For a moment, Kevin felt a pang of jealousy that Becky was now Aunt Becky, Samantha was Sam, and he was still the difficult and obnoxious next door neighbor that her little girls didn’t know at all. He pushed the feeling aside and headed toward the front door.
Tentatively, he touched the handle, ready to call the fire department if it felt hot. But it was cool to the touch, so he turned the knob and pushed the door open slowly. The front room was foggy with smoke, and a burnt smell permeated the air. But he felt no heat. Kevin waved the smoke away from his face, trying not to breathe it in as he made his way toward the kitchen, picking his way past toys and markers and scattered pictures. It didn’t take long to discover the source. The oven was set at 450 degrees, and inside was something that appeared to be a totally charred casserole. He quickly shut it off.
Who in their right mind would cook a casserole at that kind of heat? Had Emma never cooked before? He began opening windows, feeling grateful once again that she’d turned down his impromptu job offer. If she couldn’t remember she’d put a casserole in the oven, or hadn’t bothered with a timer, how would she possibly handle insurance claims? It would have been a nightmare.
Where was the girls’ father anyway? Emma wasn’t cut out to be a single mother. She’d never admit it, but she needed looking after. But maybe that’s why the father had left. Emma was so stubborn and prideful that she’d probably driven him away. She reminded Kevin of a child who had come into his office once with a nasty abscess. Even though the boy was in pain, and Kevin could make that pain go away, nothing Kevin could do or say would get that child to open his mouth. They finally had to call in an anesthesiologist to put him under.
“Oh wow, it smells horrible in here,” Emma said from the doorway, her nose wrinkled. “What happened?”
Kevin quickly opened the last window before pulling her back outside and away from the smoke. “Did you forget you put a casserole in the oven? At least, I think it was a casserole. And you should cook them at 350, not 450.”
“There was a casserole in my oven?” Emma frowned in confusion.
“You seriously don’t remember putting it there?” Kevin had a hard time believing that. No one could be that forgetful.
Emma glared. “I don’t remember putting it there, because I didn’t put it there.” Wrinkles appeared between her eyes before her expression cleared. “Oh, Sam must have done it. That’s probably what she was talking about when she left. I wasn’t paying attention. But I’m not sure why she would set the temperature so high. It must have been an accident. She’s incredibly responsible.”
The difference in their reactions wasn’t lost on Kevin. Where he’d been quick to cast judgment, Emma had chalked it up to an accident. Why hadn’t he done the same? Kevin understood what it was like to get distracted and do something without thinking, but instead of feeling empathy, he’d made the assumption that she was a scatter-brained, inexperienced cook who didn’t know the difference between a fire and an overdone meal. Kevin suddenly felt the need to make it up to her, or, at least, prove to himself that he’d broken away from the family mold and tried not to judge people. If only Emma didn’t make it so hard.
“What happened?” Becky’s voice called from across the street as she rushed toward them, arriving out of breath seconds later. “Is it a fire?”
Emma tilted her head to the side and smiled. “Did you make me another casserole, Beck?”
“Oh no, did it burn?”
Emma nodded. “I’m so sorry. Sam mentioned something about dinner, but I wasn’t paying attention and let the girls distract me. I had no idea it was in there.” Kevin noted that she hadn’t mentioned the too-high temperature, which he found admirable.
Becky laughed and waved the apology off. “No worries. There’s more where that came from. Why don’t you and the girls eat with us tonight? I made plenty.”
“No,” Emma was quick to say. “We couldn’t.”
“Actually,” he said, “I’ve got some chicken marinating and ready to throw on the grill. Why don’t you bring the girls to my house for a change?” Kevin almost winced. Why did he have to go and say that? Nicole was coming to dinner. Now he’d have to call and cancel.
“That’s a great idea,” said Becky. “Trust me when I say that you’d rather have Kevin’s cooking. He could have been a gourmet chef in a former life. And you’re going to want to let the house air out for a while.”
