Yours To Keep

by Shannon Stacey

  “Is she going to make you take these all out after?” he asked, making sure the mulch he was spreading was level enough to satisfy his boss’s insane control freakishness when it came to her work.

  “She might. But she’ll pay for it, so I’ll do it. But these are mostly annuals, anyway, so she can leave them for the rest of the summer without ruining the overall landscaping plan.”

  Mrs. Somebody-or-other was hosting a baby shower for her spoiled princess at the cottage the following week and the much-heralded first grandchild was reportedly a girl. Emma’s job—and therefore Sean’s, as well—was to turn the beachfront property into an explosion of pink.

  There were tall, skinny pink flowers and short, bushy pink flowers and all different kinds of pink flowers he knew nothing about. There were even some of those gladiolus things she’d been talking about that morning. But he wasn’t likely to learn anything about them since she didn’t trust him to do more than carry over whichever pot she pointed to and then spread mulch when and where she told him to.

  Being surrounded by so much pink made it impossible to put the morning out of his mind because every flower made him think of a ten-year-old Emma wanting to marry a guy wearing a pink shirt.

  That thought invariably led to thoughts of a very grown-up Emma sliding between the sheets, her long leg brushing against his thigh and making him think all kinds of naughty things. Luckily, the steamy thoughts of pulling her body, still warm from sleeping, up against his had fled when her grandmother walked into the room. Residual desire had remained though, even while they went on about that stupid box, so it was a damn good thing Emma had jumped out of bed to shut off her alarm.

  The whole thing seemed wrong to him somehow, though, the more he thought about it. Cat didn’t seem like the kind of woman to work herself into such a tizzy over finding a box she had to burst in on them before they were out of bed. Excitement at the breakfast table, sure, but she’d been too respectful of their fake need for privacy for it to make any sense.

  “I think Cat’s on to us.”

  Emma sat back on her heels and brushed dirt off her gloves. “What makes you think that?”

  “Just a feeling.” He couldn’t really explain it. “The way she watches us sometimes. And coming into our room at twenty after six? That didn’t seem suspicious to you?”

  “She was excited.” But that excuse was weak and she knew it. “Gram would say something if she thought I was lying to her.”

  “Maybe not. Maybe she wants to figure out what we’re up to.”

  She seemed to consider it for a moment, then she shook her head. “I don’t think she could keep quiet about it. But, just in case she’s suspicious, we’ll have to step it up.”

  Step it up? If they stepped it up any more, his balls were going to explode. “What do you mean by that, exactly?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe…more touching or something?”

  “No.” He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but he meant it. He couldn’t take any more touching. “I mean, I don’t think that’s the problem.”

  Actually, touching was exactly the problem, but not in the way she was thinking. He was horny, plain and simple, and the constant touching and looking and pretending was killing him. Slowly and seemingly without end.

  The nights were the worst. Emma was a restless sleeper and he was a light sleeper and the combination made for a constant state of low-grade sleep deprivation. The sight of her dark curls spread across her pillow and her long legs kicked free of the blanket made for a constant state of high-grade lust.

  “What do you think is the problem, then?”

  He shook his head. “Forget it. Probably just my imagination.”

  When she pushed herself to her feet and stretched, he tried not to watch, but he couldn’t look away. He knew being bent over the garden was hell on the muscles, but the way she put her hands to the back of her waist and arched her back—which pushed out her breasts—was hell on his self-control.

  “How come you didn’t tell me about your aunt and uncle’s big holiday bash?”

  “Because you’re just going to worry about it and stress and it’s only Monday. I thought I’d wait until Friday to bring it up.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Have you talked to Cat about the house yet?”

  She shook her head. “I keep hoping she’ll bring it up, but she hasn’t. And it never seems like the right time.”

  “If you let her go back to Florida without selling you the house, this was all for nothing, you know.”

