“Hi,” Emily said, standing. Her smile was big, her cheeks flushed slightly. It was a good look on her, Catherine noticed, as was the off-white hooded sweater with the chunky buttons. Underneath was a chocolate brown tank top that left enough collarbone visible to pull Catherine’s eyes there. Again, without her permission. The dark hair was loose and gentle waves curled near her shoulders. Brown eyes danced and Catherine understood that Emily was genuinely happy to see her.
That was the moment Catherine realized that the feeling was mutual.
Emily gestured to the chair across the small table from her. “Sit, sit. What can I get you?”
“I can get it,” Catherine said automatically, not sitting.
“I can get it, too,” Emily countered, amused.
Catherine stopped, looked at her, held her gaze. “I can pay for my own coffee.”
Emily cocked her head, still amused, one corner of her mouth quirking up slightly. “I’m sure you can. But I’d like to. If that’s okay with you.”
They stood there for what seemed like a long time, but was certainly only a couple seconds. Emily held her gaze, but gently, if that made any sense. It was the only way Catherine could explain it. Emily held it until Catherine finally acquiesced. With a nod of acceptance, she said, “Okay. A mocha latte, please.”
“You got it.” Emily earned points then by not celebrating her victory in any way. “Anything to eat? I’m starving.”
“A blueberry muffin would be wonderful, if they have one.”
“One mocha latte and a blueberry muffin, coming right up.” And she was off, taking her place in the line that was surprisingly short for Starbucks.
Catherine took off her coat and hung it on the back of her chair, then put her purse there, too, and sat. Looking around, she took in the various types of people in the small café. She knew many had a love/hate relationship with Starbucks, but hers was only love. She loved the coffee, despite its ridiculous price tag—it was one of the few splurges she allowed herself. The food was always passable. Most of all, though, she loved the atmosphere. It was quiet and casual, but not silent. More than once, she’d come here with her laptop or some printouts to go over, got herself a latte and a comfy chair, and had gotten a ton of work done simply by not being in the office. The change of scenery was good for her and she enjoyed mixing up her day every now and then.
Pulled from her reverie by the steaming cup set in front of her, Catherine focused once again on the woman across from her. A large muffin bursting with plump blueberries followed. The gentle scent of Emily’s perfume tickled her nostrils and Catherine absently wondered what brand it was. Emily took her seat.
“What did you get?” Catherine asked, gesturing to Emily’s cup with her chin.
“Peppermint Mocha. Holiday time calls for holiday coffee.”
“I see.”
“Busy at work today?”
Catherine scoffed. “No. Very quiet. As expected.” She took a sip of her latte, savoring the creaminess of the coffee and milk, the touch of chocolate. “You?”
“Oh, God, no. Probably half the staff took the day off and the ones who are in are screwing off anyway. It’s to be expected.”
“I suppose it is.”
“What do you do for Thanksgiving?” Emily leaned her forearms on the table as if trying to get closer to Catherine…which Catherine realized with a jolt that she didn’t mind.
“We go to my grandparents’.”
“You have a big family?”
Catherine shook her head. “Oh, no. Small. My mom is an only child and there’s just me and my sister and my nephew.”
“What about your dad?”
“He lives in Colorado. I don’t see him much.” Never comfortable talking about herself, Catherine turned the conversation around. “What about you? Is there a big Breckenridge Family Banquet? I picture a long table with about twenty guests, really good china, and a kitchen staff.” She hadn’t meant it to sound sarcastic, but she knew by the quick zip of discomfort that flashed across Emily’s face that it had.
“Actually, that’s pretty accurate.” Emily sat back in her chair and sipped her coffee.
“It is?” Catherine was surprised.
“We can be pretty stereotypical sometimes.” Emily chuckled, but it seemed forced.
“So, who all is there? I don’t know much about your family.” Maybe if she got Emily talking, she could erase that slightly pained expression from her face—which felt important, although she wasn’t sure why.