A panicked look appeared in Emma’s eyes. “You are both way too good to me, but really, I don’t want to impose. We’ll just go grab a pizza or something.”
“No imposition at all,” Kevin said. Except for the fact that he’d have to call Nicole and reschedule. But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. It would be good to know how Nicole would react to a last minute cancellation, especially considering he got held up at the office every once in awhile. “You did say I could make you dinner whenever I wanted, right?” he added.
Emma still didn’t look convinced. “We can always—”
“Good grief, you’re stubborn,” Becky said in her teasing way. “Why don’t you just say thanks and let this handsome man cook you dinner? Go on, now. I’ll bring the girls over in a second.”
Resignation crossed Emma’s expression, and her shoulders dropped in defeat. “No, I’ll get them. And thank you, Kevin. That sounds wonderful. Can I bring anything?”
“No!” Kevin and Becky both said at the same time, making Emma smile. It lit up her features, and she’d never appeared more beautiful. But it wasn’t just her smile. Her dark hair that was usually pulled back into some form of ponytail had been let loose and now surrounded her face in waves. Gone was her usual jeans and t-shirt, and instead she wore fitted black slacks and a blue, button-down top that made her eyes look bluer than usual. Wow. She looked confident, smart, and even put-together. She looked… different.
“Fine, you both win. I’ll be right over, Kevin. And thanks again.” Her eyebrows came together when she caught him staring.
He forced his mind back to the present. “No problem.”
Emma left with Becky, and Kevin couldn’t help but admire the way her hair and hips swished in unison. He sort of felt like he was being hypnotized. Swish, swish, swish. But then Emma stopped on the porch and turned back, snapping him out of it. Her brows drew together once more, and Kevin lifted a hand to wave before walking away.
What had just happened? Kevin was no longer a teenager whose head could be turned by just anyone. Sure, he was drawn to beauty, same as the next guy, but he was also drawn to confidence, intelligence, and that extra little something that set apart the few from the masses. Emma might be beautiful and look like she had that extra little something—especially today—but underneath, she was more baggage than anything else. Kevin knew better than to let his head turn her way, especially when someone like Nicole was in the picture.
“Whatcha doin’?” Kajsa’s little blue eyes blinked up at Kevin from under the rim of a tan cowgirl hat while he stood in front of the grill, turning the chicken.
“It’s called grilling. Want to try?”
Her head bobbed up and down.
Kevin handed her the tongs, told her to stay put, and grabbed a bucket from the side of his house. He flipped it over to create a stepstool for her, then helped her up and kept a hand on her waist to make sure she didn’t get too close to the grill.
“Do I need one of those?” She pointed at Kevin’s apron.
“Oh, right. Thanks for the reminder.” Kevin quickly removed his apron, knotted the neck strap to a smaller size, and put it on Kajsa and cinched it around her small waist. “There. Now you’re a bona fide griller.”
“What’s bone-da-fried?”
Kevin laughed. “It means that you’re the real deal, which you are.” It was one of the things Kevin loved most about children. There was never any pretense with them. They were who they were, said what they wanted, when they wanted, and that was that. He always knew where he stood with them.
�
�What’s that?” Kajsa asked, pointing at the grill.
“That’s called asparagus. It’s really good.”
Kajsa made a face as if she didn’t believe him and nudged the vegetable with the tip of the tongs, looking disgusted.
Kevin chuckled. “What you need to do is pick up the chicken like this”—he placed his hand over hers, showing her how it was done—“and flip it over.”
“Like this?” Kajsa said, trying it on her own.
“See? I told you that you’re a natural.” Kajsa’s grin melted his heart.
Emma emerged from the back door, carrying a sheet pan. “According to Adi, the rolls are done because she’s hungry and is ready to eat.”
“That makes two of us,” said Kevin.
Adelynn appeared, and her eyes zeroed in on her sister. She trotted down the back steps. “I want to make the chicken, too!”
Emma set the rolls on the patio table. “Why don’t you help me set the table, Adi? It looks like the chicken is almost done.”
