Run To You (Puppy Love Romance Book 2)

by Georgia Beers

  Emily spoke first. “I was wondering if you wanted to have that quick drink. I know it’s a weeknight and we both have to work tomorrow, but…” She looked off into the distance as other cars pulled away. Various people waved to Catherine and called goodnights as they exited the restaurant. “I wanted to see you.”

  “You saw me already today.”

  With a wan smile, Emily said, “I wanted to see you again.”

  Catherine debated. And she was angry that she was actually debating. “This is a bad idea, Emily.”

  “It is. I know.” Emily still smiled at her.

  “It’s kind of late on a Monday to go out for a drink.”

  “Which is why I talked your bartender into selling me a bottle of wine. It’s in my car. You guys don’t mess around with the wine selection.”

  Catherine grinned, knowing it was true. Their wine list was impressive. And expensive.

  “What do you say?” The wind kicked up some snow, swirling it around as Emily bounced on her boot-clad feet. She had to be cold, standing there. As if on cue, she balled her fists together and blew into them.

  “I have Geronimo at home,” Catherine said. “He’s been alone for a while now.”

  “I know. Your place? I promise not to stay long. I just…” She gazed off again and Catherine realized she liked when that happened. It gave her a moment to study Emily’s beautiful face without her seeing. Snow had melted in her hair and now sparkled among the strands of midnight. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were red. Catherine skipped right over her mouth because concentrating on that would bring her nothing but flashbacks. She moved on to Emily’s chin, which led down to an elegant throat…Catherine swallowed hard. “I just had this uncontrollable urge to spend another hour with you.” Thank God she’d spoken and cut off Catherine’s train of thought. Catherine blinked rapidly several times, trying to focus on the words. Emily was looking at her now. “Also, I’m freezing.”

  “Okay,” Catherine heard herself say. She was surprised, but not, as she was beginning to understand that her defenses sucked when it came to Emily Breckenridge. She’d need to work on that. Resigned to this fate, she added, “But only for a quick drink. I’m exhausted.”

  “Deal,” Emily said with a nod, and the way her face lit up was adorable even though Catherine tried to pretend not to see it. “I’ll follow you. Be careful. It’s slick. And watch for deer.”

  “Yes, Mom,” Catherine said with a playful roll of her eyes.

  Turning the music up very loud—too loud, really—was the only way Catherine could prevent herself from completely overthinking this. She drove carefully, keeping a close eye on the wooded sides of the road. Joplin’s was located outside the city and next to a vineyard and winery, which made their outdoor seating area simply gorgeous in the summer. In the winter months, however, the three-mile stretch of country road leading from civilization to the restaurant could be slippery and dangerous. Add to that the possibility of deer crossing and it became like playing a video game, eyes straining to see obstacles that may or may not be there in the first place, hoping against hope that you can hit the brakes in time to prevent disaster. But she managed to stay alert, singing loudly along with Lady Gaga, the headlights in her rearview mirror offering a comfort she didn’t expect. In twenty minutes, she pulled into her driveway, Emily sliding to a stop behind her.

  “Maybe I should have been following you,” Catherine commented with a glance at Emily’s not-for-winter tires.

  “I admit, my car’s not the greatest in the snow.” Emily grimaced.

  With a shake of her head, Catherine slid her key into the lock and went inside, met instantly by twenty pounds of wiggling, licking, very excited dog. Catherine couldn’t help but laugh. She set her purse and keys on the table inside the door and squatted down to love on Mo while Emily closed the door behind them.

  “That is quite a greeting,” Emily said.

  “It’s definitely something I missed,” Catherine said, trying to talk without opening her mouth as Mo bathed her face in dog kisses. She’d learned the hard way—more than once—that he was super quick with the tongue.

  “Where’s your corkscrew?” Emily asked, toeing off her snowy boots as she held up the bottle. “And wineglasses.”

  Catherine stood. “Here, give me your coat. Let’s do this like civilized people.” She smiled at Emily as she took a hanger from the nearby closet. Mo turned his attention to the company, jumping at Emily’s leg until she noticed him. “Yeah, the jumping is something we have to work on. Mo, off.” He listened, but it was evidently torture for him, judging by the way his entire body thrummed with excitement. “Okay,” she said to Emily. “Now you can love him.”

