Wye had no idea why that tugged at something deep and primal inside her. Even if Emerson had set his cap for her, that didn’t mean she was interested.
Although she had to admit she was—a little.
Hell, a lot.
Had she learned nothing?
“The last time I thought about dating a man, he tried to kill your whole family,” she pointed out.
Cass waved that off. “Will fooled all of us, but Emerson is totally different. You can trust him.”
“How do you know?” Although Wye felt the same thing. Emerson was the sort of man who was entirely himself. You knew exactly what you were getting, and although it pained Wye to admit it, she liked what he was offering.
Emerson was handsome in a way that had nothing to do with his features and everything to do with the quiet, absolute self-confidence he exuded while going about his business. The sort of man who came to a decision, made a plan and carried it out, politely but inexorably, until you didn’t know how he’d come to take charge of everything. The kind of man who understood things.
She had the strangest feeling he understood her.
Which made no sense. They’d spent little time alone together.
She wouldn’t mind spending more—
“The General trusts him utterly.” Cass broke into her thoughts. “And the General doesn’t trust many people. He certainly doesn’t let them get close to him the way he does Emerson.”
Was she thinking about the coffee? Wye suppressed a smile. Every morning Emerson made coffee for the General, then cleaned the machine so Cass could make coffee for everyone else, as she always had. Wye knew it galled Cass no end her father wouldn’t accept a cup from her.
“The General is very set in his ways,” Wye pointed out. “He likes everything done exactly the same every time.”
“I know.” Cass sighed. “Anyway, we’re talking about you, not me, and I think you should give Emerson a chance.”
Wye shrugged, drying the last of the dishes as Cass let the water out of the sink. Maybe she would.
“I’m not marrying him, though.” She’d learned early to distrust the idea of happily ever after.
“Famous last words. Come on, let’s go see what’s next on the list.”
Emerson had been in warzones less chaotic than the interior of the large white Victorian farmhouse after Alice married Jack. Vehicles of all sorts lined the long lane that led to Two Willows, and the first floor was crammed full of happy guests.
The General was looking decidedly mutinous, however. Settled into his easy chair in one corner of the living room, his cane set to one side, he was surveying the people around him with increasing irritation.
Time to fix that.
Emerson threaded through the crowd, careful not to put too much weight on his bad ankle, which still pained him considerably if he overdid it, and deposited a cold beer on the side table by the General’s chair. He was getting around a bit better than he had a few weeks ago, when he’d first arrived, but it was unclear yet if his ankle would ever fully heal.
“Stop fussing, Sergeant. You’re as bad as a mother hen.” But the General picked up the bottle, took a long swig and nodded. “Could’ve got myself a drink if I wanted one,” he pointed out.
“Of course. Got myself one, too.” Emerson lifted his to show him. The General hated the injuries that were making it difficult to negotiate the crowd filling his home. He’d borne the brunt of the blast that had torn through their bunker overseas and had required surgery to his hip before he was sent home. “Thinking about getting myself a few more appetizers. Want some?”
Emerson was risking the General’s ire again, but his stomach was rumbling, and he didn’t mind fetching food for the man. For one thing, it would allow him another glimpse of Wyoming, who’d parked herself in the kitchen with Cass, helping her to put the final touches on the meal they planned to serve to the wedding guests in a matter of moments. For another, it was his job.
“You know what I like. Get Jack and Alice, too, while you’re at it. I want to talk to them—but before you do, I’ve got something to say to you—about your future.”
Emerson, already heading for the door, turned back. There were enough people in the room to make it difficult to hear unless you were close to your conversational partner, but something in the General’s voice had sliced through all the noise and warned him the man had a serious topic on his mind.
“You’ve served by my side a long time, and I commend you for all your hard work,” the General began. In his fifties, his face was lined from long days in the elements and the cares that rested on the shoulders of someone responsible for the lives of so many men. Emerson braced himself for some kind of brush-off. He’d begun to hope maybe the General would keep him at Two Willows to help out since they’d both taken work at the Army Reserve center in Billings. Wouldn’t the General need a driver? Didn’t Emerson help him daily in a hundred other small ways? He’d hoped that would be exchange enough for staying here.
“I’ve no doubt if you stayed at Two Willows you’d make yourself useful.” The General echoed his thoughts, and Emerson’s stomach tightened. Here came the kicker. The General was obviously sick of him. He already had a houseful of daughters, every one of them married to a man he’d hand-picked. Why did he need Emerson around?
“I’d try,” Emerson assured him.
“You’ll do good work at the reserve center,” the General went on.
“I’ll do my best,” he managed to say. He wondered if Reed was going to suggest he should move into an apartment in town, closer to the center. Get full-time work. Make something of himself. He was still young, after all, even if he was injured.
He would miss Two Willows and everyone who lived here, though. He supposed he’d spent a lifetime looking for a surrogate family to replace the one he’d lost far too early.
“What’s got you scowling like that, Sergeant?” the General demanded, looking him over.
“Nothing, sir.” Just memories. Hard ones. He shook them off.
“Are you listening?”
“I’m listening, sir.” Emerson gave the General his attention. “What can I do for you?” After all, in this moment he had a roof over his head, three square meals on the table and a job to do. This moment was all that mattered. Tomorrow could take care of itself.
“I said, if you want to stay here, you’ll have to do your share. Pull your own weight and all that.”
Regret tightened the muscles of his neck. That’s what he’d been trying to do, but his ankle prevented him from doing the kind of ranch work the other men here were doing. Every day he had to swallow the bitterness of knowing he’d lost some of his usefulness. He tried to make up for it by doing his best for the General and anticipating his needs. He kept his paperwork and correspondence up to date and organized. His coffee hot and strong. Drove the General wherever he needed to go. Offered his arm when the man required it.
He’d done much the same kind of work overseas before the missile hit, but he’d never felt restricted by it the way he did now. He used to be able to cover ground at a run if the General needed something quickly. He couldn’t run anymore.
Still, he’d do whatever he could if the General was willing to give him the opportunity to stay here.