Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Briar

C layton walks over, his phone in his hands. "Mom said you might need some help."

I shake my head. Does Gillian realize that at some point, I will be left alone with Emmett?

"No, I don't. Emmett just took up the last box." A box that holds all my high school keepsakes. A box I really would've preferred to carry myself. The thought of Emmett seeing all the notebooks and yearbooks with hearts over his picture… I'd rather die. "You can go home and do whatever you were doing."

"Thanks. My girlfriend…"

"Yeah, go, no problem. Thanks, though."

"Sure thing."

Clayton walks back on the trail he came from. As long as I'm staying here, Gillian will wear that trail down to dust.

I walk up the porch steps, slide into the house, and head up the stairs. Emmett's coming back down.

"All set," he says, thumbing toward my bedroom.

"Oh great. Thanks." I scour his facial expression, hoping he didn't snoop in the box, looking for some sign that he saw the secret I'm taking to my grave. Because there's more to that crush that I am not about to confess to anyone. Especially my new roommate.

Instead of continuing up the stairs, I head back down so we can discuss our living arrangement.

Emmett's house is a lot nicer than I expected. I assumed he lived like a bachelor with dirty dishes in the sink, trash on the countertops and floor. I figured as payback for me living here, I'd clean his house. With the exception of his bathroom, of course. But by the look of things, there's no need for me to be his housekeeper. The only thing that shows he's a bachelor is that his walls are completely bare. There's not one picture, or anything hung up.

Emmett goes to the fridge and grabs a water, standing by the counter. His kitchen isn't as modern as Ben and Gillian's, but it's got a charm theirs doesn't.

"Do you have a house cleaner?" I ask, awkwardly standing in the large opening from his kitchen to his family room. Whereas Ben and Gillian's home is open concept, there's a clear distinction between the rooms in Emmett's house.

"Do you think I can't clean?" The bottle indents as he swallows more water.

"Awfully thirsty for carrying a few boxes up the stairs."

He looks down at me with the bottle still on his lips, but there's humor in his eyes.

"Nice," he says once he finishes the entire bottle and crushes it with his hands. "Rule number one, crush the bottles, that way more can fit in the recycling can."

"That's the number one rule you want to go with?" I step into the kitchen fully, leaning against his small butcher block island.

"Recycling is important to me," he says. "Your turn to make a rule now."

"You're letting me stay here. I don't get to make rules."

He opens the fridge and pulls out another water. He's really ingesting a lot of water but watching his Adam's apple bounce as he swallows is strangely erotic. Not that I would admit that to anyone. His forearms bulge as he twists off the cap.

Get a grip, Briar. He's your new roommate, and you're pregnant with another man's baby. This is platonic. That's all it'll ever be.

He holds the water bottle out to me. "Here, you should hydrate."

I chuckle, and he joins in with his own laughter. "Is that your prenatal advice?"

"I don't know, but it seems like everything you drink and eat goes to the baby, so you have to drink twice the amount of water."

I accept the water and take a sip, which helps calm down my libido. "Thanks."

"So?" He arches a dark eyebrow.

"So what?"

"What's your rule?"

"Um… it seems odd making a rule when it's your house."

"I'm an equal opportunity guy, so go ahead before I take it back." He pulls a pack of ground beef from the fridge. "Are you a vegetarian?"

"Because I'm a yoga instructor?"

His head rocks back, and he shakes it. "No. It was just a question. Man, take a few bricks down off that fortress you've built around yourself."

I hate that I'm warming to him. Maybe it's because he's kept my secret so far, plus he offered me a place to stay with a bedroom and bathroom all of my own. "What are you making?"

"I'm trying to replicate my dad's burgers."

"Why?" I round the island and take the stool on the far end, watching him take out a bowl and some seasonings.

He shrugs. "I just like figuring shit out." He eyes me for a second, dumping the ground beef into the bowl. "I'm not a big secret guy."

"Oh—"

He puts up his hand. "I didn't mean it like that. I just want to figure this out because it's a childhood memory. My dad makes these burgers every time we celebrate or as a reward or for bribery." His mouth twists and his eyebrows raise. "Lately, it's been about bribery."

"I can help."

He shakes his head. "First you need to give me a rule."

I place my chin in my hand. "How do I top crushing the bottles down for recycling?"

He points at me. "I like this version of you."

"Which version?"

"Relaxed… nice." His head tilts. "Are you going to tell me why you hate me?"

