In Your Dreams (Blue Heron #4)(97)

Granted, getting her had been as hard as catching an eel, but once he had her, he appreciated her wriggly properties. And he meant that with all the innuendo possible.

He really liked Emmaline Neal.

She was funny, she was smart, she was amazing in bed. Her dog was incredibly cute.

It was nice not being alone. On Saturday, they went cross-country skiing after their hockey game, the cold air and hard, bright sky making it a perfect day for it. Sarge came along, galumphing through the snow, trying to wrestle the poles out of Jack’s hand. Then they came back to Jack’s house, and he went down to the cellar to get a bottle of wine.

When he came up, it hit him.

This was what the house was supposed to look like. When he was married, it was too much, all those pillows and signs and clouds of perfume. Alone, it was on the barren side, looking more like a magazine shoot than a place where people lived.

But now it was kind of perfect. She’d brought a paperback novel, which was on the coffee table, as well as a comic book for him.... He’d confessed to a love of Superman growing up, and she found an old copy in Presque Antiques. Her knapsack sat on a kitchen chair, and her dog lay on his back, trying to woo Lazarus. There was a coffee cup on the table, and her jacket hung by the back door.

The woman herself was sprawled on his couch, not trying to look picturesque, the way Hadley always did...just relaxing. Or asleep, from the looks of it.

“So? I’m tired. You’ve worn me out,” she said, not opening her eyes. “And I’m not talking about skiing. I slept like the dead last night.”

The image of Josh Deiner, cold and lifeless on the dock, slammed into him.

Emmaline sat up. “Shoot. Sorry about that. Poor choice of words.”

“No worries.”

She fiddled with the comic book, straightening it out. “Did you go to the hospital today?”

He had. He did every day, for some stupid reason. “You hungry?”

“How’s Josh?”

“I don’t know, Em. I’m not allowed to see him. You hungry or not?”

She didn’t answer, but she stood up and took his hand. “You need to deal with this, you know,” she said gently.

He took his hand back. “Look. I saved three kids. Almost four. That’s a good thing. Don’t make me a victim, Emmaline. I thought it was your parents who psychoanalyzed everything, not you. Now do you want dinner or not?”

His voice was hard.

“Sure,” she said. “Why don’t I cook?” And she got off the couch and went into the kitchen.

His phone buzzed with a text from Faith. Is Emmaline there? Don’t blow it. Are you wearing something decent? Hint: clean clothes are nice.

Almost immediately, there was another text, this time from Honor. Don’t come down for Top Ten Tumors. I’ll TiVo it. Hopefully you have better things to do. Like Emmaline.

And another, this one from Pru. The Coven must be together, deciding that nothing was more fun than tormenting their brother. Don’t be afraid to experiment.

“Good God,” he said. He tapped Faith’s name to place a call.

“And who might this be?” she answered, and he could hear the noise of O’Rourke’s in the background.

“Leave me alone, girls. I’m busy.”

“Yay!” she said. “Jack’s busy, girls!”

“You need any tips, we’re here for you, brother!” Pru called, and Honor laughed.

He hung up, smiling begrudgingly.

Emmaline was leaning against the counter, staring at a pot.

Jack got up and went over to her. “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” he said.

“It’s okay.” She gave him a quick smile, which made him feel worse.

He kissed her then, gently, then boosted her onto the counter and kissed her not so gently, and ignored the small voice in the back of his head that told him he might be using her.

* * *

THAT THURSDAY, EMMALINE rounded up her kids. “We’re going on a field trip,” she said. “Try to contain your excitement.” There were the expected groans and complaints and excuses. “Oh, stop,” she said. “It’ll be fun. It’s a sport. Exercise and healthy living, kids. The keys to a good life.”

“Officer Em, we liked you,” Cory said.

“Shush, children, and get into the squad car, and if you’re very good, I’ll put on the siren.

She drove them to Pettiman Rink, where she played hockey each week.

“I can’t skate,” Kelsey said. “I’m pregnant.”

“Really?” Dalton said. “I couldn’t tell.”

“I hate you.”

“It’s not skating,” Em said. “It’s curling, and you’ll love it.”

“What’s curling?” Kelsey asked.

“It’s that thing with the rock and the brooms and the ice for losers who live in the Arctic circle and shit,” Dalton said.

“Is he kidding?”

“No, that’s about right,” Emmaline said.

“My GPA is too low for me to be on a team,” Tamara said proudly. “Nice try, though, Officer Em.”

“This is a club, not a team. I just got permission from Dr. Didier for you all to join. Isn’t that sunshiney and sparkly and wonderful?”