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

by Lake, C. J.

  As he worked quietly, Emma sat beside him watching. There was something nice about it, an unspoken kind of intimacy between them. Matt wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Emma said, “Oh, I need to go pick the boys up from school,” and rose to her feet. “Are you okay here?”

  “Sure,” Matt said then looked up at her. “By the way, I don’t think your washing machine is level. I could hear it vibrating and banging against the wall.”

  “Right, it always does that,” she said.

  With a boyish kind of grin, Matt said, “Yeah, it’s not supposed to.”

  “Oh.”

  “It’s really not good for your machine. Do you mind if I take a look? The front legs just need adjusting.”

  “Well, what would that entail?” Emma asked cautiously.

  “A wrench,” Matt said. “And if that doesn’t work, a hammer.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay, thanks, Matt,” she said--then paused meaningfully and gave him the softest, sincerest smile he’d ever seen. “And I mean…thanks for everything,” she added, as her pretty eyes cast down toward the train station.

  ~

  “So Matt stayed for dinner?”

  “Yes,” Emma said, nestling her cell phone between her ear and shoulder as she set a pan in the dishwasher. “He didn’t have much choice. Yesterday, he’d told Jake and Ben ‘next time,’ and apparently they took that literally.”

  “Of course,” Andy said with a laugh.

  “I explained to Matt that people under ten years old are very literal.”

  “So was it fun?”

  “Yes,” Emma admitted with a giddy sort of smile, thinking of how Matt had joked around with her sons and how much fun they’d had. “They were really laughing hard when Matt told them a shrimp joke.”

  “What’s that?” Andy asked curiously.

  “A joke about a shrimp,” Emma said as though that should have been clear.

  “Thank you, I understood that,” Andy said. “I meant: what was the joke?”

  “Oh. Something about why a shrimp doesn’t like to share. Because he’s a little shellfish,” she explained. As silly as the joke was, Emma kind of giggled now anyway thinking of her sons’ reaction. Like typical little kids, they were doubled over, cracking up hysterically. “What I couldn’t believe was how Matt put together this whole complicated train station and didn’t even bother looking at the instructional manual--which was approximately a hundred pages long,” Emma remarked.

  “Oh, that makes sense. Matt’s dyslexic. A long, tedious instruction manual is probably the last thing he’d want to bother with.”

  “Dyslexic? Really?” Emma said. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Yeah, Tragan told me once,” Andy replied. “He said that Matt gets headaches sometimes if he reads for too long.”

  “Huh,” Emma murmured. Reflecting on it now, certain things made sense that she hadn’t paid attention to initially. Like why Matt preferred a tablet with icons to a pen and paper when he was making notations and recording measurements for his job. Although he could read and write, he probably figured: why tax his brain more than necessary? And hadn’t he told her once that he could never do her job, because reading and writing all day would give him a headache?

  As she pushed the dishwasher door closed, Andy said, “So…what time did Matt leave?”

  Her sister seemed to be fishing in a subtle, non-threatening way. Emma didn’t want Andy to get her hopes up, thinking that she and Matt had something going now--or worse, for Andy to dream up a scenario in which Emma didn’t move to New York, but stayed in Massachusetts for “love.” (Her sister was sweet, but cluelessly romantic like that). Nevertheless, Emma admitted the truth. “Nine o’clock.”

  “What! Nine o’clock at night!” Andy exclaimed.

  “Well, after dinner Jake put on a magic show,” Emma explained.

  “And then what?”

  “Nothing. He left after that. Oh--but, conveniently, my next-door neighbor meandered up to our front porch just as Matt was on his way out.”

  “Was it that nosy lady, Cheryl, you told me about once?”

  “Yes. She approached Matt and me outside, craning her neck all around, expressing concern about the ‘strange truck’ she’d seen in my driveway lately.”

  “Hmm, subtle way to force an introduction,” Andy remarked.

