At the ripe old age of twenty-six, the thought of flying had only crossed my mind one other time in my life—when I was eighteen and sure I’d eventually be on a flight headed from Atlanta to Nashville to be with the boy who’d stolen my heart during one magical summer. When a poisonous snake named Hazel ruined that magical summer, I’d pretty much shoved the idea of air travel out of my head.
I was terrified of planes. Terrified of heights as ironic as that seemed since my job often involved climbing ladders and all other types of high ledges. Even when Dad talked me into attending a general contracting convention in Virginia last year, I had decided to make the ten-hour trip by car instead of stepping one toe on a plane. But, in spite of my fear of flying, here I was. On a damn two and a half hour flight that was, according to Lyra, a good thirty thousand feet in the air. And I was going to see the man who initially gave me the idea of getting on a plane to begin with.
After I returned to my place last night, slightly tipsy and ready to take on the world, I had loaded my suitcase with very little coaxing from Lyra. I had called my dad and told him my plan. And then I’d printed out the two tickets waiting in my inbox.
The only thing I hadn’t done was remember just how anxious the idea of being so far off the ground made me.
Still, as nervous as I was about my first flight, I spent the entire trip worried over an entirely different beast. Emmett. I was ready to see Matt after spending the last few days apart from him, but I couldn’t deny I wanted to see his father, too.
“Ladies and gentleman,” the pilot began, and I released a moan that made Lyra lean forward to stare at me with sympathetic gray eyes. It was the same look she’d given me when we hit turbulence about half an hour into the flight.
“Relax, Kinz,” she said with a tiny smile. “We’re almost there.”
Sure enough when I tuned back in, the pilot was announcing that we were making our final descent into Dallas and not the sudden drop of doom I kept imagining. Fear gave way to something else—pure elation at the thought of seeing my kid’s face again so soon. And heat. It pulsed beneath my skin, a reminder of the beautiful, husky-voiced man who came along with the package.
Lyra laid her head back. “You’re holding your necklace,” she pointed out. When I dropped my gaze to my chest, I blew out a harsh breath and slowly released the key. I needed a new bad habit. Like smiling too much or touching my nose—hell, anything other than the telltale necklace grabbing.
“You’re that nervous about seeing him?”
“I’m always happy to see my kid.” I lowered my hand to the armrest between our seats, and a moment later, she covered my fingers with hers. “But yeah, I’m scared as hell.”
* * *
"You’re holding your necklace. Again," Lyra said twenty minutes after we landed in Dallas as we waited in line for our rental car. "I promise this trip will be good for you.”
"Maybe I shouldn't have said yes." I should have just left Emmett and Matt to their father and son bonding time, and I shouldn’t have let his parting words from last night, the tickets waiting in my inbox when I returned home from the bar, and the Corona in my system sway my decision.
“But you did say yes, and we're here now. You’ve already texted him and let him know you were coming." When I shot her a dark look, she pulled me in for a side hug. "I’ve never seen you this worked up about a man. I’m not even sure you were this bad when y’all met.”
"Did the mimosa I downed before we boarded this morning give it away?"
Releasing her grip on me, she grabbed the handle of her suitcase with one hand and held the thumb and forefinger on the other hand a mere centimeter apart. "Just a little."
"I shouldn't have come here," I said once more as she stepped up to the counter.
“Why do you say that?” After she gave the rental car associate a copy of her boarding pass and the reservation confirmation, she gave me a sideways glance. "Because you're still crazy about the guy or because you're at the point where all you want to do is co-parent without emotions?"
When I looked away, focusing on a pamphlet on economy cars because all I could think about was the heat that had spread through me when the pilot said we were touching down in Dallas, she widened her stance. "That's what I thought. It's just for a few days. And, think of how much this is going to mean to Matt that his parents are spending a holiday together. You know how much that kid loves the Fourth.”
"You're really awful for putting it that way."
"That's what I'm here for."
* * *
Emmett's house was one of the smaller homes in an exclusive neighborhood filled with eight and nine thousand square foot McMansions, but it was still stunning—a sprawling, two-story Mediterranean on an oversized corner lot, complete with arches and wood details that made the general contractor in me absolutely giddy. From her spot in the driver's seat, Lyra craned her neck and took in the view from side-to-side.
“Holy shit.”
“Yep.”
“This is like ten times the size of my last apartment,” she mused. Hell, I could probably fit most of the houses on my street into this one, but I kept quiet as she eased the rental into the circular driveway. “I guess the saying is true.” Her eyebrows shot up when she nodded to the gleaming red pickup truck parked directly in front of the massive wooden front doors. “Everything is bigger in Texas. Even the guy's Ford has a giant lift kit. I swear if I hadn't already heard the stories, I'd think he was overcompensating for something."
"I have no such memory of any stories," I said, biting my lip so I wouldn’t feed her statement with a smile.
