by EJ Whitmer
“Oh relax,” she chided. “I’m more embarrassed than you. I’m sorry I ruined your moment. Anna, close your mouth and come on in.”
I didn’t realize I’d been standing there with my mouth hanging open like a grouper. I quickly snapped it shut and kicked off my heels before entering Emmett’s apartment. Sharon pulled me in for a tight hug and winked before turning and sashaying into the living room. I glanced up at Emmett, who still seemed a bit shocked. He stared at me for a moment before sighing and shrugging his shoulders.
“Sorry about that,” he said softly. “Sometimes I forget she has a key.”
I rolled my eyes and brushed past him to join his mother in the living room. Sharon was seated on the couch with a glass of white wine in one hand and a romance novel in the other. The wine looked extremely appealing, so I turned on my heel and headed to the kitchen to pour myself a glass. When I returned to the living room, Emmett was on the couch next to his mother, speaking in soft tones. I suddenly felt like an intruder. She was obviously there waiting for Emmett for a reason and I wondered if I should leave. During my hesitation, however, Sharon noticed me hovering in the entryway and smiled in greeting.
“Come on in, dear! Sit down! I was just telling Emmett I came to help him pack. His father told me he’d be out of town for a few days and I know he works late, so I was just going to help out a bit and streamline the process.”
I smiled and sat down on the loveseat next to the couch. I wasn’t sure if I should be amused or scared that my forty-two year old boyfriend’s mother was helping him pack for a work trip. I tried to tell myself that he obviously hadn’t asked for her assistance. He was just as shocked as I was that she was here. It was still weird, though.
“So,” Sharon began. “What are you two doing home so early?”
If I thought I couldn’t turn any redder, I was wrong. I could feel the tips of my ears burning. “Well, we decided to take off a bit early today and get Emmett packed for his trip in time for dinner.” I smiled, proud of myself for constructing an entire sentence, and tried not to gulp my wine.
“That’s nice,” replied Sharon. “I actually started some stew on the stove, but stew freezes well so as soon as it’s done cooking, I’ll just pop it into some containers and freeze it for when Emmett gets back!”
“Mom, you didn’t have to do that,” interrupted Emmett.
“Oh, nonsense!” Sharon waved away his concern. “I was bored and your father had a hankering for stew, so I bought enough ingredients to make two batches. It’s not a big deal at all. It’ll be here when you get back.”
Okay, so at that point I felt pretty awful. This nice woman made her son dinner before his work trip and I’d ruined it. “Sharon, stew actually sounds delicious. The whole apartment smells amazing. Maybe we can all eat together?”
Emmett shot me an alarmed look before recovering and smiling down at his mother. “Yeah, Mom. Stay. What better way to leave for a trip than after dinner with my two favorite ladies?”
Sharon looked conflicted as she picked at her perfectly manicured nails. “Are you sure, dear? It’s really not an issue at all to just put it away. I’m sure you and Anna want to spend time together since you won’t be back for a while.”
“He’ll only be gone a couple days,” I piped in. “And it really would be great to get to know you better.”
“Well, then I’ll just hop up and throw the rolls in the oven. It won’t take five minutes!” With that, Sharon stood, drained her wine and hustled to the kitchen.
As soon as she was out of sight, Emmett threw his head back and let out a soft moan. “Whyyyy?”
“Why what? Why did I ask your mother to stay? Because I’m not an idiot, Emmett! I do have manners! She catches me with my hand down your pants, is nice enough to make a joke out of it, and you think I’m going to let her leave after she makes you a nice dinner? No way, mister.”
Emmett grumbled and stood, crossing to sit next to me on the loveseat. He pulled me in close and nuzzled his nose under my ear. “When will we have Anna and Emmett time?”
I shivered at the lust in his voice and craned my neck to allow him better access. “You’ll only be gone a couple of days. You’ll survive, big guy.”
He nipped the skin at the base of my neck before reaching over to swipe my wine which he downed in two large gulps. “You’d better make it worth it,” he whispered before rising to join his mother in the kitchen.
I gave my lady parts a moment to cool from boil to simmer and then joined the Vances in the kitchen. Sharon was fishing bay leaves out of her stew while the rolls were warming up and Emmett was pouring more wine. I took the glass he handed me and perched on a stool at the island. The smells coming from the large stockpot on the stove were mouthwatering.
“That smells delicious,” I said. “Tell me you taught your son how to cook.”
Sharon laughed and stirred the pot one more time. “I tried. After the fourth time he almost burned my kitchen down, I gave up and booted him out.” She shot a suspicious glance at Emmett. “Although, I’m not sure he didn’t do that on purpose. Few people have mastered the art of starting a fire while boiling water. I’ve always wondered if his father taught him the trick about doing things so poorly I never ask him to do it again.”
Emmett failed at hiding a blush and wrapped his big arm around his mother’s shoulders. “Would I do that, Mother?”
Sharon jabbed him in the ribs with the end of her soup ladle and hip-bumped him out of her way. “Absolutely. That grin may get you out of trouble with other people, but I’m your mother.” Her attempt at a motherly glare lasted about three seconds before she caved and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Go make yourself useful. Do you think you can take the rolls out of the oven without burning the building down?”
