Page 35 of Marrying Emma

He lifted his helmet off and set it on the seat before turning to her. She took a moment to study his face while hers was still concealed behind the helmet. He looked nervous, as though he weren’t sure how she was going to react.

Did he know the owners of this home? He’d had the code to open the gate. Surely he didn’t own it…

Emma took her own helmet off and set it beside Marty’s. “What is this?”

A little smile partially erased the evidence of Marty’s hesitation as he reached out and gently smoothed her hair. Oh, the helmet. Right. Emma had forgotten about it.

The feel of his hands on her head sent goosebumps skittering across her skin. She tried to pat her hair back in place.

“This is my house.” He slipped his hands into his pockets and gave a little shrug. “I’ve wanted to tell you, but people always react differently once they know. I didn’t want to risk that at first.”

Emma’s jaw dropped, and she snapped her mouth closed again. She remembered looking the house up on the internet once, and it was worth a fortune all on its own. Her gaze swept over him. “You don’t look like a millionaire.”

He laughed loudly at that. Should she be offended? “I don’t think there’s one particular look all millionaires adopt, Emma. The truth is, my parents owned this house. It’s where I grew up. When they moved to Florida, they sold it to me for a price that was much more reasonable than it might have gone on the open market.”

“It’s a beautiful home. I’ve always thought so.” She shook her head in disbelief. “My sister and I used to pretend a handsome prince from another country secretly lived here.”

Amusement glittered in his eyes. “A far cry from it, huh?”

He might not be a literal prince, but he was certainly handsome. “I wouldn’t necessarily say that.” She blinked at him. “I had no idea. If you can afford to live here, why are you working at the gym as a coach of all things?”

“Because it’s what I actually want to do. My family is well-off thanks to my grandfather who passed his fortune on to us. But my parents insisted that having money didn’t mean we could skate by in life. I mowed the lawn, got a job when I turned sixteen, and was held accountable.” He motioned to the house. “I wanted to keep this in the family, too, when my parents moved away. Just because I have a savings account and this house doesn’t make me any different from you or Caleb or anyone else.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that. There are a lot of things you’ve never had to worry about.” If he inherited so much from his grandfather, that meant Marty had never had to worry about money. Never had to budget to pay his bills, wonder if the carpet in the living room was going to eventually wear away, or worry about finding a second job to avoid taking advantage of a family member.

And to think he’d been to her house. Seen their threadbare furniture. He knew about her medical bills. Emma’s face heated with shame. “Marty, I…”

“No, don’t. Emma, I don’t tell people about this because they look at me differently. They have all kinds of assumptions, and I dealt with a lot of them growing up. There were people who I thought were my friends but only wanted to get to know me because they hoped I’d get them football season tickets. There have been women in the past who showed interest only because of the money, not because of me.” He ran a hand through his hair.

“I never asked you for money. I wouldn’t have, even if I’d known about all of this.”

“I believe that, Emma.”

“No wonder you didn’t get it when I told you we couldn’t get Mom’s car fixed. That was never an issue for you, was it?” Emma couldn’t even imagine a life where there was enough money for anything she needed.

Marty cringed. “No, it never was. But it doesn’t mean I can’t empathize.”

Emma massaged her forehead as an ache began to build. “And I told you about my medical bills. You saw my house.”

“None of that matters.” He captured one of her hands in his and tugged her toward the house. “Will you come inside and talk? I have some cold chicken and lemonade for lunch. I even have air conditioning.” He waggled his eyebrows at her as though he were offering something outlandish.

With a chuckle, Emma shook her head. “You’re a mess.”

“Yes, ma’am, I am. Come on.” Still holding her hand, Marty led the way to the front door, unlocked it, then ushered her in.

After riding and standing in the sun, she welcomed the cool air that enveloped her as she stepped inside. Her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light. The living room was expansive with a brick fireplace, two couches with blue fabric and wooden accents, two comfortable-looking recliners in the same color, and a gorgeous rug on the floor in the center with a combination of blues and greens that drew Emma forward.

Even though all the furniture was clearly way above her paygrade, it was also…normal. She’d half expected a stuffy room with white furniture that she was afraid to get near. This was comfortable and pretty.

“I love the colors,” she told Marty as he closed the front door behind them.

“I do, too. My mom decorated the house. I’ve always admired her style.” He stood next to her, his hands in his pockets.

“I can’t imagine trying to keep this place clean.” The living room was half the size of her house.

Marty laughed at that. “I have to admit I hire a company to come and clean once a week.”

“I can’t say I blame you.” She tried to visualize living there by herself and couldn’t. With a house this big, she imagined shadows got darker at night and all the normal house noises echoed. Did he get lonely? Or did he like the privacy and room the house provided?

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