. He’s leaning far into the corner of the furniture with his mouth hanging open as he snores.

  I didn’t think this man could ever look adorable with that caveman beard, but damn . . . there he is, doing it. I squeeze my sister’s hand, wondering if she thinks the same thing I do.

  “Oh my god,” she says, sounding repulsed. “Would you get a load of that hipster beard? So hideous.”

  I elbow her in the ribs. “Shush! He’s going to hear you.” And she is so wrong about his beard, but I’m not going to argue where he’ll hear me.

  He lets out a loud snore and then stops, smacking his lips together as he slowly opens his eyes. For the briefest of moments, I have an impression of what he might look like when he rolls over after having sex, with those half-lidded eyes and that sleepy look on his face with a slight grin. It sends a thrill through my entire body, and I feel like I’ve just inhaled a giant balloon full of helium. If I talk right now, I’ll surely sound like Mickey Mouse. I clamp my lips toge
ther just in case they’re thinking of flapping around again.

  He sits up straighter and slides his feet down to the floor, moving to rest his elbows on his knees. He swipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and then strokes his beard a couple times before he looks up at us and speaks. “You must be Emerald’s sister.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Amber walks farther into the room and straight over to Sam with her hand out. “I sure am. Amber’s the name. And you’re Sam. We’re so glad you came.” None of her earlier misgivings about his presence are evident; she seems genuinely happy to see him. It’s pretty impressive, actually. I wish I could be that easily social. There will be no more awkward pauses now that Amber is in the room, thank God.

  He stands, rubbing his palms on his jeans before he shakes her hand. “Sorry to drop in on you like this. I had to come out a little ahead of schedule. Things came up.”

  Again, the mysterious event that got him here three weeks early . . . It’s burning me up inside, wondering what it is. Bad breakup? Drugs? Bank robbery gone wrong? Running from the law? He’s looking more dangerously sexy by the second.

  “Not a problem at all,” Amber says, seemingly nonplussed by his empty explanation. “You’re welcome to stay here, or we can put you up in a hotel. It’s totally your choice. You’re Ty’s brother, so I’m not going to kick you to the curb by any means.” She looks over at me. “My sister’s here for ten days, but if you don’t mind sharing the apartment with two girls, you’re welcome to stay.”

  “If you don’t mind, I think I’d rather do that. Hotels around here are a little pricey.”

  “Excellent . . .” She pauses, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Of course . . . but just so you know . . . not that I’m trying to change your mind or anything . . . but this would be an expense the band would take on . . . if you wanted to stay at a hotel, I mean. We don’t expect you to pay out-of-pocket for expenses you incur while working for the band. Anything you have to spend while you’re here is on them.”