Cole followed her out the door and to his truck. “Does this mean I get to take advantage of you tonight?”
She snorted. “I’m not planning on getting that drunk.”
* * * *
The small country roads of Newhall, New Hampshire, were nearly desolate. It wasn’t a town that attracted summer tourists, leaf peepers, or winter skiers. Most bypassed the uneven, pothole-ridden roads on their drive to the White Mountains, which the townsfolk appreciated. It wouldn’t have appealed to Emma as a teenager, but leaving Boston at twenty-two and moving to the small town six years ago with her mother had been the best thing for her family. Not that she had much of a family before her mother married Cole’s older half-brother, Connor McKay.
Connor loved Meg more than life itself, and soon after he married Emma’s mom, they became pregnant with twins. Emma loved her little brother and sister more than life itself. Between them, Connor, and his extended family, Emma and Meg had never been happier. Since blending their families, Cole had become one of her best friends. He and Emma were the most alike. They lived adjacently to each other in one of the duplexes the Tuckers owned and had the same interests. Sports, socializing, the outdoors, and a good night out. Mason, though, was another story. He may have been Cole’s identical twin, but outside of physical appearance, all similarities ended there.
Mason was aloof, serious, and anything but social. In the handful of years Emma had been part of the McKay-Tucker clan, she had yet to figure him out.
Cole pulled up to her mother and Connor’s waterfront home where her two most favorite people in the world greeted them. Hannah’s blonde pigtails swung back and forth as her little legs pumped hard to beat her twin brother, Tucker, to the truck.
“Sissy!” Her smile grew as she leaped into Emma’s arms.
“Hey, princess. I missed you! Why, I think you’ve grown since I saw you last week!” Emma kissed Hannah’s nose, shifted the little body in her arms, and then whispered in her ear. “Are you wearing big girl undies?”
“Yeah, just like you. Wanna see?” Hannah squirmed out of Emma’s arms and lifted her pink sundress, revealing Cinderella underwear. “They’re princess undies. Do you have princess undies?”
“Yeah, Sissy, show us your undies,” Cole teased behind her.
Ignoring him, Emma whispered in Hannah’s ear. “I’m very proud of you, princess. You let me know if you have to go pee on the potty. Okay?”
Cole scooped up Hannah and put her on his shoulders.
“She peed on the floor this morning and Daddy stepped in it,” Tucker said. “It was disgusting.” He was only four, but he tried really hard to act like one of “the boys.” Granted “the boys” worked pretty hard at acting like they were four.
Cole looked up at his little niece perched high on his shoulders. “Don’t pee on Uncle Cole, okay, princess?”
Emma hid her smile and kneeled in front of her little brother. “Well, Mister Man, I recall not long ago when a certain young, dark-haired, blue-eyed, little-big brother had a few accidents of his own.” Tucker loved being the big brother, even if it was by a mere three minutes, and tried to act like he didn’t like being Emma’s little brother. “You helping Dad with the grill tonight?”
“Yup. He said we can make s’mores later too.”
“Cool.” She reached for his hand and walked around the house to the lake in the back where the fun had already started.
“Sissy and Uncole are here!” Hannah shouted from her perch. Her blending of Uncle and Cole would never grow tiresome. Of course the grown-ups twisted Hannah’s endearment to Uncool.
Cole sauntered up to Meg with one of his typical pickup lines. “Your beauty makes the morning sun look like the dull glimmer of the moon.” He hugged Emma’s mom and kissed her cheek.
Emma rolled her eyes. Meg, Emma’s mother—although many would say she resembled an older sister—smiled.
“Hi, kids.” She took the bowl from Emma and gave her a warm, one-armed hug. “We’ve got chowder, every salad under the sun, and lots of sweets. The boys only eat meat, chips, and beer at these gatherings, so the rest is up to us. Hope you’re hungry.”
“Starved. What can I do to help? Is Paige here yet?” Paige and Emma had become instant best friends when Emma and her mom first moved to Newhall. Ironically, the first friend Meg had made was Annie, Paige’s mom and Connor’s sister. Rick, Annie’s husband, was a quiet psychiatrist who never psychoanalyzed but was always there when someone needed a confidant.
