She tucked the laces into the skates then stood, glancing back at JP and Taylor as they stood under a pool of light from the streetlamp. It was darker now, the night quickly closing in with a rush of cold air. Emily shivered and wrapped her arms around her middle, the heavy skates banging against her elbow.
She was ready to call Taylor, to tell her it was time to head inside. But they were already moving closer, JP's hand resting lightly on Taylor's shoulder as they skated toward her.
Emily pushed the sadness away and smiled, grateful to JP for making Taylor's Thanksgiving a little happier. Then she walked the short distance back to the house, dropping her skates in the entranceway and heading to the bright kitchen as JP and Taylor sat together on the front porch. Their laughter mixed together and floated through the door, warming her.
"Aunt Emily, can we have some pie now?"
"I was just thinking the same thing." Emily placed the kettle on the stove then smiled over at Taylor. "As soon as the hot chocolate is ready. And as soon as you put your gear away."
Taylor nodded then ran upstairs, her long hair flying behind her. Emily smiled and looked through the open doorway. JP was bent over his gear bag, his back to her as put the equipment away. Her eyes drifted over his body, watching as the denim stretched tight over the firm curves of his ass. JP shifted then looked at her from over his shoulder, a slow grin spreading across his face.
She quickly looked away and stepped closer to the stove, mortified that she had been caught staring. At his ass. No, just staring, period.
JP walked into the kitchen, each step graceful and powerful. Emily did her best to ignore him, to ignore his smile, as she reached into the cabinet for dessert plates. She hesitated then finally looked over at him, her hand hovering over the plates.
"Are you staying for dessert?"
"Is that an invitation?"
"I think Taylor would like it."
JP stepped closer, his body nearly touching hers, his gaze serious. His voice was little more than a whisper when he spoke. "And you, ma chère. Would you like it?"
Emily pulled her gaze away, no longer able to meet his eyes, unable to bear the intense searching of his gaze. She cleared her throat and pulled three plates down, placing them on the counter just as the kettle started to whistle. Thankful for the additional distraction, she busied herself with grabbing mugs and the hot chocolate mix, spooning a generous portion into each mug.
JP remained where he was, leaning against the counter, his arms crossed in front of him. His cheeks were flushed from the chill of the outside air, his hair lightly tousled. And each time she moved past him, his scent wrapped around her, a light mixture of woodsy outdoors.
His eyes followed her every move, watching her, making her feel so self-conscious, she fumbled with the knife and nearly dropped it when trying to slice the pie. He was next to her in an instant, taking the knife from her hand and quickly cutting into the pie. And he was silent the entire time, not saying a single word as he placed a neat slice in the center of each plate.
Taylor bounded down the stairs and into the room, humming some pop song under her breath. Her presence eased the tension, if only a little, and Emily felt like she could suddenly breathe again.
The three of them sat at the table, eating pie and dinking hot chocolate and talking. Well, Taylor and JP were talking. Emily was listening. Barely. Until Taylor brought up the tournament this weekend, her words making Emily freeze mid-bite.
"Did you want to come and watch me John Peer?" Taylor looked over at JP and even Emily could see the longing in her eyes, the look making something twist inside her. Emily didn't dare glance at JP, didn't want to see him struggle with an answer, somehow knowing that he would have trouble telling Taylor no.
"Taylor, I don't think JP can make it. He has games, too."
Disappointment flashed in her niece's eyes and Taylor looked down at her plate, the fork held loosely in her hand, the pie seemingly forgotten. "Oh. That's okay. It was just an idea."
"And it was a wonderful idea. But I need to work, as your aunt said, or else I'd be there to see if you learned anything today." JP winked at her, his tone teasing. Taylor smiled, some of the disappointment leaving her eyes. "But, if it's okay with your aunt, maybe I can watch you play tonight."
"JP, it's dark—"
"Not outside." JP turned to Taylor and winked once more, then flashed a boyish grin at Emily. "I brought a hockey video game with me."
