The Crush (20)

But I swallowed all those questions down because I was an adult, and I could control myself, and I didn’t need to pester Emmett for details about why he didn’t move back home to his awesome family and the team they all loved.

“Is that one of the stories you wanted to trade?”

Emmett exhaled a laugh. “Yeah, I suppose. I bet yours are more interesting, though.”

A shocked laugh burst out of my mouth, and when I slapped a hand over my lips, he grinned.

“Are you serious?” I asked, hand dropping down by my side. “I love my life, so don’t take this the wrong way, but I plan parties for a living. I spent my morning trying to fix a mermaid-themed party where the cake got rear-ended by a punk watching YouTube while he was driving. There’s no way the last five years of my life are more interesting than yours, Mr. MVP his rookie year in the pros.”

I expected him to laugh or preen at the compliment because athletes loved to preen.

But he turned, settling his big hands on his hips while he studied me.

“What?” I asked. My cheeks were on fire.

“You make people happy on the biggest days of their life.” He shrugged. “I think that’s pretty damn important.”

My mouth fell open, and I swear, I didn’t want to be the person who swooned at such a statement. But hearing him say it so simply like it was common knowledge had something hard inside me melting ever so slightly.

My mom called from the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll have some lunch ready in ten minutes if you’re hungry.”

I managed a smile. “Maybe we’ll have to trade those stories later.”

Emmett’s gaze didn’t waver from mine. “Want to show me around after lunch?”

My cheeks went warm at his steady perusal. “Isn’t that Parker’s job?”

“I’ve heard all Parker’s stories. Maybe you’d be a more interesting companion.”

I shrugged, like I couldn’t care less.

Because I couldn’t care less, I thought with mentally gritted teeth.

One weekend, I told myself. I could survive one weekend of this. If he looked at any of the female population under fifty with eyes like that, it was miraculous that he didn’t have seventeen illegitimate children running around.

Emmett Ward might have any woman in his immediate vicinity falling at his feet, but I would not be one of them.

“Okay,” I said breezily. “If you think you can keep up with me.”

Emmett laughed a warm, rich sound.

My thighs pressed together before I could stop them.

Traitors.

“I’ll do my best,” he murmured.





Adaline



The first time I met Emmett was about six months after I’d started working for Molly. He was away at Stanford, playing football on a full-ride scholarship where he was majoring in architecture with a minor in architectural history. All I heard about was this guy who everyone in the Ward family adored.

I knew he was gorgeous. Pictures of him adorned Molly’s house, Paige and Logan’s house … he was everywhere.

I knew he was smart because for those six months, I heard about how often he hit the dean’s list.

I knew he was talented because I had working eyeballs, and when you’re an assistant for a sports-obsessed family, you watch a lot of ESPN.

But even knowing all those things, going into a long weekend at the family’s beachfront home, I didn’t think there was even the slightest chance that the golden boy could live up to all the hype.

Imagine a younger, more na?ve Adaline, walking into the giant home on Puget Sound, to be assaulted by the sight of a shirtless Emmett Ward tossing a giggling child up into the air. He caught her easily with those big hands and strong arms, and my mouth was hanging somewhere around my belly button because he was just … a sight. Luna Griffin—Molly and Noah’s youngest, only about two years old at the time—was shrieking with laughter, clambering up over his chest with her hands gripped tight into his hair as she set her legs around his shoulders.

“Run, run!” she yelled.

I adored Luna, but the girl was crazy, and “horsey”’ was a game we played almost every single day until my shoulders and arms ached constantly.

“You must be Adaline,” he said.

“I … yes.” My hands were full of grocery bags, and I clutched them to my chest like they’d protect me from sounding like an idiot. “I’m Adaline.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” He swung Luna down into his arms and blew a raspberry into her belly. “Mainly from this little monster, and she’s never wrong about people.”

I smiled at Luna, who was breathless with laughter.

“Horsey, run,” she yelled, scrambling for his shoulders again.

Emmett looked at me with a wide grin on his stupidly perfect face, winked, and then took off around the house, making shockingly accurate horse sounds and flinging her around like she weighed nothing.

What was it about hot men who were good with kids?

It shouldn’t have been such a foundational aspect to whether he was a good guy or not because I’m sure there were nice guys in the world who hated kids, but all I’m saying is that I’d never met one.

He was smart, and nerdy about buildings, which somehow made him hotter, and good with his family and respected women like it was his job—and when a guy like that knows how to treat a woman—his above-average physical prowess actually becomes the least interesting thing about him.