3. Emmett

3

EMMETT

As we walked through the house, I couldn't take my eyes away from Storm.

I'd been an asshole to him outside. I knew I had been, and it was uncomfortably different from how I usually treated anyone.

But from the moment I locked eyes with him, all I could sense was one giant, billowing red flag—like he had alarm bells, warning sirens, and do not pass go written all over him.

Because Storm Rosling was clearly born to be a superstar.

He was one of the most attractive people I'd ever met in real life—the "Stormy Eyes" nickname lived up to the reality of him perfectly, and was ten times more arresting in real life than in pictures and videos. Gorgeous grey-blue eyes, glossy dark hair, a perfect body, and a look that could rip right through anybody in two seconds flat.

So I knew without a shadow of a doubt that the Fixer Brothers were going to fight tooth and nail to have him on their show.

"This is one of my favorite parts of the house, and it really needs work," Storm said now, showing us the big, recessed window in his dining room. It was cut out like an alcove, with a wooden bench seat cut right into the window that jutted out over the back yard. "A little breakfast nook. The bench is wobbly as hell, and there's water damage on the floor below. But it can be great."

"We can fix it up beautifully," Nathan assured him. "I love this nook, too."

"I love traveling for football games, but coming home is always my favorite thing," Storm said, looking over his kitchen. "I want it to be cozy and inviting and real . Not too perfect and pristine like a museum."

"My dad used to say, the best part of a vacation is coming home," I said. "It's always lucky if you feel that way."

"Your dad must have been a good guy," Storm said.

"He was."

As we continued the tour, I knew that if Storm ended up on the TV show, he was probably going to be the most popular client they'd ever had.

…And then, inevitably, he was going to say or do one of his public bad-boy things again, ending up ruining the Fixer Brothers' squeaky-clean reputation in the process. I could see the look in my boss' eyes already, the inevitable disappointment if I lost the deal with Racks superstores because of some hotshot football player.

Cutmore wasn't exactly a boss from hell, but he definitely didn't like me. In fact, it seemed like Walter Cutmore was dead set on disliking me, ever since my dad had died.

But I was so goddamn close to making partner at the firm.

I knew I could do it, if everything just went right.

"I want to turn this into a banger forest party pad wonderland," Storm was saying now, as he led us out into his backyard. "Pool with a swim-up bar. Built-in hot tub. Grill area. Some sort of nice gazebo that my friends can drink in, dance in, fuck in, hell, whatever they want."

My skin prickled. He was planning on having these banger parties right next door to me?

The tour of his house only felt like a death sentence for my career. Storm was all charisma and charm to Shawn and Nathan. His house was the perfect fixer-upper mansion, ripe and ready to be renovated on TV.

When the meeting was over and the Fixer Brothers left a half hour later, I walked back over to my home feeling like a deflated balloon. Panic gnawed at my insides. What was I supposed to do? It was like I'd been given a complex calculus problem that I had no idea how to solve.

Here, Emmett: somehow make Storm Rosling into someone who isn't a total marketing nightmare.

Try to save your career in the process.

Within five minutes of being home, I walked past the tall windows in my living room and saw a telltale ball of fluff in my backyard, playing around with Pepper. I marched out and picked up Oreo, who just lolled her tongue out at me, happy as a clam in my arms.

I wasn't patching up another hole.

I took Oreo back out front and went straight to Storm's front door, knocking on it three times before he came to swing it open.

" There you are!" he said, reaching out to take her from my arms. He gave her a little kiss on top of her head. Oreo looked like a tiny guinea pig in Storm's muscular arms.

It was wild, seeing someone so strong in real life. How sculpted he looked, from over a decade of hard work.

He set Oreo down and she curled right up next to his feet in the entryway. Relaxing.

"Want to keep an eye on your dog for once?" I asked Storm, noticing an edge in my tone that was never usually there.

You can get along with anyone. Just grit your teeth and be nice to the guy.

He lifted an eyebrow at me. "Maybe if I wasn't too busy in here wondering why a complete stranger was such a dickhead to me during that whole house tour."

I set my jaw.

"Because the Fixer Brothers are a career-making partnership for me," I said, "and because I've been working toward a deal as big as the Racks one for months."

"So you're an asshole to me because of some precious business brand deal?"

I narrowed my eyes. "I know you wouldn't give a shit about that, and you'd probably get off on publicly slamming their stores, but it matters to me."

He shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe I will tell them off publicly. Heard the CEO donates to some terrible causes, to be honest."

He leaned forward in his front doorway, putting one hand up against the doorframe. I wasn't sure if he was aware of how impressive his body looked in that position, or if he was just trying to intimidate me, but I couldn't help noticing his raw strength, even while I wanted to wring his neck.