“She, Annie, and Rick are riding over in the boat. Connor went fishing with Mason and their dad, but they should be back soon. Feel like going for a swim? The kids have been asking to go.”
“Sure. I just need to go in and change.”
The women walked into the house while Cole popped open a beer and played with his little nephew and niece. The house was always welcoming, a little different from back in the day when Connor lived in it as a bachelor. Landmines of Legos, Barbies, and trucks littered corners of the house. Artwork covered the stainless steel fridge and feminine touches like candles, curtains, and primitive framed prints softened the massive house and made it feel like a loving home.
Emma envied her mother, not the first thirty-six years of her mother’s life, but every moment after. Since Meg met Connor, her life changed into a fairytale. An amazing father, a popular teacher, a kickass coach, and the most devoted, loyal husband any woman could dream of. Finding true love had never been on Emma’s to-do list. She didn’t think it would even make her bucket list either.
She’d had her share of relationships, never without a date or a list of eligible candidates, but no one ever made her think about happily ever after. And at twenty-eight, she was too young to be thinking about forever. It was her time to play the field, sow her wild oats, something her mother never got the chance to do. In another five or six years, she’d start thinking about the white dress and the trip down the aisle. Maybe. For now it was all fun and games, exactly how she liked it.
“I have some bathing suits Tracy sent me I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing.” Meg laughed at Emma’s scowl and redirected. “Because I don’t have the body I once had before those twins stretched me like a hot air balloon. I’m too old to be flitting around in bikinis.” Meg dug out a bag from the back of her closet and pulled out a few bathing suits, tags still attached.
“I’m sure Connor would disagree,” Emma teased. “Oh, these are cute. I’ll take the green halter top one.” She went into the master bath to change.
Tracy had been her mother’s best friend since they met in college. Tracy, being gay, and Meg, a very young sixteen-year-old college freshman with a baby, made them the perfect odd couple. He had majored in fashion design and obtained a job as a stylist in New York City while Meg had majored in science education and parenting 101. The two had been best friends ever since. Uncle Tracy somehow managed to fit in and befriend the McKay-Tucker testosterone-filled family.
The side benefit of the relationship was a closet chocked full of designer duds both Meg and Emma barely wore. When Emma was in high school, she’d loved the new clothes Tracy sent. But they didn’t serve much purpose in college or in her current job as a physical therapist. Her mother wore the business suits but didn’t have much need for the cocktail dresses and evening gowns. And Emma’s fashion sense leaned more toward athletic shorts and a pair of Nikes.
“So, Em, are you and Cole getting along okay? I mean, living next door to each other?”
“Yeah, it’s been a lot of fun. Granted I’ve only been living there for two months.” Emma emerged from the bathroom in the new Dolce & Gabbana suit. Her mother dressed in a slimming, black one-piece and wraparound skirt.
“And are you two…”
“Friends, Mom. He’s like a brother to me.” No one could deny how incredibly hot and suave Cole Tucker was. His magnetic charm was what made them best friends. But they’d never had any serious sexual chemistry.
“I know, but you dated before,
and I thought…well, since you’re practically in the same house…”
“Mom, we almost hooked up for like two seconds. We never dated.” She put air quotes around the word. “And we’re not roommates. It’s a duplex. We’re cool.”
“Uh, huh,” she said skeptically.
“Whatever, come on, let’s take the kids for a swim.”
They changed Hannah and Tucker into their swimsuits and waded out into the lake. The cool water felt refreshing with the July sun beating down on her shoulders. Hannah clung to Emma’s legs, not wanting to risk falling down in the water while Tucker tested out his water wings. There was so much splashing and laughing they hardly heard the canoe dock beside them.
“There are my favorite grandkids,” George Tucker called, barely waiting for Connor and Mason to tie up the boat before climbing out.
“Bumpa!” they yelled and splashed.
Hannah attached herself like a barnacle to Emma. “Carry me to Grampy, Emma!”
“Hey, Bumpa, catch anything?” Emma asked.
