Emerald (Steele Investigations) (3 page)

“Maybe one day I will share the load,”
not likely,
I
think,
not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t afford to,
“but
for now,” I shake my head, “thank you, though,” I say with a small smile.

“Anytime, anywhere, we are here for you, ‘kay,” Rae tells
me, her voice soft.

“Mmm-mmm,” Tom thankfully lightens the moment, licking his
lips and raising his eyebrows.  I follow his line of sight, over my shoulder
and when I see what he’s looking at, my stomach plummets.  Butterflies take up
residence in what feels like my entire body and my heart thuds.  Striding
across the room like they own the place is Elliott and Travis Steele.  Older
brothers of Kami, and Elliott is Rae’s fiancé.  Elliott is tall, tanned and
hot
,
his eyes are a deep blue, like sapphires and just one look at how his shirt is
stretched tight across his chest, tells you he is built.  Travis is everything
Elliott is, except
more
, besides his eyes, which are a deep green not
unlike an emerald.  He stands only about an inch taller than Elliott which
would put him at about six foot three if I had to guess, he’s also slightly
more built than Elliott, and he has a more rugged look happening.  One look
though, and you can tell they are related.  I avoid looking at Travis at all
costs, partly because I’m scared that he still thinks I’m playing games and
partly because he makes me feel things that I won’t allow myself to feel.

“Hey,” Rae says softly to Elliott as he leans down to give
her a kiss

“Hey, baby,” he replies just as softly

“Hi guys,” Tom greets as they take a seat.  As luck, or lack
of, would have it, Elliott takes the vacant seat next to Rae, leaving Travis to
the only other vacant seat…next to me. 

I dart my eyes quickly to Travis and then over to Elliott as
I offer a small smile and a quiet, “Hey,” then I lower my eyes to the table and
concentrate on running my finger through the condensation on the side of my
glass.  I intently trace a pattern through the dew until most of it has ran
down the glass to gather in a puddle around the base. 
Oh, good, I can use
the fact that I need a napkin to excuse myself from the table, then I can get
my wits about me in the ladies room.
 I would be humiliated if Travis knew
I was going to the bathroom.  The sane part of my brain knows that everyone
goes to the toilet, however, there’s a part of my brain that engulfs my sane
part, and it makes me feel somewhat ashamed and a whole lot embarrassed if
people like Travis Steele were to know that I did something as private as going
to the loo.  Maybe it’s because for so many years I was conditioned to keep
secrets, to stay quiet, to keep
private things private.
  An involuntary
shudder moves through my body and I squash my thoughts down, determined not to
let them ruin my night.

My chair scrapes as I push it back so I can stand.

“I’m just going to get a napkin,” I explain, when four sets
of eyes cut to me, “would anyone like another drink while I’m up there?”

“Sure, girlie, get another round for us and some
badass-motherfucker drinks for these two and the two that are comin’ through
the doors now,” Tom says as he jerks his chin in the direction of the door.  I
turn my head over my shoulder, again, and notice that two other guys I’ve seen
with the Steele boys from time to time are making their way toward our table. 

“I’ll come with,” Travis declares as he stands

“Uh, no that’s okay,” I tell him.
Please, please don’t
come with me.  How am I am going to go to the bathroom now?

“You’re not going to be able to carry seven drinks back by
yourself.  I’m coming,” he tells me, before leaning in to say in a quieter
tone, “Relax, Jemma.  I’m not going to bite…unless you want me to,” then he
winks.  Why does he have to be so good looking?  I feel the butterflies
multiply in my stomach and I resist the urge to do something I will regret -
this would be either jumping into his arms to kiss him, or bursting in to tears
and running from the bar.  Instead, I lower my eyes to the floor, nod my head
and make my way to the bar.

Standing at the bar, waiting for the ‘tender, I feel Travis
come up beside me.  His back is just touching my front and I have an overwhelming
desire to lean back into him.  I don’t of course, but it makes me pause for
thought; just why is he provoking this reaction from my body?  I suck my bottom
lip into my mouth as I resolve to mull over this question when I get home
tonight.