  “Yes, I know,” she snapped. “I know it doesn’t seem that way, but I don’t like lying to my grandmother this way and now that the time has come, I’m finding it hard to bring up the house.”

  His phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket to look at the caller ID window. “Shit.”

  “Who is it?”

  “My sister. Sorry, I have to take it or she’ll keep calling back.” He flipped open the phone as he put a little space between him and Emma. “Hi, Liz.”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “I miss you, too.”

  “Tell me Mitch is full of shit.”

  “He usually is.”

  Her sigh practically vibrated his phone. “Are you living with some woman you just met and pretending to be her fiancé?”

  “Yup.”

  “Does that seem normal to you?”

  “I never claimed it was normal. It’s pretty crazy, actually, but we’re making it work.” More or less. Other than an unexpected case of blue balls, it was going better than he would have guessed it would.

  “And Aunt Mary’s going along with this?”

  “Reluctantly, but yes.”

  “I can’t make it, but Mitch is going to be there for the Fourth. If he tells me he thinks this woman’s up to no good, I’m going to sic Rosie on you.”

  “Nobody’s up to no good, Liz, and we’re not hurting anybody. I promise.”

  “We’ll see what Mitch has to say.” He heard a voice in the background and what sounded like a door slamming. “I have to run. I’ll call you next week, after I talk to Mitch.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” he said, but she’d already hung up.

  He shoved his phone back in his pocket and smiled at Emma. “She sends her regards.”

  “I bet. She’s not coming here, is she?”

  “Not for the party. If Mitch reports back that I’ve fallen into the clutches of an evil, scheming temptress, she’ll be here. Otherwise, she doesn’t come home much.”

  Emma knelt in front of the garden bed and went back to planting pink flowers. “You said she lives in New Mexico. What does she do?”

  “She waits tables at a truck stop to support the deadbeat artist wanna-be who swept her off her feet and talked her into dropping out of college when she was nineteen.”

  “Oh. I guess that’s not a happy story.”

  “No. But she’s as stubborn as all four of us boys put together and I think she stays with him just so she won’t have to admit our old man was right.”

  “Even though he passed away almost a decade ago? That’s…stubborn.”

  “That’s Liz.” He scowled at the mulch she pushed in his direction. “We’ve all tried to talk some sense into her and we’ve had a few chats with him, too, but she won’t leave him.”

  “Are they married?”

  He snorted. “No. Asshole’s too much of a free spirit to embrace government regulation of their relationship.”

  “One of those, huh?”

  “Yeah. She’ll get tired of his shit eventually. I hope.”

  “So none of you are married?”

  “Nope. Liz has been wasting her time with her deadbeat for thirteen years. Ryan’s divorced. And Mitch, Josh and I are too hard to pin down.”

  “You mean you haven’t found women willing to put up with your shit yet.”

  He laughed. “Pretty much.”

  Of course, he hadn’t been looking too hard, either. But he
imagined when it was time to look—way down the road—he’d probably fall for somebody like Emma. She was smart and funny and loyal to her family. And, unlike a lot of women, she didn’t take any of his crap.

  Sure, she had some annoying habits. Like those little moaning sounds she made in her sleep. And she could be a bit of a smart-ass. The cleaning thing, of course. She’d taken a toothbrush to his sneakers the other night and they weren’t even really broken in yet.

  But, overall, if the urge to settle down ever struck him, he wouldn’t mind a woman like Emma.

  “It’s all a sham?” Russell leaned against his counter, shaking his head. “The living together? The engagement? All a lie?”

  “Yes.” Cat sighed. It was a little embarrassing to admit Emma would resort to such an elaborate scheme to protect her peace of mind. But she’d told him the whole thing anyway, including her conversation with Mary Kowalski, while he chuckled.

  “She must really love you to go to all that trouble,” he said when she was through, and Cat smiled.

  “I guess you’re right. She’s a good girl, even if she did think I’d fall for this.” But she hadn’t worked up her courage and come into town to talk about Emma. “You owe me a dance, Russell Walker.”

