Emma

by Angie Wilder

  Emma had shut him down hard.

  Leave it to his sweet friend Em to put him in his place. Evan pulled off his gloves, folded them into his coat pockets, and tapped his knuckles against the door. He couldn’t take off. Emma had agreed to help at the clinic, and he’d be swamped without her. Besides, he wanted some clarification as to what the devil was going on inside the Gains house. His sister appeared much too entertained.

  The door slipped open. Three women peered at him with unreadable expressions. Emma planted herself front and center.

  “Hey,” she said, offering him a small smile. Em gathered her long copper-gold hair, arranging it over the V-neck top. Messy curls looped around her shoulders and chest. Then she crossed her arms, hiding his number. Her cheeks glowed a pretty shade of pink. The same rosy color as the sliver of silk nightgown that poked out from under the jersey. Black socks bunched around her slender ankles. She took a stab at yanking them up her long bare legs, but the material pooled back down. Aside from the ugly socks, Emma really did look good in his shirt, wearing his number. Too good.

  He should have kept his mouth shut about that. The initial greeting at the door went south when he mentioned the jersey’s number. It then imploded over the ride. Evan forced his attention away from Emma’s intriguing bedtime apparel and met her gaze. She had these amazing eyes. The color shifted somewhere between green and blue, depending on the light. Right now, they leaned toward blue and full of worry. I should say something.

  “I owe you an apology,” Emma blurted, then gnawed at her lip. The action caused the delicate curve to turn red. She was frazzled.

  That made two of them. For once, Evan was at a loss for words. It didn’t help that Em’s mom, Sophie Gains, had her arms crisscrossed over her chest with a fist full of mistletoe. Did she plan to beat him with the bundle or advance the awkward tension courtesy of some holiday-inspired lip-locking? He planted his feet on the porch, figuring the threshold was a dangerous place to cross.

  Emma stared at her mom as if the greenery were a snake. Then she glanced at him like he was the charmer.

  Kaley wore a wicked grin and a long-sleeved lavender top. He’d seen her in it a hundred times, but now it stretched snug over her belly. It took Evan some effort to adjust to the idea that his little sister had gotten knocked up, though he looked forward to being an uncle. The smirk on Kaley’s face shifted into kissy-lips, and she gave him a double thumbs-up.

  What in Hillcrest is happening here?

  Emma’s eyes narrowed, then she shooed her mom’s mistletoe away, wholeheartedly against it.

  Good. He and Emma were on the same page. Kissing was the last thing they needed. Those red lips of hers, hands down, none of his business. Holy off-limits. Not happening.

  Em stepped outside onto the porch, joining him. She’d freeze, dressed in next to nothing. Tiny snowflakes floated in the air.

  Years of hockey had made Evan immune to the cold, but she was a bundler. “Em, you’re going to freeze out here.” He rubbed his palms over her arms.

  She leaned toward him, as if going for full-body contact, then straightened and brushed off his touch.

  He missed the hug she teased him with, the greeting he had expected to receive this morning.

  “My embarrassment will keep me warm. I’m burning up with it,” she said in a soft tone that wouldn’t carry inside the house. She had closed the door enough for privacy, but not all the way. “Evan, I can’t believe I said all that to you. I’m sorry.”

  “It wasn’t that bad.” He grinned, because let’s face it, it was pretty bad.

  “It was.” Her lips tipped up. “The miscommunication—”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your dry spell.” He shouldn’t have repeated that, but payback was fair game.

  “Thanks,” she croaked. “Since I’m mid-apology, Evan, I’ll refrain from killing you. Please, never speak of it again.” She shivered, shifted on her heel, and entered the house. She hugged her arms and waited for him to join her inside.