I clenched my jaw. "This isn't all about you."

"Why do you care?" he pressed. "You're clearly already filthy rich, and probably have been your whole life. Why do you give a fuck about this stupid brand deal?"

Because since Dad died, Lux Marketing is run by people who really are assholes , I thought.

Because this is my only chance at someday retaking the company that my father built.

But there was no chance I was going to go into a truth that deep with someone like Storm.

I barely talked about my feelings to anyone, let alone someone like him.

Someone who only cared about parties or getting in fights.

My father's sudden death had been the hardest moment of my life, and it came right before my ex left me without warning, two years ago. How was I supposed to talk to Storm about how it felt walking into my father's office to find him collapsed onto the floor? That a man who had seemed like he should be immortal was instead dead—just like that—on a random Thursday morning at only 58 years old?

"My dad was a rare combination of being a truly kind person, and a great businessman," I said evenly, opting for a version of the truth that wouldn't hurt so much to talk about. "If I make partner at the firm, then after a couple of other guys retire, the company can be mine again. I know you look at me and just see a silver-spoon rich guy. And I know I am that. But there's a lot more you don't know about, Storm."

He scanned my face. "And there's a lot you don't know about me, too."

I sighed. "Then can we just compromise?"

Storm shook his head. His eyes were as unwavering as a thundercloud. "No compromises," he said. "I'm working with the Fixer Brothers. And I'm not going to mince my words or not speak my mind publicly. Ever, for anyone. It just isn't who I am."

Anger ripped through me, sudden and unbidden.

I took a step forward, getting in his face in a way that I'd never done with anyone before.

Suddenly we were close. He didn't back up. He barely blinked.

I'd only ever been this close to other guys when I was about to kiss them, not when I was blindingly angry. From this distance it was hard to tell the difference, and in an instant, all rational thoughts flew out of my head like a flock of spooked pigeons.

I saw his eyes up close for the first time. The dark lashes that surrounded the stormy blue. He was looking at me like I was just one challenge in a long line of challenges, not a moment's hesitation in his gaze.

My cock perked up under my pants. Embarrassing . Goddamn traitorous dick. My brain hated just about everything about Storm, but my cock still found a way to betray me.

"You're impossible," I said softly, breaking eye contact with him and walking away. "Wait. Oreo? Where did she go?"

I looked all around and Storm did, too, stepping out onto the stone path and making his way over toward the driveway.

"Oreo," he called out. "You never go more than ten steps away. Where are you, little ragamuffin?"

We both looked around for a minute before hearing the telltale jangle of her collar, coming from the direction of my house.

"How is she already back over there?" I asked.

We made our way past the line of pine trees over to my yard.

"There," Storm said, pointing at a newly dug hole, right at the crux between his backyard fence and mine.

"Christ, she's fast," I said. "Here."

I punched in the code to my backyard gate and swung it open.

"Fancy fancy," Storm said, taking on a prim fake English accent. "A simple metal latch gate just won't do, will it? Must keep all the riff raff out with a gate code ."

"What's wrong with having a gate code?"

"Nothing's wrong with it, other than the fact that it's pointless," Storm said. "Anybody who wanted to could just jump the fence."

"Not likely."

He raised an eyebrow, took one look at the fence, and then hoisted himself up onto the part right next to the gate. His biceps flexed, his chiseled muscles on full display again as he easily launched himself into my backyard.

He dusted off his hands on the other side, giving me his mischievous dimpled smile as I walked through the gate opening.

"Bravo, bravo," I said, giving him a slow little mocking round of applause. "I'm so impressed. A guy who works out for a living proved to me that he could hop my fence."

" There you are, silly girl!" Storm called out as Oreo came running up to his side. She licked his ankle and then darted back off toward Pepper, who was running around in the grassy portion of my yard.

"Is your dog friendly?" Storm asked, squinting over toward the two of them with slight concern. "Makes Oreo look like the size of a guinea pig."

I couldn't help but smile. "I was just thinking she kind of looked like a guinea pig earlier in your arms," I said.

Storm smiled, too. "She's my li'l mop," he said.

"And don't worry about Pepper. She's essentially a lamb in the body of a Husky."

Pepper dropped onto her back in the grass, showing her belly while Oreo hopped all around her, ready to play.

"That's your new neighbor, Oreo," Storm said.

"Hardly new, to her," I said, cutting him a glance. "Your dog's been in my yard more than her own since you moved in."

"Not my fault the old man who had my house before me never reinforced under the fence," Storm said. "I'm trying to get it fixed. If you don't hire a hitman to murder me before I can get a chance to be on your precious Fixer Brothers cash-cow TV show, then it will get fixed."

