Dirty Deeds by Stella Rhys

7

ALY

The first fewdays of living with Emmett went surprisingly well, though mostly because our schedules were absolute opposites.

My day started at 5AM so I could get to work by six, since the restaurant opened its doors at seven o’clock sharp. By the time I got home from work, Emmett was usually out or getting ready to leave. From what I understood, summer in the Hamptons meant nonstop fundraisers for fancy folks like him.

“These are all the people who write the biggest checks to my foundation, so I can’t flake on their parties without looking like an asshole,” he’d explained the night I came home to find him running late and looking sinfully good. He was wearing a crisp white shirt while knotting a black silk tie, and he looked so fucking handsome that I couldn’t have blurted a faster “no” when he asked me to join him that night.

“Aly. It’s all good,” he’d smiled a bit too knowingly when I launched into a nervous ramble about being tired, having nothing to wear, and a bunch of other excuses I was afraid he could see right through – especially since he’d caught me eyeing him through the mirror while he was straightening his tie.

But aside from that awkward moment, we were getting along great.

What little time Emmett and I did have together at the house was surprisingly good, because so far, it was just a half hour to an hour per day of work stories, Ozzy stories, and showing each other videos on the Apple TV. I mean if there was anything that bonded us as kids, it was the dumb shit we watched on YouTube while enduring our parents’ long weekly dinners. Back then, our preferences involved videos of people falling or suffering horrible bloopers while trying to report the news. These days, however, our taste had matured just slightly to prefer stupid SNL skits and compilations of people being surprised with puppies.

I was surprised with how well we were adjusting.

It felt so comfortable that I decided to say yes to Emmett’s dinner invitation on Thursday. I mean I had proposed that we’d be friends, and friends did sometimes grab meals together, so I reasoned that this was no different.

Though just to be safe, I made sure to wear a ragged old T-shirt and awkwardly long shorts.

It was like playing a mind trick on myself. If I didn’t care to look good while out with Emmett, that meant I didn’t see him as anything romantic. Also, if I wasn’t dressed nicely, that meant he couldn’t choose any nice restaurants for us to go to. Right?

Well.

Not exactly.

* * *

The restaurant Emmettchose was a beautiful place I’d heard of called Blue Harbor. It was a beachside restaurant designed to look like a cozy albeit super fancy living room. It had a gorgeous open view of the water, and it was high up on the list of Hamptons restaurants I desperately wanted to try, but I wasn’t so sure about it tonight.

“It literally says no flip flops or shorts, Emmett, and I’m wearing both,” I said dryly, pointing at the sign on the door and then gesturing down at my legs. I narrowed my eyes at him when he took a longer than necessary look. When his gaze returned to mine, he smirked.

“Yeah, I don’t think it’ll be a problem,” he said breezily, walking ahead of me through the doors.

“Yeah, except what makes you so sure?” I persisted on the sidewalk. Emmett called back from well inside.

“Because I own this place.”

I stared.

Of course.

After inwardly griping about the fact that Emmett secretly owned one of the most heralded restaurants in the same town as my comparatively dinky café, I sucked in a deep breath and dragged my flip-flopped feet in.

Inside the restaurant, I found that Emmett hadn’t made it far on his own because he’d apparently been stopped by half the staff and pretty much all the patrons at the bar – men and women alike. I couldn’t help but shake my head as I watched him get treated like royalty in a way I was actually quite familiar with seeing. The girls even used the same line they did twelve years ago – “Emmett, do you remember my name? I bet you don’t remember my name!”

Geez.

Even as we were seated, I watched with arched eyebrows as the manager glided over with two glasses of champagne, setting them neatly on the table before asking Emmett if he’d like the chef to “just send some things out.” When Emmett nodded, the manager gathered our menus, asked me if I needed anything beyond champagne, and upon hearing my “no, thank you,” gave an elegant nod and then glided away.

I mouthed wow as Emmett finally turned back to me.

“Guess some things never change,” I noted.

“What does that mean?”

“All that just now was pretty much what high school looked like from my vantage point,” I said with a laugh. “You walking down the hall, girls fawning over you, and then someone coming up and asking if you have everything you need – usually one of my friends making sure that she did your homework right.”