“A couple of grandkids.” He chuckled as Tucker climbed up his grandfather’s body. “Found another kid and grandkid out on the lake.” He winked. Paige and her parents pulled up in their fishing boat and docked behind him.
“Hey, you.” Paige hopped out of the boat and jumped into the water to hug Emma. “I haven’t seen you lately.”
“Sorry. Busy with the new job, moving in, and all. How’s summer vacation so far?”
“Awesome.” Paige kissed Hannah on the head. “I get to see my cousins and hopefully my best friend. One of the perks of teaching—summers off.”
“Yeah, well, I still can’t believe you came back here to teach with your mom and Connor and all your old teachers. It’s just too weird. But I’m thrilled to have you back home.” Emma set Hannah down in the water. After graduating from the University of New Hampshire, Paige had wanted to explore a little and took a job teaching abroad in Japan. But she missed her friends and family and returned to Newhall a few weeks ago, landing a teaching job in her former elementary school.
“It’s been sort of weird this past week, setting up my classroom and talking with Mrs. Bertrand. Who, by the way, has to be at least eighty. She was old when I had her in second grade. Besides, it’s not like I’m at the high school. First grade is a far cry from the good ol’ days at NHS. So…” Paige looked over her shoulder at Mason and then up on the lawn at Cole. “How do you liking living with Cole? You guys hook up yet?”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Geesh, will everyone get over it already? We’re not living together, and we’re just friends.”
“Friends that—”
“Don’t you dare say it Paige Thorne,” she growled.
“Okay, okay, calm down.” Paige laughed. “I can see it’s a touchy subject.”
Emma trudged out of the water to their towels. She dried off her sister and wrapped her in a giant princess towel. “Want Sissy to get you dressed, princess, or do you want to stay in your bathing suit?”
“I want to swim with Uncle Mason.”
“Oh,” Emma said, surprised. He stood on the dock by the boat putting the fishing poles away. She scooped up the princess cocoon and went to him.
“Hi, Mason.”
He eyed her abruptly, up, then down, and then back up again. She wasn’t sure if he was checking her out or if he was simply nervous. “Hi…Emma. Hey, Hannah Banana.” A weak smile appeared on his lips for his niece.
“I wanna swim wif you,” Hannah said, reaching out her arms to him.
“Oh, okay.” Mason took her awkwardly in his arms and unwrapped the towel dropping it on the dock. He stripped out of his shirt and shoes and carried his niece to the water, ignoring Emma. “Want to walk on my feet again?”
Emma couldn’t help it if her eyes bugged out and latched on to his pecks. Where has he been hiding those? As he waded in deeper, his trunks soaked up the lake water and molded beautifully to his perfect backside.
Emma wasn’t sure what to make of the image. She never really connected with Mason during their family gatherings. But her eyes sure as heck connected now. Shortly after she moved to Newhall, he had left to go to grad school and then lived in New York City. He came home for holiday events, but never struck up conversations with Emma. Instead, he avoided her.
Where Cole was an extrovert in every way possible, Mason was the exact opposite—an introvert to the extreme. Or at least toward her. A computer genius with a prestigious job as a computer hacker, a legal one, companies from all over New England called for Mason’s services, or so she heard. Computers were not her forte. That six-pack and sexy v-thing had to mean serious gym time or a crazy-ass sports addiction. The burst of desire in her belly confused and delighted her.
Mason and Cole were identical twins. They had the same short, black hair, dark chocolate eyes, and Matt Damon dimples. Cole’s physique mirrored his brother’s, so why did the quiet one turn her head?
Rolling her tongue back in her mouth, Emma turned and went inside, suddenly feeling very exposed.
After changing back into her jean shorts and pink spaghetti strap tank, she combed out her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail—her go-to hairstyle. While her mother exuded style and confidence, Emma rocked the comfortable style. The irony of it was that Meg Fulton McKay was the most insecure woman known to mankind and used her style—compliments of personal shopper and best friend Tracy James—to mask her weaknesses while Emma felt strong and competent and couldn’t care less what she looked like. But for some reason, unbeknownst to her—or so she told herself—she pawed through her mother’s makeup bag and applied a touch of mascara and a coat of lip gloss. It had nothing to do with the fact that the incredibly delicious Mason happened to be outside swimming with Hannah. No, nothing at all.
