All I Need (Hearts of the South) (30 page)

“Most definitely.” Somehow, their casually linked hands and the decorous distance he kept between them only made the whole situation hotter. She slid her palm along his. “How was your day?”

“Amazing.” He released her to open the door and usher her before him into the warehouse-like space crowded with new and reclaimed furniture, an eclectic blend of styles and antiques. “I’ve worked a theft by deception, a suspicious person, two entering autos, and an animal-at-large call.”

“Sounds fascinating.”

“After the last year? It’s like getting tickets to the SEC Championship Game.”

“Emmett! Hey! It is so good to see you in here.” The young blonde salesperson could not possibly be any perkier. Skinny jeans tucked into brown riding boots hugged her thighs beneath a chunky tunic sweater, topped with an infinity scarf. She wrapped a quick, enthusiastic hug around his neck then stuck out her hand to Savannah. “I’m Libby.”

“Savannah.”

Libby sifted one hand through her silky straight hair. “What can I help y’all with?”

Emmett rested his hands above his gun belt. “I’m leasing a new place, and I kind of need to do some furnishing.”

“I’ve seen your furniture, and yes, you do.” The phone rang behind her, and she grimaced. “Let me grab that real quick while you look around.”

She sashayed away, and Emmett passed a hand over his hair. “See anything you like?”

“Is there a woman in this town you haven’t dated?”

“A couple.” He flashed a grin at her. “Quit looking at me like that. You don’t have any reason to worry.”

“Oh, I’m not worried.”

“Savannah, focus.” His hand at the small of her back, he steered her deeper into the building. “What do you like? Is there anything at your place you want to keep?”

He thought he was so slick. She brushed his arm away. “Stop assuming I’m going to live in this house with you.”

“I’m not assuming anything.” He lowered his head, voice near her ear. “Are you going to honestly stand there and say when I move out to the house, you’re going to stay in that apartment alone? I’ve been in your bed or you’ve been in mine every night for almost two weeks. My stuff is in your closet, and you’re going to kick up a fuss now because the location is changing and you don’t want to admit we’re basically already living together.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I can’t give you an inch, can I?”

“If it makes you feel better, we can say we’re doing today by maybe thinking about what tomorrow looks like.” He gestured around them. “What do you want to keep and what do we need to buy?”

“Living and bedroom furniture.” What was she saying? “I’m keeping my grandmother’s dining set. The other stuff in my apartment is rental items.”

“There you go.” A hint of exasperation colored his voice. He waved a hand toward a display of sofas and chairs. “What do you like?”

“What do you prefer?”

“I don’t care.”

She pinned him with a look. “So if I pick out purple velour, you’re good with that.”

“Leather. Something well built.”

“There
you
go.” This time, she directed him toward a display. “Emmett, just because your mother enabled you does not mean I’m spending the rest of our lives doing your shopping for you.”

The unthinking words hit her consciousness the same moment they spilled from her lips. She blinked, trying to get her wits back about her, and his chest moved with a deep breath, his mouth parted as he looked down at her. He swallowed, throat bobbing, and for a moment, she cringed from what might come from his lips.

“I know
how
to shop, Savannah.” The gentle tone and avoidance of the elephant between them had her sagging in relief. “I simply don’t like to. I do quality and classic so I don’t have to do it often. When I care, I care. I’ll make you nuts the first time we’re in a sporting goods store together.”

She nodded, her throat still tight, and when she spoke, her words had a shaky edge to them. “Okay, leather and well built. Black or brown?”

“Brown.”

“You said classic.”

“And comfortable.” He smiled, a hint of wickedness in his gaze. “Classic, quality, and comfortable—like a Caddy.”

He curled a hand along her waist, and she paused in the act of checking a price tag on a great brown leather sofa and eyed him suspiciously. He was teasing in some way, and again, that rare fizz of happiness danced through her.

Twice in one day. As much as the emotion made her kind-of-terrified, she appreciated the return of it to her life. She hadn’t truly experienced that surge of joy since Gates had died.

Her gaze lingered on Emmett’s profile as he examined the sofa’s seams and ran a hand over the leather. Everyone who counted—Amy, Rob, Emmett himself—insisted she simply let go and enjoy being with him. They all seemed confident the relationship would work itself out. The very thought made her want to hyperventilate, kind of like standing too close to the edge of that lime pit.

The return of long-forgotten happiness beckoned her closer to the edge.

And Emmett had promised he wouldn’t let her fall.

She pulled in a couple of centering breaths, aware of another emotion hovering at the edges of the bubbling joy. Hope fluttered with tentative wings, urging her to take in glimpses of the future while reassuring her everything would be okay.

Emmett stepped back from the sofa, hands at his duty belt, and eyed the piece. Savannah let her gaze trace over the familiar lines of his face, the solid breadth of his shoulders, and the strength in his arms. Hope and joy, Landra had called him, and now Savannah could see that, both qualities wrapped up in steady strength and security.

Maybe she could let go with him.

“Do you like it?” He turned his attention to her. His gaze sharpened on her face, and his brows dipped. “What is it?”

She struggled to pull her thoughts and emotions into a cohesive state. “I’m sorry?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m just…thinking.” She didn’t have to fake her pensive smile. With a shaky hand, she smoothed the edge of his perfectly straight collar, his lieutenant’s gold bar cool under her fingertip. “About you and today. And maybe tomorrow.”

His chest moved with a harsh breath. “You cannot say things to me like that in public when I’m in uniform.”

A tremulous laugh escaped her. “Why?”

His eyes darkened. “Because it makes me want to do things to you that would get me called on Calvert’s carpet so fast it wouldn’t be funny.”