  One time when Emma was around fifteen to his seventeen, she had been on a sleepover with Kaley. In the middle of the night, he had come down to the kitchen for a glass of water. Emma sat at the table sipping milk while reading a sappy paperback. She mentioned she couldn’t sleep. After quenching his thirst, he refilled his cup with milk and grabbed a box of graham crackers. They shared the snack, chatting about nothing much, but then she asked him if he had a girlfriend. He didn’t. She nudged her romance novel aside and asked if he’d like to have a girlfriend. He shrugged off the question, sensing that Emma was the one struggling with relationship trouble. The notion got under his skin. He didn’t want some handsy kid making moves on his adorable friend. If she asked him about condoms, he’d probably have to stick his head between his knees or pass out. As far as he was concerned, Emma was too young for boys. Since he cared about her, he pushed through the uncomfortable feeling and asked her if there was someone. She confided that she had zero hope that the guy would ever notice her and that her mom said that Emma was a late bloomer. The conversation made his knees jump. No way did he want to think of Emma and her late-to-bud breasts. Bad enough that he knew about her training bra. How she cried that she’d never outgrow it. His household and hers tended to overshare. He told Emma that if a guy couldn’t see she was fantastic, then the kid wasn’t good enough. At the time, one of those dances where the girl has to ask the boy hovered in the near future. He’d wanted to beg her to let him fill in as her Snowball date. He hated the idea of some clammy-handed idiot kid attending with Emma, but he kept his mouth sealed. She would doubtless rather not go with her brother’s best friend. That was like being set up with a cousin. Instead, he got the heck out of there, suggesting they should turn in for bed. That was the first and last time they’d come close to talking about sex. Until today. The encounter had him rattled.

  Evan followed Emma inside the house. They had to get moving soon. “Are you about ready to head out?” he asked, knowing full well she wasn’t. Emma needed pants.

  “Out?” Her hands went to her hair. “Right, the clinic. I’m filling in for Daddy.” She angled to her mom. “I start today?”

  “I’ll be by later with the decorations,” Sophie said.

  “Decorations?”

  “Emma, dear, are you all right?”

  “Jet-lagged is all.” Emma peered toward the kitchen, and her stomach growled. “I need to change my clothes.”

  Evan was thankful he’d thought to swing by the bakery. “Em, I’m good for the ride and breakfast to go. I got you covered.”

  “You do?”

  “Emma, I’ve known you my whole life. I have coffee and a frosted jelly doughnut in the truck.”

  “Okay. You had me at coffee.” She started up the stairs. “Give me two minutes.”

  He watched Emma hurry away. She moved with grace and femininity. He shouldn’t be noticing her long legs. He was off his game—big time.

  Yet, Evan couldn’t help noticing that Emma had blossomed. She was beautiful.

  3

  Emma hurried to her room while Evan waited. She could not have acted a bigger fool if she’d tried. That feeling that she’d woken up with this morning that she had forgotten something, well know she knew. She was filling in at the clinic today. Emma was pretty sure nobody had mentioned the prearranged ride with Evan. Her chest ached like she’d swallowed a massive gulp of fizzy soda and it had stuck like a lump. Only it wasn’t a soft drink, it was those asinine words she’d spewed on Evan. Oh, the regret. When Evan had teased her over her dry spell—curse her stupid tongue—that gulp of pain had dipped low in her tummy. Then his smile had made it go tingly. She could not fall for him again. Evan was no longer a swoon-worthy buddy. He was a celebrity athlete who could take his pick from a long line of adoring women. If she hadn’t turned his head before, she certainly didn’t have a chance now. The two of them were friends. She should have thrown herself into his arms for a big hello hug. She hadn’t seen Evan in years. Now
it was weird.

  She tugged the jersey and nightgown off as one and tossed them on the bed. Emma would have words with Kaley about riding cowboys. What in all the horn-dog talk has gotten into me?

  There was a knock on her bedroom door. “It’s me.”

  “Speak of the devil.” Emma snatched the bra that had attacked her earlier.

  “Can I come in?” Kaley asked.

  From the overstuffed suitcase, Emma slipped on a teal and cream sweater dress. “Are you still laughing?”

  Kaley poked her head in the room. “No. Maybe. A little. I’m sorry. That was fantastically horrible. I had no idea that would happen.”

  Emma stepped into tan ankle boots. “Did you know Evan was on his way?” She stepped to the floor-length mirror and began to braid her hair.

