Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 117278 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117278 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
“She’ll be relentless.” I set Emma to the side as carefully as I could for someone rushing to get to the door before it could fully open, hopping over one of my shoes and skirting a chair. But it was too late. My grandmother waltzed into the house with an altogether fake look of surprise upon her face as she took in the scene.
“Well,” she said expansively, “now I understand why you didn’t answer sooner.”
There I stood, full-on blushing in front of my grandmother. It was karma, payback for teasing Emma. I could sense Emma just to my right, her silence speaking volumes in my head. I knew if I turned and caught her gaze I’d see “Look who’s laughing now, sucker” in her eyes.
My jaw ticced. “Mamie. You need something?”
Mamie’s gaze moved from me to Emma and back again. “Oh, nothing really. Not anything serious enough to disturb you two right now.” She clapped her hands together, the heavy rings on her fingers clinking. “Oh, but this is marvelous. I’d hoped this would—”
“We were just having lunch,” I cut in.
I could all but feel Emma stiffen. And I winced internally. For all her protests, I didn’t think she liked being relegated to just lunch.
Mamie’s lip curled slyly, telling me exactly what she thought of my sad excuse. “Is that what you kids are calling it these days?”
God. Refusing to squirm, I narrowed my eyes at her. Mamie merely beamed.
“Well then,” she said. “I shall leave you two to . . . eat.” She gave us a queenly nod and then left us alone, quietly closing the door behind her with a definitive click.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Then Emma’s musical voice, tinged with irony, drifted over the thick silence. “Just having lunch, eh?”
Wincing, I faced her. She stood by the table, hair mussed, lips still softly swollen from my kisses, her eyes glinting in either humor or irritation. It was a toss-up.
Hell. I needed to explain. “I—”
Emma burst out laughing. “God. That was awful. I felt like a fifteen-year-old caught in a boy’s room.”
A smile tugged at my mouth. “Creep into many boys’ rooms, did you?”
“Sadly, no. I was a gawky homebody who didn’t get a date until college. But I dreamed of it.”
I couldn’t imagine a time when I wouldn’t want Emma. “If we’d met as teens, I would have invited you to my room. Or crawled into yours.”
“No, you wouldn’t have,” she said with flippant assurance. “You wouldn’t have even seen me.”
“I would too. How can you say that?” I didn’t know why I was arguing hypotheticals with her other than it was better than focusing on the rabid panic I’d felt when Amalie had found us together.
“You were one of the popular guys, weren’t you?” She looked me over, as if seeing my younger self. “And probably hotter than you needed to be.”
“Well, I don’t know about hot, but okay, I was popular.” I shifted my weight, rubbing the back of my neck. “It was hockey. And baseball.”
“You played both?”
“I was a catcher. But baseball was secondary. I needed something to keep me in shape during off months.”
“I’m surprised you had time for girls.” She hadn’t moved from her position by the chair. The light of the lamp she’d turned on in deference to my migraine cast a golden glow over her shoulder.
I found myself moving toward her, pulled by the need to touch that smooth skin, feel the soft curves of her body. “I had time for them. Probably too much.”
When I reached her, she yielded, flowing into my arms with a sigh. Her hair held the scent of my shampoo, but her skin carried her own fragrance, warm and unique, addictive. I nuzzled her closer, drawing in a long breath. “I would have noticed you.”
Her fingers trailed up my shoulders. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I cannot conceive of a situation where I wouldn’t.” The words tumbled out, rushed in their honesty. I wasn’t one for talking about feelings or need. I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, once again hit with the uncomfortable sensation of free-falling. Thing was, holding on to Emma only made it worse. The closer she got, the more I needed.
I’d lost too much to lose more.
“Amalie looked very satisfied,” Emma said dryly.
I swallowed again, struggling to find my voice. “You know she’s been after us to get together from the start.” And damn it, I’d proved my canny grandmother right. She’d definitely crow over this. I wouldn’t be surprised if she started in on grandkids now. “She was convinced we were the answer to all of our problems.”
Emma snorted, but it was without rancor—just simple amusement. “She’s a romantic. Some people think love fixes everything.”
Love.
A wave of clammy cold washed along my back, and words spewed out of my runaway mouth. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it clear we’re only messing around.”