"No way! If it's the one I think it is, I'm going to kick your butt!"
"Taylor!" Emily looked at her niece, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Taylor tried to apologize but JP brushed it away and lobbed his own threat.
Was Emily hearing things, or were they really trash talking each other at the table? She shook her head, not bothering to hide her smile as the two of them left the table and moved to the living room. Their voices were a little more subdued but the trash talking continued as Taylor set up the gaming system and handed JP a controller.
By the time Emily finished clearing the table and cleaning the dishes, Taylor and JP were both engrossed in the game. Taylor sat cross-legged on the floor, her fingers flying over the controller, her brows lowered in an intense frown. JP sat on the edge of the sofa, a small smile settled on his mouth, his focus a little less intense.
Emily stood off to the side, watching them, until JP quietly motioned for her to sit next to him. She hesitated, then slowly moved through the living room and took a seat. JP glanced at her, his eyes soft and welcoming, then turned back to the television.
Emily didn't know how long they played. Their quiet voices and soft laughter rang around her, lulling her into drowsy comfort. She felt her head nod once, twice. Then a strong arm draped around her shoulders, pulling her into a cocoon of warmth. She rested her head on JP's shoulders and closed her eyes, telling herself she would only rest her eyes for a minute.
Just a minute, that was all.
Chapter Seventeen
JP struggled to smother the yawn but it still broke free with a jaw-cracking pop. The screen blurred in front of his eyes just as Taylor gave a small squeal of delight. He grinned and placed the controller on the small table next to the sofa, careful not to disturb Emily.
"I won again!"
"Yes you did. And now I think it's probably time for you to go to bed." JP glanced down at his watch then took a second look, not believing the lateness of the hour. Taylor wasn't the only one who needed to go to bed.
The young girl untwisted her body then jumped from the floor with a quickness that actually made JP feel old. She turned off the television and gaming system, carefully put the controller away, then tiptoed over to the sofa. Her hair slid along her face as she tilted her head down and looked at Emily. Then she eased closer to JP and fixed him with a concerned expression.
"What about Aunt Emily?"
JP looked down at the sleeping Emily. She was curled on her side, her lashes dark crescents against her cheeks, her head resting in his lap. He reached down and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, reveling in the silky softness as it curled around his finger.
"I will take care of ma chère. But you, ma lutine, need to go to bed. I have a feeling we will both be in trouble if you don't."
"Okay." She paused, then tilted her head to study JP with a curious look. "What does that mean?"
"Hm?"
"What you called Aunt Emily. What does it mean?"
"Ma chère?" The urge to squirm under the young girl's steady gaze was strong but JP fought it. Barely. He glanced down at Emily, then back at Taylor. "It means 'my dear'."
Taylor nodded then leaned forward and gave him a quick hug. It happened so fast he didn't move, couldn't react. Then Taylor moved away and gave him a sleepy smile. "Good night John Peer. Thank you."
JP gave her a small smile, unable to say anything because his throat was suddenly clogged with an unknown emotion. Then she was bounding up the stairs, leaving him wondering what had just ha
ppened.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to convince himself he had imagined it. The protectiveness, the tenderness. No, they were nothing more than a product of imagination. There was no reason for him to feel that way, not toward a young girl he barely knew.
He opened his eyes and looked down at the woman sleeping next to him, her head resting so trustingly in his lap. And he knew the tenderness and protectiveness that swept through him as he watched her had nothing to do with imagination. Real or not, that didn't mean it was wise to feel them.
Not after all this time. Not after everything he had done since then.
He stroked the hair away from her face, his touch lingering on the soft skin of her cheek. Emily stirred under his touch then relaxed once more. The temptation to lean his head against the back of the sofa and close his eyes was strong. To close his eyes and just rest, with the feel of Emily so close to him. Better, to carry Emily to bed and just lay down next to her, hold her in his arms as he slept.