  Kaley tsked, picked up a brush, and started undoing the weave. She had mad superior braid skills. “I thought you knew. I told you to change out of that jersey.” She brushed Emma’s hair, then began twisting the sectioned portions into place.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not blaming you, Kaley… aside from the cowboy riding moment from hell. Ugh, that door greeting was bad.” Emma grinned over her embarrassment. “I feel a little…” She couldn’t come up with the words, so she waved her hand near her shoulders, fanning herself.

  “Yeah. Me too. I bet you gave your mother a hot flash. Dry spell implies you’ve had a wet spell.”

  Emma snorted. “Don’t make me laugh while I’m holding mascara.”

  “Never. Mascara is serious business.” Kaley fluttered her lashes.

  She had the best coloring and thick hair like her brother’s. Women probably wrote odes about Evan’s gorgeous features, his magnificent indigo eyes fringed with black. Emma would match his enviable eyelashes if it took a whole bottle of mascara. It was an irrational thought for an absurd morning. After a few swipes, she gave up.

  Kaley’s fingers moved with swift skill and a tight grip on Emma’s hair. “If you had played your cards right, you might have gotten that mistletoe kiss you’ve always wanted.”

  “In front of you, your double thumbs-up, and my momma? Forget it.”

  “The next time the opportunity presents itself—”

  “No. I’m over your brother.”

  “Emma, if you were over Evan, you wouldn’t have spiraled into a flirting mess at the front door and jumped to ideas about riding him in the biblical way.”

  “Speaking of rides…” Emma grabbed a ponytail binder and fled for the door. “Thanks for the hair.”

  “Emma.” Kaley followed her with her arms wide for an embrace. “Welcome home.”

  Emma giggled and hugged Kaley. “It’s been too long.”

  “Yes, it has, and I’ve become an emotional pregnant lady. I expect lots of girl time.”

  “You got it.”

  “Perfect, now hurry up and go flirt with my brother.”

  “Not happening.”

  “Sure, it is.” Kaley rubbed her belly and sang, “Love is in the air.”

  Emma was halfway down the stairs when Evan glanced up. She put a confident sway in her stride as she moved. Heaven knows she needed all the courage she could muster to face him. Emma would have killed for more than two minutes to pull herself together.

  “Where are your pants?” Evan stared at her legs.

  “This is a dress. Not a top.” A cute dress that flattered her strawberry coloring.

  “Are you sure?”

  She looked down. Was the hem caught up on her underwear or some other terrible fate? No. It was right where it belonged, at an office-friendly length. “Yes. I’ve worn it as a dress before. In public.” Perhaps she shouldn’t have. She ran a hand over her backside just to be sure nothing wayward was happening back there. “Is something showing?” Emma aimed a finger at her girly zone. She had to stop with that. She was a composed professional who didn’t participate in pointing out gender areas. Aside from at the veterinary clinic, but never on herself, or other humans. Good heavens, she’d turned into a train wreck this morning.

  Evan shook his head. “I meant are you sure you want to go outside in this winter weather without pants. Your legs are… exposed.” His gaze narrowed on her legs. “This is northern Minnesota.”

  Proud she managed to keep her knees from wobbling, Emma pulled on her thigh-length white wool coat and secured the belt tie. “You have what it takes to keep me warm.” She was looking forward to real coffee.

  Evan went stock-still.

  When she realized what she’d said sounded like a come-on, her hand flew to her mouth. Would the awkwardness ever end?

  A slow grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “I have what it takes?”

  Her stomach flip-flopped with embarrassment over her stupid words. “Coffee,” she stammered then pasted on an innocent smile.

  Evan’s deep velvet chuckle helped to smooth out the morning’s rough edges. “I’ve missed you.” He tugged on the end of her scarf, then pointed to the door. He followed her outside to the passenger side of a giant black Ford.

  It was shiny and expensive with extra-large tires. Emma was a head shorter than Evan with limited truck mounting experience. “Your truck is big.”

  “I got you.” He gripped her hand.

