Текст книги "Fever dream"

Автор книги: Elsie Silver

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

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CHAPTER 18

Emmett

Richard

Where the FUCK do you think you disappeared to last night? We had the perfect setup. All you needed to do was be at your house. But according to Teri, you’ve been gone all night.

Emmett

Sorry. I had plans.

Richard

This show isn’t a chance for you to turn into Houdini or to sneak out and visit a side piece. We need you on set. Working.

Emmett

I didn’t know I was required to stay in my house all night. I must have missed that in the contract.

Richard

I suggest you pull out your contract and read up on all the reasons I can fire you while you’re at it. Dating anyone outside the girls I’ve provided you for the show is a breach. We’ve got world-class lawyers. Your next payment could easily be your last.

I must be high on caffeine or delirious from lack of sleep because I am sitting in the passenger seat of Julia Silva’s car on my way to taking her to family breakfast.

After Richard’s worked-up texts this morning, we decided it would be better if we didn’t get spotted at her house together. So now I’m sitting here like a lovesick puppy dog waiting for her to clean up and get ready for breakfast with my family.

And true to form, I practically pant when she walks out of the front doors of her high-rise apartment building.

She’s not even dressed up. She’s wearing fucking overalls. Light-wash denim overalls with a white tank top and a pair of pearlescent Birkenstocks.

What really gets me is her hair, though. Dark and shiny as always, but today it’s a loose mess of curls that makes me want to run my fingers through it—not her typical poker-straight or slicked-back look.

When she hops into the car and turns to buckle her seat belt, I’m hit with a whiff of her shampoo. It smells floral but something a little smokier—maybe eucalyptus. For some reason, the scent makes perfect sense. Julia doesn’t strike me as the sugary type. Something a little stronger, a little more sensual, suits her just fine.

“Thanks for waiting,” she says breathlessly. “I was as fast as I could be. Didn’t have time to do more than diffuse my hair, though.”

She starts the car and shoulder checks. I swallow as I drink in her profile.

Never do anything else with your hair again is what I want to say. But I clamp that thought down and settle on giving her a casual shrug to go with my “No worries.”

Spending the night hanging on her every word in a throwback fifties diner is bad enough. Bringing her to family breakfast when I know said family is going to get the wrong idea might be even worse. But complimenting her on how good she looks seems like a step down a slippery fucking slope. Especially considering that my job for the next five weeks is to—at the very least—act like I’m falling in love with one of the contestants on the show.

When we pull up to my oma and opa’s house, Julia slips her car into park and turns to eye me warily.

“Are there cameras here too?” She peers beyond me as though she might see a crew member jump out from behind a shrub.

“No,” I assure her. “The cameras start at the bunkhouse and go back toward my cabin. The main house and the stables are only for certain scenes. Kind of figured you’d know that.”

She nods. “Well, I know where we’re shooting from day-to-day, but following the security footage isn’t part of my job description. Threw me for a loop when I walked into the trailer where the cameras had picked Evelyn up.”

The sight of her waltzing toward my house last night like she owned the damn place had set me on edge as well. Evelyn, presumptuous, snarky to the other women, and too eager to do whatever the producers ask. Richard wants me to keep her around, and I want to keep Richard off my ass, but her presence still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

And based on the small wrinkle that’s popped up across the bridge of Julia’s nose, I suspect she feels the same.

“You’re safe here, Julia. There’s no way I could have asked my grandparents to let me do the show on the farm if it involved cameras in their home. This place is a safe haven. Oma and Opa will be thrilled to have you.”

She shoots me a grateful smile before slapping the tops of her legs with a bright “All right, let’s go then,” opening her car door, and waltzing up to the front of the house.

Me? I take my time getting out of the car. I watch Julia so closely that it slows me down.

I’ve never brought a woman here. In fact, I’ve avoided it at all costs. Have never felt inclined to invite someone else in. Hell, the mere sight of Evelyn walking up to my cottage made me flee.

Which is why I’m stuck grappling with why the sight of Julia walking up to my family home doesn’t set me on edge in the slightest.

“You came… together?” Opa asks, brows plastered high on his forehead as Julia fidgets beside me.

“Yep,” is all I say back.

For a beat, everyone stares like I’m an extinct species come back to life. And part of me can’t blame them.

Luckily, they use their brains and don’t make a show of my unusual behavior beyond that first moment of shock. Within seconds, my family is back to the chaotic hustle and bustle of our typical Sunday breakfast.

I swear I can feel Julia’s relief when the attention shifts away from us. Like she feared there was going to be a special initiation she’d have to endure just to be allowed to stay.