“But I want to wear a paint shirt and pinch the chicken like Kajsa!” Adelynn complained, pointing at the red apron Kajsa wore.
“It’s not a paint shirt, it’s an apron,” Kajsa said matter-of-factly. “And you can’t because I’m doing it.”
Adelynn’s face crumpled, and she looked ready to burst into tears. Kevin wasn’t sure what to do. He only had one apron.
Emma sighed and crouched down next to Adelynn, gripping the little girl’s arms lightly. “Adi, remember when you got to use the blue towel yesterday even though Kajsa wanted it?”
Adelynn nodded, still not looking happy.
“How did Kajsa behave when I said that you could have it?”
With a frown, Adelynn muttered, “She said okay.”
“That’s right. Even though she wanted it, she still let you have it, didn’t she?”
Adelynn didn’t nod this time. A pout formed on her lips, and she looked away.
“How do you think you should behave now?”
Still frowning, Adelynn lifted her chin and stomped toward the table. “Fine. I don’t want to pinch the chicken anyways.”
Kevin’s lips twitched, and his eyes met Emma’s. He noticed she was trying not to smile either. He felt a camaraderie with her that hit him a lot harder than it should have, making him realize just how much he wanted to be Emma’s friend—the kind of friend the girls called Uncle Kevin and who Emma turned to for help or support. He wanted what Becky and Sam seemed to have with her.
Emma broke eye contact and moved to help Adelynn.
“Aunt Emma, I need help,” said Adelynn as she tried to juggle the cups in one hand and the plates in another.
Emma took the cups from her, and Kevin shot her a confused look. “Aunt Emma?”
“That’s my name,” she said.
“I’m confused. I thought you were their—” He stopped, not sure what to think anymore. Had he jumped to the wrong conclusion again? Was Emma their aunt and not their mom? Or was it some strange family custom to put the word Aunt or Uncle in front of everyone’s name?
The corner of Emma’s mouth tugged up. “I’m their aunt, Kevin. My brother is their father.”
Kevin had no response. Emma was their aunt—not mother—aunt. Emma wasn’t married. She didn’t have any kids. But she was taking care of someone else’s kids. Why? And where was her brother and their real mother?
“Is this done yet?” Kajsa asked, bringing him back to his senses. Kevin forced his eyes from Emma and back to the grill, where the chicken sizzled, probably overdone.
He grabbed a plate and held it out. “Looks like it. Why don’t you transfer the chicken to this so we can eat?”
“Okay.”
Once Adelynn had finished with the table, they all gathered around it. Kevin purposefully kept the conversation light as the girls picked at their asparagus and wrinkled their nose more than once. Emma tried to get them to at least taste it, but they both refused, saying it looked and smelled yucky. But they did eat their chicken and rolls, so that was something.
“Becky was right, this tastes amazing,” said Emma. “Do you cook like this every night?”
“Only when I have special company over.” Kevin left it at that. Emma would probably have a conniption if she found out he’d cancelled a date, and he wasn’t about to say anything that might incite her wrath again. Things had been going well, and he wanted to keep it that way. Besides, he did consider them special company. The girls were adorable and Emma was a lot more interesting and fun to be with than he’d expected. Kevin was having a great time.
Once the girls finished with their dinner, they ran off to try to climb the tree in the far back corner of Kevin’s yard.
“Please be careful,” Emma called out as they ran away.
“We will,” they chorused.
From the corner of his eyes, Kevin studied her profile. “You’re really good with them.”
“Thanks, but I have no idea what I’m doing. Most of the time I feel like I’ve been given this complex problem with no instructions on how to solve it.”
“Well, you’re solving it well.” Kevin paused, surprised to find he meant it. “Do you mind if I ask what happened to their parents and why you have custody?”
Emma continued to watch the girls, but her eyes took on a faraway look, as though her thoughts strayed far from Kevin’s backyard. “About a month ago, their mom died in a car accident. They had no savings, and the life insurance payout didn’t quite cover the cost of the funeral. My brother never went to college and didn’t exactly have much of a skill set to fall back on, so he had to take the first job that came along, which happened to be on a construction crew that works long hours in the middle of Michigan. He couldn’t take the girls with him, so that’s where I came in.”
