Mamie’s lip curled slyly, telling me exactly what she thought of my sad excuse. “Is that what you kids are calling it these days?”
God. Refusing to squirm, I narrowed my eyes at her. Mamie merely beamed.
“Well then,” she said. “I shall leave you two to . . . eat.” She gave us a queenly nod and then left us alone, quietly closing the door behind her with a definitive click.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Then Emma’s musical voice, tinged with irony, drifted over the thick silence. “Just having lunch, eh?”
Wincing, I faced her. She stood by the table, hair mussed, lips still softly swollen from my kisses, her eyes glinting in either humor or irritation. It was a toss-up.
Hell. I needed to explain. “I—”
Emma burst out laughing. “God. That was awful. I felt like a fifteen-year-old caught in a boy’s room.”
A smile tugged at my mouth. “Creep into many boys’ rooms, did you?”
“Sadly, no. I was a gawky homebody who didn’t get a date until college. But I dreamed of it.”
I couldn’t imagine a time when I wouldn’t want Emma. “If we’d met as teens, I would have invited you to my room. Or crawled into yours.”
“No, you wouldn’t have,” she said with flippant assurance. “You wouldn’t have even seen me.”
“I would too. How can you say that?” I didn’t know why I was arguing hypotheticals with her other than it was better than focusing on the rabid panic I’d felt when Amalie had found us together.
“You were one of the popular guys, weren’t you?” She looked me over, as if seeing my younger self. “And probably hotter than you needed to be.”
“Well, I don’t know about hot, but okay, I was popular.” I shifted my weight, rubbing the back of my neck. “It was hockey. And baseball.”
“You played both?”
“I was a catcher. But baseball was secondary. I needed something to keep me in shape during off months.”
“I’m surprised you had time for girls.” She hadn’t moved from her position by the chair. The light of the lamp she’d turned on in deference to my migraine cast a golden glow over her shoulder.
I found myself moving toward her, pulled by the need to touch that smooth skin, feel the soft curves of her body. “I had time for them. Probably too much.”
When I reached her, she yielded, flowing into my arms with a sigh. Her hair held the scent of my shampoo, but her skin carried her own fragrance, warm and unique, addictive. I nuzzled her closer, drawing in a long breath. “I would have noticed you.”
Her fingers trailed up my shoulders. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I cannot conceive of a situation where I wouldn’t.” The words tumbled out, rushed in their honesty. I wasn’t one for talking about feelings or need. I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, once again hit with the uncomfortable sensation of free-falling. Thing was, holding on to Emma only made it worse. The closer she got, the more I needed.
I’d lost too much to lose more.
“Amalie looked very satisfied,” Emma said dryly.
I swallowed again, struggling to find my voice. “You know she’s been after us to get together from the start.” And damn it, I’d proved my canny grandmother right. She’d definitely crow over this. I wouldn’t be surprised if she started in on grandkids now. “She was convinced we were the answer to all of our problems.”
Emma snorted, but it was without rancor—just simple amusement. “She’s a romantic. Some people think love fixes everything.”
Love.
A wave of clammy cold washed along my back, and words spewed out of my runaway mouth. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it clear we’re only messing around.”
Emma pulled back, as if stung, a frown forming between her brows. “Messing around.”
“Well, I won’t put it like that. She’s my grandmother. But I’ll let her know it isn’t serious.”
The tiny line between her brows deepened. “Right. Not serious.”
Fuck. This was going south and fast. But I couldn’t seem to stop it. Or shut the hell up.
I rubbed my hands over her skin, trying to soothe her even as I panicked. “You’ve known from the beginning I wasn’t looking for a relationship. I didn’t plan this. I wasn’t expecting . . . you.”
“I wasn’t expecting you either. I thought I’d go on vacation, read some scripts, and catch up on my sleep.”
My hands couldn’t settle. They kept moving over her satiny skin like it might be my last chance to feel her. And it just might. Because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “That’s the thing, Em. You’re on vacation. How long are you even staying?”
Emma slid away. I felt the loss immediately, my body growing cold. I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her. Every selfish cell in my tightly wound body protested.
Still frowning, she leaned against the kitchen counter. “I don’t know. A month, maybe. Amalie hasn’t given me a deadline.”
“You don’t need one. Jesus, Em, I’m not trying to run you off. I’m trying to point out that it isn’t serious for either of us.”
“Again with serious. As if the very idea is horrific.”
“Well . . .” Shit. Shut it, Oz.
Her glare became piercing. “Is this because I said the dreaded L word?”
“What? No.” Maybe. Fuck.
“I only meant it in terms of romance and idealism,” she went on, defensive and flushed.
“I know that. I’m not freaking out because you uttered lo—the L word.”
She snorted loudly. “You can’t even say it.”
“Neither can you,” I pointed out, then immediately flinched, knowing I sounded like a petulant ass. Her repressive look said she agreed.
“Shit. It’s not that it’s . . .” I ran a hand over my mouth, feeling the stubble of my evening beard growth. “Honestly, honey, I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying. Other than you’re leaving, I’m . . . I don’t know anything about relationships—”
“You were engaged,” she said with some asperity. “I think you know a little bit about the process.”
“That’s the worst part about it. When she left, I realized I didn’t do shit in that relationship. She took care of everything like she was . . .” I lifted a hand, struggling. “A hostess, someone there to make sure I never suffered a moment of discomfort.”
“Jesus.”
“I’m not proud of it. I’m ashamed I didn’t notice that’s how it was until it was over.”
Cassandra’s voice flickered through my mind: I thought you were more than hockey, Oz. I see now that you weren’t.
I didn’t want to think about Cassandra. Not with Emma staring at me with hurt in her eyes. It was a blow to see her disappointment. But I couldn’t lie to Emma. “I don’t want a repeat of that.”
“Good, because you wouldn’t get that with me.”
“Believe me, Snoop; I know. Thing is, I am pretty much a walking wreck right now. I make mistakes all the time.”