I startle when I feel Travis’ hand grip my hip, before he
leans in closer and speaks to the waitress I didn’t even realize had stopped in
front of me.  I release my lip and listen to Travis give her our order.  The
waitress gives him a flirty smile and flounces off to fill our order.  I narrow
my eyes in her direction and something strange works its way through my body. 
I feel angry, but I’m not sure why, the knots in my stomach twist savagely and
my teeth clench.  I have an overwhelming sense of dislike for the bartender –
even though I’ve never seen or met her in my life.  I just do
not
like
her.  I want to rip her head off for smiling at Travis.

Hands off bitch, he’s ours!
Selfish Jemma snarls, as
she ties up the laces on her combat boots and smears Army war paint across her
cheeks just under her eyes.

Relax Jemma.  You can’t be jealous of the bartender. 
She’s only doing her job, and Travis isn’t ours so they are both free to do as
they please,
Rational Jemma coaches in her ever present placating tone. 

Travis leans back but leaves his hand on my hip.  It feels
like he’s burning a hole in my side and I am struck by an impulse to race off
and check for a burn mark in the mirror.  Then I recall that I need to use the
bathroom.  I chew on my bottom lip again as I try to come up with a scenario
that will allow me to use the restroom without Travis cottoning on to what I am
going to do.  I look around, trying to find a sign for the bathroom so I can
make my way there without looking like a lost fool.

“Bathroom is over there,” Travis rumbles in ear and jerks
his head to our left. 

Ho
-ly shit.  How did he know what I was looking for? 

I feel my face heat and I drop my eyes to the floor, totally
embarrassed.

“Why don’t you go.  I got this,” he gives me a hip squeeze
and a gently push just as the waitress arrives back with our order, flirty
smile still plastered on her face.  It’s then that I realize that perhaps I am
cramping Travis’ style.  Perhaps he wants to hook up with the waitress and
having me there is hindering his mojo or whatever.  I ignore the twisting in my
gut and move toward the bathroom.

******

 I hurry off to the bathroom, do my business and calm myself
down.  I spend a good amount of time staring at my reflection in the mirror,
trying to convince myself that I will be fine, the rest of the night will be
fine,
everything will be fine.
  Once composed, I walked back out towards
our table, hoping against hope that I can find a seat not near Travis.  I spot
the table and see Rae, Elliott, Tom, Travis and the two other guys sitting
there.  I also notice that the only vacant seat is next the Travis.  I pull my
bottom lip through my teeth and wonder if there’s a way I could possibly get
out of this situation.  First, I could ask to switch places with someone, but
this would be awkward because they would ask
why
wanted to switch
places.  Second, I could do what the two newcomers did and pull up a chair from
another table, this however, would no doubt get awkward as well because I would
have the, “there’s already a vacant chair,” speech and I really did not want
that.  Whelp, considering I was out of options, I released my bottom lip, took
a deep breath and sat down in the seat.  As I was sitting I made sure to move
in a couple of inches away from Travis,
just in case.
  Then I sat
quietly, listening to the conversations around the table.  Elliott and the boys
(minus Tom) were talking about a football game and Tom, Rae and myself were
discussing a new line that was set to be released by a very controversial
reality TV star turned designer.  I watched her show numerous times and she
didn’t strike me as, one, a nice person, two, a stylish person, three, a
designer of anything other than, “how to live your life dramatically,” and
four, the type of person people would actually be proud to be associated with. 
Still, Rae told us she had seen her fashion show a couple of months back and
was very impressed - so impressed she was going to stock some of the range, and
considering the publicity and the hype surrounding the actress/designer, it was
sure to be a hit. 

“When she was on “Hot or Not,” all the publicity seemed to
be bad.  Although, her style on the show was always amazing, but I just assumed
she had stylists coordinating her wardrobe.” I tell them

“We all know,
any
publicity is good publicity.  Doin’
that show, she got so much exposure from magazines, TV and online blog sites,
I’m tellin’ ya, her clothin’ line is gonna go through the roof!”  This comes
from Tom

“I agree.  When I first watched the TV show, I was sure she
had a stylist working on her outfits, and then I went and watched the fashion
show. WOW.  Her line is amazing, the clothes are so well made and the attention
to detail is out of this world.  She’s done a great job and I think the
clothing will sell well.  I read an interview the other day that she had given
and she was saying that she’d look at going in to shoes and accessories if the
launch of her clothing went well.  I’m excited about it,” Rae says, well,
excitedly.