For the first time since Kevin had met Emma, he saw something more than a girl with excess baggage and a messed up life. He saw the firmness in her jaw, the determination on her face. He saw some of the load she carried and how she did it with her shoulders stiff and her back straight. He saw strength.
It caught him off guard.
“How long will you have them?”
“If everything goes according to plan, he’ll be back next summer.”
“And then what?” asked Kevin, not sure why he cared so much about her answer.
“And then I don’t know.” She shrugged. “He’ll become their father again, probably live here, and I’ll… figure something out.”
Emma caught him staring at her and turned away, blushing. She quickly pushed her chair back and started gathering the plates.
Kevin was quick to follow suit. “I can do that.”
“No way,” Emma argued. “You cooked. It’s my job to clean up.”
“That might be the rule at your house, but this is mine, and here the cook cleans up his own mess.”
Emma twisted to face him. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” Kevin said.
She stared at him for a moment, as though debating her options, then started for the house with her hands full. “Good luck trying to stop me.”
Kevin laughed, picked up the remains of what she couldn’t carry, and followed her inside. She was already at the sink rinsing the dishes when he came in.
“You’re doing it wrong,” Kevin said as he set the last of the dishes down.
“How so?”
He gently pushed her aside and took a plate from her. “You have to rinse it off like this.”
She leaned in, brushing her shoulder against his. A warm sensation spread up Kevin’s arm and into his chest. “That’s what I was doing.”
“No, you were doing this.” Kevin shifted the sprayer at a slightly different angle. “See what I mean? Totally different. My way’s much more effective.”
Emma’s eyes narrowed, then she nodded slowly as though she really did see. “Can I give it another try?”
He handed her the sprayer, which she immediately pointed at him, spraying him with water.
“How’s that?”
He jumped back, but not before his shirt was pretty wet. “What the—” When the water kept coming his way, he lunged forward, trying to grab it from Emma. She simultaneously squealed and giggled as she grappled with him for a moment before launching for the handle and shutting off the water. “Okay, okay, stop. We’re making a mess,” she said between giggles.
Kevin returned the sprayer to the sink and took stock of the kitchen. His clothes were drenched, the floor was covered in water, and Emma, for the most part, was still dry. How did she manage that? “I can’t believe you did that—and after I cooked you dinner, too.”
“I’m so sorry,” Emma said, not sounding the least bit sorry. “I thought that was the angle you meant.”
“Did you not go to your geometry classes?” Kevin said. “Because that wasn’t even close.”
“My bad.” She laughed and turned back to the sink. “You’re pretty soaked. I think you should go change while I finish cleaning up.” Her voice was tinged with triumph.
Kevin shook his head even as he chuckled. All that so she could get her way. “You’re unbelievable.”
She cocked her head at him and smiled. “That’s what you get for trying to stop me. Now shoo.”
While Kevin changed into a new shirt, he realized that he hadn’t let himself go or laugh like that in a long time—possibly never. But for Emma it seemed to be the norm. Was she always that way? Did she have this effect on everyone, or just him? For whatever reason, a selfish corner of his mind hoped it was just him, or at least that he was one of the select few. He didn’t like thinking that she connected this way with everyone.
Voices from the front room interrupted his reverie, and Kevin realized he was staring at himself in the mirror but not really seeing anything. A woman laughed—a woman who didn’t sound like Emma—and Kevin moved to investigate.
He walked into the front room and stopped when he saw Nicole at the door, speaking with Emma. As usual, Nicole looked beautiful and sophisticated. Next to Emma, she should have stood out like a Lamborghini next to his Lexus, but for some reason, Kevin’s eyes were drawn to Emma, with her wavy hair, stubborn pride, and smile that pulled at something inside him.
[Meet Your Match 01.0] Prejudice Meets Pride Page 6
