Emily
The brunch turned into a madhouse. Killian’s place wasn’t big enough for so many people. Or so many egos and pouts and endless snapping of photos.
Mir walked in soon after and stared at the group like she couldn’t believe it. “Where did they come from?” she demanded. “I only got one tub of ice cream!”
“We don’t do ice cream,” Red said with a sniff. “It always turns into hips.”
“And belly,” Purple added.
“Hey, I can eat it,” Devlin said with a grin.
Mir shot him a look frigid enough to freeze water. “I said only one tub.”
“We can share, babe.” He grinned harder, but she ignored him, shoved Bouncy Bare Monkeys in the freezer and shut the door. Maybe he’d insulted her before. Probably called her work junk.
The number of people didn’t seem to bug Killian, who whipped up bacon, eggs and bagels for everyone. He ended up sitting between me and Mom, which was good, because it made her forget why she’d been crying on her way to Kingstree. Mir ended up directly opposite me and next to Devlin. She scowled and looked like she wanted to move, but all the other seats were occupied by the women.
The Sextet didn’t eat much. Just two strips of bacon each, like they’d already agreed on a menu beforehand. Then they took lots and lots of selfies with the bacon. I didn’t understand the obsession, but maybe with the right hashtags—#keto, #JustSayNoToHips, #NoCarb—they’d get a million likes on the pictures. Who could possibly hate bacon?
“I’m so stuffed!” Brown announced, patting the concave wall that passed for her stomach.
“Me too! So much food!” Pink said.
Mir gave them a look. I inwardly agreed with her sentiment, then took a large bite of a bagel, laden with lots and lots of cream cheese, since I’d already polished off four strips of bacon.
“I think I overate.” Purple finger-combed her hair. “I feel a little sick. I should probably get up and walk.” She went into the living room and started walking in a large square, elbows high.
“I’m going to do some cardio later,” Red said, then sipped her coffee, which she had taken black.
Blondie nodded.
Amazing. If I ate like them, I’d weigh, like, two pounds. I couldn’t decide if they went on about how much food they ate because it was some kind of weird bragging competition. After all, they were trying to stay skinny and young.
“That’s a lot of carbs,” Blondie said to me as I bit into my bagel again. “I’m serious. Carbs will make you old.”
I’d rather look old than eat only six bites of food a day. Life was too short.
“Not to mention the bloating. Gluten does that,” Red added.
“Do you have a degree in nutrition or something?” I asked, wondering what made them decide to give me unsolicited advice on my food choices. Weirdly enough, they didn’t sound judgmental. Just really concerned, which was bizarre and awkward. I couldn’t even get angry with them, even though I had every intention of ignoring their advice.
Pink made a small I can’t believe this sound in her throat. “You don’t need to go to college to know. It’s common sense.”
“I like women with hearty appetites,” Killian cut in before more unasked-for comments could come my way. “And I love eating carbs with Emily. She makes the best shrimp scampi.”
I smiled. The remaining five girls looked at Killian and me as though we’d just announced we performed sacrifices of jelly-filled human biscuits and ate the remains afterward every full moon.
Purple returned to the table with a book in her hand. It was mine—The Very Bossy Engagement that I’d let Killian borrow. “I didn’t know you read, Killian,” she said, sitting down with the book with a small frown.
“In fact, I can,” he said dryly. “Count pretty well, too.”
I smothered a laugh, as it hadn’t been that long since he’d equated watching TV shows and movies based on books to reading. He’d come a long way. He actually changed in order to read my stuff. Thinking about that sent a curl of warmth around my heart. No other boyfriend had expressed enough interest to read my stories until Killian.
“Is it good?” She flipped through a bit. “It has a lot of words.”
“It’s amazing.” If Killian were a peacock, his chest would be puffed out and tail feathers fully fanned. “I loved it. Emily wrote it. She’s an amazing writer. A bestseller.”
“How many do you have to sell to make it?” Blondie said.
“A lot,” Killian said before I could. “Readers love her work. The only way her books could be better was if they were longer.”
I patted his hand. A lot of my readers said that, but if my books were actually longer, the stories would drag with filler.
Red frowned like she couldn’t understand him, then turned to me. “You should turn them into books with fancy photos. You’ll sell more. People love visuals. And they like to show off books like that on coffee tables.”
I almost laughed. One of my novels as a giant coffee table book. I could just imagine the kind of photos required for the sex scenes.
“She doesn’t write that kind of book. Besides, you’re supposed to use your imagination,” Mir cut in, her tone snotty.
“Pictures help,” Red said. “Nobody wants to read this much text.”
“Her books are perfect the way they are,” Killian said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “If you disagree, you’re wrong, and that’s that.”
Mom beamed.
I finished my coffee, heart fluttering, and used the mug to hide a smile I couldn’t suppress. I loved it that Killian was defending my writing—and praising my career. Not to mention it was sexy as hell. The modern-day equivalent of a knight defending his lady’s honor.
Killian stole a quick look at me, and I grinned. He smiled back, his blue eyes shining with something I couldn’t quite decipher. But it didn’t matter because, oh God, he was gorgeous.
As our gazes fused and the moment lengthened, I sensed a new emotion welling up inside. It was so sweet and warm that I wanted to hold on to it. And share it with Killian, because I knew he was the reason I was feeling this…this…whatever it was. The people around us receded into the background, and I reached over and brushed my fingertips along the corner of his mouth. His eyes followed the movement, then lifted back to mine. He looked at me like I was the only person on the planet who mattered, like I was the sun in his life.
He held my hand, his thumb stroking my pulse. My mouth dried, the air in my lungs hot.
“Stop it!” Red screeched.
I started, and the moment was broken. But that didn’t lessen the impact of what I’d felt.
The Sextet squabbled, then started to take selfies with my book. If their followers were curious enough to check the book out, I hoped their heads didn’t implode from the excessive number of words between the covers.
Mom watched Killian, her eyes bright with celebrity love, and got up to help him clean up afterward. I let her have some time with her favorite rock star, since that was an order of magnitude better than her thinking about Dad and the new assistant he was banging. I stayed in the dining room, while the babes from Spain and Mir argued over what to watch on TV. The Sextet had wanted to go into the kitchen with Killian, but he’d told them, rather firmly, that they should stay out for everyone’s safety.