Desire twined about the joy and set off a heaviness between her thighs. She trailed a fingertip down the placket of his shirt, the vest unyielding beneath her touch. “So we should order the couch. Then we can go home and I can get you out of this uniform in private.”

* * * * *

She knew it was a dream because she lay in their sun-dappled bedroom in Valdosta, and the bed beside her remained empty. She
knew
this dream and desperately wanted to escape, to wake to a much different reality.

The edge of the mattress dipped, and she squeezed her eyes closed. If she opened them, Gates would be there, face and body whole, the blue paramedic uniform sliced open, the fabric stained purple with blood. She lifted reluctant lashes, and sure enough, he waited, his expression solemn.

“Gates.” His name left her lips on a torn whisper.

“It’s okay.” He didn’t touch her and his expression didn’t lighten. “I’ve got to go.”

“Please wait.” Tears burned her eyes. “I need to talk to you.”

“I’ve got to go.”

“Gates,
please
.”

And she was awake, darkness hovering around her in her apartment bedroom and Emmett’s arm a warm weight across her waist. Knowing she’d murmured Gates’s name aloud, she stilled, eyes wet. Next to her, Emmett slept on, and she tried to relax. At least he hadn’t heard.

God, she hoped he hadn’t heard.

He shifted in his sleep and rolled to his back, an arm over his eyes.

She covered her own eyes with a hand, knowing sleep would not come again during the night.

* * * * *

“Can you sit still?” Walker glanced at Emmett from the corner of his eye. “You’re making me crazy.”

With a deliberate effort, Emmett brought his jittering knee to a stop. “Sorry.”

“What is with you?”

“Just antsy.” He stared out the window. The empty storefronts that had once housed Walmart and Winn-Dixie flashed by, the vacant parking lots a little eerie even under bright sunlight. The radio blipped with Chris Parker’s time and status check-in.

“Trouble with you and the doc?”

“No.” It was true. The issue was all in his head. Waking to hear Savannah murmur Melbourne’s name in her sleep triggered his insecurities, but that was
his
problem. It didn’t indicate trouble with them.

He was going to have to find a way to deal, though. Sharing her with a dead man’s memory was simply part of his reality. He’d been truthful when he’d said he didn’t expect her to forget or stop loving Melbourne.

Besides, he had the beginnings of a commitment from her. Maybe Clark was right, and her loving him would come. Maybe her being truly committed to him would come.

All of that didn’t make him less on edge.

The radio fired to life. “All units, 10-10 reported at 227 South Highway 3.”

A fight at Spirits? Oh, hell yeah. Exactly what he needed to redirect his thoughts. He made eye contact with Walker, who was already steering into a U-turn. Emmett reached for the mike and called them in as responding, in transit.

The squatty concrete-block building sat right off the curvy highway. A little later in the evening and cars would pack the grass-and-dirt parking lot, but this early fewer than a dozen dotted the area. Early, just-off-first-shift-at-McGee’s drinkers. Walker braked to one side of the drive, Troy Lee’s Charger and Chris’s K9 unit turning in behind them. Emmett called in their arrival and stepped from the car. A lick of adrenaline burned under his skin.

Nothing better than busting up a good bar fight.

The club door stood open and music spilled out. A couple of patrons shot nervous looks at the marked units and headed for their trucks. The smart customers, the ones who didn’t want to be around when the cops showed up.

Chris gestured at them. “I’ve got these guys. Y’all go ahead.”

Troy Lee shot him a look. “Thanks.”

They didn’t approach the door directly, but fanned out, pairing to allow one to enter while another covered him. Inside, a Jason Aldean song thumped, but the woman hunched on a barstool, screaming and weeping, nearly drowned it out. The bartender scowled.

“Took you long enough to get here.” He gestured at the two men in a standoff on the makeshift dance floor. A handful of customers gathered, watching the drama unfold. “Can you do something about them two?”

Troy Lee directed Bennett to the crying woman with a discreet gesture.

Recognition slammed into Emmett with his first glance at the participants. Harry Nix and Jake Stringham. Fuck, seriously? Stringham was an ass with the same training as the rest of them and would be a bitch if they had to take him down.

And the last time Emmett had dealt with an intoxicated Harry Nix, he’d ended up with a bullet mere inches from his femoral artery.

The two men circled each other warily. Beer bottle held by the neck in a loose grip and a wide gash over his brow, Stringham didn’t drop his gaze from Harry’s face. Blood poured from Harry’s nose, and he brandished a broken pool cue.

Tracking both men, Emmett rested his hand above his Taser, aware his fellow officers did the same. He had no desire to escalate the situation, but he wasn’t going to let Harry shoot him again, either.

“Gentlemen, why don’t we walk outside and talk about this?” Walker pitched his voice low and calm.

“Nah, we gonna finish this.” Harry slapped the pool cue against his palm. “I’m gonna finish him.”

“Harry, come on outside and talk to me.” Emmett matched Walker’s even tone. Harry actually looked in his direction. Emmett held out a hand, other still close to his Taser. “Come on, man. Let me have that.”

Stringham flicked a glance over the four of them, and something in that look prickled the back of Emmett’s neck.

Harry was drunk, and that made him a little angry and stupid. Stringham was angry and desperate, and that made him dangerous.

They fanned again, controlling the perimeter while still maintaining visual contact with the two men as well as the gatherers.

“Jake, is this worth it?” Walker tilted his head toward the door. “Let’s go talk.”

Eyes narrowed, Stringham lifted his chin and eyed them a moment. He glanced from Walker and Emmett to the door and back. “All right.”

“Harry.” Troy Lee jerked his thumb toward the back of the club. “Let’s me and you go over there and have a chat.”

Mouth tight but seeming to recognize his opportunity to “finish” Stringham was gone, Harry nodded and walked away.