The Crush (61)

“So,” I said slowly, “you drove up here to … push a button.”

“I did.” His answer was so steady and unrepentant. It was terrifying how clear he was being about what he wanted.

There were a lot of women—and men—who would jump headfirst into any chance with Emmett, who’d probably check my mental capacity for feeling any sort of hesitancy. Did this qualify me for a padded cell? Maybe.

A sane person would’ve jumped him as soon as he cleared the door.

As soon as he brought me donuts when I was hungover.

Hell, as soon as we danced at that masquerade.

But I swallowed all of that down. For now, at least.

“Help me put these in the bedrooms?” I asked.

He nodded, taking two of the vases, fighting a grin.

My evasion was so obvious, I groaned. Emmett laughed, disappearing down the first hallway where Paige and Molly would sleep. I took the other hall, sliding the flowers on Isabel’s dresser. The presents from her sisters were already wrapped in matching paper and settled on the gleaming surface. Tomorrow morning, I’d get a massive balloon arch delivery that would stretch over the front door, flanked by a four and a zero in a soft purple color.

She’d hate the fuss, and that was half the fun in trying to think of every little detail that would make the weekend relaxing and special for all of them. I was fixing the items in Isabel’s basket when I heard Emmett drop something loud in the kitchen.

I rushed down the hallway, sliding to a halt when I caught sight of him.

He’d dropped two of the large skillets on the floor. He was holding a carton of eggs in one hand, a paper grocery bag tucked between his arm as he stared down at the pans.

Emmett hadn’t seen me yet, and I settled my elbows onto the island, peering over the edge where he was picking up the spatulas that had fallen too.

“Whatcha doing?” I asked.

His head snapped up. Oh, yes. The pink crawling over his cheeks made me realize exactly why he loved surprising me so much. It was addicting.

“Uhh, making us dinner.”

“You’re not stealing from the food I brought, are you? Because that menu was meticulously planned, sir.”

“I know better than that. I stopped at the market down the road on my way in.”

My eyebrows rose slowly. “How do you know I haven’t eaten yet?” I asked, a grin spreading.

“Have you?” He set the eggs onto the gleaming stretch of counter, next to a package of goat cheese, a bright green bunch of asparagus, and a container of what looked like roast chicken.

I pulled the container toward me and opened the lid, taking an appreciative whiff. “No.” I smiled. “Omelet?”

He nodded, pulling down a bowl from the cupboard to the right of the sink. “About the only thing I can make well.”

“Asparagus?” I asked warily.

Emmett cracked the eggs expertly, tapping the side of the bright-blue ceramic bowl, using one hand to empty the shell into the bowl. “Veggies are good for you.”

I sniffed. “If you say so.”

His laugh was addictive, the man who was usually so serious, so focused.

While he pulled together our dinner, I moved through the other bedrooms, adding items to the baskets and wiping down the mirrors and bathroom counters until they gleamed. Tomorrow, I’d cut fruit, prepare their lunch for when they arrived, and make sure every meal was as ready as possible.

Speaking of meals…

The smell hit me first, and I followed my nose into the kitchen, but I found it empty. I tilted my head and looked out the windows overlooking the back patio. Emmett was setting our plates on the outdoor dining table. First, he had them opposite of each other, then he stood back and set his hands on his hips, pushing one of the plates to the seat next to the other.

I covered my mouth, trying to hide my growing smile. Almost like if I let that smile breathe, I’d have to concede something important.

But whether anyone saw that smile or not, the concession had already begun. It did the moment he took my hand.

In my grubby clothes and messy hair and with my bare face, I walked downstairs and outside, heading straight for him. He was still facing the table, and he started when I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind. With a huge sigh, he slid his hands over mine. I pressed my face against the broad expanse of his back.

He was so warm. The muscles of his back so firm.

There was no fighting it.

Emmett was impossible not to fall in love with.

He turned, wrapping his arms around me, engulfing me completely.

It was the first time we’d hugged like this—different from our dance, different from the night we spent at my parents’—and we stood like that for a long time. His hands coasted up and down my back, his nose in my hair.

“Thank you,” I said into his chest.

“You might want to try it before you thank me,” he said.

I laughed, lifting my face. With Nick, and my family, and my job … I was the one thinking about what everyone might need. It felt so foreign to have someone take care of me this way. And since the moment he reappeared in my life, it was all he’d done.

Showing up in exactly the way I needed him.

He wanted to kiss me. It was all over his face, in the banked heat of his eyes. Gently, I tilted my chin up, eager to feel the weight of his lips on mine and the slide of his tongue over my own. My stomach went weightless, thinking about the whole stretch of evening in front of us.