Michael (Wild Men #8)

Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

The server arriving to collect the tab saves me from having to speak.

Because I am fucking speechless.

I toss the server a wad of bills along with the receipt and stand up.

I clear my throat. “I…” That one word comes out so hoarse I have to reach down for my water.

I take several gulps before I manage to get out, “I have to go.”

Emery’s eyes widen, and I catch the glint of hurt in them when I make up a lame excuse of needing to go help Luke with the morning chores.

“Oh. Um, sure.” She stands up too.

We drive back to the ranch in an awkward silence.

My mind is going in a thousand directions, and if I speak, I may break.

So, as is my habit, I don’t say a damn word.

I pull up to Emery’s cabin, and she opens her door.

But before she gets out, she pauses and looks back at me.

She’s going to see the pain in my eyes .

And no one can see that.

No one ever has.

“I’ll see you later,” I say gruffly before I kiss her cheek and turn back to face the windshield.

I don’t move until she’s left the vehicle and has shut the door behind her. Then, I turn the truck around and head for the main house.

Emery

I thought Michael was different.

Not like my ex and any other guy I’ve had the displeasure of dating where they’re hot one minute and cold the next. Untrustworthy to their cores.

But it turns out he’s no different at all. Not wanting him to see how he crushed me, I force myself to walk at a measured pace all the way to my cabin door. I reach into my purse and pull out my keys, willing my shaking hands to handle the job of unlocking my door.

Two frustrated tries, and I finally push open my door and step inside.

The moment I close the heavy wooden door behind me, I sink to the floor and burst into tears.

I crawl from the doorway to my bedroom and climb into my bed. This cabin is gorgeously decorated with a log bed frame, rustic comforter of greens and deep reds, and matching wooden bedside tables and lamps with bear silhouette lamp shades.

It’s the kind of bedroom made for two, I realized when I checked in.

I cry a little longer, but I don’t allow myself to feel sorry for myself for too long.

Only long enough to vent and curse the name of the man I just shared a breakfast with. Not to mention the bed we shared last night—and our bodies.

And he suddenly shut me out.

But why?

He was warm and friendly and caring up until…

I dropped my purse.

I pull the covers up to my chin and stare at the ceiling. Now that I have some space from the mess that was the end of breakfast, my mind starts churning.

What the heck happened?

One minute, this man was the guy of my dreams, and the next, he refused to look at me and could barely spare me a goodbye.

All because of a spilled handbag?

Something doesn’t add up.

The ringtone of my best friend interrupts my thoughts.

Knowing I’ll eventually tell Alyssa everything anyway, I swipe the screen.

“Where have you been?” her excited tone comes through the line. “I’ve texted at least five times. I didn’t want to bother you, but…”

“I didn’t go out with Mitchell.”

“What?!” Her tone shifts to concern. “Did he blow you off? I swear to God, if he was a no-show to a freaking blind date that I set him up on, he and I are going to have a chat…”

“He showed up. A bit late, but that wasn’t on purpose. However, while I was waiting for him, I ran into someone else. A guy.”

“You met another guy?” Alyssa’s tone changes back to excited. “How did this happen? Tell me everything!”

So I do.

When I’ve finished, silence hits the line.

“I honestly don’t think you’ve ever been this at a loss for words,” I say .

She laughs heartily. “I’m just taking a moment. Okay…I think I’ve got it.”

“What?”

“What I think you should do.” She pauses. “I tried to ignore the idea when it first hit my brain because I don’t want you to run the risk of getting hurt again, but you know me—I like risks. You don’t though, Emery. You’re more practical. And practical is a good thing. But in this case, I think you need to do something a little nuts.”

“Okay, you’ve sufficiently piqued my interest. What. Is. It.” My stomach is starting to get butterflies of anticipation. “And will you be helping me with this crazy plan?”

“Of course! What are besties for? So…this is what I suggest.” She lowers her tone. “You march up to his cabin and ask him yourself.”

I’m protesting before she’s even finished talking. “No way. That’s too blunt!”

“So what? What’s wrong with being blunt? Can only men be proactive?”

“I didn’t say…”

But Alyssa’s off and running. “And we women are just supposed to sit around and drink tea in the parlor and gossip conspiratorially? We never know the truth because we never come right out and ask?”

“Okay, calm down. This isn’t the Jane Austen era.”

She laughs.

“I’m just not sure I want to…”

“Give away your hand,” she finishes my sentence before I have to.

“Exactly. Michael was supposed to be a one-night stand. This is probably the universe’s way of telling me to go with my original plan. One night. Nothing more, nothing less. I got a night of amazing sex. And a morning bonus. That should be enough. ”

“But if you felt like it could be more, then why are you settling for that?” Alyssa says. “You deserve to be happy for more than a night, Emery. And if you want to see more of this guy, and you think something about his abrupt change in behavior feels strange, I propose you ask him what’s going on. At the very least, you’ll solve the mystery for his Jekyll and Hyde behavior. Maybe he ran because he didn’t want you to know something.”

“Something that was triggered by my purse?”

“It’s confusing, I agree. But most mysteries are until they’re solved.”

I’m not a detective. But I do love crime podcasts, and if I were running one myself, I would say that Michael Wild’s shift in behavior is suspicious.

And his eyes…they went from open and curious to closed and blank in a split second. It was like he began to treat me like a stranger.

I gasp. “I think you’re right. He’s hiding something!”

“Seems like it.”

“Why would I want to pursue anything with someone who isn’t completely honest, though?”

“Mimi,” she says. “Can you sit there and honestly say you told this man everything?”

“Yes! I was…” I cut off as I remember the conversation about my godfather. “Well, I didn’t tell him the whole story about Tony.”

“Why not?”

“It felt like TMI,” I confess. “Talking about Tony gets me too emotional, even now, and I didn’t want to scare him off if I teared up.”

“See?” Alyssa sounds annoyingly triumphant. “You had a logical reason for keeping that from him. Maybe he has a similarly valid reason.”

Maybe .

But… what is he hiding?

I don’t have a darn clue.

However, I’d love to find out.

Even if Michael and I aren’t meant to be for anything more than one night of great sex, I’m curious.

And I’m not going to let him toss me out of his truck without getting an explanation.

I tell Alyssa goodbye, and then I jump out of bed and grab my purse.