Emmett left me to get dressed moments after he said those words, but they still played heavily in my mind on a repetitive loop as I walked through his house twenty minutes later in search of Matt.
He wasn’t on the couch, but I quickly found them both in the large, state-of-the- art kitchen. They sat at the center island, Emmett’s back to me and their heads bent close together while they laughed about some shared secret. Spotting me out of the corner of his eye, Matt sat up tall on the barstool and beamed. He flashed me a cookie-filled smile and an enthusiastic thumbs up.
“You owe me five big ones, Emmett! Told you Mom wouldn’t take an hour to get ready.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “You bet on me?”
Matt bobbed his head like it was the best thing he’d ever done with his life.
“Emmett woke me up and said I could have cookies because you wouldn’t be ready ‘til at least four-thirty since you’re a girl and girls like to primp and twirl around in front of the mirror for an hour before they’re good and ready.”
“I bet him you’d be done before I was finished eating.” I glanced at the clock on the over-the-range microwave to see that it was 3:59 before I shifted my focus to Matt and he triumphantly announced, “I was right.”
“Wow, Hudson, I’m a little offended you thought I’d primp and”—I cleared my throat and arched an eyebrow—“twirl around in front of the mirror for an hour before I decided I was good and ready.”
“Calm down, sweetheart, I—” he started, but when he turned around to face me, the words died on his lips right along with that sheepish grin that made my heart stutter. He swept his gaze over the length of my body and swallowed hard.
My own throat went dry.
I’d never been one to stress over what to wear—I practically lived in the tee shirts and shorts I wore for working on houses—but I had debated changing outfits from the moment I smoothed the white dress over my hips. It was simple and sleeveless, tucking in at the waist and flaring out into an asymmetrical hem that showcased legs that were tan from the sun and fit from squats and lunges.
I had paired the dress with the red, white and blue designer espadrille wedges I bought at a seventy-five percent off clearance sale last year, the key necklace Lyra had given me, and a swipe of red lipstick. By the time I left my room a couple minutes ago (after I admittedly did a little twirling in the mirror), I felt sexy and confident with how I looked. But now, seeing that Matt was dressed in a tee shirt and shorts and Emmett was still in his jeans and red tee and gawking at me, I was once again questioning my decision to wear the entire damn ensemble.
Emmett exhaled deeply and shook his head from side to side. “Wow.”
I ran my hands over the fabric covering my thighs and shot him a fretful look. “You think I should change into some shorts or—”
“I think you misunderstood that wow, Kinsey. That was wow, look at that gorgeous woman standing in my kitchen. That was wow, she’s the best goddamn—”
“Oh! Swear jar, Emmett,” Matt said, and Emmett didn’t miss a beat as he grabbed a loose five-dollar bill from the back pocket of his jeans and headed toward the cupboard by the French-door refrigerator.
“That was wow, you are perfect, Angel,” Emmett finished as he dropped the bill into the Mason jar decorated like the one Matt had weaseled me into starting at home. He returned it to the cupboard and closed the door. “The prettiest thing I’ve seen in eight years.”
I worried the hem of the dress between my fingers. “I just don’t want to be the only one there—”
“You. Are. Perfect,” he repeated, emphasizing each syllable as his gaze once again wandered over my body appreciatively. A shiver coursed down my spine, but he didn’t see my reaction as he gave Matt a pointed look. “Tell your momma how pretty she looks, son.”
Matt crammed another cookie into his mouth, washed it down with the glass of milk in front of him, and bobbed his head up and down. “You look really pretty, Mom,” he echoed.
“Thank you, kiddo, but don’t talk with a full mouth.”
When he told me that he was sorry, again flashing me a mouthful of chocolate chip cookies, I had to press my lips together to avoid smiling. At least he was trying.
I felt Emmett’s gaze burning into me as I walked to the island, but I kept my focus on Matt because he was safe. Because my feelings for my son had always been there, would always be there, but what I felt for Emmett—the good and not the bad—had been dormant for so long. Now they were all coming back and faster than I ever imagined.
“Are you excited about the fireworks, kiddo?”
“Mmmhmm.”
Taking a seat at the barstool beside Emmett’s and directly across from Matt, I held my breath for a moment because the former’s woodsy aroma invaded my senses. Damn, he smelled good. Admonishing myself for letting it affect me, I cleared my throat and asked my son, “Sure you’re not going to fall asleep?”
Last year, he lasted through half the firework show at Turner Field before he passed out in my lap. He’d watched the rest the next day because my dad had felt sorry for him and recorded it on his phone.
“Not this year. That’s why I took a nap before.” He tilted his head to one side. “You sure Aunt Lyra can’t come?”
“She hasn’t seen her cousin in a few years, baby, but she promises she’s all yours tomorrow. She even said she’ll take you to get cheeseburgers for breakfast.”
He leaned over and grabbed a napkin from the wooden holder in the center of the island. “But no mustard, right?” After I assured him that he could order any kind of cheeseburger he wanted, he wiped his face and shot a questioning look from Emmett to me. “Do we get to go to the barbecue now?”
