Stay(14)

I turn, watching her cute little ass in those cutoffs. Criminal. “That’s not what you studied in school.”

She goes around to the other side of the aisle. “Art history isn’t the most useful degree.”

“What degree lands you in a dry cleaner?”

“Don’t be a snob. Working with Lulabell is more interesting than you think.”

“I think Lulabell is very interesting.”

“I don’t really care what you think.” She stares at the racks of brightly colored sequins. “She didn’t tell me what color to get.”

I spot a package of deep red ones and pick it up. “If it’s for my aunt’s dress, these should do.”

She takes them from me, avoiding the touch of my fingers. Yes, I felt it earlier, too, beautiful. Watching her doing her best to avoid my eyes makes me grin. Emmy Barton is feisty and very angry with me for some reason.

I follow her cute little ass to the front of the store. “Why do you hate me?”

“I’d have to think about you to hate you.”

The teen tears her eyes away from her phone long enough to check us out and take our money, then she’s right back to texting. Outside, returning to Miss CC, Emmy takes a slower pace.

“Will you tell me now?” I give her arm a playful nudge, and she cuts an annoyed glare at me.

“What?”

“What brought you to this colorful neck of the woods?”

“I’ve lived here since I discovered my husband was sleeping with Peg Yardley.”

Glancing up, I try to place that name. “Peg Yardley. Is she the one…” Suddenly I remember a face, and it makes me frown. “Her forehead’s very large.”

“Yes.” Emmy’s cute nose wrinkles.

“Do her eyes still sort of… bug out?” I lift my hands to the level of my eyes.

“As a matter of fact they do.”

I always knew The Dick was an idiot. Peg Yardley doesn’t hold a candle to the beauty walking beside me right now.

I exhale a retort. “She should have her thyroid checked.”

Emmy laughs and quickly covers it with a cough, shaking her head and lifting that cute chin again. I grin, feeling pretty proud of myself for that little breakthrough.

“What do you know about anyone’s thyroid?” When she looks at me this time, she’s still acting angry, but I see the smallest crack in her wall.

“I’ve always been interested in medicine.”

“So why aren’t you a doctor?”

“I don’t have to be.”

“Ah…” She lifts her chin. “Of course you don’t.”

“Why don’t you move back to Lenox Hill?” Her family’s townhome isn’t too far from my aunt’s if I remember correctly.

“Ethan sold the place when he moved to Seattle.”

“That wasn’t very thoughtful of him.”

She shrugs. “I was married, living in a penthouse. We didn’t need it, and the upkeep and insurance got expensive. We don’t all have fathers who leave us vast sums of wealth.”

I let that pass. The last thing I want on my mind right now is Thomas Hastings. “One should never sell real estate in Manhattan. Unless you’re desperate.” We’re back at Miss CC’s and I hold the glass door open for her.

She pauses in the entrance, squinting up at me. “Still the smartest guy in the room?”

“In the entire city. Now go with me to lunch.”

“No.” She walks through the door without a backwards glance.

I’m right behind her, ready to argue, when she stops. We both look up to see Burt pacing in front of the counter.





5





Emmy


Burt’s hand is on his hip, and when he sees Stephen, he stops pacing. “What are you doing here?”

Stephen glares back at him. “Dropping off some suits.”

“You’re early.” I breeze through the standoff between them. “Eli is taking a test.”

“Who’s proctoring it?” Burt follows me to the counter.

“It’s a timed online exam. He doesn’t need a proctor.”

“How do they know he’s not cheating?” Burt has a big problem with my decision to homeschool Eli. Primarily because he can’t play sports—not that he could anyway.

My jaw clenches. “Your son doesn’t cheat.”

His eyes narrow at my tone. Asshole.

Stephen steps forward, interrupting our standoff. “You know, you’re right. It’s too late for lunch. How about I take you to dinner instead? I’ll pick you up at seven.”

The shock registering on Burt’s face fills me with unexpected pride. Dammit, Stephen. I turn slowly to look at him, and I don’t miss the glint in his eye.

“Seven sounds great.” I force a smile, although I feel like I’m making a deal with the devil.

Why is Stephen doing this? I kind of don’t care if it makes Burt think I’m dating his old nemesis. Which I’m not. Definitely not.

Stephen holds out his phone to me, a cocky grin curling his lips. He needs my number.

A second ticks by as I hesitate. The weight of Burt’s presence watching us, is the only thing that drives me forward. I take Stephen’s phone, quickly sending a text to myself: Stephen Hastings is not your hero.