looking at me like that when I picked up my coat?”
“Like what?”
Oh really? Did he think she was clueless? She saw that weird look on his face. She just couldn’t decipher it. Kind of a mix of a grin and a smirk, coming across as a whole lot cocky.
“A goofy, are you really wearing that grin. Were you making fun of my jean jacket?”
“No. Not at all. It’s just, well, it’s…that’s more my style.”
“Huh?” She glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “You wear women’s outerwear, do you?”
He snorted. “Smartass.”
Emery was pleased she could let him see a glimpse of herself without offending him. She didn’t answer, but the pride in not only her quick jab, but his even quicker retort, had her biting her lip to keep the giddiness contained.
“It was nothing…trust me.”
Yeah. Loaded—and she wasn’t buying that line.
“A little tidbit for you”—she leaned in like it was a huge secret—“that line will never work on me.”
He leaned down even closer, whispering in her ear, “It’s sort of the universal secret of dating. You’re not supposed to talk about past women to present women.”
His war m breath near her ear tickled. She knew damn well the shiver she felt that time was not from the cold, because it shot straight south, turning into heat as it went.
Shit.
“Oh, your rule?”
“Well, it’s kind of rude, don’t you think? Seriously, you don’t really want to know.”
“I do now. Besides, we’re not dating so you’ve got no excuse. So start ‘splainin’ Ricky’.”
Evening was settling, the streetlights were lit, but even without them, it wasn’t dark enough that she couldn’t see three shades of red he was turning right before her very eyes. A blusher. Nice piece of knowledge to keep handy in her back pocket. Emery chuckled to herself. He was going to be extra fun to tease.
“ I love Lucy fan, huh?” he asked as he guided them around a tree landscaped strategically in the middle of the sidewalk. Obnoxious, but it was pretty with the white twinkle lights.
“Yes, and you’re stalling.”
“Oh, all right. I like simple. The last girl I was with was someone I knew from high school. And just like in high school, she had to be matching everything, not a hair out of place, fake nails, and expensive clothes. Lots of bling. All of that crap. That’s not my thing. I’m more of a simple guy. We were from the same small town, but she’s one of those people that thought our small town wasn’t good enough, like she wanted to be from a big city or something. Be important. I am way too laid back for that. I like things a little more casual. Relaxing. Like I said, simple.”
His explanation took her aback. Remembering the story from Molly’s point of view and the details she had mentioned, there was no question in her mind that the girl he was referring to was that bitch that Molly told her about. His allusion was downplayed, but his pain was still an undercurrent through the description.
Emery didn’t know if he would approve of Molly telling the tale, and she sure wasn’t going to tease back touching that subject. She knew intimately the pain of being hurt by someone she thought had her best interests at heart. It wasn’t just hollow sympathy. She could relate to it. Hell, she’d lived it—in Technicolor.
They weren’t dating, so she didn’t have to worry that he was using her as a rebound girl, plus enough time had passed that the boomerang window was now closed. That didn’t mean her heart didn’t go out to him in some way, as a human being, and okay, maybe even as a friend. However, empathy and pity were on two different ends of the spectrum completely—and she didn’t do pity.
But she could do friend. Maybe make an effort to not be so—she shuttered at the memory—icy.
Emery knew she’d shut herself down after the diagnosis. Sort of a fight or flight instinct kicking in to protect not only her, but her family. It didn’t make it hurt any
“Like what?”
Oh really? Did he think she was clueless? She saw that weird look on his face. She just couldn’t decipher it. Kind of a mix of a grin and a smirk, coming across as a whole lot cocky.
“A goofy, are you really wearing that grin. Were you making fun of my jean jacket?”
“No. Not at all. It’s just, well, it’s…that’s more my style.”
“Huh?” She glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “You wear women’s outerwear, do you?”
He snorted. “Smartass.”
Emery was pleased she could let him see a glimpse of herself without offending him. She didn’t answer, but the pride in not only her quick jab, but his even quicker retort, had her biting her lip to keep the giddiness contained.
“It was nothing…trust me.”
Yeah. Loaded—and she wasn’t buying that line.
“A little tidbit for you”—she leaned in like it was a huge secret—“that line will never work on me.”
He leaned down even closer, whispering in her ear, “It’s sort of the universal secret of dating. You’re not supposed to talk about past women to present women.”
His war m breath near her ear tickled. She knew damn well the shiver she felt that time was not from the cold, because it shot straight south, turning into heat as it went.
Shit.
“Oh, your rule?”
“Well, it’s kind of rude, don’t you think? Seriously, you don’t really want to know.”
“I do now. Besides, we’re not dating so you’ve got no excuse. So start ‘splainin’ Ricky’.”
Evening was settling, the streetlights were lit, but even without them, it wasn’t dark enough that she couldn’t see three shades of red he was turning right before her very eyes. A blusher. Nice piece of knowledge to keep handy in her back pocket. Emery chuckled to herself. He was going to be extra fun to tease.
“ I love Lucy fan, huh?” he asked as he guided them around a tree landscaped strategically in the middle of the sidewalk. Obnoxious, but it was pretty with the white twinkle lights.
“Yes, and you’re stalling.”
“Oh, all right. I like simple. The last girl I was with was someone I knew from high school. And just like in high school, she had to be matching everything, not a hair out of place, fake nails, and expensive clothes. Lots of bling. All of that crap. That’s not my thing. I’m more of a simple guy. We were from the same small town, but she’s one of those people that thought our small town wasn’t good enough, like she wanted to be from a big city or something. Be important. I am way too laid back for that. I like things a little more casual. Relaxing. Like I said, simple.”
His explanation took her aback. Remembering the story from Molly’s point of view and the details she had mentioned, there was no question in her mind that the girl he was referring to was that bitch that Molly told her about. His allusion was downplayed, but his pain was still an undercurrent through the description.
Emery didn’t know if he would approve of Molly telling the tale, and she sure wasn’t going to tease back touching that subject. She knew intimately the pain of being hurt by someone she thought had her best interests at heart. It wasn’t just hollow sympathy. She could relate to it. Hell, she’d lived it—in Technicolor.
They weren’t dating, so she didn’t have to worry that he was using her as a rebound girl, plus enough time had passed that the boomerang window was now closed. That didn’t mean her heart didn’t go out to him in some way, as a human being, and okay, maybe even as a friend. However, empathy and pity were on two different ends of the spectrum completely—and she didn’t do pity.
But she could do friend. Maybe make an effort to not be so—she shuttered at the memory—icy.
Emery knew she’d shut herself down after the diagnosis. Sort of a fight or flight instinct kicking in to protect not only her, but her family. It didn’t make it hurt any
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