A Hot Winter (New Adult Romance) (The Attraction Series Book 2)

by Lake, C. J.

  “No!” Emma said, looking up from her phone. “Don’t do that. It will look like I care, and I don’t.”

  “Okay…”

  “Really, Andy. Why is it so hard to accept that Matt and I are only going to be friends?”

  “Because you said you found him cute. You never say that about anyone.”

  “Well, that was before I knew who he was.” Or more to the point: that Matt wasn’t an anonymous, two-dimensional stranger, guest-starring in Emma’s life for a passing moment. If her life was a script, Matt’s credit would have been: Guy At Hardware Store. But discovering he was Tragan’s best friend…it changed everything. It meant that Matt Winter was a real flesh-and-blood male she could fall for. She could hardly explain any of this to Andy, because Andy wouldn’t understand why falling for a guy would be a bad thing. (Bless her little sister’s naïve, idealistic heart.)

  Just then the door to the apartment opened. Both Andy and Emma rose from the couch, as Tragan entered. His face immediately lit up at the sight of Andy. “Hey, babe,” he said.

  “Hi,” she said, meeting him halfway for a kiss.

  “I didn’t think you’d be home yet. Hey, Emma.”

  “Hi.” Emma felt a pang of envy, watching them--though her sister definitely deserved to be happy.

  Tragan turned his attention back to Andy, explaining, “I just got home from class, but then I realized I forgot my ipad in the car, so I went out to get it. Is Matt still here?”

  Emma’s mouth dropped open.

  Had he just said…?

  “What?” Andy said, surprised. “Matt’s here?”

  “Yeah, didn’t you get my voicemail? I asked him to stop by and take a look at the dishwasher. But I told him that I’d let you know, and that you’ve got a lot of studying and school stuff going on, so not to bother you.”

  “Oh. I haven’t checked my voicemail lately,” Andy said. “Matt can fix dishwashers?”

  “Yeah, he knows all about appliance repair from his dad.”

  Stunned, Emma stood there, her pulse suddenly skittering. Had Matt overheard her whole conversation with Andy just now?

  Suddenly he emerged from the kitchen, walking down the short hall to the living room. Heat filled Emma’s face, even though she reminded herself that there was always the chance that he hadn’t heard. The kitchen was on the other side of the apartment, after all, and maybe his head had been buried behind a large appliance at the time. It was all she could hope.

  And in fact, Matt’s face didn’t reveal a thing. “Hey,” he said, looking first at Emma, then at Andy. “Tray--you need a new inlet valve. Just order the part online and I can put it in.”

  “Awesome. Thanks, bro.”

  “Sure.”

  “Um, Tragan, can I talk to you for second?” Andy said suddenly. “In private.”

  “Uh, yeah,” he said, letting her take him by the hand.

  “We’ll be right back,” Andy told Matt and Emma, as she pulled Tragan into her bedroom and quietly shut the door.

  Once they were left alone, Matt gave Emma another brief smile and said, “Well, I’m gonna get going.” As he headed toward the door, he added, “What about tomorrow?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, watching him shrug on his jacket.

  “How’s two o’clock?” When Emma remained confused, he explained: “To start the painting, I mean.”

  “Oh.” So he had heard her talking to Andy. Now he was looking at her matter-of-factly; there was no gloating, there was no trying to call her out. There was also no point in arguing.

  “Okay,” Emma said, “Two o’clock. Thanks, Matt.”

  “Sure.”

  On his way out the door, he paused--as if considering whether or not he should turn back. Then, glancing over his shoulder, he said, “By the way, Emma, if you ever want to know about my love life, you should just ask me directly.” Scalding heat flooded her cheeks, as her belly began to flutter. She was too momentarily struck to come up with a witty remark or decent response. Making it worse, Matt gave her a knowing, sexy grin that flustered her even more, as he told her, “I’m an open book.”

  ~

  “What’s up?” Tragan asked as soon as he and Andy were in her room.

  “Nothing, I just wanted to give Emma and Matt a minute or two alone.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I…well, I’m not sure, but I think maybe there’s something happening between them.”