"The Fixer Brothers are more than just a cash cow to me," I said. "But you're right. The man who owned your house before was kind of a snake. I had to coordinate repairs for a burst pipe over there one winter while he was on vacation for six weeks in the Italian countryside. He never even thanked me."

Storm nodded, his eyes scanning my face. "Well, you can bet I'll be taking better care of the house. I actually give a shit, and I know the value of money."

I looked over past the fence toward the back ridge of his yard.

"The Aspen trees in your yard are going to be stunning in about three weeks, by the way," I told him. "Best fall colors imaginable."

"The tall ones?" Storm said. "Might have to cut those down to make room for my hot tub."

"Cut those Aspens down and I really will hire a hitman to come to your house," I said.

His smile returned. "I was kidding. The trees are beautiful. I'm not a fall colors kind of guy, though. I like it when everything's green."

I shook my head. "You'll see. Those Aspens get the perfect amount of light to be a gorgeous autumn gradient. Pale green on one end, then yellow, gold, amber, and cherry red. It's like a Monet painting. You'll fall in love with them."

He watched me for a moment. "Are you a nature kind of guy?"

I thought about his question. "I'm not an avid hiker or anything, but I do love the beauty nature can bring. People, things, trees, flowers. All of it."

"Maybe we're not so different."

"You appreciate nature?"

"I can't imagine not loving it," he said. "I dated a girl once who literally said she hated nature. Who hates it? I can understand not wanting to go camping, but hating pretty flowers?"

"Sounds like she wasn't your favorite girlfriend."

He bit his bottom lip, looking out. "Definitely not. Can't say I've been as lucky in love as I have been with football."

I saw it, shining right in front of me: an opportunity to see the real Storm.

To maybe—just maybe—break through his bad boy shell and find a way toward befriending him.

"Really?" I asked. "What's the story with your love life?"

I wasn't afraid to ask personal questions to new people. In fact, it was how I'd made most of my friends, and formed long-lasting relationships. Caring about people mattered, and maybe I just needed to find a way to get closer to Storm.

Plus, I actually was curious.

What made Storm Rosling tick?

He waved a hand. "We don't have to talk about my dating life. I just haven't found The One, yet. That's all."

Maybe I wasn't going to get the deep conversation I'd hoped for.

"Fall can make me wish I had someone," I said, because I also wasn't afraid to get a little personal myself. "But the leaves still look just as pretty when I go on my walks alone, so, oh well. There's nothing better than a crisp autumn walk."

Storm just shrugged. "The whole fall vibes obsession isn't my thing. I prefer heat. Fall has too much… change."

Oof. That one hit me particularly hard, right in the heart.

So much had changed in my life in the past few years, and I knew firsthand how hard it could be.

"You're right. We can't escape change," I said gently. "That's what life is, after all."

The breeze blew through the leaves again as if on cue.

It was beautiful, and now a bit melancholy. I missed my dad like hell. And I hoped to God that the football player standing across from me wouldn't ruin the one thing I was holding out hope to change for the better, this fall.

"Fine, Fancy Pants," Storm said. "I can't argue with that."

Finally, I sensed that something I said had reached him, just a little bit.

If my usual friendliness wasn't going to work, I wanted to at least be real with him. Or to tease him, to mess with him a little like he had done to me. He'd been pushing my buttons all day, so was it so wrong that I wanted to push him back?

I breathed in deep, needing to shake off the lull in our conversation. I started laying the fall vibes on thick .

" Mmm . Don't you just feel that, in the air already?" I asked. "Fall's already coming. I'm going to be baking pumpkin pies, and the scent will carry over right toward your house. Sometimes the first snowfall even hits Colorado in late September. Hope you're ready."

His gaze landed on me again. He slowly looked me up and down, and my cock responded again from having him look me over.

He was impenetrable, but he was about as sexy as a man could be.

"You're more fun when you're trying to fuck with me," he said in a low voice. "Still isn't going to work, because you're not going to get to me. But it's cute that you tried."

I swallowed. "Not trying to get to you," I lied.

"Right," he said, clearly seeing right through me. "Oreo, come on. Let's get back. Got to call up the Fixer Brothers and tell them all about how excited I am to work with them." He gave me a look as he scooped up Oreo. "Have a good night, Emmett. Got an away game this weekend, but I'll see you at the next meeting with Shawn and Nathan."

I said nothing as he walked off. Just past my gate, I watched as he hoisted Oreo up into the air in his arms, like Simba at the beginning of The Lion King. Then he brought her back down, covered her in little kisses, and headed back home.