Emmett chuckled. “I still get attention from women, but I can pretty much assure you that everything else about me has changed since high school.”

“Really.” I lifted an eyebrow. It sounded to me like a severely bold statement. “That’s kind of hard to believe.”

“Why? Everyone changes after high school. I mean look at you. You’ve changed…” He raised his eyebrows. “A lot since high school.”

I narrowed my stare as his flicked from my lips to my chest before traveling quickly back up to my eyes. He only grinned when he realized that he’d been caught.

“Yes, you’re right. My hair is long and blonde again,” I said so we could pretend that was the part of my body he was referring to just now when he talked about changes. Emmett laughed.

“Actually, yeah, that’s a pretty huge change. I’m pretty sure it’s the only reason I didn’t recognize you that night we – ”

“Ah, ah.” My cheeks burned as I stopped Emmett from talking about the night we almost had sex for God’s sake.

“Oh. Right,” Emmett laughed, swiping his thumb across his bottom lip in a way I wish I didn’t find so attractive. “Change of topic.”

“Yes. Let’s go back to how you’ve changed since high school,” I said awkwardly as Emmett smirked.

“Fine.” He nodded. “Well, for starters I don’t play football anymore, and that was a pretty big part of my identity back then,” Emmett said. “Plus, I’m way more responsible now since, you know. I have a kid.”

I choked on my water. “You do? Oh God, when did that happen?” I asked, wondering how the hell I hadn’t heard about this. Emmett eyed my reaction for a second before giving a slow chuckle.

“Yeah… I was talking about Ozzy.”

“Oh.” I exhaled hard as he snorted.

“But good to know that you’d react to me having a kid with that kind of horror.”

“Oh my God, I’m sorry. I just… can’t imagine you being responsible for another human life,” I said, giggling at the mere thought of it. Emmett frowned.

“Hey, believe it or not, I’m a good caretaker. And someday, I’m going to be a damned good father.”

“Oh – of course you are!” I said, swallowing back the last of my laugh because Emmett looked surprisingly offended. “I mean you’re a good dad to Ozzy, obviously, and you did have pretty much the best possible role model in the dad department,” I added – but the second I did, I felt something twist in my chest.

Crap. I froze, blinking down into my lap when I realized that what I felt was a sudden guilt.

Because I had known that Emmett’s dad died unexpectedly about ten years ago. It was about a year after our big fight, and I was still at the height of loathing him and indulging in my pissed off teenaged angst, so I didn’t fly home for the funeral. I’d bought the ticket but never showed up at the airport, and since it was still one of my biggest regrets, I’d pushed the memory to the back of my head.

Till now.

“Emmett…” I started weakly, but he cut me off.

“It’s okay, Aly.”

I looked up to see Emmett wearing a look so earnest it almost hurt even more.

“No… it’s not. You messaged me on Facebook that week, and I didn’t even answer,” I murmured, feeling gut-checked by that memory. It had resurfaced out of nowhere to shame me so hard I shuddered. Fuck. “Emmett, I’m so sorry. Regardless of what happened between us, we were always like family, so that was the worst time I could have possibly ignored you.”

“It’s fine, Aly. We were kids and we were both in the eye of our own storm,” Emmett said. When I cocked my head at the expression, he smiled sheepishly. “Oh, that was just what my mom said back then. She said however bad I was feeling, it didn’t mean that you didn’t have pain of your own to deal with. Everyone’s got their own lives to live. And honestly, it was better for me to learn that sooner rather than later.”

I nodded, overwhelmed by the mix of emotions. Guilt aside, I was amazed that Emmett’s mom had been able to sympathize with me. I was also kind of heartbroken to know that Emmett had even talked to his mom about my absence at the funeral. I had always imagined that he was just happy-go-lucky Emmett, and no problem ever stuck to him for that long.

But that clearly wasn’t the case.

“Thank you for being so understanding,” I finally said, my voice small. “Like your mom explained, I was just… going through such a hard time because of that whole thing between us and – ”

“About that – ”

“No.” I looked up at Emmett and shook my head fast. “Let’s not,” I decided. “Right? I mean it’s our first time having dinner together as adults, so shouldn’t we just… try to enjoy our night instead of talking about the past?” I rambled my question.