  Visibly surprised, Tragan echoed, “Something? Like a sexual something?”

  “Yes--well, not yet--but potentially. The look on his face when he saw her just now, the way she acts when I bring him up…” Flipping some blonde hair over her shoulder, Andy asked, “Hey, did Matt say anything about her to you?”

  Initially Tragan shook his head, but then he remembered. “Oh, wait, actually yes. He said that your sister’s pretty.”

  “Oh, my gosh!” Andy enthused. “Okay--now think carefully,” she instructed, making what looked like firm traffic signals with her hands. “What were Matt’s exact words?’

  “Um…‘Andy’s sister’s pretty,’” Tragan said. The twist of Andy’s lips seemed to say: Would it kill you not to be such a guy and to bring some nuance to your recaps? (He’d gotten the look before, so he was somewhat familiar with it.) He held up his hands. “That’s all I remember. In my defense, it was Poker Night. I was in the zone.”

  “Right. And you were probably too busy bossing everyone around,” she teased.

  “And winning,” he said. “Don’t forget winning.”

  With a giggle, she said, “All right, well, let’s give them a minute or two alone to talk, okay? Just trust me.”

  With a grin, Tragan leaned down and brushed his lips across Andy’s cheek. “I always do, babe.”

  Chapter 11

  The following afternoon, Matt was spackling when he heard Emma let out a scream. Concerned, he froze for half a second, then abandoned the kitchen and crossed through the living room. “Emma?” he called out. “Are you okay?”

  “Oh…yes!” she called from upstairs. “I’m fine!” But her voice sounded strained.

  “Uh, okay…” Matt replied, standing at the foot of the stairs, unconvinced.

  “Aah!”

  Quickly, Matt jogged up the steps to make sure she was okay. He spotted her in the first room at the top of the stairs. She was crouched against the dresser with a big toy truck poised in her hand like a weapon. The sight of her so vulnerable and adorable sent his protective instinct into overdrive.

  “What’s wrong?” Matt asked from the open doorway.

  For a second, she searched his face with troubled eyes. Sunlight pouring from the window lit them up, making them appear bright green. “Nothing, really,” she claimed.

  “Well--c’mon. I can’t just ignore a girl screaming.”

  “It’s embarrassing.” Matt waited for her to explain. “It’s just….a big spider. And I don’t know where it went! But I have to find it, because I can’t have it hiding in Ben’s toy box. That’s where I think it jumped, but it happened so fast, I’m not sure now.”

  Cautiously Matt entered the room, not wanting to invade her space, but wanting to help--especially if it was this easy of a problem. A spider? Really?

  As if reading his mind, Emma insisted, “It was so big, Matt. Huge.” Her pretty eyes widened even more, as she blinked up at him. “What if it’s poisonous? I have to find it!”

  With her shoulders tensed up and her eyes darting nervously around, as if the spider was on a stealth ops mission and might attack her at any moment, Matt almost wanted to laugh. Instead, he tried to reassure her. “First of all, I really doubt it’s poisonous. Now, you said it was over here?” he asked, walking over to the toy box.

  “Yes--it kind of sprung out at me when I was going through Ben’s things, deciding what to pack and what to give to the Goodwill, and then--aah!” Emma yelped and slammed the toy truck on the floor. Then she clapped a hand to her heart.

&nbs
p; “You just killed a LEGO,” Matt pointed out.

  Expelling a shaky sigh, she said, “Sorry, I thought I saw it.” As he crouched down in front of the toy box, Emma said, “Um, listen I didn’t mean to alarm you. You can go back to whatever you were doing in the kitchen. I’ve got this.”

  “Clearly.”

  “Like I said, it could be poisonous…” Emma reiterated, as she rose up from her crouching position and approached Matt’s back.

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Really?” she said, sounding hopeful as she knelt down beside him.

  “I’ll find it,” he assured her, and started moving toys out of the box.

  “Be careful,” she warned him. “It’s very diabolical.”

  Matt chuckled at that. “Really.”