  “Oh, good boy!” Emily set the wine bottle on the table next to Catherine’s keys and then padded into the living room in her sock feet, just far enough to sit on the floor with Mo and let him jump all over her lap. Catherine watched, amused and strangely warm inside. After a beat, she picked up the wine and took it into the kitchen.

  She set it on the counter and pulled open the drawer that held the corkscrew. That’s when she actually looked at the label. “Um…Emily?”

  Emily appeared in the doorway, Mo sniffing at her feet. “Mmhmm?”

  “This is a crazy expensive bottle of wine.”

  A shrug. “I guess.”

  “No, there’s no guessing. It is. Like $250.”

  “Okay, well, open it. Let’s see if it’s worth it.” She smiled and squatted back down to play with Mo.

  Slicing the label with a knife, Catherine tried not to listen to the little voice in her head. The one that was saying, That’s a car payment. She just spent a car payment on a bottle of wine that will be gone in four glasses. As she punctured the cork with the corkscrew and turned the handle, it continued. How much dog food would that buy for Mo? How many of Mom’s bills could I pay with that money? The cork made that wonderful pop that corks do when they’re pulled free of their bottle.

  “I love that sound,” Emily said as she stood. Catherine could feel eyes on her. “You okay?”

  Catherine nodded as she pulled two glasses down from a cupboard. Still felt the eyes.

  “Is it the wine?” When Catherine didn’t make eye contact, she added, “The cost of the wine?”

  “It’s just a little hard for me to wrap my brain around.” Catherine didn’t enjoy the fact that Emily could read her so easily. She finally looked at Emily, who was wearing her usual smile of amusement. Turning away, she poured the wine. “And why do you always look at me like that?”

  “Because I find you endlessly entertaining.”

  “I don’t know how to take that.” Handing a glass to Emily, she said, “This had better be fabulous wine.”

  Emily held up her glass. “To ridiculously expensive wine and the girl it makes uncomfortable.” Emily touched her glass softly to Catherine’s.

  “It doesn’t make me uncomfortable,” Catherine said, trying unsuccessfully to keep the defensive tone from her voice as Emily sipped.

  “Yes, it does. But that’s okay because it will also shut you right up. It’s that good.”

  Catherine pursed her lips as she gave Emily a little glare, but then she sipped. “Oh, my God.”

  “See?”

  Catherine took another sip, let the flavors coat her tongue. “Oh, my God.”

  Emily laughed. “I know.”

  “It’s so…complex.”

  Emily nodded her agreement as she sipped again.

  “It’s soft, but bold…a little bit of fruit, but just a touch.” Catherine gazed up as she searched for the right descriptors. “Some pepper or…what is that? Leather, maybe?”

  “I get the pepper, but not the leather. I get more…almost coffee or something.”

  “Yes! Coffee! Just a tiny touch, though, like it’s barely there. On the back.” They stood in the kitchen, sipping wine and just sharing space. “This is the most delicious wine I’ve ever had,” Catherine said finally.

>   “Yeah? Worth the money?”

  With a snort, Catherine said, “Worth your money, yes.”

  Emily burst into laughter. “I like you, Ms. Gardner. I like you a lot.”

  “Yeah? I’m glad,” Catherine said quietly.

  The room suddenly felt too warm. And full of words. So many words that Catherine should be saying. Words like, this is a bad idea. Doesn’t matter that we like each other, we can only be friends. That’s what we decided, remember? I can’t risk the shelter’s reputation. I’m a professional and I’m respected. You’re supposed to outshine your brother, not cause another problem for your family’s company. See? Us together is dangerous. Also, I can’t believe you spontaneously spent $250 on a bottle of wine to drink with me. And my God, you smell good. Instead, she simply sipped her wine and watched over the rim of her glass as Emily did the same.