I sat at the island, watching their banter with a wide grin. Emmett and I hadn’t been dating very long and after the first couple of drama-filled weeks, we’d decided to take it a bit slower. (It’s amazing how fighting an evil super villain with your new boyfriend makes you jump into things a bit quickly.) I hadn’t had many opportunities to see him completely at ease and seeing the love between him and his mother made me feel all sorts of warm, fuzzy, unicorny things inside.
I set the table as Sharon ladled the stew and Emmett placed a soup bowl overflowing with rolls in the middle of the table. He smiled sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. “I’m a guy. I don’t have a bread basket. I’m pretty sure I don’t even have a mixing bowl.” He turned to his mother. “In fact, where did you find that giant pot, Mom?”
Sharon rolled her eyes as she took her seat. “I brought it with me, of course. You can keep it. And I’ll bring a bread basket the next time I’m over.”
We all dug in and I nearly let out a highly inappropriate moan after tasting the stew. The woman could cook.
“So, Anna,” Sharon began. “We’ve done the usual small talk thing at work functions, but that’s about it. Tell me about yourself.”
I forced myself to chew and swallow the enormous bite of bread in my mouth before answering. “Well, I’m originally from Hinsdale. My parents still live there. I have four older brothers, two of which are married with kids. I went to school at Northwestern. Um … I don’t like cooked carrots. I’m slightly obsessed with donuts.” I glanced at Emmett, silently begging him to step in and save me. I hate talking about myself.
“She’s twenty-eight, extremely intelligent, beautiful and has a cat who hates me,” Emmett finished for me, smiling warmly as he reached over to squeeze my hand.
Sharon grinned as she took in our clasped hands. “Well isn’t that the sweetest thing?” She took a sip of her wine before tilting her head toward me again. “Have you been married? Kids?”
I chuckled and shook my head. “No, ma’am. Not even close.”
This earned me a frown. “Do you want kids?”
“Mother,” Emmett interjected. “Please don’t give Anna the third degree. We haven’t been dating that long. Having children i
sn’t exactly something you bring up on your first date.”
I squeezed Emmett’s hand before returning to my stew. “It’s fine, Emmett. Yes, Mrs. Vance, I would love to have children someday. I just know what I like and what I need and I refuse to settle. I’ve been waiting for the right time and the right man.”
Emmett suddenly looked a tish uncomfortable. Was he freaked out by this conversation? I didn’t say he was my right man. Just that I wouldn’t settle. Whatever he thought of my answer, it seemed to appease his mother. Sharon continued to sip her stew with dainty slurps, oblivious to any tension in the room. The rest of dinner was pretty much eaten in silence. Comfortable silence between Sharon and me. Not so comfortable concerning Emmett. His silence was making my stomach squirm.
Finally, Emmett placed his napkin in his empty bowl and stood. “I’d better start packing. We need to leave soon.” He rinsed his bowl and placed it in the dishwasher before heading down the hallway to his bedroom.
I bit my lip as I watched his retreating form and turned to Sharon who was giving me an understanding smile. “Maybe the marriage and children talk wasn’t the best idea,” she whispered. “I’ll clean this up. You go help him pack.” I plastered on a nervous smile and nodded before heading to Emmett’s room.
I found Emmett in the master closet, selecting a stack of t-shirts from the shelves. If he heard me enter the room, he didn’t show it. I leaned against the door frame and folded my arms across my chest while I figured out what I wanted to say. I didn’t think he was upset with me. From what I remembered, I hadn’t said anything inappropriate or offensive.
“Can you grab my toiletries from the bathroom?” Emmett’s deep voice broke through my thoughts.
“I can, yes, in a minute. Can you tell me what I did to upset you?” I pushed off the door and stepped closer, placing my palm on his back. I didn’t have to rub to feel how tense his muscles were. It was like putting my hand on a piece of stone. After a moment, Emmett’s shoulders relaxed a bit and he sighed before turning around and tucking me into his big body.
“You didn’t upset me,” he murmured, burying his face in my hair. “It’s complicated. And it’s not something I really want to discuss right now. But you didn’t upset me.”
I pulled back enough to gaze up into his eyes. “You don’t want to talk about it right now, as in tonight, or as in at this point in our relationship?”
“Both,” he replied. “It’s not a big deal. I just got a bit tense and needed to breathe for a minute. We’re good. I like you. A lot. I don’t want to ruin what we have by getting too far ahead of ourselves. Can we revisit this later?” He leaned in to cover my lips with his. He tasted like wine and smelled like Emmett; spicy, musky, sexy Emmett.
I lost myself for a moment, enjoying the tenderness of his kiss and running my fingers along his muscled back. He’d always been a fabulous kisser, but this one was different. It was no less passionate than our embrace earlier in his entryway, but it was a different kind of passion. Emmett was speaking to me through his kiss, showing me that we were and would be okay.
A few moments later, we pulled apart for air and Emmett rested his forehead on mine. “Want to help me finish up?” he asked, giving me one last peck on the nose.
