Page 270 of Off Limits: The Firsts

We stare at each other for a few seconds from behind the protection of our tinted lenses. I know I should walk away. This is complicated, and I don’t do complicated, but instead of doing the smart thing, I dig in the front pocket of my uniform shirt for my card. “Here’s my number should you ever want to call it and . . . I don’t know . . . hang out at CVS with me.”

This time, I’m granted her smile. “Thanks, but I’m all stocked up on drugstore supplies.”

I deserve that. “Take the card, Em. I’d love to do something—as friends—and catch up on the last twenty years.” I realize my mistake mentioning the past the minute I say it, but she saves me from fumbling with how to correct the statement when she takes the card from my hand.

“I’ll take it, but I won’t use it.”

“Yes, you will.”

“So sure of yourself, are you?”

“You’ve never been able to say no to me, Emerson.”

“Oh. Please. Take your card back.” She shoves it back at me, but she’s laughing and that’s a good thing.

“Nope.” I take a step back. “You’ll call. I know you will.”

“I won’t.”

“You know you want to find out what happened to Miles O’Neal.”

Her head startles as she remembers the little boy who used to have the biggest crush on her. “Whatever,” she says as she slips the card into her pocket without looking at it. “For the record, Malone, I don’t fall for sweet talk anymore.”

“Then what do you fall for?”

Em freezes momentarily as she gets an odd look on her face that I can’t read before shaking her head. “I have to get back to work.”

Whoa. What? “Work?”

“Yeah. Work. I’m in the process of buying this place.”

“The airport?”

“Blue Skies, the skydiving school.”

“You are?”

“Yep.” She turns her back to me and tosses over her shoulder, “Later, Phony Maloney.”

So she is sticking around. Permanently.

Huh.

I watch her walk across the tarmac until she disappears inside the door of Blue Skies. Then I climb in my truck and start the engine but don’t leave.

Fuck if I know why I’m working so hard for this woman.

But I am.

After a bit, I reverse, pull out of the parking lot, and smile.

She didn’t correct me when I called her Emmy.

I guess I’ll take any victory I can get, because I have a feeling when it comes to Emerson Reeves, they are hard fought and few and far between.

The question is, what the hell is the victory for?

“You really need to clean this place, Em.”