“Well, there’s me and Clark, as you know. I don’t have any other siblings. My mom and dad. My dad has two brothers—all of whom are part of the family business—and they each have wives and kids and some of the kids have kids. My mom has a brother and a sister. My uncle has two kids and my aunt has three and two of those five have kids. Plus, my grandma on my mom’s side and both grandparents on my dad’s. So, yeah. It’s a lot of people.”
“Wow,” Catherine breathed, unable to imagine how to begin to deal with such a large group of people.
“It can get loud. And a little chaotic.”
“I bet.” Catherine tore a piece off her muffin and popped it into her mouth. “Do they all come over for Christmas, too?”
Emily nodded, and the uncomfortable expression was replaced by a gentle smile. Thank God. “Usually, yes. We used to go to my grandma’s, but it got hard for her to do everything she wanted to. She’s big on the holidays and not-so-big on knowing her own limitations now that she’s older. And my parents’house is bigger, so they just started having everybody over there. Plus, having a kitchen staff helps when there’s that many mouths to feed.” She sipped her coffee and watched Catherine for a moment. “To be honest, I always wondered what it would be like to have a small, cozy holiday, you know? Without all the extended family. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love my entire family. They’re good people. But something smaller, more intimate? I bet that’d be nice.” And when she met Catherine’s eyes and their gazes held, it was suddenly clear to Catherine that Emily was a bit embarrassed to have revealed that. She wasn’t sure how she knew it, but…she did. And she wanted to fix it.
Before she could stop herself, she blurted, “You should come by my grandma’s for dessert tomorrow. Give yourself a break from the noise and chaos.”
Emily studied her for a moment before one corner of her mouth quirked up. “I’d like that.”
Catherine immediately wanted to kick herself, tossing out an invitation like that. Especially after her internal discussion about what a bad idea this coffee date was. Hey, why don’t you come over my place for a major holiday? That won’t be weird or complicate anything. Geez, Catherine.
With no other recourse, she decided she’d shake it off and just keep Emily talking. Something about the sound of her voice—soft, feminine, almost pretty—made Catherine want to hear it more, so she focused on that.
“Who are you closest to in your family?”
“My mom. Easy.”
“Yeah? How come?”
“Because she’s awesome.” Emily’s grin grew and Catherine followed suit.
“Tell me why she’s awesome.” She chewed more muffin and listened raptly, suddenly perfectly comfortable being exactly where she was.
Emily looked up at the ceiling while she gathered words. Her thinking face was adorable: half smile, half concentration. When she looked back at Catherine, her eyes were dancing again. “Well, let’s see. She’s super smart, first of all. You can’t pull one over on my mom. She’s really intelligent and she reads people with scary accuracy. She’s a pro at separating work and home…which can be difficult when you work for her.” Emily leaned in a little closer, lowered her voice, and said, “I am just finding this out and it’s been…interesting to deal with, to say the least.”
“Yeah? How so?”
Emily launched into a story about a screw-up at the company when she was still in marketing and how weird it was to have her mother go from Mom to Boss in a split seco
nd. Catherine watched and listened, completely sucked in to the sound of Emily’s voice, the shine on her lips, the expression in her eyes. She used her hands when she talked, waving them around like a matador. Catherine found herself, shockingly, completely entertained, even laughing out loud at the descriptions Emily gave of coworkers, conversations, and situations.
“You’re funny,” she said when the story had come to its end. Catherine finished her coffee, nearly cold now. Only crumbs were left of her muffin.
“One of my many talents.” Emily’s coffee had been gone for a while and she toyed with her empty cup.
The crowd had thickened and then thinned as they sat, and for the first time, Catherine wondered how much time had passed.
As if reading her mind, Emily picked up her phone and clicked it on. “Wow.”
“What?”
“It’s after two.”
Catherine felt her eyes go wide. “Are you kidding me?”
“I am not kidding you.” Emily turned her phone so Catherine could see the big 2:07 plastered over the face of a brindled pit bull. “Who’s that?” she asked, pointing to the phone.
“That’s Dave.”
“Oh, right. Dave who loves stuffed animals.”