The look she shoots me before moving into the kitchen borders on bashful, laced with giddy disbelief. And I feel the exact same way. We’ve spent almost twelve straight hours together, and I’m just exhausted enough to be borderline punch-drunk.

Conversation picks back up and moves away from me and her. Evan cooks with Oma like he always does, the two of them chattering away at the rest of us as we sip coffee around the island.

He talks about donating his farrier services to the local SPCA due to a recent neglect seizure of several horses.

“They were in awful shape but so sweet. Tough to see, but at least they have perfect feet now. Here—” He turns away from the pan of bacon to show us a selfie he snapped of himself with a bedraggled-looking draft horse. In the photo, Evan is pressing a kiss against its big round cheekbone, and despite the horse’s hardships, his ears are tipped forward and there’s a hopeful glint to his eye.

The entire kitchen—even Opa—goes “aww” because this is so Evan. With tattoos that crawl up his neck and over the tops of his hands, he looks intimidating. But really, he’s a big bleeding heart with a biting sense of humor. It’s probably why there’s always a lineup of women hoping he’ll look their way.

But he never does. Not since his marriage crumbled.

“I should reach out,” Parker says thoughtfully, eyes still fixed on the photo of our brother. “Maybe one of them could be a good companion horse for the weanlings.”

“Totally,” Riley agrees, swiping a piece of bacon out of the pan and then hissing like she’s surprised by its hot temperature.

“Girl, sometimes your complete lack of self-preservation boggles my mind,” Opa grumbles as he watches Riley try to shove it in her mouth like it will be less hot that way. “Go set the table and try not to juggle the knives while you do.”

Riley picks up a knife like she’s about to throw it in the air, but not before Oma reaches over her shoulder and disarms her.

Julia snorts an adorable laugh, eyes twinkling with mirth as she watches the madness of a Brandt family breakfast unfold before her. “I’ll help set the table and be there to patch Riley up if she stabs herself.”

“My hero!” Riley calls out as she rifles through the cutlery drawer.

Opa works on another pot of coffee—the last thing I need—and Evan and Oma get to the eggs and French toast. Which leaves Parker and me watching in a companionable silence. Something she and I both enjoy with each other on a somewhat regular basis.

Except today. Today she has to be snoopy and ruin it.

“How’s the show going?” she asks, with one raised eyebrow—not bothering to hide her scrutiny.

I pretend I don’t hear her. I don’t want to talk about the show. I want to live in this happy bubble, surrounded by my favorite people.

Julia and Riley chatter away as they set the table. I love my youngest sister, but she’s a bad influence. I’d hate to see what kind of trouble she and Julia could get into. And I find myself straining to hear what they’re saying.

“There’s this guy… total gentleman… another barn nearby… I’ll set it up…” Riley’s voice fades in and out every time she turns away, but it sounds like they’re talking about men and dates. Something that makes me want to walk over there to find out more.

Julia said she hasn’t been dating, but what if she’s looking to start? Then Riley would be the absolute worst new friend for her to have because she’s a fucking man-eater.

And I mean that in the most respectful way possible. Because I love it for Riley. I never have to worry about her taking some guy’s shit, because she kicks them to the curb for the smallest transgressions. I almost feel bad for a guy when I hear she’s seeing one.

“Emmett!” Parker elbows me with one bony jab to the ribs, startling me upright from where I’m propped against the kitchen counter.

“Jesus, Parks, you didn’t have to go in so hard. That’s gonna leave a bruise.”

“Sorry,” she singsongs, completely unapologetic. “Just saving my brother from gawking at a girl in front of his family like he’s never seen a member of the opposite sex before.”

I scoff. “Very funny. I was just—”

“Just what?” she prods with a playful tone. “Just making sure they were setting the table correctly?”

I roll my shoulders, trying not to think about Julia going on a date with some fancy equestrian douchebag that my sister knows. “Riley struggles with structure, you know that. Can’t have her putting the knives on the left when we have company over.”

Parker scoffs. “Yeah, Riley, who’s on the path toward becoming an Olympic athlete, struggles with structure.”

“You know what I mean. She’s a bit of a loose cannon.”

Parker chuckles at that, watching our little sister with admiration twinkling in her eyes. “Takes a special brand of crazy to gallop an animal with flight-instinct around a field, over jumps as tall and wide as you.”

I can’t help but grin because, yeah, Riley’s badass.

Now I get another sharp elbow. “Not so different from someone who thinks riding angry bulls for fun is a good idea.”

“Don’t rain on our parade, Parker. You get your kicks from fixing things. We get our kicks from breaking things. Like hearts.”

Parker rolls her eyes but then glances over at Julia. She doesn’t need to say anything for me to pick up on what the look means.