  She held on to him and hoisted herself up the step. He would get an eyeful of her rear end as she crawled into the metal beast. Bent over the leather seat, she became acutely aware of the heat of his broad palm in hers. It was a lovely warm hand. She released his fingers and shifted into place. He had left the vehicle running to keep it toasty. Even better, it had kept the coffee and doughnuts warm. The vice that could possibly save her from further brain-dead idiotic comments.

  Evan’s face tilted downward, his focus aimed toward the patch of icy asphalt between his shoes. He got points for not ogling her butt. Figures.

  “I made it inside.”

  His gaze met hers. “So, you did. Next time wear pants.”

  “Stop grinning,” she said around a chuckle, “and shut the door, we’re losing heat.” She shooed him away. To have Evan stand that close, teasing her over her bare legs was too much. Emma didn’t hold out hope that she’d ever cool off from the morning’s embarrassment. Instead of fanning herself, she squeezed the web of her hand, applying pressure to the Union Valley, for some tension relief.

  As Evan got behind the wheel, she released the acupressure point and peeked into the white pastry bag. It was thoughtful of him to bring her breakfast. She dragged her fingertip through the thick frosting and popped a sweet vanilla glob in her mouth. “You are the best.”

  “Take your pick of the coffees. One’s black and one’s chocolate.”

  She glanced at Evan and asked, “Which do you prefer?”

  He shot her a look that suggested they both knew the score. “Black.”

  “You are better than the best,” she said around a mouthful of cherry-flavored goodness.

  They rode down the block in silence. Then another block. “Sorry about the greeting at the door.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Evan grimaced, but his dimple showed. He never succeeded in hiding his smile.

  “So, how’s the Tow and Go? Your folks?”

  “Good. Dad purchased two new trucks.” Evan clicked on his blinker. “I’ll drive around the park so we can take a right-hand turn into the lot.”

  “The rink is open.” She pointed to the ice, where a group of boys chased a puck. As kids, they’d spent tons of time at the rink. She and Kaley would tag along with the brothers, to Emma’s joy. But to her great disappointment, she didn’t have the legs for the sport. “I was never good at skating.”

  “I recall your abilities. You tackled me better than a varsity athlete.”

  Lord, had she tried hard. It would be embarrassing if he realized how she’d worked to gain his attention. But that year when Evan was thirteen, it was Wendy Schroder who could make all the fancy moves, had the cutest outfits. Plus she was the first in her class to get
boobs. She was the same age as Evan.

  Teenagers. Emma’s age of eleven planted her solidly in the kid zone. That winter, Wendy twirled, and Evan noticed. She got him to hold her hand as they flew around the rink. Emma’s heart had hurt.

  “You had flailing on your side. That’s how you took me out.”

  She remembered all too well. Emma had been bound and determined to dazzle, but she was never any good. It didn’t take long to discover that having Evan swoop in and save her was a lovely tummy-tingling alternative.

  Plus, the Heartley-Gains party had shared hot chocolate from the same thermos. Take that, Wendy. She might be a twirly booby-licious princess, but Emma had cocoa on her side. She had the warming house.

  Later that season, the most popular boy in her grade had offered to hold her hand around the rink. It was nice but he didn’t come close to time spent falling on Evan. Emma only circled the ice once in case Evan got in the mood to hold her hand. She needed to keep herself available.

  Emma savored a sip of her mocha latte and thought about all those hot chocolates they’d shared… and how she was still available.

  Evan continued to tease her with stories. “One time Robbie Milton, from Lakeside, did this mad out-of-control stumble toward me as he rushed a puck that wasn’t ever going to happen. As he flailed past, I thought of you, Em. I had a lot of practice catching you before you went down. I had to fight my Emma-honed instincts and resist saving my opponent before he did a spread eagle. Dudes don’t break each other’s falls during games, not even if there’s squealing.” He shot her a wink.

  “Hilarious.” Her cheeks heated. Falling on him was the best part. She had to work within the range of her talents.

  “You’re blushing.”

  “I’m not.” She grinned because she was.

  He let the matter drop, but his dimple remained in place. He swung onto the main road.

  Two more minutes and they’d be at the clinic.

  “How was Paris?”