They had her running on her feet until 2:55 p.m. Josh stood outside patiently and when he came inside, she told him to lock the door and collapsed into the makeshift table spread she made in the bakery.
“Looks like I’ll have lots to do.” He pointed to the empty plates and dirty trays.
She was too glad to have hired him at that moment to immodestly protest the help. “Yes.”
He started to clean, and she got that familiar guilty feeling sitting down and watching someone else straighten up her mess. Too bad. She wasn’t moving an inch until five minutes passed. If she could move then, because her brain and body protested the idea with aches.
In those five minutes Josh had the front straightened. She could hear water going in the kitchen. Those Merchant men were nothing if not efficient.
Tobias. Damn. She closed her eyes. Coffee sounded more than nice, it sounded divine. The pain in her limbs subsided. She stood and moved to the hallway. “Open once you’re done. I’m getting coffee.”
She locked the store and crossed to Caff-aholic. Fate visited him too because every seat had a warm body in it and she had to wait behind three people in line. He didn’t smile when he noticed her, but she hadn’t expected one. What worried her was the look had less heat and more sizzle. The kind that you didn’t even know you were standing in a hot zone until you ended up with third degree burns. What did that mean? It was her turn and still she couldn’t figure it out.
“Emmaline,” he said.
“I’m late.”
“You’re late.” He nodded in agreement.
She frowned, watching his face. “Too late?”
He put his head down and said, “Mallow, did you still want your coffee?”
“I need an IV drip. Had this huge family come in for cake tasting. I don’t close for another four hours, and I’m exhausted.”
“I’ll fix you something that will keep you up until tomorrow.”
She caught the glint in his eyes and knew he was pulling her leg. “Sounds delish.”
He chuckled and went to work. Each movement was precise but fluid, and it wasn’t long before the smell wafted toward her. A pang shot to her stomach and the first time in her life Emma yearned for coffee. She was salivating by the time he handed her cup over. She hummed after the first sip, looked at him, shook her head and took another.
“Does that mean I get another date?” he asked, standing near the cash register.
“Only if you make me this. And,” she added on a sigh, “if I get caught up, I promise to pay for any delivery of coffee.”
The corner of his mouth pulled into a smile. “I am a goddess?”
She took another sip of coffee to hide her own smile. Everything about Tobias was pure man. And, yeah, Emma was charmed he remembered her comment about people loving her pastries. “What did my face say, Third Button?”
“I would say it, but we’re in public.”
She nodded. “Later then?”
He nodded again in agreement. Outside the wind blew, but the coffee warmed every bit of her as she made it back to the store. The cordless phone rang and she bypassed the counter to answer it.
“Miguel just moved his stuff in,” Abigail whispered into the phone.
Knowing hysteria would force this type of reaction, she said, “Hold on.” She placed a hand over the receiver. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” she told Josh, and he shrugged.
Outside of cleaning and doing his assistant duties, the shrug was the only physical gesture he gave. At first she thought it was a brush off, but then she remembered who he was related to. So far she’d been able to distinguish the one shoulder jerk with the long way up and slower way down versus the full shoulder shrug. Ok and that’s cool. He was giving her the latter. At least his smiles came easy, otherwise she’d need one of those foreign language to English books.
She finished her coffee and placed the empty cup in the trashcan under the sink. She put the phone up to her ear.
“Why are you whispering?” Though Emma had an inkling of the problem.
Some people got buyer’s remorse. Abigail had boyfriend remorse. Every few months or so when things looked to be serious, Abigail would see a wedding looming around the corner. Emma tried to remember the last call. Right before the third month marker, but Sasha had fielded it.
“Those boots I hate,” she still whispered.
Emma sat down on the barstool. “The combat ones he wears around his house without laces?”
“They’re in my closet. Next to Lucy.”
Abigail was referring to the red Prada boots both Emma and Sasha had saved up to buy her the Christmas before. Abigail had written odes of love to them. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.”
“And he’s doing something to my entertainment center. Apparently it’s not loud enough.”
“Remember when he took you to the Ferris wheel?”
Silence and then a sigh. “Yeah.” Abigail used in a normal voice. “But,” her voice raised, “isn’t harping on the good times bad?”
“Name a bad time.” Emma rubbed between her brows.
“Him putting those hideous-ass boots in my closet.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Something that broke the very fabric of your relationship?”
“I hate that question.”
Emma smiled. “I know you do.”
There was a rustle of noise, and then Abigail said, “We need better criteria. Remember snoring had been number two on the list?”
“When we were nineteen. Plus, Sasha snores.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Abigail said in a dry tone.
Emma tried to think of a decent answer and leaned against the island. “I think Sasha’s right.”
“No!”
“She’s a proud card carrying commitment-phobe. She can spot a real winner. She can break down relationships to a ’T’ and if you asked, let you know the probable outcome. Maybe we have stunted each others’ growth. Shouldn’t we know by now what makes a relationship work between a man and a woman?”