  “Exactly,” Emma laughed. “It was really ridiculous and obvious. But whatever--it’s not like I have anything to hide,” she added, hoping she didn’t sound defensive. “Matt’s here, legitimately doing work, and he’s…a friend. So…”

  “Uh-huh,” Andy agreed, though her tone was noncommittal.

  “Well, I should get going,” Emma hastened to add, suddenly self-conscious about all the gushing she’d been doing about Matt. Anyway, she still needed to tuck Jake in and read Ben a story before bed. As soon as they hung up, Emma realized that she hadn’t even mentioned how Matt had gotten Ben and Jake to say thank you to her for the meal.

  Then again…it was probably just as well.

  Chapter 18

  “Oh, my God, where’s Andy?” Pellican shouted over the music blaring through the Billiard Grill, as he lurched through a crowd of people to reach Tragan. “Tray, what the hell! You promised you’d bring her!”

  “Relax!” Tragan said, jerking his head back. “She’s in the bathroom, Jesus.”

  “Oh!” Pellican exclaimed, clutching his chest with a sigh. “Thank God.”

  Tragan shot a questioning glance to Bardo, who was trailing a few steps behind Pellican. “What’s up?”

  “It’s his first date with this girl,” Bardo explained casually through a mouthful of pretzels.

  “Technically, yeah,” Pellican agreed. “We’ve talked on the phone since my cousin’s wedding, but this will be our first time meeting out.”

  “Cool, so what are you nervous about?” Tragan asked.

  “It’s not like I’m nervous,” Pellican insisted. As usual, the guy didn’t realize how defensive he sounded. “It’s just--shit, that’s her! Oh--no, wait. False alarm,” he said, exhaling a breath.

  “Good thing he’s not nervous,” Bardo quipped.

  Chuckling, Tragan said, “Seriously, man, no worries. But I don’t get it. If it’s your first date with this girl, why do you want me and Andy here?”

  “I, uh, just thought it would be good to have another female here. You know, for girl talk,” Pellican claimed. “All right, I’m gonna wait for Janine by the front.”

  Once he left, Tragan looked at Bardo.

  “Chick’s too smart for him,” Bardo elaborated. “That’s what this is all about. He feels inferior to her intellect. I’m paraphrasing. Anyway, he wants to impress her. That’s why he asked me to come tonight.”

  Tragan ran a hand over his jaw. “Are you saying you make him look smart?”

  “No, no. I make him look good at pool.”

  “Oh…right, good call,” Tragan said, nodding, “You kind of suck at pool. No offense.”

  “I’m fine with it,” Bardo declared, as he stuck another pretzel in his mouth. “Bar trivia is my game.”

  “True.”

  “Now the reason Pellican wants Andy here is because she’s like a brainiac. She can keep the conversation going in case Janine starts speaking Latin or something.”

  “God, is she that bad?” Tragan said with a laugh.

  Bardo shrugged. “Never met her. All I know is that she has red hair and blue eyes and Pellican is sweating her.”

  “Wow,” Tragan said, surprised. He rarely saw Pellican get that infatuated. Then he mentioned offhandedly, “Hey, it’s a good thing Matt’s not here tonight. He kills everyone at pool.”

  “Where is he anyway?”

  Tragan shrugged. “Not sure. But I figured that since Pellican’s been crashing with him, maybe he needs a break from the guy,” he joked.

  “Who are you talking about?” Andy said conversationally, coming up beh
ind them. Tragan put his arm around her.

  “Matt,” Bardo said. “He’s been keeping more to himself lately. Have you noticed, Tray?”

  “Not really.”

  “He’s been working on my sister’s house,” Andy mentioned. “I think they’ve been bonding.” She slipped Tragan a sly look and he said nothing. He knew that Andy was hoping sparks would fly between Emma and Matt, but that was because Andy was an optimist. Either way, Tragan didn’t plan to butt in.

  It was about forty-five minutes later, when the five of them were sitting at a table, on their second round of drinks that Pellican finally seemed to relax. It must have helped that Janine and Andy were getting along great and talking a lot about books. The guys mostly talked sports, though at one point their conversation lulled and they overheard Janine saying: “I re-read Candide the other day and I laughed hysterically the whole time. Have you read that?”

