Fever Dream (Emerald Lake, #1)(43)

Okay. Funny. But I don’t want to egg him on, so I don’t react. Instead, I glare at him.

That’s how Martha finds us when she returns with two cups of piping hot black coffee. “Here we go.” She plunks them on the table. “The usual for you, Jules?”

“Yep,” I say, not looking away from Emmett.

“And for you?” she asks Emmett.

“He’s not staying,” I provide for him, but he chuckles.

“Of course I am. I’ll have whatever she’s having.” He turns and blinds Martha with his most charming smile. And even she isn’t immune—she walks away fanning herself with exaggerated flair.

Abandoning me with Emmett like a total traitor.

“What if you don’t like what I’m having?”

He shrugs. “I will.”

“And if you don’t?”

“I’ll acquire a taste.”

“Why?”

“Just to impress you.”

My eyes narrow. “Why?”

“Just to piss your brother off.”

I snort at that. “Yeah. That would do it.”

Emmett looks pleased, his eyes scouring me carefully. He doesn’t respond, though. He watches me, gaze pausing on my mouth for longer than is truly appropriate.

“Why do you hate my brother so much?” I blurt out the question that has plagued me for the past several weeks. Now that I have a better feel for Emmett, I can’t reconcile these two different versions of him.

His palms envelop the coffee mug as he spins it a couple of times before he shrugs. “I don’t hate your brother.”

When he peeks up at me, I lift a disbelieving brow.

“What? I don’t. Hate is a strong word. I just can’t relate.”

My head tips, his explanation piquing my interest. “How so?”

“He’s… he’s so happy. All the fucking time.”

I bark out a sharp laugh. “He’s always been like that.”

Emmett’s lips twitch as he glances out the window. “And he’s got your dad. This amazing legacy on the circuit. Like sport royalty. And I’ve got… Carl.”

“I mean, our dad is dead, so there’s that.”

Emmett’s dry chuckle rumbles through the air between us. “Sometimes that’s not the worst type of parent you can have.”

My lips press together as I realize what I’ve just said. It’s not as though Emmett hasn’t endured his fair share of loss, too.

“Maybe I’m jealous of him,” he finally admits as he spins his mug, staring at the steam wafting up from the hot black liquid.

I blink at the beautiful man sitting across from me. He’s gone from talking about my ass to being incredibly introspective in a matter of minutes. And all it does is draw me in. That complexity, that inconsistency… it only makes me want to dig deeper. To uncover all his secrets—wounds and wins.

I can’t help but want to know Emmett better.

“And what about Rhett?” I inquire about my brother’s mentor and closest friend, who I adore. I know he loathes Emmett with an unmatched passion.

“Eaton?”

“Yeah.”

Emmett’s tongue pops into his cheek as his head joggles. “You ever look at someone and immediately hate their stupid face for no good reason?”

Yeah. Evelyn. I brush the invasive thought away and settle on a nod. Because yes, I have.

“You sure it’s not because Theo’s girlfriend decided she wanted to wear Rhett’s hat and not yours?”

Emmett scoffs, a raspy laugh rumbling in his chest. “Only did that to piss him off. And guess what? It worked.”

“It also got him a wife.” I wink.

“See? I’m the matchmaker he owes everything to, and that asshole didn’t even invite me to his wedding.”

I laugh. I can’t help myself. The guy is fucking unflappable. He oozes a self-assured confidence that most men could only hope to embody.

“Anyway, just can’t stand the guy even though there isn’t anything objectively wrong with him.” Emmett shakes his head as he gazes off into space. “Other than that hair, like fucking cowboy Fabio.”

I can’t help but laugh. Rhett’s signature has always been his long hair. “At least you’re honest.”

“Always,” he replies, gaze slicing back to meet mine. “That’s why I have you in my phone as Theo’s Hot Little Sister.”

And we’re back to this. Whiplash.

My cheeks flush unbidden, and I try to cover them by lifting my mug up and taking an overly long drink.

“Does that not ruin your sleep?” He nods toward the plain white mug I’ve wrapped both hands around.

“Nah. Not anymore. I think I’m immune. I’ve spent almost every night here for the past couple of years studying with a steady stream of the stuff.”

“Almost every night?”

“Not since I took this job. But to wrap up my master’s program? Yeah. Seven nights a week, basically. After working at the ice cream shop in the afternoons and evenings. Unless I was sick.”

“That’s an exaggeration.” He sounds amused.

I press my lips together and raise one shoulder. “Not really.”