  After what felt like hours of looking at each other (but was in reality probably only a few seconds), Emily spoke. “So, this is your place.” She looked around the kitchen, made a show of studying the cabinets, the refrigerator, the stove.

  Chatter about mundane, ordinary things. Oh, thank God. Catherine nodded. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

  Emily turned and walked through to the living room. Catherine followed, but stayed in the doorway, leaning one shoulder on the doorjamb and trying not to be self-conscious about her modest home.

  “I like it.” Emily wandered past the well-worn couch, the bold print chair that Catherine had vacillated about buying for over a month before finally parting with the money, the gas fireplace. She sipped her wine as she looked over the framed photographs, picked one up.

  “That’s Jason when he was little. You met him at Thanksgiving.”

  Emily nodded in recognition and replaced the frame. She looked at the fireplace for a long moment, and Catherine wondered if she was thinking about turning it on. The thought had occurred to her as well, but she’d waved it away, knowing it would make things far too cozy and warm. Seemingly coming to the same decision, Emily stepped away from the fireplace and moved to the coffee table. Picking up a magazine with half the cover torn off, she grinned and said, “People looks a little different than I remember it.”

  “Yeah, Mo decided he doesn’t really care for Ben Affleck.”

  “I prefer Matt Damon myself.” Emily set it back down and gave the room a once-over. “I like it,” she said again, this time with a nod. “It’s very you.”

  “It is? In what way?”

  “Well, it’s tidy. Orderly. Serious and sophisticated.” Emily gave her a half-grin that made her stomach tighten. “But once you’re in here and you look around, soak it all in, it’s warmer than you initially thought. Comfortable. Inviting.”

  Even though Emily was across the room, their gazes held and Catherine was almost sure she could feel Emily’s hands on her, roaming over her skin. It was the strangest sensation and it both aroused her and made her uncomfortable. Catherine spoke, her voice surprising her with its huskiness. “You should probably go,” she said quietly, then cleared her throat.

  Emily nodded. “I think you’re right.” She downed the last of her wine while still standing in the living room. Then she walked toward Catherine who, in a completely uncharacteristic attack of bravery, didn’t move out of the way. She simply turned sideways in the doorway to allow Emily to pass, but in order to do so, she had to slide through while facing Catherine. She stopped and stood there, barely a breath of air between them, their noses almost touching. Catherine’s lips were parted and her brain warred with itself in her head, voices contradicting each other. Kiss me, don’t kiss me, kiss me, don’t kiss me, please kiss me, don’t you dare kiss me…

  Emily’s dark eyes were nearly black and later, Catherine would wonder how she managed it, but she pushed her way past Catherine and into the relative safety of the kitchen where she set her glass on the counter next to the sink.

  Catherine couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed.

  “Well,” Emily said finally, and had to clear her throat and say it again. “Thank you so much for allowing me to crash your night.” As she spoke, she seemed to relax, as if her comfort was directly proportional to the space between them. Gesturing to the wine, she said, “You keep that, but finish it within the next three days or so. Don’t waste it.”

  Catherine wanted to tell her it was absurd for her to leave the wine after she paid so much for it, but she couldn’t seem to find her voice. She watched as Emily went through the other doorway of the kitchen to the foyer, and she walked farther into the kitchen so she could see her putting on her boots. Mo approached, sniffing her jeans.

  “You gonna help me put my boots on, buddy? Hmm? I bet you smell Dave.” Emily talked softly to him and Catherine realized it was a coping mechanism. It was how she kept herself from looking at Catherine. Finding her own coat in the closet, she put it on hastily, pulled her keys out of the pocket, and gave a half-hearted wave in Catherine’s direction. In any other case, Catherine might have found this all incredibly insulting, but the thing was, she got it. She totally understood Emily’s need to get away immediately, so she gave a wave back.

  “Thanks for the wine,” she said quietly.

  “You’re welcome.” Emily held her gaze again before it seemed that she forcefully pulled her eyes away, opened the door, and was gone.