  Smiling, Andy nodded. “Yes, but not since Sophomore English. I remember I liked it, but it’s been a while.”

  Janine’s eyes lit up as she said, “Oh, Andy, you have to read it again when you’re just in the mood for something light. It’s not your typical, been-there-done-that 18th-century French satire. Voltaire really knows how to bring it.”

  While Andy seemed to follow easily, the guys were momentarily struck stupid. Tragan, for one, was grateful that a brainy chick was going to be his wife. Still, he muttered, “We’re outmatched.” Pellican didn’t bother denying it.

  “On the bright side,” Bardo whispered, “at least we’re not outnumbered.”

  ~

  While his friends were at the Billiard Grill, Matt was home alone, trying to unwind after a long, frustrating day working on a remodel in Watertown. The project had been cursed with problems since the beginning, which was why his dad had sent him there today. Now he had the TV on and a bottle of beer in front of him, but he was in his own world, still keyed up and tense.

  He couldn’t blame all--or even most--of his tension on the remodel, though. A big part of it came from the book that he’d dug out of his desk tonight, which was now sitting uselessly on his coffee table. How to Pass Your Contractor Exam. A straightforward enough title, yet nothing in the book helped Matt at all. No surprise there. Since Matt’s issue wasn’t a lack of knowledge or a lack of preparation--and since he refused to think of it as a disability, either--he was pretty much up shit’s creek when it came to finding a helpful guidebook.

  Also…

  He missed Emma. It had only been a day since he’d seen her, but still, his thoughts kept traveling to her. Last he’d seen her was after Jake’s magic show the night before--when her prying neighbor had “casually” strolled across the lawn to find out who Matt was.

  Now he sat forward on the sofa, his arms resting on his legs, contemplating what Emma was doing at this very moment. Had she put the kids to bed already? Was she sleeping? Reading quietly? Bundled up in a blanket on the sofa, watching a movie?

  For a second, Matt considered the possibility that Emma had a secret wild side. That maybe after the house was quiet, she went to her bedroom, stripped down to lacy, barely-there lingerie and lay in bed, touching herself. With a quiet laugh, he shook his head as he set his beer bottle down and rose to his feet. As much he loved picturing it, somehow he doubted it.

  He yanked off his shirt on the way to take a shower when he heard a chime from his computer, indicating a message. Illogically, he hoped it might be Emma, even though they’d never exchanged email addresses or message handles.

  When he rounded his desk to take a quick glance at his laptop, he froze.

  After what Bardo had told him the other day, maybe he shouldn’t have been so surprised. But he was. Girls had a way of catching you off-guard like that. It was a message from SweetBrunette21:

  Hi Matt, it’s been so long! Just randomly thought of you and wanted to say hi, see how you’ve been. I really hope you’re doing well. Let me know, ok? ~Keri xox

  Though he didn’t want to have a reaction, it was automatic. Seeing Keri’s name and signature “xox” after a year-plus of silence did something to him. It didn’t twist him in knots or make him want her again. But it was like he was tapped hard in the chest for a second.

  Had Bardo been right? Maybe Neeta had been acting on Keri’s behalf; maybe she’d reached out to Bardo for the sole purpose of bridging some gap of silence between Matt and Keri.

  Matt closed the message screen and went to take a shower. Almost absently, he scrubbed his hair under the hot water as he thought about the first night he’d met Keri. Bardo had invited him and the guys to happy hour with his co-workers--one of whom was Neeta, who had brought along her roommate.

  Matt would never forget the moment he laid eyes on Keri. The girl was drop-dead gorgeous--a complete knockout. She had blue eyes and dark, silky hair that trailed halfway down her back--the kind of hair a guy could immediately picture tangling his hands in, or pulling on in bed. God, she was so beautiful. At the time she was working as an executive assistant at Fidelity. The position had started as a temp job right after college, but the Vice President she was reporting to liked her so much that he hired her on full-time.