“Yeah, whatever. Maybe you forgot, but I surely haven't." She parked the rental car in front of one of the garage bays and killed the ignition. "I wonder if he has a Bugatti or something in there.” Tilting her head to one side, she gave me an inquisitive look. “Do country singers drive Bugattis?”
“Hell if I know.” My shoulders shook with laughter. I knew exactly what she was trying to do, and she was doing one hell of a good job at easing my worries. "Knowing Emmett, there's probably a fleet of Jeeps and pick-up trucks behind those doors."
"Jeeps and pick-up trucks," she repeated, clutching both hands over her chest. "Makes my Savannah-born heart sing. If that's what we find in there, I'm officially asking Mr. Outlaw Country to adopt me. I’m small like Matt, so I won’t take up much room.”
“You eat like a high school football player.”
“Party pooper.”
Rolling my eyes, I opened my door and stepped into humidity that made me feel like my hair was a certain mess. Hell, I was a mess. Standing in the middle of Emmett Hudson’s driveway, in front of his gorgeous home, I felt completely out of my element and I asked myself again how I'd let myself be talked into this.
Because he lowered that voice of his and told me to make a choice, the voice in the back of my head reminded me, and I jabbed my tongue into my cheek. Yeah, there was that.
As I walked around to the trunk to grab my bags, I heard heavy footsteps jogging our way. Lifting my gaze, my heart skipped a beat when my eyes landed on Emmett—wearing nothing but a baseball cap, a pair of neon blue gym shorts, and running shoes.
Lyra’s lithe body sidled up next to mine, and I fought to control my expression when she whispered through her teeth, "Seeing him in person? I can completely understand everything.”
He stopped a few feet away from us, his stare still zeroed in on me and making me feel completely naked in spite of my blue tank top and white cutoff shorts. "It took you long enough, Angel," he drawled, and my toes curled inside my festive red, white, and blue Converse.
"Sorry.” I shot a look in Lyra’s direction, grateful to look away from his intense stare long enough to adjust my breathing. Surely if he heard the hitch that came along with being so close to him, he’d never let me live it down. “Someone had to stop at some 24-hour burger place."
“And Angel here is going to regret not eating there because What-A-Burger is awesome. Who doesn’t love cheeseburgers and fried cherry pies at nine AM? I'm Lyra Amador.” She stretched her hand out to him. Reluctantly, he ripped his gaze from mine and focused it down on her, casting that grin that seemed to make every woman he came in contact with go a little crazy. Sure enough, when he released her thin fingers, she wore the same starry-eyed gaze I'd witnessed on both my receptionist and babysitter during the last couple of weeks.
"I've heard a lot about you,” Lyra said.
Emmett's eyes locked with mine once more, one thick brow slowly lifting. "All good, right?"
"Hmmm," she said, and I swallowed hard when a slow, sexy smile danced across his face. “Mostly.”
When she popped the trunk and reached inside to grab her bags, he shook his head. “No, you go on inside. I’ve got this.”
I swear she almost melted into a puddle of swoon right where she stood. Regaining her composure, she jabbed her finger over her shoulder toward the house. “Do you mind if I use your restroom?”
"First door on the left after you walk through the foyer. Try to keep it down, though. Matt fell asleep on the couch last night watching movies. He doesn’t even know y’all are supposed to be here today, so he’ll be one happy kid when he gets up.”
"Perfect, I'll leave you two”—Lyra shifted her gray eyes from Emmett to me, then smiled like the Cheshire Cat—“to whatever." She started toward the house. Halfway there, she spun around, squinting at Emmett from beneath the hand cupped over her forehead like a visor. "You sure you don't need me to grab my own stuff?"
He effortlessly lifted all of our luggage from the trunk and closed it with his elbow. His chest was just a few inches from my face, so I stared at the Nissan emblem until it became a circular blur with indistinguishable letters. “I swear I can handle it, sweetheart. You go on in and make yourself at home,” he yelled out and she shot him a thumbs up.
“Big mistake," I muttered under my breath. When he released a deep noise from the back of his throat, I lifted my chin to his questioning stare. "You shouldn't tell her that. You'll go in and find her making second breakfast or making herself a drink."
"Will it keep her from coming back out here to check up on us?"
"Maybe. Unless she finds your car keys, and—"
Dropping our bags to the pavement, Emmett jerked me to him roughly, drawing a harsh gasp from deep within me. One of his large hands tangled in the dark hair at the nape of my neck and the other buried in the back pocket of my cutoff shorts. “Goddamn, you smell good, Angel.” He lowered his nose to my hair and inhaled. “Too good. Too right.”
I swallowed hard. “Isn’t PDA against your home owner’s association’s bylaws?”