Julia throws her head back in laughter at something Riley has said, and her hair catches my attention again. Those big, loose curls interspersed with tighter ones give her a relaxed, messy look that I find alluring.

I’m hit with a flash of my fingers in her hair on that cruise ship. Pulling out bobby pins and elastics to free the thick curtain from the way she had it plastered back so tight.

“I would never break her heart,” I whisper quietly. I can feel my sister’s gaze heavy on the side of my face.

She’s looking closely enough that I feel almost squeamish. So I straighten up, searching for something I can do to keep Parker from further interrogating me or making me say things I don’t want to.

“Need help?” I ask, desperation lacing my tone.

“Nope! Go sit down. That’s how you can all help,” Oma says, shooing us out of the kitchen.

Within minutes, we are all seated around the dining table. Julia is on one side of me and Parker on the other.

When the bowl of scrambled eggs ends up right in front of me, I bump my shoulder against Julia’s. “Eggs? They’re only scrambled—not an omelet.”

She chuckles softly. “Doesn’t matter. They look delicious.”

Which gets me thinking. I watch for a beat as she serves herself before sliding my chair back and standing up.

“Just a second. I’ll be right back,” I announce to the rest of the table before striding out of the glassed-in dining room toward the old farmhouse kitchen. I head straight for the pantry, swipe what I need off the shelf, and return to the dining room. Back in my seat, I pop the tab and pull the lid off a can of pineapple chunks before shoving a small spoon into it.

I can sense my family staring at me in confusion. But more importantly, I see Julia’s smile out of the corner of my eye as I serve myself up a few spoonfuls of pineapple right on top of my eggs.

When I finally turn to her, I slide the can in her direction. “Pineapple?” I ask with a teasing wink.

Her smile widens as she hits me with a chuckle. “Yes, please. So thoughtful of you.”

I garnish her eggs, too, trying not to feed into my family’s stunned silence as I set the can back on the table.

“What the hell are you doing?” Opa grumbles.

“Acquiring a taste,” I say as I shovel a mouthful past my lips and cast a quick glance at Julia. Her cheeks are pink. She’s fucking beautiful. But I don’t gawk this time. Instead, I look back down at my plate and announce, “Pineapple on my eggs. It’s a new thing I’m into.”

“Weird. But I’ll try it,” Opa says, gesturing for me to pass the can across the table. Laughter ripples through the table as everyone joins in on trying the wacky combination.

But it’s Parker’s attention beside me that I feel most heavily. She hums thoughtfully as she watches me take another big bite, and when she elbows me this time, it’s downright gentle.

“You know, it’s not her heart I’m worried about.”

Parker

Crawl space.

Emmett

Be right there.

When Parker summons me to the crawl space later that day, I show up. It’s our thing, always has been. When I was eleven, she went missing for a few hours. Oma and Opa were beside themselves with worry, and they’d organized a search party to look for her.

But I’m the one who found her. We were told to stay in the house, so I’d come downstairs to play at the pool table, needing a distraction. As I racked the balls, I heard her quiet sobbing behind the wall.

I opened the small, low door, and that’s where I found her. In the crawl space, alone. She said she needed everyone to stop coddling her, just wanted to be sad without people rushing in to make her feel better.

And quite frankly, I could relate.

So I crawled in beside her, and we sat in silence. Tears on our cheeks. Which, in retrospect, was unfair to all the people who were walking the fields and calling her name. But Parker and I have been kindred in that way. We’re the quiet ones.

And while I love all my siblings dearly, Parker and I are the closest.

Plus, it’s a great excuse to avoid the cameras, whose presence weighs heavier every time I walk through the front door of my home and remember that I’m being watched. In fact, when I went back to change, I couldn’t help but notice crew members affixing even more cameras to nearby trees and fence posts. It seems my great escape has bought me more surveillance.

Which is why I pull straight up to the main farmhouse, leaving my groceries in the back seat, let myself in, and make my way straight to the basement. I walk past the antique pool table, eyes homing in on the small door that blends in with the dark, wood-paneled walls. My lips twitch as I wonder what I’m heading into right now.

In the past, it’s been a horrible breakup, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Christmas Day, hell, even her own birthday. When Parker has big emotions, she still hides here. But now the space has grown up too.

Rugs cover the dirt floor. There’s a stack of old-school mystery novels. A flashlight. Pillows propped along the pink insulation and plastic sheet walls. There’s even a basket stocked with a few different liquors for when shit is really bad.

Sometimes, Parker and I will sit in the crawl space, passing a bottle back and forth in silence. It’s what we did when I lost the championship to Theo Silva last season.