Emmett pretended to study his watch, then lifted his broad shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “I don’t know…”
“Oh, come on, pleeeeease?” He squeezed his eyes shut for emphasis before giving us his best attempt at looking utterly forlorn. It was the same face he sent my way whenever he asked for a puppy, so obviously I was well-versed in resisting its charm. “Beth said she’d show me her dirt bike if I got there early.”
“Did she?” Emmett teased.
“Yeah, but she said I’m too little to ride it.”
“Tell you what. Go in my bedroom, grab my wallet off the nightstand, and I think we can work something out.” Emmett’s compromise earned a hoot of approval from our son as he clambered off the barstool grinning like he’d just scored an all-you-can-buy shopping spree from his favorite toy store.
“You’re the best, Emmett!”
He stared after Matt as he dashed from the kitchen, a softness clouding his gaze. That look was everything and more—the way every father should look at his child—and I felt a twinge in my heart. “Damn, I’m crazy about that kid,” he said.
“I can tell. He loves you, too.” He slid off his seat. Before I could utter another word, he had his hands on either side of my hips and his mouth bent close to mine. From this angle, that cologne was damn near intoxicating. “What are you doing?” I whispered.
“Telling you how beautiful you look.” His lips were so close to mine I swore I tasted mint when he talked. “You are beautiful.”
“You said that before.”
“I’m saying it again,” he retorted, his voice low and rough—a sexy growl that raised goosebumps on my bare arms. “And I’ll say it again and again before this night is over and done. I didn’t think anything could top that red and white dress, but I’ll only be able to think of one thing seeing you in this all night?”
“Yeah?” I breathed, and he nodded before pressing his mouth to my ear. I gasped when his tongue flicked out to skim my earlobe.
“Oh, hell yeah. All I’ll think about is how it would be a shame if that pretty white dress didn’t end up on my bedroom floor by the—”
“Are y’all kissing?” Matt’s voice squeaked, interrupting us. Emmett stood slowly, shoved his hands in the front pocket of his jeans, and grinned at the astute seven-year-old standing in the doorway.
“That was the fastest wallet run I’ve ever—” he started just as I firmly replied, “No, Emmett was telling me a joke.”
Matt scrunched his face. “You weren’t laughing, Ma,” he pointed out skeptically.
My ears burned so badly, they felt like they were seconds from melting right off my head. “Because Emmett’s jokes are worse than Grandpa Rich’s.” I slid off the barstool and ran my hands over the back of my dress to make sure I wouldn’t give Emmett another eyeful when we walked out the door. “You boys ready?”
* * *
“Okay, I’ll admit it. You’re good,” Emmett said from the seat next to mine. I flashed him a smile and nodded my head, prompting him to keep the praise coming. I was eating it up. “You might even be better than me.”
I snorted. “You don’t really believe that, but I’ll take it,” I laughed as I downshifted gears to pass the hybrid going ten miles under the speed limit. When I looked over my shoulder to make sure the left lane was clear, I caught a glimpse of Matt, whose face was drawn in concentration and buried in his Vita. “Believe it or not, I’ve always wanted to drive one of these.”
“I can tell. And now that you have, you’ll be asking to drive it around all the time.” His words held a note of unsaid promise, and when I looked at him from peripherals, one corner of his mouth was lifted in a half-smile. “But like I said a few minutes ago, you’re good. Hell, I thought for sure you’d take out the mailbox before we even made it out of my driveway.”
I rolled my eyes. “Jesus, Hudson, you sure know just what to say to make a girl swoon.”
When we had walked into Emmett’s garage twenty minutes ago, I was admittedly flustered. The man just had that effect on me, and even after so many years, I wasn’t immune to him. But one look at the sterling gray GT500 parked in the furthest bay, and I’d turned into a fangirl whose obsession didn’t involve sexy country stars but fast, roaring steel.
“This is yours?” I’d squeaked at him when he came up behind me to place his hand possessively on one of my hips.
“Nah, I’m holding it for a friend.” When I shot him a dark look over my shoulder, he’d chuckled and cocked his dark head to one side. “What the hell do you know about these cars, Brock?”
“Don’t sound like such a Mustang elitist, Hudson,” I’d said as I ran a finger over the chrome cobra emblem on the front grill. “This sexy girl is a beast. Six hundred and sixty horsepower and everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”
“Everything you’ve ever dreamed of, huh? Let me guess, you watched Gone in 60 Seconds in middle school and decided you wanted to grow up and Sway.”
“I’ve never seen the new one, but I do know about this car because—well, it’s a bad ass car.”
He’d given my hip a rough pump that made me suck in a sharp breath. Damn him and those hands. “You drive stick?”
“Like a pro. If you’re asking me that because you’re thinking about letting me drive it, I might faint.” The closest I’d ever come to even sitting in one was looking at the window sticker at the dealership when I bought my compact car.