“Fuck the H.O.A.,” he growled. “Besides, I never saw a damn thing in that silly four-paged paper I signed that said I couldn’t kiss beautiful women on my own front lawn.”
“Do you do that often?” I breathed, and his laughter vibrated against my skin as he kissed my forehead.
“This is a first.”
“I bet it is, Hudson.” Leaning back just a bit, he moved his hand from the nape of my neck to cup my face, and I slid my tongue from side to side between my teeth when I caught the wicked gleam in his eyes. “What? Why are you staring at me like that?”
"Do you know what seeing you in shorts like these does to me?"
Silently, I moved my head from side to side because it was hard to think clearly when all I could feel were the hard, muscular planes of his body. Even though it was obvious he'd been working out just before we arrived, I hadn’t been prepared for his sweaty skin. It felt good against my own body. Hell, it even smelled good, but I wasn’t about to breathe him in the same way he’d done me just moments before.
“You gonna answer me, Angel, or stand there batting your eyelashes at me?”
I cleared my throat. Licked my lips in an effort to combat the sudden case of dry mouth, and his eyes lowered, tracing the wet path my tongue made. “First, I’m not batting my eyelashes. And second, what exactly does it do to you?”
He dropped his forehead back against mine, damp strands of his short dark hair intermingling with strands of my hair. “I could write a thousand and one songs about you and none of them would compare to this. To you in these shorts you wore just because you know I can’t resist those long legs of yours. To that wild look in your eyes that’ll make me a damn fool for whatever comes out of that smartass, beautiful mouth of yours next.”
I inched my palms up his bare chest before resting them at his shoulders. His muscles flexed beneath my touch. “How do you know it’ll be smartass?” I countered.
He tightened his grip on his ass, offering me a grin of sheer satisfaction when my mouth parted in surprise. “That’s your M.O., Brock.”
“I’m going inside, Hudson.” I allowed a slight smile to touch my lips as I tilted my head back, narrowly missing his mouth when he lowered it toward mine. He released a frustrated groan. “And I wore the shorts because they were the first comfortable thing I found in my drawer this morning.”
“See what I mean.” He lowered his hand from my face and pulled the other from the inside of my pocket. Backing up, he rubbed the fingers that had been cozied up to my ass cheek over his lips. Everything about the look in his green eyes screamed desire, and I knew his next remark would leave me on fire. Fortunately, the words were stolen right from his full lips at the sound of Matt’s voice shouting my name as he came sprinting out of the house.
“Ma! You came!” I made it a few feet in his direction, but Matt reached me in record time. He collided into me, knocking the air out of my lungs as his small arms wrapped tightly around my midsection. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he screeched against my stomach, and everything inside my ribcage turned to putty.
Damn, I had missed him.
I didn’t care how many articles online said I needed to learn to let go. I had missed the hell out of my kid.
“Believe it, kiddo.” I smoothed down his dark hair, earning me his usual duck and blush. As he scrubbed one hand through his hair and adjusted his dinosaur-print pajama top with the other, he grinned up at me. I knelt down so that we were eye level, not caring that the pavement was rough against my bare knees or that the sun was absolutely brutal from this position. The only thing I cared about was pulling Matt in for one more hug. “You didn’t really think I’d not spend the fourth of July with my favorite boy, did you?” I whispered against his shoulder. “Who else am I going to watch fireworks with?”
When he drew away from me, he twisted his lips to one side and held up his palms in front of his chest. “You said you had to work.”
“Grandpa Rich is handling work for a few days so I can be with you. We’ll have to call him later and thank him for being so awesome.”
When I stood, the back of my body brushed up against the front of Emmett’s. I stumbled just slightly, but one of his hands cupped the side of my waist, steadying me. I felt his mouth close to my ear and tried my hardest not to shiver as he told Matt, “Told you she’d come.”
“Let’s go in.” Matt’s hand found mine, and he tugged me toward the house. “I’ve gotta show you my room because it. Is. Awesome. Aunt Lyra woke me up and said she’s sleeping in there if she sees any Adam Wainwright posters.” He beamed up at me and lifted one shoulder. “She thinks he’s on the Braves.”
“Did you tell her he plays for the Cardinals?” I asked.
“Nah.” He yawned and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his free hand. Pausing under the stucco archway on the front porch, he moved his head up and down triumphantly. “I’ll wait until she bets me ten bucks he’s my favorite Braves player, then I’ll tell her.”
I bit the inside of my lip to keep from grinning at the look Matt gave me. It was like looking at Emmett whenever he one-upped me, and I was sure that if I turned around, I’d see the very same expression on his bronze face. “Do you even have ten bucks, kid?”
Dropping my hand and reaching for the doorknob, Matt countered angelically, “Does Adam Wainwright play for the Braves?”
Touché, kiddo. Touché.
“Smart boy,” Emmett said from behind us just before we stepped into the house.