“I’m going to treat that like a rhetorical questions, because no one really knows. They know what worked for them. I mean look at all the magazines.”
“Bad example.”
Abigail said, “Studies state communication is the key to a successful romance. What exactly is communication? Talking, body language, letters or emails? Any means of transmitting feelings and thoughts?”
“Listening,” Emma added.
“What?”
“Listening is also a form of communication. I can express my thoughts and feelings to…” She glanced around the room. “My plants. They grow from the carbon dioxide. Should I take that as a response? If I didn’t they won’t die, but they wouldn’t be as healthy as they are now.”
“What?”
Emma pretended to bang her head on the island. “Did you tell him to move right in? Or did you sit down and talk about it first? What did he say?”
“It was his idea. I told him my place since it was bigger. He gave his thirty. We’ll probably spend the next week cleaning it so he can get back his deposit. We’ll put that money in the apartment fund.”
She sighed. “Good, but do you know why he loves those boots?”
“His brother gave them to him. Five years ago he was in a rock band, of all things.”
“The same brother that’s stationed in God knows where?”
A long silence. “I’ll move them away from Lucy, but I guess he can keep ’em.”
“That’s my girl,” Emma said with pride.
Her friend blew out a breath and the sound blasted into the phone. “Sorry. So?”
“What?”
“So implies spill the beans on your current situation with straight-arrow-bad boy.”
“Nothing. We made a date,” she said and frowned because when it was supposed to happen hadn’t been covered. Her line beeped. “Gotta go. I’m hanging up. Talk to you later. ”
“But—”
She clicked over
and felt a pang for hanging up so fast, but then Emmaline was said so silkily through the ear piece it felt like a caress.
“Tobias Graham,” she answered.
“I forgot to give you a time and place.” He sounded amused.
“You did,” she stated matter of factly but had to cough to cover the laugh.
“I’ll pick you up at your place.”
“You will?”
He tsked. “You asked a question.”
She grinned realizing the game they were playing. “I did.”
“Much better,” he paused. “We’re having a picnic. Dress appropriately.”
She pursed her lips. “These sound like orders when not put in a question form.”
“They do. Can’t be helped.”
She snorted. “I’m not good at Haiku so let’s never try that one.”
“I could teach you.”
“I bet you could,” she murmured.
The line went silent, but he hadn’t hung up and then she could hear the soft laugh. “You win this round. Over,” he said.
“Out.”
She pressed the off button and smiled and then remembered he hadn’t given her a time. Before she could dial, the phone rang. She went warm all over.
“Tobias Graham?”
“Abigail Johnson speaking, actually.”
“Oh.” Disappointment made Emma’s shoulders sag.
“That’s all you have to say after hanging up on me?” Annoyance filled her tone.
“I hung up too soon,” Emma argued. “But, I’m hanging up is considered a good-bye and not rude. And why are you just now calling back?”
“I did hit you back. I got a busy signal.”
“Oh.”
“So?”
“Same status.” Her lined beeped. “I—”
“Ya gotta go. Bye,” Abigail sounded frustrated before hanging up.
Emma frowned at the phone and answered with her usual greeting.
“What day out of the week do you close early?” Tobias said without preamble.
“Fridays and that’s two days from now, I believe…or I could be wrong. Do you know?”
“Tomorrow then?”
She bit her lip for a moment because the next day wasn’t Friday. “I can’t think of a question to answer that with. So you win this round. Over.”
“Out.”
She hung up on his chuckle and his reason for ending the earlier conversation. She mentally added competitive streak to his list of faults, but she couldn’t help but smile.
*****
The wonderful thing about being your own boss was you could create your own Casual Fridays. During most of the work week, Emma did her best to spruce up. Monday through Thursday were designated appointment days. Someone really special could get an appointment on Saturday, a day she reserved strictly for prepping the week ahead once business hours ended, but Fridays were hers.
She closed down the bakery with a light step. The day spread out before her unfettered by responsibility. It felt like a gift after the long week. This Friday she’d take her time getting ready for the date. That light feeling stayed with her until she pulled up to her drive, next to Sasha’s car.
She found her friend in the kitchen. The granite counter tops gleamed, along with the stainless steel stove. The tile floors shone in the fading afternoon light. You could eat off every surface. The large, family-sized table had been set with two plates and Sasha was already halfway through her food. She noted the subtle rearrangement of furniture.
“Uh-oh,” Emma said. “What happened?”
“My period’s late.” Sasha shoved more food into her mouth and refused to look up.
“How?” No one was more conscientious about birth control than Sash. Hell, freshman year she was the one everyone went to for condoms. It got to the point she just sat a bowl of protection outside her door. “Never mind. Stupid question.”
“I don’t know anyway. The mechanics of how are obvious, but we were covered.”