I smiled and nodded before scooching around him to access the dresser in his closet. “Do you want me to pack your unmentionables?” I winked as I searched through his drawers and pulled out a stack of boxer briefs.
“I would love it if you’d pack my unmentionables,” he replied. “And who uses that word?”
I shrugged with a laugh as I stuffed his underwear in his suitcase. “I’ll call them panties next time.” I smirked and grabbed a stack of socks to add to the bag. I heard Emmett chuckle and I looked over my shoulder to see him packing away jogging pants and t-shirts.
My interest piqued, I leaned closer to check the contents of his suitcase. Missing were the dress shirts, slacks and ties one would think he would bring to a conference. Again, my spidey senses tingled. I should be a damn detective, really. Of course, knowing Emmett, questioning him would only result in being shut down, so I chose to catalogue that tater tot of information for a later date.
Fifteen minutes later, Emmett zipped up his suitcase and wheeled it out of the closet. I followed behind him to the kitchen where his mother was finishing up the dinner dishes. “Are you all packed, dear?” she asked as she rounded the kitchen island to hug her son.
Emmett gave her a tight squeeze and flicked a soap bubble from her hair. “Yep, I’m all packed.” He glanced behind her at the sparkling kitchen. “Mom, you didn’t have to clean up. The cleaner is coming tomorrow.”
Mrs. Vance waved away his comment and made her way toward me. “Nonsense. I was here. Might as well clean up!” She leaned in and gave me a warm hug. “Anna, I packed up the leftovers for you to take home. Emmett will be gone for the next few days, so it won’t do him any good.”
I smiled at her mothering. “Thank you, Sharon. It will be nice to not have to worry about dinner tomorrow.”
“Well, we’d better take off,” Emmett said, bringing his mother in for one more side hug. “Thank you for dinner, Mom.”
“You be careful,” she warned.
“I will, Mother,” Emmett groaned, sounding at least thirty years younger than his forty-two.
“I’ll just finish drying these dishes and let myself out. Call me when you’re back in town.”
We said our final goodbyes and Emmett lead the way out the door. We made the drive to the airport in comfortable silence. Emmett’s hand rested on my thigh and he ran lazy circles around my knee with his index finger while I drove. As we neared O’Hare, we passed the storage locker facility which served as his make-shift prison back in February. My mind raced with the memory of finding him there, bloody and bruised after being kidnapped and held hostage for over four days. Emmett must have been thinking along the same lines as I was. His finger had stopped making circles on my leg and his jaw was tense.
Moments later, I pulled up to the drop-off point at O’Hare. Emmett leaned across his seat and gently pressed his lips to mine. “I’ll text you when I get in. Call me if you need anything.”
I nodded and cupped his jaw in my palm. “I will. Be careful.”
He smirked as he unbuckled his safety belt. “I’ll try to be extra careful at the big bad work conference.” With one last wink, he climbed out of my Mini, grabbed his suitcase and made his way to the terminal.
I sat in my car, watching Emmett’s retreating form and contemplated taking a different route home, not wanting to drive past the storage lockers again. Okay, maybe that’s only partially true. I also knew there was a Steak ‘n Shake just to the north and I seriously needed some french fries. I was just about to pull out of my parking spot when a rap on my window sent me into a screeching fit. I peered out my window to find Eric Blake grinning in at me, his small suitcase leaning against my door. I shot him a glare before rolling down my window.
“Take I-90, Jennings. It’s faster and you’ll hate yourself for eating those fries.”
“What the hell?!” I shouted. “You can hear me through the damn car windows?”
Blake grinned back at me. “Not usually, but for some reason my brain must zero in on your frequency more easily. Quit thinking about french fries and snooping around. Go home, eat a piece of lettuce and go to bed.”
I flipped him off and rolled up my window. Lucky for him, I waited until he and his luggage had cleared my bumper before reversing. I was still tempted to stop for french fries, but Blake’s nagging was stuck in the back of my head on repeat. I growled and pulled out toward I-90. I hate it when he’s right.
3
Forty minutes later, I was home and shucking off my high heels. I was used to long days, but for some reason, I was exhausted. A long, hot shower and glass of wine sounded almost orgasmic. As soon as my shoes were off, I started toward my bedroom and immediately stopped short. My bedroom door was closed. I never shut my bedro
om door in the morning.
Maybe Figaro nudged it shut. He’s always getting locked in closets or trapped behind the couch.
I shook my head and took a calming breath before making my way toward my bedroom. I hadn’t made it three steps before I heard a scuffling sound behind the closed door. I froze. Again, I mentally chastised myself, arguing with my inner scaredy cat that it was just Figaro. A giant crash and the sound of shattering glass officially sent me into a panic attack. I frantically scanned my brain, trying to think of something I could use as a weapon. I considered calling one of my brothers to come save me, but the last time I’d done that, my perpetrator turned out to be a giant moth. My brothers still bring that story up at family get-togethers.
I struck a mini jackpot when I spotted my knife block next to the broom. I raced over and grabbed the biggest knife I owned. Staring at my reflection in the metal blade, I cringed and rethought my decision. I was now officially one of those women in horror movies who walked around with a knife in her hand instead of hightailing it out the door and running for her life.