  “Seriously! It literally sprung up at me--then scampered across my hand--” Suddenly she whipped her head around to see if it was on her shoulder. Then exhaled with relief. Matt held in a laugh, because he didn’t want her to think he was making fun of her. As he worked his way through the toys in the box, looking for the spider, Emma said, “By the way, I really hate to trouble you with this.”

  “It’s a spider,” he said casually. “It’s no trouble. It’s nothing.”

  “Nothing, ha! I’m telling you it’s the size of…”

  When she struggled for the perfect comparison, Matt said, “A LEGO block?” Emma narrowed her eyes at him, but a reluctant grin played at her lips.

  After he pulled out a few more toys and set them on the rug, she yelped, “Oh, God, there it is!” And pointed to a giant black spider on top of Mr. Potato Head.

  Matt picked it up and shook its wobbly body in the air. “It’s rubber.”

  “Oh! Ew. What a horrible toy. Where did Ben even get that? I certainly didn’t buy it.”

  “Emma, the freaky black rubber spider is a kid classic,” Matt informed her. “I had one, too.”

  Grimacing, Emma said, “Classic or not…it must have been designed by an angry divorced father. Who probably had to pay a lot of alimony.”

  Laughing quietly, Matt said, “Definitely possible. Wait--I see it. In the corner there.”

  “Where?” Emma said, suddenly grabbing his arm as she leaned over to see for herself. Matt dropped his eyes to her fingers that were clutching his bicep. “Sorry,” Emma said, quickly sliding her hand off of him, which was a shame.

  “Damn, that actually is big,” Matt murmured, eying the furry, squirming spider huddled in the far right corner of the toy box, partially concealed by a tub of Play-doh.

  “Didn’t you believe me?” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  “So do you think you can kill it?”

  “Of course,” he said again. Then he grabbed a Frisbee in one hand, and put his arm around her shoulder to pull her close with the other. “Don’t look,” he said, as Emma shut her eyes and let herself fall against him. Pressed snug against him, he caught more than a trace of her scent. It was orangey and sweet and teased his already strong attraction to her. If he was holding her for real, and not in a moment of pure terror, he could lean down right now and kiss her neck…he could breathe in more of her. “Just keep your eyes closed,” he told her and in one swift motion, smacked down the Frisbee.

  A quiet moment passed. With her face buried against his chest, Emma spoke softly. “Is it dead?”

  “Done,” Matt said.

  Slowly, she slid her eyes open and peeled herself off of him. Then relief seemed to wash over her. “Thank you, thank you!” Emma said, hopping to her feet. “I’ll get some tissues to clean it up.”

  When she reentered a minute later, Matt extended his hand to take the tissues from her. “I got it.”

  “I don’t even understand it,” Emma remarked as Matt leaned down. “I’ve never seen a spider that big. Oh, wait--unless it’s because of all the packing I’ve been doing. In the attic. I must have disturbed something when I was up there going through stuff.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed.

  “Oh, no, Matt! What if he’s not the only one? What if there’s a whole nest up there?”

  “Spiders don’t live in nests,” he pointed out reasonably. “But I can take a look if you want, make sure there’s no more up there.”

  “Really?” she said eagerly, but then took it back. “No. No, I…that’s too much to ask of you.”

  “You’re not asking.”

  “Still. It’s not your official job description,” she stated almost primly. Moments like this he really missed the relaxed, flirtatious girl from the hardware store. He understood that he was working for her at the moment, so she wanted to keep things professional--she’d certainly made that clear with her body language--but still…

  Matt couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “Oh, Emma, lighten up,” he said. He could tell his bluntness surprised her, but he continued: “If Tragan were here doing the job, wouldn’t he kill a spider for you?”

  “Yes, I assume so…”

  “So just relax,” he told her.

  The doorbell rang on their way downstairs.

  “Oh, I almost forgot!” Emma said, realizing the time. “Marta Vincent is coming over. She’s a writer for the magazine,” she explained. “She’s a total eccentric who never shuts up, so you’re going to want to save yourself and disappear into the kitchen as soon as possible.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” he said agreeably.