Emma slid into the chair with the other place setting and began to eat the meal her friend had cooked. The steak and homemade mash potatoes were smothered in gravy.
A plate of biscuits sat between them, and Emma took one trying to find what to say next. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure my period’s late. I’m not sure of the reason.”
That relieved Emma for a moment. “It could be stress.”
“My life isn’t stressful.”
“Well, you could be stressed that you’re late and that text message guy is the father. That’ll cause any woman’s flow to stem.” She paused. “Why don’t you just buy one of those home kits?”
“Because then I’ll know for sure. Unaware of the possibilities is so much better.”
This was way over her head. The last time they’d went through this she hadn’t exactly been a rock. “We need to call Abigail.”
“No,” Sasha said with a vehement tone. “I can’t. She’ll make me take one. She won’t even ask. Once you tell her I’ve cleaned and rearranged the furniture, she’ll come in like the cavalry.”
And that made her think Sasha was right, earlier, about them being each others’ crutch. The idea was insane and a little insulting. How could a friendship stunt your growth? You learned how to put aside preconceptions, hang-ups and learned how to let things go. That was the natural order of being close friends with someone. Then again it was Abigail. She showed her support by getting things done. Abigail was the rock and sometimes that’s not what you needed.
Hell. “She’s going to be hurt.”
Sasha stabbed what was left of her steak. “She’s not the one I’m worried about right now. What if I am?”
Emma held tight to the fork. “What if you are?”
Sasha threw down the utensil and rubbed her hands over her face. Emma put down her fork, because she couldn’t calmly eat with her friend like this. She rounded the table to sit next to Sasha and placed an arm around the delicate shoulders.
Her friend leaned into the offered embrace. “I’ll keep it, but my whole life would change. It’s not like I couldn’t afford to have it. I could. I’ve got savings.”
“I’ll be a godmother who actually babysits.”
Sasha chuckled. “Thanks. Is it immature to not want to know for sure?”
“Yeah, but that’s a big question. Not everyone can take the answer right away. Some things take courage. You don’t have it yet. Now if you still want to act unaware nine months from now that might be a problem. But, until you know, no drinking.”
“I’m not giving up coffee.”
“That’s fine. It’ll be your tweaker baby.”
Sasha snorted. “How does that comfort me?”
“It doesn’t.”
Sasha sighed. “Thank you. Wait.” She lifted her head. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for a date?”
“Yeah, but I’m going to have to cancel.”
“Why?”
Emma looked at her friend as if the answer was obvious. “This is a crisis.”
“It’s only a crisis if I’m in tears.” Sasha pointed to her face. “See, no tears. Go get ready for Dark and Dangerous.”
“But—”
Sasha placed a hand on Emma’s. “I’ll do your hair.”
Emma considered her friend. There were lines of worry creasing the skin around her eyes, but there weren’t any tears or even the sheen of some on the horizon. At the moment, it was only a worry. “I’m giving you a week and then I’m buying the test myself and coming in like the cavalry.”
“Most doctors say it’s best to come after six weeks before you start prenatal.”
Emma tilted her head. “You’ve been doing research?”
“A little,” Sasha admitted. “I looked up symptoms. Saw pictures. I was curious,” she added the last quickly.
The reality finally dawned on Emma and it made her feel breathless. “You want to be.”
“I didn’t know how much I wanted a family of
my own until the idea got stuck and I could see it. It’s my damn family’s fault. They are all married off with kids. It’s a disease with them.”
To lighten the mood, Emma said, “So does that mean the reign of dating losers is over?”
“God, yes.” Sasha hugged her. “Go shower so you can get ready for your date.”
“My date.” Weight rang in the words that hadn’t existed before. “I’m thinking I made a mistake about putting him in friend with possible benefits category. Can you back track on the second date?”
“You can do anything you want if the situation allows.”
Emma thought of all the things she couldn’t do and say now that this date would be a real one, her shoulders slumped. They had so much fun last time; she could still be that way but polished.
There wasn’t a need to break out all the skeletons. They could stay stuffed in that deep, dark closet, especially now with Sasha thinking she was pregnant. Her hand started to go for her stomach, but she balled her fist. Skeletons went into the closet for a reason.
“I’ll do your hair and make-up, but first I’m going to finish your plate.” Sasha’s face had softened. She’d seen the action. That was the problem with skeletons, they always wanted out.
“Twenty minutes and I’ll be ready,” Emma said.
Once upstairs, she cracked open the bathroom window to make sure the steam had a better escape. The air outside had turned crisp and it was the first sign the season was about to change.
Chapter Eleven
Tobias did his best to catch up with Emmaline, because the steep climb up the hill gave him a great view of her ass. Staring and drooling over it was not how he wanted this date to go. Something had already gone horribly wrong between the setting of the date and when he picked her up at home. It was as if someone had given him a replica in her stead and it lacked all the charm, passion and recklessness of the real woman.
Double Dare Page 10
