“So, does this mean you’ll be coming over to use my shower for the foreseeable future?” she asked, a little too casually. And I swore there was something hopeful in her gaze. Whether she was just interested in my breakfast or the bare chest display, she wanted me to stick around.
That put me in a much better mood. “I doubt I’ll be for too long.” I used the same casual tone she had, trying to see how she’d react to what I was about to say. “If nothing else, I’ll be going to Dallas in June.”
She studied the three strips of bacon on her plate, then finally picked one. “For what?”
“That’s where our studio is.” Dallas was a good choice because Teri lived there. It gave Cole a chance to be with his fiancée as much as possible. “Gotta get back to work sometime.”
Emily looked up. Surprise crossed her eyes, even though her features were set in neutral line. “So you’ll be gone?”
“Yeah.” Then I casually added, “You going to miss me?”
I wanted her to say yes. I wanted her to realize maybe she liked me a lot more than she’d expected and decide to move our relationship further. Not limited to a kiss or ten minutes in bed, but much, much more.
She swallowed her water. “I’ll certainly miss your breakfasts.”
Disappointment tugged at me, hard. Then stung pride wrapped around me like armor. “I can teach you how to make it before I go.” It’d give us more time to spend together.
“No, thank you. I prefer that you cook.” She cleared her throat. “Besides, I don’t normally eat breakfast like this anyway. You’ve been spoiling me.” She focused her gaze on me. Her eyes were as clear as the pond on the outskirts of the town. They were the kind of eyes that could pull a man in and make him forget his own name.
“I like you, Emily.” The words tumbled down from my lips before I could regain my better judgment.
She inhaled sharply, the tip of one eyebrow tilting up. “Even when I take all the Bouncy Bare Monkeys and Hop Hop Hooray?”
“Even then.”
Her soft lips parted. “Killian, I—”
Darth Vader’s theme blared from my phone and shattered the moment. Shit.
Emily straightened and pulled back a bit. “You should answer that.”
I hit the red button. “It can wait. I want to know what you have to say.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Emily
I bit my lip, my mind blank. It was ridiculously ironic that I, a writer, couldn’t think of anything clever to say.
But when I wrote, I got a chance to revise. I couldn’t travel back in time and emend a real-time conversation. And that was why I hadn’t been able to say any of the things that had been flashing through my head since Killian said he’d be gone in June.
Weird. Why hadn’t I thought of that possibility before? He might be from Kingstree, but he’d left. He had his own career and things to do. Tours and interviews. Maybe professional conferences. Did musicians have music conferences?
I didn’t want him to teach me how to make breakfast like him. I wanted him to be here and make the breakfast every day. Or at least stop by every morning.
When had I become so dependent and needy? The realization was scary, but there was nothing I could do to change how I felt. It was as though Killian had somehow managed to slip through my shell and lodged himself inside me. Like a grain of sand that later became a pearl.
I was going to miss him. Even if he’d said he liked me, it didn’t change the fact that he was going to be gone in June. Being one of hundreds of notches on his bedpost wasn’t my idea of a nice spring fling.
His phone rang again. He swore.
“You should definitely answer that. Nobody ignores Darth Vader and lives,” I said, relieved at the interruption. Whoever was calling must have been ultra-scary for him to assign that ring tone.
Sighing with irritation, he answered it. “Yes, Mir?”
I started eating again, trying not to listen to his call in case it was private. That wasn’t like me, either. I listened to phone conversations all the time. I liked to guess what the other person was saying and what the speakers’ relationship was. Sometimes I got story ideas that way.
But Killian was a celebrity. He wouldn’t like people using details from his life in a book—even if it was fiction—when it might be recognizable to oodles of music listeners around the world. I wouldn’t want to use him that way. He’d earned his spotlight, his fame. Nobody had the right to leech off it.
He hung up, looking annoyed. “Sorry. That was my sister.”
Darth Vader was his sister? “Is she okay?” I asked even though what I really wanted to ask was: Are you okay? Whatever she wanted couldn’t be good, especially if she was the evil Sith. And I understood better than anybody how complicated and dysfunctional a family could be…and how you couldn’t ignore it, no matter what. Just look at the way I’d been dealing with my parents’ marriage.
“No. She’s on her way here. To visit me…supposedly.”
Supposedly? Weren’t they close? Or maybe they’d fought recently?
“Surprise visit, my ass,” he muttered.
Yup, definitely annoyed. “Do you need to get going?” I wished there was something I could do for him. Except what could I do? I wasn’t his family or girlfriend or anything. I was just a neighbor.
Three firm knocks came from the door. I glared, wondering about the interruption. I hadn’t ordered anything.
Killian got up and opened the door. “Hey, Mir,” he said.
His sister was here? Like, at my house? But why?
I craned my neck to get a look at the person who merited supervillain music, but Killian was blocking my view.
“Oh my God, you didn’t tell me you were having breakfast with Emma Grant!” Killian’s sister squealed.
That didn’t sound like somebody who deserved Darth Vader’s theme. Actually, she sounded like…a fan.
And I wasn’t sure what to make of that. I’d heard from friends that they had weird, stalkerish fans show up at their house, but I’d never had it happen to me. Besides, this was Killian’s sister. Did she count as a stalker fan or a standard fan?
On the other hand, would your everyday fan show up at your doorstep?
“You didn’t ask,” Killian said.
“Wha—?” his sister said. “Because you never even gave me a hint that—”
“I don’t hint. I state. I’m a man.”
“Can I see her? Please?” She started hopping, the top of her head appearing intermittently over his shoulder. “She’s my favorite author!”
I sighed, wishing I were somewhere else. I was not ready to meet a fan, no matter how much she liked me, especially when it was Killian’s sister.
“She might not want to,” he said. “You can’t just barge in.”
“I’m here to visit you. And it isn’t my fault that instead of being home, you’re over here with my favorite author.”
“Oh, so it’s my fault?” Killian said.
“Okay, fine! I’m only about ten percent here to see you, and ninety percent hoping I’d run into Emma Grant. I just didn’t want to sound like a freak. Now come on! I missed her book signing in D.C.!”