She’d clung to being good as a way to keep people close and make them happy, even though it could make her feel fraudulent and wretched and lonely. At the end of the day, she was still afraid of doing things that could hurt the people she loved, or herself, in the future. The “good” reputation she’d cultivated had become a prison.
“Well, I don’t know about everyone else, but I couldn’t be more tickled than to see new romance blooming at my engagement party. You know, if something more happens between you two, I’m taking all the credit for creating an environment neither of you could resist.” Kelsey swooped in and swaddled Emma in a hearty embrace. “Be happy, Emma. Let go and have a little fun. Be like me for a change and learn to get over what everyone else thinks. Just live and see what happens.”
“If this gets back to my mother . . .” Emma stopped herself, realizing that, at thirty-one, she sounded pathetic to be worried about her mother’s opinion. Yet, for so long, it had been just her and her mom making their way together.
Emma straightened up and smoothed her hair. “I only kissed Wyatt to make Trip lose that stupid bet and wipe the smug look off his face. Now, whatever happens, if anything happens, it will be between Wyatt and me. Not because of Trip.”
Kelsey wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know about that. What just happened out there got the ball rolling, and that’s all because of Trip.”
Her proud smile sparked Emma’s laugh. “You see him through the rosiest glasses.”
“God, I do love that man.” Kelsey’s unapologetic, big love for Trip made Emma wonder if her own mother had ever been so enamored of her dad.
Did the fact that Kelsey totally accepted Trip’s nature give them a better chance at lasting? Had Emma’s mother’s insecurities and judgments—her restraint—driven her father away?
That last thought felt like a betrayal of her mom, who’d been so devastated when he’d left them. And he hadn’t proven himself to be the most loving father since then, either. No, the fault had to be with him and his selfish, lusty nature. Lust usually wreaked havoc in people’s lives. This much Emma knew.
Even so, she’d already started falling for Wyatt.
“Shall we return to the party?” Avery asked. “The longer we stay in here, the more questions it’ll raise.”
Emma drew a deep breath and prepared to face the consequences of her lapse in judgment. She’d have to do it with her head held high, even if her insides were fumbling like a puppet on loose strings. “Crap.”
Wyatt’s phone kept beeping. His Twitter feed had blown up because someone at the party tweeted a picture of him and Emma making out, along with a text that read, “Check out @AirdogLawson’s latest training regimen.”
Dammit. He’d become so preoccupied with Emma, he’d forgotten that something like this could happen. That the reputation he’d been trying to rebuild could take a hit. Probably best if he didn’t respond. Most of the time responding only made the noise last longer.
Ryder would probably see this before Wyatt got back to the inn, too, which wouldn’t lessen the tension between them. Not for the first time tonight, a dose of guilt slid down to sour his stomach. He hated the idea that he and Ryder might both want Emma. Worse, that he’d plowed ahead and tried to take her without first figuring out exactly how it could hurt his brother.
“Well, well, well.” Trip pulled out his wallet and thumbed through his cash. He handed a hundred bucks to Wyatt. “I gotta hand it to Emma. Didn’t think she had it in her.”
Wyatt shoved the money back at Trip. “I don’t want your money.”
“Fair’s fair.” Trip thrust it forward.
“I mean it. Keep your cash. My interest in Emma’s got nothing to do with you or the bet, and I don’t want this on my conscience.” His conscience had enough to atone for tonight.
Trip put the cash back in his wallet. “This gets more interesting by the minute.”
Wyatt’s phone bleeped again. “Dammit. Forty-seven retweets? Don’t people have anything better to do?”
“What’s wrong?” Kelsey asked, appearing out of nowhere with Avery and Emma.
“Nothin’.” Wyatt stuffed the phone in his pocket.
“What retweets?” Emma asked, eyes alert and nervous. Just the sight of her got him going again, despite the many reasons he shouldn’t lose control.
Maybe he should make light of the tweets so she didn’t freak out. He glanced at the others. “Excuse us a second.” Clasping Emma’s arm, he then maneuvered her into a corner a little distance from her friends and the crowd, hopeful no one else was snapping pictures. “Some joker posted a picture of our . . . dance. Basically called me out on getting distracted from my purpose for being in town.”