Stolen Course(32)

“You’re not even dressed yet?” Eli asks. He flops down on the couch and props his feet on the coffee table.

“Hey, asshole. Feet off the table. Dressed for what?” I look down, noticing that they are both dressed for the gym.

“It’s a table, jerk-off,” Eli says dryly, ignoring me and leaning back against the couch.

“No, it’s my table. Get your damn feet off it!” I shout, turning back to Brett. “What’s going on this morning?”

“You were supposed to take us to your boxing gym. Get a few spars in and see about getting us signed up.”

Fuck! All thoughts of commitments disappeared last night. I knew I had to work today, but I fully intended to call in late. Emma’s more than worth whatever shit the boss would dish out.

“Fuck, I completely forgot.” I run a hand through my hair.

“Hey, did you make this?” Eli asks, running his hand over the table where his feet once sat.

“Yeah. I finished it a few weeks ago.”

“Damn, this is nice.” He leans in to get a closer look. “Oak?”

“Uh, no. That's Bubinga. And it's highly figured so don't put your feet on it. Or anything for that matter." I scoff.

"Highly fingered? Jesus, Jones. Do you ever think of anything other than sex?" Eli responds jokingly.

"No, dumbass. Are you twelve? It’s highly figured. See the wavy lines. That's called figuring. And the closer together those lines are, the more expensive the wood is. So like I said. Get. Your. Feet. Off.”

“This is really fucking nice!” he says, inspecting even closer.

“I could have done better, but I love that table. Look at the joints. There aren't any screws or nails like that cheap shit you buy at Walmart and put together yourself. I used mortise-and-tenon joinery," I explain to Eli, who is looking at me like I'm speaking Greek. I start to elaborate when Brett’s shout from the kitchen interrupts my thoughts.

“Emma?” he says, and my eyes go wide when I realize what he is just finding out.

I had big plans of talking to Brett about Emma. Looks like that won’t be necessary anymore. Fuck. And she’s half naked, too.

I quickly make my way to the kitchen to find Emma hauling ass out down the back hall toward my room.

“Em, wait.” Brett tries to follow her, but I catch his arm first.

“Let her get dressed.”

He may act like her big brother, but he’s not related to her, and he most certainly is not going to see her in a T-shirt and panties. Besides, it will give me a minute to talk to him alone.

“You son of a fucking bitch!” He turns to face me with a murderous glare. So much for talking.

“Jesus Christ, calm down.” I walk to my hall closet and pull on a hoodie. If Brett and I are going to brawl like high schoolers this morning, I should at the very least be dressed.

“Calm down? Calm down?” he says, following me. “What the hell is Emma Erickson doing half naked in your kitchen at seven a.m.?”

“Oh, fuck!” Eli joins the conversation.

“Well, she was fully naked at two a.m. if that helps at all,” I say just to be a prick.

Truth be told, I’m pissed. I’m pissed because Brett and Eli showed up, ruining my morning with Emma. I’m pissed that her last name is Erickson. And most of all, I’m pissed off that I don’t have a single explanation for him. A week ago, I would have had a whole story to give Brett, but now, things are so up in the air with me and Emma. What do I even tell him?

Brett’s eyes go wide as he steps up into my face. Eli quickly moves to get between us, but it’s Emma who stops it from escalating.

“Caleb, shut the fuck up!” I hear from behind me. “And, you!” She directs her attention to Brett. “Chill!” She is once again dragging her hair up into another ponytail even though the one she had moments ago was perfect.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Brett snaps at her, causing me to go on alert.

“Brett, watch your fucking mouth. That’s your only warning, so I really suggest you heed it.”

Brett and I have had our fair share of blowouts since we lost the girls five years ago. Almost every single one of them revolved around Sarah. They are almost always resolved quickly and usually my fault. He’s still my best friend. I love the guy—I really do—but I don’t need any other obstacles when it comes to Emma.

I reach over and pull Emma into my side, making it very clear that this isn’t one of our usual fights. This is real—or at least I fucking hope it is.

His eyes immediately flash down to my arm around her waist. “Are you fucking kidding me? Jesus Christ, this is a joke. Right?”