How long had it been since he'd slept with a woman? Held a woman in his arms through the night? Woke in the morning with the softness of a woman's body curled next to him? Too long. Too many years.
There had been plenty of women. Too many women in the last few years. But no nights when he stayed the night. No, he had always left. Always. The women were distractions. Fun distractions, but nothing more.
How many nights had he fallen asleep by himself? How many nights had he spent by himself, in a lonely bed? How many years?
Five years. Not since...not since Emily.
He looked back down, realized he was still gently stroking the hair back from her face. And at that moment, need—strong and swift, sharp and biting—swept through him.
He needed Emily. Not her body, not for sex. No, this went deeper. The strength of the need scared him. Scared him as much as the realization that he didn't deserve her.
Had he dozed off? Or had he been so deep in thought that all awareness of his surroundings disappeared? JP didn't know. But the sound of the front door knob turning startled him and he straightened, his hand automatically tightening on Emily's shoulder. Then the door was opened by a woman, her head lowered as she pushed through, a heavy tote bag slung over her right shoulder. She dropped the bag on the floor and closed the door with a hard click then turned to enter the living room.
And stopped.
The resemblance to Emily was there, but only slightly. The woman's hair was blonde but darker than Emily's, cut much shorter, the spiky ends barely covering her neck. She was dressed in scrubs, the blue material wrinkled, as if she had been wearing them for twelve busy hours. Weariness lined her face, pulling her lips down in a frown. Like Emily, her eyes were blue but darker, almost gray. As JP watched, her eyes widened in surprise. And then they narrowed to slits, the lines at the corners of her eyes more pronounced as she stared at JP, an angry frown settling on her face.
Emily stirred next to him, then pushed herself to a sitting position. Her sleepy gaze settled at first on JP, a little confused, like she didn't quite know where she was. Then she faced her sister, her body stiffening as the two locked gazes.
Something passed between them, some silent communication JP didn't understand. That didn't stop him from picking up the sudden discomfort coming from Emily, or the flare of tension settling over the room.
Emily quickly stood, tossing a glance at JP over her shoulder as her sister stepped further into the room. Was it his imagination, or did Emily suddenly look guilty?
"Monica. You're home." Emily shifted, waiting for her sister to say something. When the silence continued, she shifted again and tossed JP another glance, then looked back at her sister. "Monica, this is JP."
He stood and thought about offering his hand then reconsidered when he noticed the look Monica was giving him. Cold, detached. Judging—and finding him lacking. JP shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans then nodded in Monica's direction.
She didn't say anything, just kept watching him with those cool eyes. Then she turned the look on Emily, only it was mixed with disappointment this time. Or was it his imagination? He didn't know, didn't have enough time to figure it out, because Monica quickly moved past both of them, disappearing into the large kitchen.
He turned to Emily, wanting to ask her what had happened, why her sister had acted that way. But he said nothing—he didn't have to, not when her expression spoke volumes. Not when he already knew.
Her sister knew. About him, about their history. It only made sense that she would. She knew...and found him lacking.
"I need to go. We have practice in the morning, then a game."
Emily nodded without looking at him, following him to the door. He opened it and stepped out onto the small porch, then turned around. Light silhouetted Emily, casting her in shadows as she stood there, one hand wrapped around the edge of the door.
JP didn't question, didn't think. He stepped toward her and leaned in, catching her chin with his hand. Then he pressed his mouth to hers, the kiss gentle, coaxing and innocent.
And much too quick.
He pulled away and gave her a small smile, ignoring the surprise on her face. "Happy Thanksgiving, ma douce."
JP turned away and hurried to his car, ignoring the heat of Emily's stare as her eyes followed his departure.
Chapter Eighteen
"Why was he here?"
Emily ignored the question and tried to focus on the screen but the numbers in the spreadsheet blurred, running together. She hadn't planned on working today, had wanted to do nothing but relax. Maybe catch up on some reading, or treat herself to a few hours of pampering.
