Page 35 of The One Timer

It’s her eyes that tell me the story, begging me to understand, sad and remorseful, and I’d still be angry with her, angry at the fact that she knew me all along but pretended to be a stranger.

But what stops me from calling her out and demanding retribution—of some kind—is the fear I see. What the hell is she afraid of? Me? Maybe. But that makes no sense.

Uvi comes in, and we hug. “Emery, help Mr. Whittier with his bags.”

“Mr. Whittier? Really?” I chuckle, but I don’t call out Uvi for asking Emery to help me with my bags. Usually, I’d object because it’s ridiculous—I don’t need help—plus, I doubt it’s Emery’s job to play bell boy and carry guests’ bags, but I make an exception this time because I need to talk to her—privately.

I hand Emery the gift bag I’m holding and retrieve my Portland Whalers duffel from the doorway where I dropped it. “Follow me.”

She darts a look at Gran, expecting to be rescued, and I hold my breath for a fraction. Gran glances between us, and when I catch her eye, I let her know I want a moment with Emery.

Since Gran is a die-hard romantic, she gives me a slight nod. “Go ahead, Emery. We’ll have lunch when you’re finished with Chase.”

Emery’s tension skyrockets to palpable at Gran’s words. I can feel her unease without touching her, but she straightens her spine and follows me from the room. I lead her to the front parlor, where the big tree always stands.

I watch her place the gift under the tree with the rest of them and toss my duffel on the floor near the couch. Then I sit down, and when she turns, I beckon to her with my hand.

“Come and sit with me.”

She stares at me for a couple of beats while I watch the flurry of emotions on her face, mostly guilt and embarrassment, with a slight tilt of amusement in her eyes. Then, finally, defeat and resignation.

She inhales a deep sigh and says, “With a name like Chase, I should’ve known you’d catch up with me.” She sports a wry smile as she saunters over to the couch and sits next to me, pretending to be casually cynical. I would have believed her act if it hadn’t been for that one night.

The only problem is, I’m dying to re-live it all. And apparently, she’s not.

I grunt. “Not funny, Emery. What the fuck? Why did you lie to me about who you are, about working for Gran and the tickets?”

To give her credit, she doesn’t look away, but that only makes it harder for me, staring at those soft honey eyes, because all I want to do is reach out and drag her in for a kiss and a hell of a lot more.

“I don’t even know why. I’m not in the habit of stealing or one-night stands. It was a foolish, crazy thing to do, but I wanted to meet you, and I didn’t think…” She looks down for a beat and gathers herself. “Please don’t tell your grandmother about us. I need this job. Let’s pretend that night never happened.”

Her words slice through me, doing more damage than they ought to, considering all we had was that one night.

“You want me to keep a secret from my grandmother?”

She nods.

“You know she wouldn’t fire you if⁠—”

“I can’t afford to take that chance. I know I have no right to ask you for a favor. I’ve behaved very badly. I should’ve told you, but then everything would’ve been different, and we wouldn’t have had our special night.”

“That’s not true. What makes you say that?”

She waves a hand. “I’m the hired help. Why would you⁠—”

“There you are, admiring the tree.” Gran walks in the room, and I wonder what she’ll make of the cozy scene between me and her caretaker, not that it matters to me, but I know it’ll matter to Em.

So, I made a snap decision. “I was taking a minute to get to know the young lady you’ve been raving about.” I pat the cushion on the other side of me from where Em is sitting and take Gran’s hand as she carefully sits. At the same time, I reach over and squeeze Em’s hand out of sight from Gran to reassure her that I won’t upset her applecart.

She’s worried about nothing, but I’m not sure I can convince her that Gran would never fire her for using her tickets, and certainly not for spending the night with me.

There haven’t been many nights spent with a woman, especially since the season started three months ago, and Gran is all too well aware of that. In fact, she worries about me. But she doesn’t know the focus it takes to make a run for the Stanley Cup.

“Emily is the best personal helper I’ve ever had.”

I watch them smile at each other and catch Emery’s silent thank you evident in her grateful eyes.

“Is that right?” I say, giving her a mock frown. “And I thought I was your favorite helper.”