Emily looked surprised. “You remembered.” She turned the phone back so she could look at it. “He’s my love.”
“That is the best dog name ever.”
“Thanks.” For the first time since they’d sat, there was a lull in the conversation. But only a short one because Emily said, “Hey, text me your grandma’s address and maybe I’ll pop by.”
With no way not to do that, Catherine complied. Emily probably wouldn’t come anyway, given how many of her own family she’d be in the midst of. I mean, really, what would she have in common with my family? Little to nothing, that’s for sure.
“This was a lot of fun,” Emily said, pulling Catherine from her thoughts. “Thanks for suggesting it.”
“Well. Thanks for the flowers. They’re expensive and they don’t last long…you didn’t have to do that.”
“Wait…are you saying you don’t like flowers?”
“No, no. I just think they cost so much and…” Catherine’s voice trailed off, no way to recover from the obvious direction her words were going.
“And you think they’re a waste of money.”
She couldn’t tell if Emily was insulted, amused, or a little of both. She swallowed and looked away.
“Well, I am glad I sent them because we ended up here, so…” Emily let the sentence dangle for a beat before smiling and standing up. They gathered their things, bundled up, and walked together out the door into the parking lot where their cars were parked at opposite ends. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow,” Emily said, her expression soft, her eyes warm.
“Maybe.” Catherine gave a slight nod. “If not, have a great Thanksgiving.”
“You, too,” Emily said, and before Catherine even saw it coming, Emily had wrapped her in a hug. It was firm and warm and for a split second, Catherine let herself sink into it, to fill her lungs with the citrusy scent of Emily’s hair (lemons? oranges?). It really was only a second, though, and then she gently extricated herself, feeling a weird combination of uncomfortable, embarrassed, safe, and aroused. And suddenly, all the reasons why this was a bad idea came flooding back like high tide.
“Bye,” she said quietly, not meeting Emily’s eyes. She turned and headed for her car, hoping she didn’t look like she was hurrying, because she most certainly was. She was sure she could feel Emily’s eyes on her, but she didn’t look back. Once closed safely in her car, she keyed the ignition, cranked the heat, and let out a long, slow breath. Running her gloved hands slowly along the steering wheel, she gave herself a moment to chill out and relax. So Emily hugged her. So what? People did that. Friends did that. It meant nothing more. She was worrying needlessly.
Anyway. She was being ridiculous. There were other things to deal with. She had to get home to Geronimo, who hadn’t been left alone this long before.
Right. I’ll focus on that.
Because if she focused on the rest of it, she might go insane.
***
Turned out, Geronimo had no problems amusing himself while he was alone. Apparently, he had decided he preferred not to be blocked into the kitchen. He must have jumped over the gate Catherine had put in the doorway because it was still there, just as she’d left it, but Mo was curled up comfortably on the couch, surrounded by bits and pieces of the HGTV magazine that must have bored him so much he shredded it. He lifted his head when Catherine entered the room. She stood with her hands on her hips and just looked at him. He gazed back at her, his innocent expression clearly saying, “What?”
“What are you doing in here? Hmm?”
He blinked his big brown eyes at her.
“Did you read something you didn’t agree with?” she asked, indicating with her eyes the shreds of paper all over the room. “Are we going to need to crate you? I have one. I can do that, you know.”
His mouth opened in a huge yawn, his pink tongue unfurling like a New Year’s Eve party horn.
“Oh, am I boring you? Forgive me, Your Highness.” Catherine shed her coat and gloves, crossed the room, brushed aside the magazine detritus, and took a seat on the couch. Mo wasted no time moving to her and resituating himself across her lap. When he looked up at her, she couldn’t help but grin. “You are a piece of work, pal. You know that?” Staying angry with him was going to be a difficult, if not impossible, task. She gave up this time and scratched behind his ears, then grabbed his face in her hands. “I love you,” she said to him and kissed between his eyes. “But I’d love it if you wouldn’t chew up my reading material. Okay?”
His response was to swipe his warm tongue across her chin.