  When they reached the foyer, Matt started toward the living room, while Emma went to answer the door, but before she opened it, she called to him. “Wait.” He stopped and turned back. “By the way…‘lighten up’? Am I really that bad?”

  “No. No offense, all right? Sometimes you just seem…a little uptight. That’s all.”

  “I’m really not like that,” Emma told him honestly. “I think it’s just the chaos of trying to move so fast and working from home and the holidays coming up…” She left out one more factor: her maddening, palpable sexual attraction to him. “I’m not used to having a workman around,” she added. “Oh--sorry--is ‘workman’ the preferred term?”

  “I see the lightening up hasn’t started yet,” Matt remarked dryly. Emma laughed. “See, there ya go,” he said, smiling.

  God, she really should relax, because there was something very disarming about Matt.

  Now he took a few steps closer to her and said, “Look, Emma, yes I’m here doing work. But I’m here as a friend, too. I mean, Tragan’s my best friend and Andy’s your sister, so… they’re getting married. I’m sure we’ll see each other a lot over time…” His voice trailed off, probably because the logic spoke for itself.

  Really, he was right. The best thing she could do was relax and embrace him as friend, rather than letting herself get self-conscious and flustered over what amounted to nothing.

  “Okay--friends?” Emma said, smiling warmly, feeling the tension ease from her face.

  “Friends,” Matt agreed.

  As Emma watched him go toward the kitchen, she smiled, because somehow this felt like a turning point.

  Chapter 12

  An hour later, Emma was stuck in her office with Marta Vincent, listening to her go off on every tangent possible, instead of focusing on the supposed reason she was there: to discuss her latest installment of Rodent Robot Apocalypse. Emma had a feeling the fame was going to Marta’s head. Though stories about cyborg dystopias and rodent mutinies would typically be a niche market, Marta Vincent had recently managed to get her new series optioned for a movie. Now, her arrogance had triple-folded. Unfortunately, it made her more tedious than ever.

  It didn’t help that Derek, the owner of Alien Notion, gushed over Marta (to her face)--now more than ever wanting to keep his “star” happy so she would renew her contract and continue to publish in the magazine. Anytime Emma needed to communicate with her, Marta insisted on a meeting, rather than a phone call or an email exchange. Today was the first time that the meeting had to take place in Emma’s house rather than at the Alien
Notion office.

  Still, as much as Emma longed to escape this tiny office--with Marta’s voluminous ensemble taking up most of the space--she’d rather Marta be here than in the kitchen. In the past hour, the woman had already come up with three separate excuses to bother Matt. The first time, she “sensed a presence in the kitchen” and ducked her head through the archway to say hello. The second time, she said she was parched and needed a drink of water. As Emma had risen to get it, Marta feigned humility and insisted she serve herself.

  The final straw came when she’d excused herself to use the bathroom. It wasn’t hard for Emma to guess why even after the toilet had flushed and the sink water had run, the journey back was taking fifteen minutes. Sure enough, she’d found Marta in the kitchen, annoying Matt with her pompous babble. Of course Matt was too polite to show boredom or to usher her along, but Emma had to assume the woman was distracting him. Even though Marta was over fifty-years-old, her personality resembled that of a child’s--self-absorbed, unaware of how she was being perceived, and struck with some variation of ADD.

  Now Marta was planted back in her chair, toying with a bulky swath of cloth that draped around her in one of the most complicated-looking caftan dresses Emma had ever seen. And they were finally discussing rodent robots. “As I said, the story is excellent. The characters are developing well,” Emma commented. “You have a real gift for simile,” she added, exaggerating. “My only concern is the sudden appearance of the mutant lemur army--”

  Marta’s head angled toward the office door for a moment. “How long did you say he’s been working here?”

  Matt again. What was the woman’s obsession?

  “Just a few days,” Emma said evenly. “About the lemur army--”

  “Hmm, well, he seems very personable. When I introduced myself, he made good eye contact, firm handshake. A very manly handshake. Not one of those delicate handshakes.”

  Emma restrained an eye-roll. “Yes, he is personable. Let’s get back to the story, though, because in this section, after the second apocalypse--”