Baby, I’m Yours by Stephanie Bond Page A

Then he frowned. “Hey, don’t change the subject. You’re going to have to say something good to convince Shelby to wake up to your ugly mug for the rest of her life.”
    Emory puffed out his cheeks in an exhale. “I’m more worried about what her pop is going to say.”
    Porter made a rueful noise. “You should be. I heard Mr. Moon is a pretty good shot.”
    “That man has never liked me.”
    “What do you expect? He wants to keep Shelby in her calico bedroom for the rest of her life, and you’ve got other bedroom plans for his little girl. She’s al he’s got—of course he hates you. I feel sorry for Shelby being in the middle of you two mules.”
    Emory hardened his jaw. Sooner or later, Shelby was going to have to choose between him and her daddy.
    Porter glanced at his watch. “What time is she expecting you?”
    “I didn’t tel her I was coming.”
    Porter guffawed. “You’ve been arguing on the phone for months. Now you’re going to just show up with a ring and propose?”
    “That’s the plan,” Emory muttered.
    Porter pul ed down his cap and slumped in the seat in preparation for a nap. “Wake me up before the fireworks begin.”
    Emory frowned in the direction of the man who’d been his best friend since Little League, then pul ed his hand across his mouth and turned his attention back to the interstate.
    Porter was right. He was taking a big chance by not tel ing Shelby he was coming, especial y considering the last time they’d talked, she’d hung up on him. Her father had been yel ing for her in the background, which had angered Emory, which in turn had angered Shelby.
    One way or another, things would come to a head today.
    Emory leaned down to study the leaden sky. There were driving into a storm, or the makings of one. But it was summer in the north Georgia mountains—thunderstorms were as commonplace as mosquitoes and lemonade. After so much sand in the Gulf desert, he wouldn’t mind a little rain, as long as it didn’t slow their progress too much.
    His heart beat faster at the thought of seeing Shelby soon. He imagined her sweet face lighting up when he walked into her father’s grocery where she worked, her immediate tears, the many kisses…the private reunion as soon as they could get alone. His body tightened involuntarily. He realized the reason they argued on the phone was because they were both frustrated by their separation. But his overseas deployment was due to end in a month, so he’d be stationed Stateside soon. And he wanted to be with Shelby. For the rest of their lives.
    His fel ow soldiers laughed when he told them he and Shelby had been together since grade school, but it was true. They’d met on the playground in second grade. Bobby Taylor had been teasing Shelby, pul ing her blond pigtails. Emory had pushed the bigger boy down, which had earned him a suspension from school and Shelby’s adoration.
    The suspension had been worth it.
    Their relationship had gone through the ups and downs of chicken pox, Shelby’s crush on the new boy in sixth grade, and his own preoccupation with a dark-haired cheerleader their freshman year. But when he and Shelby had been ready to relinquish their virginity at seventeen, neither one would have chosen anybody else for the occasion. Their consummated physical chemistry had cemented their childhood love and they’d never looked in another direction.
    It was, he realized, one of the reasons her pop was opposed to their relationship. Mr. Moon said they couldn’t know they loved each other because they’d never spent time with anyone else. But Emory didn’t want someone else. When he lay awake in his bunk on the other side of the world, the only thing, besides his conviction of service, that gave him comfort was the knowledge that Shelby Moon was lying awake in her corner bedroom in Sweetness, Georgia thinking about him, too.
    They’d shared sad times, too. They’d both lost their mothers to il ness while in high school.