  He gave her a sheepish smile. “I’m keeping my eye out for a nice place to take you. Heard there’s a chem-free graduation fundraiser dance Saturday after next at the high school for the older crowd. It won’t be fancy, but it’s close and for a good cause.”

  “That might be nice.”

  “So it’s a date, then?”

  A date? What the heck was she doing dating at her age? “It’s a date.”

  “Good. Are you and the kids doing anything for the Fourth?”

  “We’re going to spend the day with the Kowalskis and then all go over and watch the fireworks go off over the big lake.”

  He nodded. “Dani and Roger always do that, too.”

  Cat picked up the bag of clearanced gardening tools she’d bought just to have an excuse to stop into the hardware store. “If you go with them, maybe I’ll see you there.”

  “Maybe you will. Where are you off to now?”

  “I’m driving down to Concord to meet Mary Kowalski for lunch.”

  “Those poor kids don’t stand a chance, do they?”

  She laughed. “Nope.”

  Mary was already waiting at the fancy café they’d chosen because it was unlikely to attract any of the other family members and they could have a friendly lunch. Cat was older than her, of course, but not by much. She’d had Johnny young and Johnny and his wife had been young when they had Emma.

  Mary had gotten them a pitcher of water, but they both asked for tea to go with the salads they reluctantly ordered. With all the barbequing going on, they had to be good when they had the chance. Cat still had guilt over the hash-and-cheese omelet and it had been almost a week.

  They chatted about family and the weather until the salads arrived, and then Mary broached the subject of Sean and Emma. “How are things going between them?”

  “I found out she sleeps on the couch in the bedroom. When I knocked on the door, I could hear her crossing the room to get into the bed before she called me to come in. And her phone, which she uses as an alarm clock, was plugged in next to the couch, too.”

  “I’m surprised they’ve managed to resist each other this long.”

  Cat nodded and drizzled a low-calorie dressing over her salad. “Me, too. I’m not sure why they’re trying so hard, actually. Did you tell anybody I’ve figured out their little scheme?”

  “No. I can’t be sure none of them will tell Sean. Or that Lisa won’t tell Emma. I haven’t even told Leo, so it’s just between us.”

  “It’s going to be fun watching my granddaughter pretend Mitch isn’t a total stranger to her.”

  “Having him here this weekend will help push Sean over the edge.”

  “You think so?”

  Mary smiled. “Mitch is quite the ladies’ man. There’s also a betting pool they think I don’t know anything about and they don’t want Sean to win. Once Mitch starts flirting with Emma, we’ll find out in a hurry how Sean really feels about her.”

  “I hope you’re right. They definitely need a nudge.”

  “Trust me. I know my boys.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Saturday rolled around and Emma knew she was in trouble when a slightly taller and older version of Sean spotted her across the Kowalskis’ big backyard.

  He grinned and started toward her. “Emma!”

  When he picked her up off her feet—which was no easy feat considering how tall she was—and spun her around, she clutched his shoulders. “Mitch…hi.”

  Thank goodness only one of his brothers could come. Not only because there were fewer people to keep track of, but because there was a much better chance this actually was Mitch.

  “Laying it on a little thick?” she heard Sean mutter.

  “Can’t help it,” Mitch said, setting her back on her feet. “My future sister-in-law’s quite the looker, you lucky bastard.”

  Sean made a snorting sound, but she couldn’t tell if it was directed at the fact he’d called her his future sister-in-law, that she was a looker, or that he was a lucky bastard, so she ignored him.

  She’d noticed right off Mitch was a little taller and older than Sean, but his eyes were a little darker shade of blue and his hair was longer and scruffier. And he was leaner, too, though still pretty well built.

  She jumped when Sean slid his arm around her waist and put his face close to hers. “Stop ogling my brother.”

  “He’s taller than you.”

  “Older, too.”