But Monica had come downstairs immediately after breakfast and started questioning her. Escaping into work had been a last-ditch effort, one that obviously wasn't working.
Monica moved closer to the desk, edging into her line of vision as she leaned against the edge of it. Her arms were crossed tightly in front of her, her mouth set into a firm line. "Why was he here, Emily?"
Emily logged out of the program then pushed away from the desk, crossing her own arms as she faced her sister. "I don't know why he was here. He just showed up."
"Why? There had to be a reason."
"If there was, he didn't say. And I didn't ask." Emily stood and moved to the sofa, sitting on the edge of the cushion without looking at Monica. She hoped her sister would just leave it at that, would just leave, period. But she didn't.
"Then why did you let him stay? I don't understand, Emily. After everything he did to you, why didn't you ask him to leave?"
"Because Taylor was smiling and laughing, that's why!" Frustration brought Emily to her feet, her hands clenching by her sides as she faced Monica. "He spent the afternoon playing hockey with her, showing her some moves. And she was laughing. So no, I didn't ask him to leave. I'm sorry if that pisses you off."
Monica took a hasty step back, shock crossing her face. But the expression quickly disappeared, replaced by irritation and impatience. Anger. "Then why were you asleep in his lap when I got home?"
"Because I fell asleep while they were playing video games. That was all, Monica. Nothing more. Stop reading so much into it."
"Taylor is my daughter and I will read into it. One of us has to, since you can't see him for what he really is."
"Really? And what is that, Monica?"
"He's a player, Emily! I don't want a man like that around my daughter."
Pain sliced through Emily at the accusation and she tried to push it away, tried to ignore it. But she couldn't hide it, nor could she hide her surprise. Why would Monica say something like that? What was it she knew? And how?
Or were they just empty words, nothing more than a reflection of her own history and bitter divorce?
Emily turned away, not wanting to see Monica. Not wanting her sister to see how the words had disturbed her. She wrapped her arms tight around her middle, her nails biting into each elbow as she took one carefully controlled deep b
reath. "JP has been nothing but nice and considerate to Taylor. You have no right to judge him—"
"My God, how can you defend him? After everything he put you through, how can you stand there and defend him like this?"
Emily whirled, anger fresh within her. "Because he hasn't done anything, Monica! He's been nothing but nice to Taylor. That's it."
"Really? And what about you? Has he been nothing but nice to you?"
Emily ran her hands through her hair, not knowing how to answer. She certainly wasn't about to tell Monica she had slept with him. It was one time, just one time. Both of them hurting, emotionally drained. The encounter meant nothing.
At least, Emily tried to convince herself it meant nothing. But she couldn't tell Monica that. She took a deep breath and shook her head. "Monica, he just wanted to know about...about Gabriella."
"And you believed him?" Monica stepped back, her expression clearly telling Emily she was a fool. "And I guess you told him."
"Of course I told him. He was her father!"
"If he had really wanted to know, he would have been here five years ago." Monica's voice was cold, flat. Emily knew she was only being protective, that her anger was directed not at Emily, but on Emily's behalf. She still wondered why Monica's reaction was so extreme.
"Monica, you're reading too much into things and I really don't feel like getting into this right now anyway." She kept her back turned, her gaze focused outside the sliding glass doors. The small garden in the tiny yard was mostly bare, the few remaining flowers long since brown and dead. Normally a small refuge, the area was now barren, depressing, the wrought iron bench nothing more than a lonely sentinel.
She knew how it felt. Lonely. Watching over...exactly nothing. And wasn't that what she had in her life: exactly nothing?
No, that wasn't true. She had her sister, no matter how annoying and overprotective she could be. And she had Taylor, her wonderful niece, so full of life despite the upheaval of her small world the last few years.
Break Away (The Baltimore Banners Book 5) Page 11