There was a conflicted look on Emmett’s face but I had a feeling he could read the desperation in mine, so after a good three seconds of silence, he nodded.

“We can talk about whatever you want to talk about,” he murmured, prompting me to exhale in gratitude. I even managed a laugh because of how ridiculously breathless and flustered I’d gotten. “Easy. Drink some water,” Emmett smirked, handing me my glass.

“Thank you,” I snorted, taking a drink and a breath. It probably wasn’t healthy for me to have damn near a panic attack at the mere thought of discussing the past with Emmett, but that was just what it was. Maybe someday, it would change.

Maybe.

“Breathe, Aly. You good now?” Emmett teased when I finished my water and switched back to my champagne. His blue eyes glimmered as he grinned at me, somehow putting me at ease. But just as I finally caught my breath and found my bearings, a sharp voice rang out behind me.

“Oh my God – Seafood Girl? Is that you?”

Fuck.

Seriously?

I winced at the nickname because one, I hated it and two, the only person who addressed me with it was a loud, demanding socialite who I pretty much never enjoyed seeing.

Looking over my shoulder, I found myself staring at Britt Heatherton, one of my regulars at Stanton Family Market. She had a notoriously sharp voice and a less-than-favorable reputation among the wait staff. She usually came by for power lunches dressed head-to-toe in Tory Burch, but tonight she was wearing a gorgeous mint green dress that reminded me that I’d come here in faded denim and a T-shirt with my café’s lobster logo on the breast.

“Oh my God, so hilarious to see you here of all places,” Britt crowed, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “Are you catering some event? Did you meet my bestie Emmett Hoult? Isn’t he just dee-vine?” she asked, dancing around to his side of the table.

My eyes fluttered as Britt ran her hand all over Emmett’s chest, like she was showcasing a prize on a game show.

Dammit, Britt, I thought as Britt’s creepy stroking drew my eyes back to Emmett’s body. I had a twelve-minute streak of not looking at it since getting out of the car, but now it was hard for me not to stare at how sinfully good he looked in that white shirt. It was fitted to show off the perfectly tapered V of his torso, and every time he moved his arms, the sleeves hugged his biceps tight.

Ugh. Pretty much every inch of Emmett’s body was a breathtaking view, and it made me feel suddenly and shamefully possessive. It made me want to snatch Britt’s hands right off of Emmett’s body and reclaim it as mine.

Not that it was mine.

I definitely wasn’t supposed to want it to be. I was supposed to be answering some question Britt asked me forever ago, but now I couldn’t even remember what she said. Lucky for me, Emmett cut in.

“Actually, Britt, Aly here is one of my oldest friends. She’s the only person I’ve pretty much known since I was born,” he said, prompting Britt’s smile to tighten.

“Oh. Is that right? So she’s known you longer than I have?” Britt cocked her head then turned to me with a proud look on her face. “I’ve been BFF with Emmett for like, ten years now. I interned at the events place that did his fraternity’s Black and White ball, and I guess we pretty much hit it off from there, right?” she asked, her bejeweled hand squeezing his shoulder as she beamed down at him.

Emmett flashed me a deliberately awkward smile as he answered her. “Yes, Britt. I guess we did.”

“Mm-hm. And – oh! Speaking of events, I happen to be planning the party for Emmett’s big fundraiser next month,” Britt told me, glowing with pride. “I’m not even exaggerating when I say it’s going to be the event of the summer, so you should totally come.” Her big smile became half-cringe as she pointed at my shirt. “But definitely don’t wear that. Right?” she giggled, giving Emmett’s shoulder another squeeze.

“Don’t worry. Aly’s got some pretty killer dresses in her arsenal.”

My heart gave one loud thump as he referenced the dress he’d peeled halfway off my body the other night. But before I could react, Britt cooed again.

“Oop! Looks like my date’s here!” she said, holding her tanned arm out to a gorgeous but noticeably sullen redhead who made a show of sulking over in her heels. She rolled her eyes elsewhere as Britt said, “Emmett, you know Natalie.”