  Catherine didn’t move a muscle until she heard Emily’s car start and the crunch of snow under the tires as she backed out of the driveway. Only when the glare of her headlights through the kitchen window faded away did Catherine let out the breath she’d been holding. She set down her now-empty wine glass and covered her eyes with both hands. Mo poked at her with his nose and whined softly. Removing her hands, she looked down at him, then dropped to the floor and sat with her legs crossed. He wasted no time climbing into her lap and curling into a ball, reminding her that it was way past bedtime.

  Words failed her. She couldn’t latch onto a single one as they swirled through her head like dead leaves on a windy fall day. Not a single one.

  Instead, she simply closed her eyes and shook her head slowly back and forth.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  EMILY WENT TO BED furious with herself, and though she woke up feeling the tiniest bit better, she still felt a jumble of thoughts tossing around her head. As she lay there in her queen-sized bed, Dave stretched languidly, straightening all four legs and making himself as long as possible. He took up more of the mattress than she did.

  “That probably wasn’t smart of me, huh?” she asked her dog. “I mean, how hard is my head?” Glancing in his big brown eyes, she added, “Don’t answer that.”

  The clock on the nightstand told her it was 6:27 a.m., which meant she had a little time before she needed to get into the shower. So she rubbed her hand along Dave’s soft belly, snuggled into the thick down comforter, and her thoughts turned back to the night before.

  Watching Catherine work had been…Emily didn’t even have the words for it. Catherine hadn’t noticed her right away, so for a while, it was almost as if Emily was spying on her. (She didn’t like that descriptor, but had to admit to herself that it was somewhat accurate.) She’d spent time chatting with Ken, the middle-aged guy who’d been tending bar for nearly thirty years and really knew his stuff. He’d kept her mind from wandering into dangerous territory, though he didn’t know it, and she’d tipped him generously. Catherine was excellent at her job. Emily wasn’t sure why she’d been surprised given her own experience on her terrible blind date, but she had. The customers loved her. She laughed and joked with them—which was a side of her Emily hadn’t seen at the shelter—and many seemed to be familiar with her, which told Emily that there were customers who came back here for her. Emily wasn’t a girl who was affected one way or the other by any type of uniform, but Catherine wore her black pants, white oxford, and black waist apron with unexpected sophistication. It also didn’t hurt that the pants were snug and that Catherine had a great
ass.

  Emily hadn’t really thought it through as she’d driven to the restaurant. That wasn’t the way she did things. She was a spontaneous person, one who tended to leap before looking, and she suspected Catherine was exactly the opposite. She’d wanted to see Catherine last night, Catherine had other plans, Emily jumped in so she could see her anyway. Solved. Simple. It wasn’t until she’d pulled into the parking lot of Joplin’s that she had stopped for a second and wondered what exactly she was doing. Her mother would be unimpressed, to say the least. She knew that without a doubt, but also had no plans to tell her. But what if Catherine had been equally unimpressed? What if she had seen Emily sitting at the bar, stormed over, and told her to get lost? Emily had forced herself to entertain that possible scenario. The only course of action then would’ve been to leave. She’d hoped that wouldn’t happen.

  It hadn’t.

  In fact, when Catherine first saw her, Emily was pretty sure she’d seen a ghost of a smile and a slight blush. Catherine wasn’t free with the smiles, so even the shadow of one made Emily giddy and she let herself believe that Catherine might actually have been glad to see her, even though she may have also been a bit irritated.

  The wine had been a last-minute idea, as had brushing off Catherine’s car for her and following her home. It all seemed like a grand plan, but once they’d been in Catherine’s house, alone together, drinking excellent wine in the subdued lighting of her cozy living room? Good God, Emily had had a very, very difficult time controlling herself. She’d never been around anybody—anybody—who turned her on the way Catherine did. Just being across the room from Catherine did things to her. She’d started to sweat and her underwear dampened and there was a ringing in her ears that almost drove her nuts. As she stood in Catherine’s living room and sipped her wine, their eyes locked on each other, Emily knew one thing and one thing only: she had to get the hell out of there or she was going to tear Catherine’s clothes off her and take her right there on the kitchen floor. She’d felt her left hand ball into a fist at her side and it was all she could do to keep from actually running.