Page 82 of Runaway Bride's Guide to Love

Her face blushes as the recognition hits her. Fuck, I forgot how much I loved making her blush. Usually it was from things I said or ways I was making her feel. But doing it in this completely nonsexual way? Somehow that feels better than any of the other times.

“Thanks,” she mouths as Simon starts yapping about the history of Magnolia Properties. I send her a wink, which only makes her smile bigger.

Winks? Cake pops? Coffee? What the fuck am I doing? Stop it! Right the fuck now!

I hear my brain saying all these things. I know they are all wrong.

So why can’t I stop doing them? And why do I want to make sure she smiles like that every day?

And why do I hate myself for thinking that?

Today has been a great day.

The sun is shining. The weather is starting to cool slightly, which means that football season—also known as fall—is just around the corner. Not even the phone call I got from my mom asking me when would be a good time to meet husband number eight can ruin my day.

Why is that? Because I don’t have to go to Rolling Hills today.

Nope. Today has been an all-Nashville day. Which has meant it’s been a Stella-free day.

Well, mostly. I did wake up at five in the morning after a dream where I hiked up that sinful pencil skirt she wore yesterday and fucked her at my desk. Not able to go back to sleep after that, I got up, got in a workout, took a cold shower— because that’s apparently all I do these days—and started my day early.

I’m three cups of coffee in, and my stops this morning have been productive and trouble free. I have one more site to check on before I can head home to do some office work. If I keep this pace up, I’ll clock out around three today. Maybe go see Maddie and Jack. I could take Winnie over and we could head to the dog park. Or maybe I could head to a bar, grab a burger, and watch a game. Though the last time I did that, I met a woman who has plagued my thoughts ever since.

Nope! Not thinking of Stella. Dog park with the sister and nephew it is.

Just as I’m sending a text to Maddie, seeing if she and Jack are free this afternoon, a text from Simon comes through.

Simon: Where you at?

Emmett: Nashville. I told you I wasn’t coming in today.

Simon: I know that. I meant where are you going to be in roughly an hour?

I check the clock and see that it’s noon. So in an hour, I’ll just be wrapped up with my final stop and be hopefully back home, eating a sandwich, before I spend the rest of the day at my computer.

Emmett: Should be at my house. Why? What’s up?

Simon: A few contracts and permits came in today that I need your signature on. I know you weren’t planning on coming back into Rolling Hills until next week, but I really want to get these processed first thing tomorrow. I’m going to send Stella out to your house and get your signature on them.

Fuck my fucking life…

Today was supposed to be my Stella-free day. And not only is she coming over, but she’s going to be in my house?

This is bad. So fucking bad. But I can’t tell Simon not to send her, that will raise too many questions. And I know if I volunteer to drive to Rolling Hills, he’ll tell me to not worry about it and that this is part of her job, to make our lives easier.

Emmett: 10-4.

An hour later I’m sitting outside on my front porch, Winnie atmy feet, as a white small SUV pulls into my driveway. How is she seeing over the steering wheel? I see her straining her neck as she puts the car in park, which makes me chuckle for some reason.

I stand up, not wanting to be rude even if I do plan on being as brief as possible, as Winnie takes off toward her. I call out for her to settle down, but it’s no use. My golden retriever is jumping on Stella like she’s her new best friend and is here to play.

“Well look at you,” I hear Stella coo as I make my way to the driveway. Her laugh is filling the air as Winnie tries to lick her. “You’re just the most beautiful girl in the world.”

I heard Maddie say one time that seeing a man with a kid was kryptonite, especially to her as a single mom. I thought she was insane. But I get it now. Seeing this woman—who I know biblically and is literally keeping me up at night—playing and loving on my dog? It’s enough to do me in.

I won’t let it. But it would be enough, especially when my traitorous imagination allows in a picture of me and Stella waking up naked with Winnie pouncing on us in the morning.

The fact that I’m now fantasizing about domestic things is serious cause for concern.

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