“Well then, I can’t wait to check it out when it comes in. 
How long until the launch date?” I ask

“I think it comes out this summer,” Rae answers

“Imma thinkin’ maybe I should buy me some of her clothes
when they hit the store.  Figure I can get me some publicity,” Tom winks.

Rae and I burst into laughter.

“I can just see you on the front page of
People Magazine
,
strutting your stuff in a baby pink velour tracksuit, Tom,” Rae giggles

“Ghetto chick, Girlfriend,” he says, snapping his fingers
and jerking his head from side to side.  “Might get me a man,” he continues as
he raises his eyebrows suggestively.

I cover my mouth to contain the laughter.  It doesn’t work,
but it does muffle it some.  The boys swing their hands to look at us. 
Elliott’s eyebrows are raised, questioningly at Rae, Travis’ lip is twitching
(which like everything else about him, is drool worthy), his eyes on me, the
two other guys both have amused looks on their faces as they look from Tom to
Rae to Me.

“What?” Rae snaps

“Babe,” is Elliott’s only reply.  Rae seems to get it,
because she grins at him, shrugs her shoulders and looks back to me and Tom.

“Who are the two badasses sitting with us, I know I’ve seen
them before but I don’t know their names?” I whisper to Rae

She turns to me shocked.  “Oh my God, Jemma, I’m so rude.  I
didn’t even think to introduce you.  I thought you already meet them, sorry,”
she winces.

“Don’t worry about it, but I think it’s best if I know their
names, that way I can stop thinking of them as Badass Mother One and Badass
Mother Two,” I laugh

“Yeah, I agree.”

Thinking she’s just going to tell me their names, which is
what I want her to, I’m shocked when she loudly says across the table, “Theo,
Clint, I’d like to officially introduce you to Jemma.  Jemma, this is Theo and
Clint.”

Ho
-ly shit! Geezus this is mortifyingly embarrassing. 
With
a face that I’m sure is beet red, I stand and lean over the table to offer my
hand to Clint.  He’s got strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes, his eyes are
broody and serious but when he grins it lights up his entire face.

“Hi,” I smile tentatively

“Hi,” he replies, letting my hand go so I can direct it
towards Theo.

Theo is dark skinned, I think he’s (at least) part Italian. 
With mocha colored skin, dark eyes and black hair, he’s like a God.  His eyes
light up when my hand meets his and he gives me a panty dropping smile. 
Complete with a dimple in one cheek.  I suck in a breath and mentally chastise
myself. 

“Hi,” I say as I exhale, which makes me sound needy and
breathy.  I know about panty dropping smiles and flirts and all that crap
because I watch TV…like, a lot.  But never in my life have I flirted or been
flirted with…until Theo.

“Hey, beautiful,” his voice is husky and suggestive.

I try to pull my hand from his but he grips it tighter.  My
eyes leave his eyes and dart down to where our hands are joined, then they fly
back up to meet his.  I give another tug and this time, thankfully, he lets me
go.  Being restricted like that gives me flashbacks and used to bring on panic
attacks.  Thankfully, well, thanks to a whole lot of therapy, it would take a
lot more than to send me over the edge.  But that doesn’t mean I liked it.

I shakily sit back down and my eyes, totally of their own
accord, look across to Travis.  I’m shocked when I find his are glaring at me,
and the nerve in his jaw is ticking.  His eyes are a mesmerizing, emerald green
that goes so deep you could get lost in them.  He also has dimples – one in
each cheek – I’ve seen them for afar when he smiles or laughs, because I
certainly haven’t made him do either. 
Look away. Now!
My brain shouts. 
But I can’t.  My eyes are glued to his and the rest of the bar melts away.  My
heart studs to thud and I have an overwhelming urge to launch myself across the
table and into his arms. 
I bet being in arms I would feel safe, loved and
protected; three things I have never felt in my life.

It is Tom clearing his throat that jolts me back to reality
and I’m able to tear my eyes from his.  I pick up my drink and down the
contents in one go before I place it back on the table slightly harder than I
probably should have.  Rae touches my arm and quietly asks, “Come with me to
the restrooms?”