That wall I keep around myself reinforces with another layer of cement. "Nope."

He nods. "But you're starting to like me."

He's right, but I'm not telling him that. How could the hatred I've let fester over the years not diminish with this adult version of him? His confidence is what attracted me to him in high school. The way he walked the halls and was friendly with everyone. He was four years older, and I wasn't alone with my crush. Most girls at school liked Emmett.

"Not sure why you think that."

"I love the act. Deny until proven wrong." He grabs some seasoning, measures, and writes it down in a notebook. So meticulous and calculating. Two traits I didn't know Emmett possessed.

"You've surprised me," I admit, regretting my words immediately.

He looks at me from the corner of his eye, and the cutest smile slowly creases his lips. "Good." Then he winks, which I realize creates a tornado of butterflies in my stomach.

We sit in silence while I watch him continue to try to master the recipe. I'm so mesmerized that I don't realize he asked a question until his hands stop moving. My gaze flows up his arms, past his broad shoulders, to his eyes pinned on me.

"I'm sorry?"

"Rule. Time for you to come up with one."

"Well, I could say the toilet seat, but I'll probably only use my bathroom upstairs. You keep a clean house. I do have a question though."

"Shoot." He forms the meat into balls.

"Obviously, you'll bring women home?—"

"Why do you think that?" He smirks and goes to the sink, washing his hands.

"Oh please."

"I'll let you in on a little secret, what with me knowing your big one." He grabs the paper towels and leans against his counter, crossing his ankles, his gaze on me.

"You don't?—"

"I don't bring women home. Anymore."

He has to be lying. This is a game he's playing. Seeing if I'll bite. "Yeah right."

He tosses the paper towel into the trash as if he's shooting a basketball, then takes the tray to the stove. He's got it down perfectly, taking out a flat frying pan with small edges to catch the grease. "I'm serious. Not saying I've never done it, but I'm not big on bringing women to the ranch. And you'll think I'm ass when I tell you this, but they get clingy and think it means more than it does. I don't want to give them the wrong idea. I never string women along, but something about bringing them home seems to make them think it means more than it does, even when I tell them otherwise beforehand."

It's clear he's serious, so I nod.

"So, how about rule number two is a mutual one. No women for me and no men for you."

I raise my eyebrows, looking down at my stomach. "I'm done in the guy department, maybe forever. But I can bring a woman home?"

He glances over his shoulder at me. "Only if rule number three is that I get to watch."

I giggle, and it feels really good to laugh and not be so caught up in Chad and all the bullshit that went down. "Deal, but I wouldn't get your hopes up."

"If it changes, let me know." He smashes the burgers down with the spatula and the fat sizzles.

I'm not sure if they'll taste like his dad's, since I've never had them, but my mouth waters and my stomach growls. I watch him move around the kitchen, grabbing buns, buttering them, and putting them on another frying pan on the stove.

While waiting, he pulls out condiments. "Help yourself to whatever I have. Although I do have Jensen cook for me a lot."

"Oh no, I'll go grocery shopping."

"Jensen will cook for you too."

"If Darla makes him."

He laughs. "She likes you a lot, you know that, right?"

"Darla? Well, she seems to like everyone." I sip my water, then spin the bottle around.

"Wren told Bennett she wants to be like you when she grows up."

I cough out a laugh. "Wait until she finds out what I've done with my life."

"She likes you because you don't treat her like she's a little kid." He stops cooking, plates the burgers, and turns off the burners. "I know you don't want to talk about it, and if you never do, that's fine. But if you do, I'm happy to listen."

"I'm not good with children. I have no idea how I'll raise this one." I run my hand over my flat stomach.

He gives me a sad smile. I'm sure he believes the same thing. I'm treading water with a hurricane on its way to me, and there's no one to throw me a life vest.

"Come on, we're eating on the deck."

He grabs the plates and walks out a door off his kitchen where there is a porch overlooking the lake. I missed it coming from the other side of the house. He's got a small table and some comfortable patio furniture.

"This is nice," I say.

"It's my favorite place, so feel special that I'm sharing it with you." He places everything on the table. On his way back into the house, he squeezes my shoulder. "It will all work out. I promise."

Tears sting my eyes as he disappears inside. I suck them back because no matter what happens, I'll handle it. I always do. But damn it, Emmett Noughton has evolved into a mature man he seems to hide from everyone. The question is why? And also, why is he being so nice to me?