Her lips twitch. I love it when they do that. “You make it extra you-know-what?”
“For you? Always.”
Rhett barks with laughter. “Who are you, and why don’t I know you yet?”
“I’m Emma.” She extends her hand. “You must be Rhett.”
“Yes, ma’am. So, about this cornbread—”
“We should be going,” I say, cutting my brother a warning glance. “I don’t want to interrupt your plans for the evening, Emma. Everything here is warm and ready to eat.”
We load up Emma’s arms. Rhett, actually being wise again, heads for the truck, leaving me alone with Emma on her porch.
I don’t waste a second. Sliding my hands into the front pockets of my jeans, I say, “My turn to apologize. I am so fucking sorry about last night. I acted a fool, and I have no excuse. Baiting you like that, using your apology against you that way—it was wrong, stupid, and mean, and I feel horrible about hurting you. I’m sorry, Emma. Really, truly sorry.”
Moving in the right direction feels like giving Emma time to absorb what I’m saying. Time to respond. So I let uncomfortable silence bloom between us, melting into a Wicked Witch of the West puddle inside while trying my damnedest to keep it together on the outside.
She’s studying me with a thoughtful expression on her face, like she wants to ask me more probing questions. Deeper ones. Like why I acted the way I did.
A part of me yearns for questions like that.
Another part wants to run from them. What if I don’t like the answers? What if they push me up against something I’m only just now learning to let myself have?
“You were awful,” she finally says. “That stunt you pulled was shitty in the extreme. And the things you said…”
I reach out and take the collards back. All this shit is heavy, and she shouldn’t have to carry it alone while I beg for her forgiveness.
“I’m sorry. I can’t take them back, but I would if I could. You’re not annoying, and you’re not a pain in the ass. You’re just doing your job. Doing it really fucking well, might I add. After seeing you in action at the restaurant and at the Charleston Heat event…Emma, you’re remarkable.”
She’s staring at me, eyes full. “Thanks. I appreciate you saying that.”
“I understand if you can’t forgive me. I crossed so many lines.”
“We. We crossed those lines. Yesterday—” She shakes her head, blinking against the way the light glints of the tin foil covering the collards in her hand. “None of that was supposed to happen, Samuel. The stuff on the smoking patio. And then at your house. I make it a point never to engage in personal relationships with coworkers. From my experience, it never ends well.” She looks up at me. “Can we agree to keep things professional going forward?”
The fierceness of the disappointment that grips my heart and squeezes takes me off guard. She’s right.
She’s calling me Samuel. Goddammit, I love her smile, and I love the sound of my name on her lips.
See, this is where I get tripped up. Rationally, it makes perfect sense for us to maintain a strictly professional relationship. But if I’m being honest—I’m really trying hard to be honest here—I want more.
Is it possible to have it bad for two people at once?
Because now that I’m on Emma’s front step, her brown eyes on my face and her hair fluttering in the breeze, I realize just how right Rhett is. I do have it bad for Emma. But now more than ever, I need to keep my crush in check and my dick in my pants. Emma is right—relationships between fellow employees rarely work out.
Emma can be my friend. Just a friend.
I tell myself I’m okay with that.
“Absolutely,” I hear myself saying. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you happy and keep you around.”
Her eyes flicker with surprise. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Yes. Emma, I want to try to work together as co-heads of Blue Mountain’s wine and food programs. Yesterday, you convinced me you really are a team player. Let’s see if you can keep it up.”
“Wow.” She crosses an arm awkwardly over her chest. “You must feel really bad if you’re not only willing to give me a chance, but you’ve come to offer that chance in person. With a side of some pretty sweet food.”
“I’m giving you a chance because you deserve it.”
She eyes me. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
The idea pops into my head, and it feels right. I’m sick of feeling like the bad guy, so I go with it. “Let me prove it to you. Come to Sunday supper. My family gets together at the same time every week to catch up. We talk a little shop, but more than that, we talk shit about each other. Since you’ll hopefully be staying at the farm for a while, join the gossip fest. That way you can really get to know everyone. I’m running the risk they’ll scare you off, but”—I shrug—“sometimes my family can be cool. Sometimes.”
Emma smiles.
A real smile that lights up her eyes and rearranges the soft parts inside my chest.
God, she’s gorgeous when she’s relaxed.
“Your family is something else. I’d love to,” she replies. She holds up the cornbread. “Should I bring the food back to your place then?”
I wave her away. “Nah, I always make enough to feed an army. Keep that stuff for the rest of the week. So help me God, if I hear about you eating another protein bar, we’ll be having words, you hear?”
She bites her lip, and I have to shove my hand back in my pocket to keep from reaching for her. “I’ll consider it, yes.”
“I’ll take it.”
“All right,” I say.
“Okay,” she replies.
“Five o’clock at Beau’s place. It’s the brown house a little ways up the hill—can’t miss it. I’ve gotta go grab everything from my house, but I can give you a ride if you want?”
“I’ll walk, thanks. And yes, I’ll watch out for your favorite bears, David and Eddie.”
I turn and find Rhett practically hanging out the truck’s open window with wide eyes and a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Shut up,” I say, climbing into the driver’s seat.
He holds up his hands. “I didn’t say a damn thing.”
“Yeah, well, I know what you’re thinking.”
“How’d you know what I’m thinking?”
“Because I’m thinking it too.” I turn the key in the ignition and the car roars to life. “But she requested that we keep things professional—”
“Bummer.”
“So my official line is that I invited her to supper so she can get to know the family she’ll be working with a little better.”
Rhett raises his brows. “And you’re okay with that?”
“Doesn’t matter if I’m okay with it or not. It is what it is.”
“God, I hate that expression.”
“Me too.” I put the truck in park. “Remind me to bring the bourbon. I’m gonna need it.”
Chapter Eighteen