  “Maybe, but what’s a few years?” When he made a growling sound, she laughed and elbowed him in the side. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

  “Of Mitch? Please.”

  “I could totally take you, little brother,” Mitch said. “Now, introduce me to your future grandmother-in-law so I can go back to my beer.”

  Emma mingled and laughed and ate too much and laughed some more as the day went on. Everybody was relaxed and nobody seemed particularly interested in watching her and Sean—or in pushing his buttons with wedding talk—so she relaxed, too.

  She was licking a Fudgsicle stick clean when her grandmother dragged a chair close to hers and sat down. “Hi, Gram. Having fun?”

  “I’m having a blast. Sean has a very nice family. And they really like you.”

  “I like them, too,” she said, and it wasn’t a lie. It was hard not to like them, even when they were giving her and Sean a hard time.

  “I’ve been thinking about it and I’m going to give you the house as a wedding present.”

  All the food and the cookies and the chips and the ice cream she’d eaten turned over in Emma’s stomach. “No, Gram.”

  “Yes. It’s pretty clear you’ve made it your home and I want you to have it. Your grandfather wanted you to have it, too. We’d talked about it before he passed away.”

  “I want it, too, Gram, but I want to buy it. It’s worth too much for you to just give it to me.”

  Gram scoffed at her words. “That monster’s been paid off forever. There’s no sense in putting another mortgage on it now. I’ve got enough money to keep me happy and you’ve got a business to keep going.”

  Emma struggled not to cry. She wanted the house. And she’d been willing to buy it under iffy circumstances. But she couldn’t let Gram give it to her as a wedding present when there wasn’t going to be a wedding.

  She took a deep breath. “Gram, I—”

  Bobby ran up on the deck and skidded to a stop in front of them. “It’s time for the Kowalski Fourth of July Football Game of Doom!”

  Cat laughed and pushed herself out of her seat. “We’ll talk about this some other time, Emma. Go have fun.”

  “I’m not sure I want to play football. Especially if there’s doom involved,” she said, but Bobby grabbed her hand and dragged her off t
he deck.

  They were divvied up into teams roughly by size, each with an assortment of men, women and children. Emma was on Sean’s team, which was good. She’d just hide behind him because the only thing she knew about football was that it involved a lot of hitting.

  It only took a few plays to see that the Kowalskis played by their own rules and the few they had were fluid. Mostly they served to ensure the smaller kids didn’t get plowed over, victims of the adults’ competitive streaks.

  Five minutes into the game, Emma somehow ended up with the ball. She squealed and looked around for somebody—anybody—to hand it off to, but there was nobody. Well, there was Danny, but he was doubled over in laughter.

  “Run, Emma,” Lisa yelled.

  She ran in the direction her friend was frantically waving her hand, but she only went a few feet before two very strong arms wrapped around her waist and then she was falling. Luckily, she landed on a body instead of the ground.

  “I love football,” Mitch said, grinning up at her.

  Emma grimaced and managed to get one of her knees on solid ground so she could push herself to her feet. He was quicker and freed himself to stand and help her up.

  “They should give you the ball more often,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling and the grin so like Sean’s—but not quite as naughty—in full force.

  “Hands off my girl,” Sean told him, pulling on Emma’s elbow.

  “You should do a better job of blocking for her.”

  “Let’s go,” Brian shouted.

  The very next play, Mitch intercepted Mike’s pass to Evan and turned to run toward the other end zone. He was halfway there when Sean took him down hard. They hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud that made Emma wince, and came up pushing and shoving.

  When Sean drew back his arm to throw the first punch, Mary blew her whistle from the sidelines. “Boys! Enough!”

  Instead of heading straight for the huddle, Sean walked to Emma and pulled her into his arms for a hard, almost punishing caveman kiss that made her skin sizzle and her knees go wobbly. Then he glared at his brother for a few long seconds and went back to his team, leaving Emma standing there breathless and discombobulated.