My dad’s eyes, the same color as my own, turned dark. “You share her meals, you take her horseback riding, show her the ranch. She better be happy and smiling when we get back.”
Every word that came out of his mouth gave me too many ideas. I needed to end this conversation—now.
“Of course, Dad,” I said, but he was intently watching Cyn, who looked like she was heading out of the tent and toward the house.
Dad gave me an absent nod. “Good. Knew I could count on you. Now I need to see to my bride.” He didn’t wait for my reply, just crossed the tent faster than I’d seen him move in a while.
And following my dad’s movements brought my attention back to the dance floor and Emma. Where she was still wrapped in TJ’s arms.
I dropped my now-empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter. I’d had enough. My path was short and direct.
TJ and Emma stilled when I stood within feet of them.
TJ’s eyes were knowing. Daring. Was he taunting me on purpose? Right now, I didn’t care.
My voice sounded rough, even to me, when I said, “I believe you promised me a dance, Emma.”
Shock lit her eyes, and they cut back to TJ.
Don’t look at him, Emma. He’s not going to save you.
I could see the moment she decided she was going to concede, if only not to make a scene. TJ tipped his hat to both of us.
“Boss. Emma.”
I nodded in response, and pulled Emma into my arms. Her frame was stiff, almost wooden—the complete opposite of the pliable, passionate woman she’d been only days ago.
I leaned down and spoke into her ear. “Did you think because they didn’t do a bridesmaid-groomsmen dance that you’d get through tonight without me having you in my arms?”
Her response was quiet, so as not to carry, and I caught the slightest hint of panic in it. “Why are you doing this? What if someone—”
“There’s absolutely nothing improper about me dancing with my new stepsister. It’d be strange if I didn’t.”
“Don’t call me your stepsister if you’re going to rub this against me.” She turned slightly to press her hip against my growing hard-on, which was concealed between us.
“I can’t help what you do to me,” I admitted.
Emma didn’t back away, but pressed against me again, her eyes pinned to the studs of my tux.
“You shouldn’t do that unless you’re prepared to deal with the consequences.” My voice came out low, almost a growl.
She finally looked up at me, her eyes tinged with mischief. “I think I can handle any consequences you can dream up.”
Her complete one-eighty had my eyebrows rising and my cock hardening further against her stomach.
“I don’t take well to little girls who like to tease when they’ve got a little champagne-fueled courage.” I knew exactly how much she’d had to drink, because I watched her so damn close all night. But I didn’t think it was enough to impair her judgment and prevent her from making an informed decision when I finally got her alone.
“It’s not the champagne, and I may not be as experienced as you, but I’m not teasing.” She swallowed and her courage seemed to falter for a beat before she added, “I can’t stop thinking about it. Hell, I even dream about it.”
I slowly maneuvered us off the dance floor, and we were nearing the tent entrance when she made that admission. Which was probably good, because no one could overhear me tell her: “You better be sure that you want this, because you just might get more than you bargained for.”
The time had come to lay our cards out and see if we wanted the same thing. Every look she’d shot me tonight said she did. I just needed her to say the words.
“I want this,” Emma said, her voice quiet but confident.
Thank fuck.
Chapter 7
Emma
The moment the reception started, I put as much distance between myself and Ford as possible. I was still painfully aware that he was watching me, but at the same time, pleasantly tipsy and happy for Mom. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on was in the air, a kind of … lightheartedness. Like the future was nothing to worry about—either because it didn't exist, or because everything would turn out okay in the end. I wasn't sure. Mom had grabbed happiness wherever she found it, and that hadn't always gone well, but things eventually worked out for her. Maybe I should try that attitude, too. Stop thinking so hard about life and just live it.
Easier said than done. Which was why I danced with every man who asked, even dragging old Griff out onto the floor, all in an effort to avoid noticing how delicious Ford looked in his tux. It was a losing battle.