“Don’t faint.” He’d dug in the pocket of his jeans for his keys. Dropping them in my hand, he wrapped my fingers around the Mustang’s key-fob. “If you do, you won’t be able to show me what a pro you are on a stick,” he had added low enough for Matt not to hear him, and just loud enough to send me into another Emmett Hudson-induced meltdown.
“I could’ve sworn you told me you couldn’t drive stick the summer I met you,” he said now, bringing my thoughts back to the present. He pointed one long finger to the right lane of the tollway. “Your turn’s coming up in about a mile, so you might want to go on and get over.”
“I couldn’t drive stick when you met me,” I explained as I switched lanes again. “I learned how to after … well, after Matt was born.”
“What did you do after I was born, Mom?” Matt spoke up from the backseat. I glanced up at the rearview mirror to see that he had paused his game and was drumming his fingers on the sides of his backless booster seat as he looked up at me curiously.
“Learned how to drive a manual car, like this one.”
“Is it hard?”
“Not if you learn how to drive one before an automatic,” Emmett said. Putting his hand behind my headrest, he twisted around until they were face-to-face. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you when the time comes.”
Clearly ecstatic about the driving lesson that wouldn’t come for at least another eight or nine years, Matt returned his attention to his Vita and the sock puppet game he was crazy about.
“I was pretty damn lucky to get a job at a construction company after everything that had happened,” I explained as Emmett turned his focused back to me. “Since I had to drive the truck a lot, and it was stick, one of the guys on the crew taught me how to drive a manual. It took me a couple days to get the hang of it, but I was broke and determined.”
“That was … nice of him. You know, to teach you how to drive stick. Take a right just up there at the road sign, sweetheart.” I didn’t miss the smirk he gave me, and I set my mouth in a hard line as I turned on my signal and took the turn. “Your next turn is a left in another mile.”
“I didn’t date him, if that’s what you’re wondering. Or anything else. It wasn’t like that at all.” In fact, Jake Draper had been two-point-five times my age and had seen me as the daughter he never had. Emmett’s judgy expression pissed me off. “Though I hardly think you have a right to look at me like that since you were married and with God knows who else.”
“Ahh, hell,” he breathed. He rested calloused fingers on my bare knee, and I startled at the touch. I slowed down at the next stop sign, switched the left signal on, but didn’t rush to make the turn since nobody was behind us.
“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t have a right to ask you questions about who you’ve been with or loved or even looked at since you were with me, but I would be lying to you if I didn’t admit I can’t stand the thought of another man being near you.”
Oh, my. “I…”
When my voice trailed off, he trailed his hand to my thigh and gave it a squeeze that sent a burst of electricity through me. “What matters is that you’re mine tonight, Angel. No buts, no fighting me at every turn, no telling me there’s no us when we both know there is and all you’re doing is wasting your breath. Okay?”
I gripped the steering wheel harder. “Okay,” I whispered and finally pulled away from the stop sign.
We rode in silence for another few minutes—Matt focused on his game, me holding the steering wheel like it would disintegrate if I let it go, and Emmett staring straight ahead. He didn’t move his hand from my thigh until he pointed to an ornate iron gate. “This is it.”
Driving up the wide, winding driveway that was already lined with cars, I released a low whistle as I got closer to the massive beast up ahead. It was a beautiful home, stucco and stone, and at least twice the size of Emmett’s. “Um, what did you say your dad does?”
Motioning for me to slow down for the valet positioned at the front of the house, he let out a tight laugh. “He manages musical artists.”
“He’s your manager?” I parked his car and turned toward him, biting the inside of my upper lip when he reached out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind my ear.
“No, not anymore. He stopped managing me about four years ago, but he still works for a lot of people I know, including my ex. He’s good at his job, as you can see.” I didn’t like the flash of anger in his green eyes, but it was gone before he turned to speak to Matt. “You ready to party, son?”
I was dying to know the story behind Emmett’s decision to go with a different manager, but I swallowed down the question as Matt put his Vita on the seat next to his and pumped his fists in excitement.
“Yes! I can’t wait to see the pool slide. I’ve got on my trunks under my shorts,” he sang, pulling at the adjustable waistband of his red shorts to reveal his fish-print swim trunks. I climbed out of the car and let the seat up so he could get out. “It’s gonna be so awesome, Mom.”
“Yeah? Know what else would be awesome? Having your energy for a day or two,” I teased, racing my fingers through his mop of dark hair as he laughed. “Here you go, Hudson.” Reluctantly, I gave Emmett his keys back, which he turned over to the valet.
While Matt chattered on about everything he would eat and do tonight, I stared up at the enormous house in front of us. While the joyride in the GT500 had somewhat calmed my nerves, the anxiety was back and as vicious as ever. When I felt a hand on the small of my back, I popped my head up to gaze into Emmett’s green eyes.
“Let go of your necklace,” he coaxed. “I’m here.”
I dropped my hand to my side, clenching it. “Ugh, guess my emotions really are that obvious.” I forced myself to pull in an even breath. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Just relax and let me show you and my boy the good time you deserve.”