“I’ll take that as a, ‘Yes, Mommy, I totally get what you’re saying and will never do it again. I’m so very sorry.’ Come on. Let’s go out.”
Mo didn’t stay outside long, but did his business like a good dog and hurried back in. It was in the thirties—not terribly cold—but his hair was short and light and Catherine doubted it kept him very warm. She made a mental note to see what Maggie had in the gift shop for sweaters and coats.
“You would look super cute in plaid, you know. Maybe something green?” It didn’t escape her notice that talking out loud to Mo was a way to keep her thoughts from dwelling on the situation with Emily, but she did it anyway. Mo stood at her feet, looking up at her with such rapt attention that she couldn’t help but laugh. Scooping him into her arms, she kissed all over his face as she carried him upstairs. “Come on. I need to change into some cozies. You and I are gonna veg in front of the TV and not think about the lovely Miss Breckenridge and all the reason why we need to control ourselves. Okay? What do you think?”
It was nice to be in the quiet of the living room, just her and Mo, and it was also bittersweet. Catherine swallowed down the lump in her throat that developed when she thought about how many times she’d curled up on the couch with Pablo—even though he was slightly too big to be on the couch. Mo was about a third the size of Pablo and he seemed to want to be touching her in some way at all times, she’d noticed. Either leaning against her hip or with his chin resting on her thigh. That was, if he wasn’t fully on her lap, which he was now. His warm body was curled into a ball, half on her lap, half on her stomach as she sat on the couch with her slippered feet on the coffee table. She did her best to derail the vision her brain tossed her of Emily sitting on the couch next to her, close to her, by pointing the remote at her television, she toggled between Bar Rescue and an old episode of Criminal Minds.
“Just wait until next week,” she murmured to Mo. “Hallmark will start showing their holiday movies and I’ll be lost. Lucky you, you get to watch them with me.” She kissed the top of his head as an incompetent bartender was being chastised on the screen.
Catherine was well into her second hour of brain-melting television when her doorb
ell rang, startling both her and the dog. Mo jumped off her lap and sprinted toward the front of the house, barking his little doggie head off. At the front door, she held him back by his collar, which proved to be more difficult than expected. Grabbing up his wiggling body, she plopped him in the kitchen and put up the gate, pointing at him with a firm “Stay,” as she walked down the hall to the door, hoping that his being able to see her would keep him from vaulting the gate (which she now knew he could) and zipping her way to attack the doorbell ringer.
He stayed put. He kept barking, but he stayed put.
Catherine pulled the door opened, surprised to see a gorgeous arrangement of flowers.
“Catherine Gardner?” the delivery man asked, face hidden by the bouquet.
“Yes.”
“Here you go. Enjoy. Happy Thanksgiving.”
She took the flowers from him and watched as he got into his little truck and backed down her driveway. Carrying them down the hall, she stepped over the gate into the kitchen, Mo watching her carefully, obviously curious.
The bouquet was large, but not obnoxiously so. Less spring-like and more full of autumn colors than the one in her office. Yellows and oranges and reds. Roses and daisies and irises. Plus some baby’s breath and other filler that made it look full and lush. It really was beautiful and for a moment, Catherine actually reexamined her indifference to delivered flowers. She set the vase on the counter, sniffed deeply from a blood-red rose, and plucked the card from its little plastic fork-like holder. Mo sat patiently at her feet, as if waiting for her to read it aloud to him. Which she did.
“‘Thank you for the coffee date and the conversation. I had a great time. Can we do it again? Happy Thanksgiving. Emily.’” She ran her thumb across the letters in Emily’s name, then over the word “date.”
Yes, she’d noticed that.
Intentional word choice or coincidental?
She had no way to be sure. “Other than the fact that she sent flowers,” she said aloud. “What do I do about this, Mo? Anything?” Mo cocked his head to one side in that way dogs do when they’re listening carefully. Catherine looked at him for a beat, then shrugged. “You’re right. Nothing. I’m doing nothing.”
Run To You (Puppy Love Romance Book 2) Page 11