“Of course. How have you been, Natalie?” Emmett asked, though Natalie refused to make eye contact let alone answer. All she did was whip out her phone and type furiously as we all kind of stared.

When she angrily hit send with her thumb, Emmett’s phone dinged on the table, its screen glowing with a new text.

The drama. It felt like I was watching a reality show.

“Ookay. Maybe go a lil’ subtler next time, babe,” Britt snorted before flashing us her favorite cringe-smile again. “Guess I’ll escort her away. But talk soon, both of you! Have a good evening!” she sang before hustling a glaring Natalie to their table.

Once they were gone, I couldn’t help directing a bewildered but thoroughly amused look at Emmett. I knew he sensed it because he was laughing to himself, reluctant to look back at me.

“What?” he finally asked.

“That was actually going to be my question because what the heck was that?”

Emmett played dumb. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the girl you apparently pissed off so bad she can only yell at you via text,” I snorted. “Something tells me she’s a particularly scorned ex of yours.”

“She’s not. I’m not sure you can call any of the women I’ve been with exes.”

“Why? You’re still actively sleeping with all of them?”

“No. More like I don’t sleep with anyone for long enough to become a boyfriend,” Emmett said.

“Well, how long were you with Natalie for?”

“I was never with her – we spent a little more than a week hooking up. And I did tell her before we started that I don’t do relationships.”

I lifted my eyebrows. “You really don’t?”

“You seem surprised.”

“Well, the fact that you give official disclaimers before even hooking up with someone is pretty serious,” I snorted. “Plus, you’ve just always been the kind of guy who likes having someone take care of you. That was definitely the case in high school at least.”

I could still vividly recall how Emmett jumped from relationship to relationship back then. He definitely had his weeks of being single and hooking up with random hot girls or, to piss me off, my closest friends. But outside those lulls, he was usually elbows-deep in a relationship. He pretty much always had a devoted girlfriend doing things like bringing him lunch, cleaning his locker and recording videos of his football practice to text to his mom. Emmett was notoriously spoiled and pampered, and he loved the perks of having a girlfriend, so I couldn’t help being surprised that he no longer did even the short-term relationship thing.

“Yeah, well, I’ve learned how to take care of myself since high school,” Emmett said as our first course of seared scallops arrived. “That’s just a part of being an adult.”

“So is learning how to commit to someone, isn’t it?”

“I don’t have the time.”

“Yeah, what with the grueling nine-to-five you don’t have,” I teased. “I can’t imagine that your mom doesn’t give you a hard time about this.”

“She does, but that doesn’t change the fact that I have much more important priorities than being in a relationship.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Nothing I feel the need to talk about, Aly,” Emmett said, the sudden steeliness in his tone scaring me out of any follow-up questions. Completely thrown off, I blinked.

“Oh. Okay. That’s cool,” I nodded lamely, trying to sound casual despite feeling suddenly embarrassed. I thought we’d been joking around since that was all Emmett ever knew how to do, but apparently, he was more than capable of being serious now. Come on, Aly, I cursed myself, reaching nervously for my champagne when I realized I found Angry Emmett kind of hot.

And by kind of, I meant extremely.

“Well…” I started, thoroughly flustered now and way too eager to break the silence. “I’m totally with you on the no relationship thing anyway,” I said hastily, swigging my drink. Emmett cocked his eyebrow.

“Yeah? And why is that?”

“Because like you said, bigger priorities exist,” I said. “I’ve got a restaurant to run, you’ve got… whatever your job is. So fuck relationships. Who needs ‘em? Right?”

Maybe I was tipsy, but I actually felt strongly about my words. And I felt even stronger about them when Emmett raised his water glass and agreed.

“Yeah. Fuck relationships,” he smirked. “Sex will do in the meantime. Right?”

I nearly choked on my champagne but luckily, our food arrived on cue and spared me from having to answer the question. And thanks to our waiter’s long descriptions of each special appetizer – as well as how insanely fucking good each dish was – the topic was swiftly forgotten.

And for the rest of the night, much to my pleasured surprise, the conversation remained strictly platonic.