Instant Gratification (Wilder #2)(69)

“Go for it.”

“Are you in love with Emma?”

She waited while he adjusted to the abrupt subject change, her gaze filled with a brutal, open honesty. “That’s a pretty personal question,” he finally said.

“I know. But it’s something I’d like to know before I take you home and pour chocolate all over your body, and then lick it off.”

He went from zero to sixty in less than two seconds. “I have a flight.”

“Yeah.” She looked out the windshield at the stark, blue, cloudless sky. “Not good flying weather. A storm’s moving in.”

He blinked, but the sky was still cloudless. He looked back into her steady, heated eyes and felt his blood stir. He didn’t know a man could resist this. Her. “So…”

“I’m thinking a delay would be a smart move.”

“Are you.”

“Actually, it depends on the answer to my question. Because I screwed up love once. I don’t do that anymore.”

Yeah, she had claws, sharp ones, but she also had heart. And big eyes. Eyes that weren’t nearly as tough as she pretended to be. “I love Emma,” he said quietly. “But I’m not in love with Emma. Does that count?”

She stared at him, then smiled slowly, warmly, and he stared at her in return, a little blown away by how just that one smile—her first real one he’d bet—affected him.

“It counts,” she whispered.

He looked at her. She was beautiful, she took his breath away. He ate another piece of fudge, chewing slowly because it was so mind-boggling good he couldn’t believe it, and because he wasn’t sure what was happening. He usually went for the good girls, the ones who followed the rules and were nice to others and who didn’t challenge him.

Serena was none of that.

He liked it. He liked her, a whole hell of a lot.

“Decision time,” she murmured. “Left to the airport, or right.”

To her place.

He was a careful man. Methodical and just a bit nerdy. He knew this. He accepted this. But right now, he had a chance to be more with a woman who saw something in him that made him feel like Superman. “Right.”

She smiled and pulled up to her shop. They walked into her bakery, which had a mouthwatering scent and a décor to match. It was done up like an old-time French café; wrought iron tables and chairs, pale pink and white stripes on the walls, which were covered with charming pictures of the French countryside. It was warm and cozy and elegant.

“I have an apartment in the back,” she said. “It’s small. My own port in the storm.”

“We could go out for dinner, or a movie.”

She looked surprised. “You’re not interested in the whole licking the chocolate off our bodies thing?”

“A dinner offer isn’t a rejection. It’s like the opposite of a rejection. You know that, right? It’s my way of offering you respect and companionship.”

She just looked at him. “You’re unusual. You look like a hot guy, but on the inside you’re sort of…”

“A nerd.”

“Yes.”

“True. But trust me. Nerds? They always get their way and win the girl in the end.”

“You’re going to win the girl, Spencer.”

“Good.” He took her hand. “So how about I cook dinner?”

“You cook?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He grinned. “Listen, we started with your most excellent dessert, but let’s finish with my main course.”

“And you don’t mean sex?”

“First things first.”

She stared at him for the longest moment. “I can’t figure you out.”

“Being figured out never works out for me.”

She stared at him some more, then smiled. “Well, then. To a night of surprises. For both of us.”



Emma and her father looked at each other over his chart. He was still sitting on the examination table, looking deceptively healthy. His hair was crazy wild but he had a nice tan and an easy smile. Spence says you’re doing good,” she said.

“I told you.”

“I wanted to be sure.”

“That’s the doctor in you.” He patted her knee. “I love that you’re a doctor. I’m so proud of you, Emma. Have I ever told you that?”

The words slid down like warm milk and honey. “No.”

“I am. Very proud, and very happy that we ended up doing the same thing with our lives.”

If he’d said that even a month ago, she’d have denied that they were doing the same thing with their lives. After all, she’d been in an ER saving multiple lives every single day, and he’d been here in a small town of several thousand, treating rashes and sprained ankles.

She’d have been wrong.

So wrong.

What her father did was just as important as what she did. More so. Because in New York, she was a dime a dozen. If she couldn’t show up for work, there was an entire staff to pick from of others exactly like her.

Just that easily, she’d be replaced.

But here in Wishful, her father was the only one. Irreplaceable.

“You feel good about the sale?” he said.