I’d been so damn close. I could almost taste it. But I’d had to choke on the flavor of defeat.

I tug the door open and drop to my knees. The lights are on, and my sister is already waiting.

Parker takes one look at me and twists the top off a bottle of bourbon.

I quirk one brow at her and pretzel myself into position, leaning my back against the wall as I attempt to cross my legs. I’m stiff as shit after a long week of working around the farm in the morning and filming all afternoon and evening.

“Okay. What’s going on?” I jump right in.

Parker takes a swig, and it never fails to amuse me. My petite, rather serious sister always looks out-of-character drinking alcohol straight from the bottle. At least it means she’s summoned me here because something is going on with her and not just to interrogate me about Julia.

I shoot her a questioning look, but all I get back is a blank expression. Something tells me that whatever is going on with her today is more suited to our tradition of drinking in silence.

“We’re not talking today, then. Got it.” I reach for the bottle, taking it out of Parker’s fingers. “Guess I’ll have a few since my life isn’t exactly sunshine and rainbows right now either.”

“Dating ten women isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?”

“Nope,” I reply, popping the p. “Especially not when Richard the pervert has chosen them all for you. It’s like he went through and picked the most outrageous characters he could find. Did you know that Plagiarism Madeline was on the show?”

Parker’s mouth falls open. “No.”

I take another drink before passing it back. “Yes.”

“Why?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Local flair?”

“Dang, they had an entire valley of women to choose from, and they went with the annoying pick-me girl from high school who almost got me expelled because she couldn’t come up with her own goddamn ideas?”

My head shakes as I remember that drama. “I’m pretty sure she’s just obsessed with you. Wants to be your friend, or your sister-in-law, or wear your skin.”

Parker snorts. “Oh good. My very own single white female.”

“Knowing Dick Wad, it was on purpose.”

Parker laughs dryly and takes a drink. “Fuck me, that is traumatizing. Is she the same as she used to be?”

“Fake as hell and trying too hard?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Big-time.”

Parker cringes. “Please tell me you’re eliminating her.”

I snort and drop my head against the board behind me as I gaze up at the low ceiling. “Parks, I’d never date someone who was so awful to you. Already sent her packing.”

To that, I receive a firm nod and the bottle of amber liquid shoved back in front of me.

“Julia seems nice.”

“Ah, there it is. What I figured you called me here for.”

“It’s not my fault you brought a girl to breakfast.”

My eyes close as I spin the bottle in my hand. “It’s just breakfast, Parks.”

“We both know it’s not just breakfast, Em.”

I don’t respond, because she’s right. It’s unspoken, but all of us have kept that tradition sacred. None of us Brandt kids have been keen to invite outsiders in on our traditions. Evan is the only one who has brought a girl to breakfast. And we all knew she was special—special enough to marry.

Which is why my bringing Julia is so inexplicable. I didn’t even think twice. It felt obvious. Like, of course, it would be fine if she came for breakfast.

“She’s cool. You’d be overachieving if that ever became a thing.”

I chuckle at that, because she’s not wrong. But it’s still impossible. “Shit, thanks, Parker. But don’t get your hopes up. She’s Theo Silva’s little sister. A terrible fucking idea. Plus, I have to finish out the show.”

Parker scoffs and shakes her head. The look she hits me with borders on disbelief. “You really going to sit here and lie to us both?”

Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. “What? Like you’re being super forthcoming today? Got something to share with the class, Parker?”

“Funny you should put it like that because remember how I was supposed to graduate after taking this one stupid summer political science course for my last credits?”

“Yes,” I venture carefully.

“Well, I pulled an all-nighter helping Opa with a breech foal delivery, fucked up and slept through my final exam. It was weighted at fifty percent of my final grade. My marks were good going in, but not one-hundred-percent good. So now I’m fucked, and this professor is strict as hell. I swear the man is like forty going on eighty and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t believe me. He just keeps saying the policy is clear in the syllabus. Like some sort of stuck-up automaton.”

My stomach lurches. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. That’s what I said.” She yanks the bottle from my hand. “So it’s looking like I get to do a whole extra semester of school. With Dr. I’ll-scowl-over-my-glasses-at-you-in-disappointment. Like it hasn’t taken me long enough or cost me enough already to finish this stupid program. I was so close, Em.”

I reach across the space between us and give her hand a squeeze as she takes a swig. “When I get paid, I’ll cover the semester.”

“No, you won’t. I’m a big girl. I fucked up. I’ll pay the price. I’m going to talk to him again during office hours. All I want you to do is sit here and wallow with me, please.”

And after admitting out loud that I need to finish the show and that Julia is off-limits, wallowing sounds pretty damn good.

So that’s what we do.

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