  Matt had hit it off with her instantly; they’d talked and laughed most of the night. There was no denying their mutual interest. So they’d started hanging out and hooking up. Then one night, Keri confessed the tearful truth that she already had a boyfriend--but had been desperately trying to get out of the relationship. Apparently she’d gotten involved with her boss and regretted it soon after but didn’t know how to handle it. Matt recalled how emotional and clingy Keri had been, confessing all this. How she’d never planned on meeting Matt, how she never meant to fall for him, and then once she did, how terrified she was to tell him about the other guy.

  Basically, Keri put a whole complicated spin on something that was actually simple: she’d started sleeping with her rich, older boss early on in her employment and now wanted to dump him--but couldn’t bear to lose her cushy job and nice paycheck. Wasn’t that really what it came down to? Of course at the time Matt hadn’t looked at it so cynically. He was already crazy about her by the time she’d told him, and she’d sworn that she was no longer sleeping the guy, even though she did have to see him everyday at the office.

  Looking back, Matt should have just bailed on her immediately. But he couldn’t let her go. Not when he already loved her, or thought he did. Not when she seemed so sincere about loving him, too. For a few months, Keri had pleaded with Matt to be patient as she tried to line up another job, promising she would figure out how to make everything work. What crap, Matt thought now, as he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Thinking about his own stupidity used to make him angry, but by now he’d let most of that go.

  Honestly, he didn’t think everything with Keri had been a lie. Looking back it was obvious that she and Matt had lots of fun, great sex, and there was genuine affection there. But what her boss, Douglas, had was more important: a high-powered job, a sleek BMW, an open account at Tiffany’s, and access to the kind of lifestyle that was just too tempting for Keri to pass up. In the end, Douglas upped his game and proposed to her. Matt found out via text message. The words were still inscribed in his mind:

  “I’m so sorry but I can’t see you anymore. I got engaged to D. Please don’t hate me. I will always love you.”

  Matt had dated a few girls since Keri, but nothing serious. Though a year had more than numbed the pain of what Keri did, he supposed he still had the same reaction now as he did when he first received that text message. Which was: Who the fuck kisses someone off by adding ‘I’ll always love you’?

  Did he believe that Keri really loved Douglas? No way. If she had, she never would have started up with Matt in the first place. At the same time…she’d let Matt go, so she obviously hadn’t really loved him, either.

  Enough of this shit, he told himself as he toweled off, threw on some boxer-briefs and climbed into bed. Who cared anymore? Jus
t because Keri felt like reappearing in his life didn’t mean he had to let her become relevant again. In fact…

  As he closed his eyes and let out a tired sigh against his pillow, forgetting about Keri actually became effortless. The image that kept drifting into his mind was Emma’s. Those pretty hazel eyes, blinking at him, her head tilting sarcastically, her brown hair twisted up in a pencil, always on the verge of spilling down. Her face, her mouth…as he thought about her breasts, his cock reacted. Would it scare her off if she knew how hard she made him? Idly he wondered if she ever thought about him, too.

  Chapter 19

  The next morning Emma was having a guilt attack over Marta Vincent. It started when Emma awoke in the night and wasn’t able to fall back asleep right away. As expected, once her mind started churning, she was hit with a slew of disconnected thoughts--and one of them involved her poor handling of Marta during their meeting a couple of days ago.

  Looking back now, Emma realized how rude she’d been to hustle the woman out when she was trying to make small talk. Maybe she was lonely; maybe she wanted to become friendlier with Emma, on a more personal basis. Some writers enjoyed a personal friendship with their editors, and perhaps that was all Marta had been seeking.

  Granted, she didn’t have to call Emma’s boss and tattle on her; granted, she was pretty self-important. But still...by the time Emma rolled out of bed, she had decided that she probably owed Marta Vincent an apology. She sat at her desk with a fortifying cup of black coffee, and made the call.

  “Hi, Marta, it’s Emma!” she said brightly.

  “Hello, how are you?” Marta responded, her tone neither hostile nor particularly friendly.

  “I’m fine. I hope you got the notes I emailed you.”