* * * *
Sipping her third Bud Light, Emma draped her arm across her stepfather’s broad shoulders. “What do you say we start a game of touch football?”
“You’re on, sweetheart. Let’s gather our victims.”
They were able to rope in a few willing players. Mason wanted to back out, but Connor dragged him in to the game, promising he could be on Connor’s team. By the sight of him without his shirt on—oh baby!—Mason could hold his own, but he always seemed insecure in large settings, even though everyone surrounding him was family.
Emma, Cole, Kent—Connor’s friend and assistant football coach at the high school—and Bumpa made one team. Connor, Mason, Paige, and Rick rounded out the other team. After three five-minute quarters, the score was tied.
“Okay, boys, it’s our last shot. We get them to fumble this possession, and then we score on our next drive. The game will be ours,” Emma growled to her teammates in the huddle.
“You kill me, Emma. I wish I had you on our team in high school.” Kent laughed.
“I can give out free advice on the sidelines this fall if you want.” She winked.
Emma put her game face on and worked her best to intimidate Connor, but he only smirked at her. She knew the play. He would pass it to Mason because that was the unexpected. She drew her eyes toward her victim. His jet-black hair glistened with sweat, his dark eyes bounced from Connor to Emma to Cole to the end zone. Paige hiked the ball, Connor stepped back, and Emma chased downfield after Mason keeping her eye on the ball. Connor fired a perfect spiral right into Mason’s hands. She heard the thump as he trapped the pigskin between his hands and glorious chest, and the wild, competitive side in her went in to overdrive.
Shouts from her teammates rang through her ears. She almost lost her footing but recovered and squared her bare feet in the lush green grass, bracing herself to make the block of the decade. Forgetting the rules of the game, she launched her body at her target, jumping onto Mason and knocking him to the ground. They both landed hard, but he shielded her fall.
She lay there sprawled out on top of him, panting hard, trying to catch her breath. There were muffled noises in the background. Her family hollering, callin
g her name, calling Mason’s. But the labored breathing of her and her victim’s drowned it out. When she thought she could move again, Emma sat up, straddling Mason. His skin had turned ashen, his left shoulder had bent extremely out of place, and his face crumpled in pain.
“Crap. Mason, did I hurt you?”
“No,” he moaned and closed his eyes.
Her years of schooling and time on the job as a physical therapist told her otherwise. He dislocated his shoulder.
“I need to ask you a few questions, okay?”
He sighed. “Let me up.”
“No, I’m going to fix your shoulder for you.”
“I got it,” he grumbled moving under her.
“Mason, chill. I’m trained to do this.”
“I’ve done it before. I can knock it back in to place.”
Ignoring his insistence to fix himself, she said, “Was it an anterior or posterior dislocation?”
“Anterior. Now get off me.”
Emma tried not to be phased by the fact that she still straddled him; as a trained professional it should not affect her in any way. She could totally handle a shirtless patient who had an impressive six-pack, sweat-slickened skin, and a body hard as a rock. Totally.
She bent his left elbow to a ninety-degree angle and rotated his arm and shoulder inward toward the chest, making an “L” shape. She felt him stiffen with pain and roamed her gaze over his body, noticing his tight jaw and clenched fists. Slowly, but steadily, she rotated his arm and shoulder outward, being sure to keep his upper arm stationary.
“Work with me, Mason. Let me know if it’s too much.”
Watching his face and trying to gauge the rate of his pain, Emma continued the same process, holding on to his wrist with the other arm and pushing slowly. When his lower arm went past the ninety-degree mark again, she listened and waited until she felt his shoulder pop back into place.
Skimming her hands up his muscled arm and gently massaging his shoulder, she asked, “How does that feel?”
A flood of relief came over his face, and he let out the breath he was holding. Emma rotated his arm in the other direction, back toward his chest then waited until the color returned to his face. While in work mode, the rest of the world halted. She wasn’t aware of the audience surrounding them until Mason opened his eyes and scowled at his onlookers.
False Start (The McKay-Tucker Men Series Book 1) Page 20