Page 50 of There's No Us Without You
Emerson mumbles what sounds likedickunder his breath, a small frown now pulling in his dark eyebrows.
Damn, he’s adorable when he’s grumpy. Nothing like Will—scary... and sexy as hell.
Will ignores Emerson and pulls out a drawer to grab the bottle opener. He pops the cap off two bottles before sliding one over to me.
I give him a small smile as a thank you. I’m not going to read too much into why he’s being nice to me—his version of nice, at least.
“Excuse me, arsehole.” Emerson throws his hands up. “Am I invisible?”
Frowning, Will glances at the empty bottle now sitting on the bench behind his best friend, but he doesn’t get a chance to respond when Emerson snatches the bottle out of his hand and stalks towards the dining table. Both Will and I watch on as he grabs a chair, yanks it out from under the table, then falls onto it with a heavy sigh.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him even remotely pissed off. Especially towards Will. Maybe they’ve had an argument I don’t know about and this is normal behaviour for them.
But I don’t have time to worry about Emerson when Will invades my personal space, completely ignoring Emerson’s outburst as though it’s a regular occurrence.
The warmth of his body and the hardness of his chest against my back has me squeezing my eyes shut.
With a hand on my hip, he gently digs his fingers in. “You look beautiful,” he says, his lips just millimetres from my ear. “And I’m sorry about earlier.”
My grip on the tongs tightens, my entire body vibrating as goosebumps erupt over my skin.
I turn to respond, but he’s already on his way to the dining table, and I’m left staring after him with my mouth hanging open like an idiot.
I’m in serious trouble of getting whiplash here.
I glance down at the oversized T-shirt and denim shorts I’m still wearing from earlier.
They aren’t flattering in the least, the shorts coming to just above my knees. However, they do what they need to—hide my insecurities, and the bane of my existence. At least, according to my mother.
God forbid I have cellulite on my thighs and tummy rolls.
The timer to the oven goes off, so I pull the roasted potatoes out while allowing the steaks to rest for a few minutes. Once they’re ready, I bring the bowl of crunchy potatoes and steaks over to the table and set the items down.
Emerson bounces in his seat, rubbing his hands together, his sour mood from moments ago now gone, as he stares at the food. “Fuck yeah. I’m starving.”
“Anyone would think you haven’t eaten in days,” I say with a shake of my head, plating up each of the steaks before handing them to the guys.
“I’m a growing boy.” Emerson grins up at me.
An adorable one, too.
When I’m seated, I wait for Em and Will to plate up the rest of their dinner. Except no-one makes a move.
And they’re both staring at me.
“What? Do I have something on my face?”
Emerson sighs and climbs to his feet. He’s favouring his right leg again. “You first,” he says, shoving the vegetable dish in front of me.
“It’s fine, I can wait,” I say, attempting to push the food away.
It was how my mother raised me, even though my dad hated it. He was never one to stand up to her, though.
“Eden.” Will’s voice makes me jump. With a nod to the table he says, “You cooked, you get your dinner first. That’s how it works in this house. End of discussion.”
I squeeze my thighs together, knowing it’s not the words that have rendered me speechless. It’s the tone of them that has me squirming.
Then there’s Emerson, standing over me with a knowing little smirk on his face.
