Without a Doubt Read Online Free Page A

imaginary drool. “Better than dropping my jaw and saying, 'Hubba, hubba'.”
    Emerson laughs, holding his hand out, which I take. His hand is warm, larger than mine, and his strength is clear with his strong yet gentle grip. “Your jaw did drop, Eva. Mine did too though. How's the leg?” he finishes as we walk outside.
    “Good, nothing worth complaining about. Where are we going?” I finally ask.
    He grins as he opens the passenger door for me. “It's a surprise.”
    I smile back. “I love surprises.”
    My answer causes his smile to widen. I climb into the truck and watch as he walks around to get in. He starts the engine and immediately does two things. He rolls our windows down about halfway first. Then, he turns the radio to the station I was listening to the other day. His slick grin tells me all I need to know. He's trying to impress me with his memory. I look away, trying not to give him the satisfaction of a smile because, oh my god, I'm a little impressed.
    “I hope you're up for a bit of a drive,” he says.
    “How long is a bit?”
    “About an hour.”
    The question is on the tip of my tongue, but I've already asked and he said it's a surprise. All I know is we're doing something that may make me dirty or ruin my clothes, and it's an hour away. I really do love surprises, so I'm comfortable with waiting to find out.
    “Sounds good,” I say. “So, where do you work?”
    “I'm a bag boy at a grocery store in town.”
    “I work at Sub Grub. What glamorous jobs we have.”
    Emerson chuckles. “I've never been there. And hey, I'll take money any way I can make it.”
    I shift in my seat to turn toward him a bit. “ Any way? So, you would strip if you were paid?”
    That bright smile makes another appearance. “Are you making me an offer, Eva?”
    “Ha! If I wanted you to strip, I could make you do it without paying you,” I say with confidence. Guys are all the same. Push the right buttons and they're putty in your hands, willing to do whatever it takes to get to the good stuff.
    “You're right,” he agrees.
    This time, it's me grinning. “That's twice you've said that. Either I'm right all the time, or you're wrong a lot.”
    “Or maybe I'm the kind of guy who can admit when he's wrong and you're not used to hearing it.”
    “Maybe it's all three.”
    We have small talk for a few more minutes until we stop to enjoy the warm weather coming in with the windows down and the country music on the radio. As we get closer to the hour mark, a question hits me.
    “Do you even like country music?”
    “Yeah, but I don't listen to it all the time. We're getting close.”
    I don't even know where we are anymore. We get off the interstate and Emerson picks up his phone from where it's sitting in the cup holder. After pressing a few buttons, he lifts the phone to his ear.
    “Hey, we're about twenty minutes out.” He pauses. “She's experienced.” He laughs. “Yeah, okay. See you in a few. Thanks.” Emerson hangs up, but doesn't say anything. Was he talking about me when he said, 'she's experienced'? Experienced how ?
    “Were you talking about me?” I ask, not able to keep it in.
    “Yeah.”
    “In what way am I experienced, Emerson? What have you gotten me into?”
    He laughs. It's so easy to make him laugh. Most of the time, I'm not even trying to be funny. “Don't worry. You'll see. All will make sense once we get there.”
    There is apparently a house down a gravel road. The trees clear to show a wide-open space with a two-story farmhouse in the middle. There are pastures to our left and right, wooden fence posts set in intervals. To our right, is a man standing in front of two saddled horses. Emerson is wearing a grin when I glance at him, slightly confused.
    He gets out, comes around, and opens my door. He even holds out his hand for me to take as I hop out of his truck. I stay quiet as we walk over to the man. He has a round gut, but he's about Emerson's height. He's wearing jeans, an old,