Page 23 of On the Fly
Emma groaned and looped her arm through Julia’s as they followed Patty out the door.
Chapter 10
Saturday
He didn’t have time for this. Emma drew him for some unknown reason, but no piece of ass was worth this much effort. His rational brain told him to turn this car around and drive straight back to the office to concentrate on a game plan to save the company or convince his family to sell it. He should be outlining exactly what he expected of his siblings, especially now that they were on a countdown to losing the entire senior executive team in one fell swoop. He should be deciding if he even had it in him to listen to James’s suggestion and see if he could understand what “looking at the company as a family” truly meant. Damn cryptic man. Even the idea of the ludicrous statement had Ander shaking his head.
Yes, he should be doing all those things. Just like he’d told himself at least once every other mile since he’d opened the surprise email from Emma’s stepmom, Patty, this morning. He assumed his mother had to be responsible for giving Patty his email address, because Emma would never have done that on her own. But he wasn’t turning around, and he couldn’t understand why.
So he made a mental list of the reasons he was going against his responsibilities and intuition.
First, Emma eased some of his natural intensity. She made him forget himself when all he could seem to do was concentrate on her. Second, somehow, she made it seem as if he were the normal one out of the two of them. He rolled his eyes in a dramatic full roll using his whole head at the insinuation he was the normal one out of the group. “Yeah right. Normal.Pfft.”
What he could say with reasonable certainty, and marked as the third item on his list, if there were a person on the planet more intense than he was, he’d met them in Emma.
Fourth, she was funny, in that not intentional kind of way. Funny enough to make him shirk his responsibilities?
Nope.
Well, apparently, she was.
Fifth, the solitude of driving cleared his head. How had he not figured that out before now? Maybe because he’d never driven to Emma before. Ander smirked at the idiotic thought. No doubt, he was into her. The sexy sway of her ass came to mind. The way her hair turned gold and blond when the light hit her just right. The way she turned those green eyes up at him when she scolded him or tried to understand what she considered his faulty logic or wanted to punch him in the gut for saying they were dating. Ander chuckled at the last one.
Ander took the turn to his family home, pulled around to the back of the house, certain Emma had no idea what her stepmother had done. If she did, she’d be lighting up his email, texting, calling his cell phone, doing whatever it took to make sure he didn’t show like Patty had instructed him to do.
Maybe that was the true reason as to why he’d come: to see her face when he showed up to be her date for the day. His grin spread again while parking in the spot right next to his mother’s car. If Emma was following the itinerary set, she should be arriving home soon from a morning at the Two-Wheels Salon and Spa with the other women of the wedding party while the men had enjoyed a tee time at a local golf course. The schedule allowed for a thirty-minute window to refresh before driving into town for a group luncheon together at a small Italian restaurant then some shopping in the Whispering Hollow historic town square.
Ander shook his head at his bizarre behavior and put the car in park. He would be spending five hours lunching and shopping instead of working, negating the sole reason he’d come to California in the first place. When was the last time he had ever done something like that? He actually couldn’t remember a time.
~~~
“Whoa, what a morning! I haven’t done anything like that in years,” Emma’s Aunt Melissa said, carefully stepping off the bus in front of her in controlled, measured steps. Her new hip gave her a bit of trouble, but she didn’t let it slow her down too much.
“Be careful,” Emma said, holding her arm as if that would do anything to stop a fall, except maybe bring Emma down on top of her.
But if Aunt Melissa fell and she fell with her, then she could ride with her aunt to the hospital… “Omigod, Emma. Stop. And take those words back from the universe. You’re being dramatic,” she quietly scolded herself before starting down the steps.
“What, dear?” She shook her head at her father’s beloved sister, feeling guilty now for her horrible hopes of an out plan.
“Nothing. You look pretty,” she said, deciding her punishment for such awful thoughts should be to walk with her aunt to the house instead of rushing off to wash this makeup off her face. She forced herself to take measured but purposeful steps, guiding her aunt to the house.
“A roll and set was such a treat. They called my makeup Hollywood. Do I look like a starlet, dear?” her aunt asked, slowing to a crawl as she beamed at Emma.
If Hollywood meant she looked like a senior citizen stripper from a small-town strip club, then yes, she did look like a starlet. Emma gave a side glance at her aunt who had a twinkle in her blue-eye-shadow-enhanced eye. “You do.”
“Well, you don’t,” Aunt Melissa leaned in, whispering to her. “Go wash that off before it’s time to leave again.” Emma jerked to a halt and faced her aunt.
“It’s horrible, isn’t it?” she asked, relieved she had a co-conspirator.
“Go wash up.” Aunt Melissa patted her arm. “I’ll cover for you.” Emma kissed her cheek and made a beeline for the house, sidestepping her other relatives. She kept her head down, hoping not to run into Mrs. Jorgensen. Ander’s mother did not need to see her like that.
When she had seen they had a spa morning planned for the well over a dozen female members of the party, she thought it was a bit ambitious and had to be costly. Boy had she gotten that wrong. The drive was insanely long to wind up at a rundown, back road metal shack converted into a salon. Things went downhill from there.
Now, she had thirtyish minutes, actually twenty-six, to wash this makeup off and try to untangle this big hair style they had given her. Her hands went to her sculpted hair. Who was she kidding? She would have to shower to wash out all the product they’d used. Her hair might never be the same.
Once alone upstairs, Emma tugged her shirt over her head as she shoved open her bedroom door. She carefully lifted the shirt to avoid makeup stains. Then gasped when a shadow passed over her and scared the wits out of her. She jerked around and let out a scream to rival the cast ofAmerican Horror Storyat the man standing in her room. Fear, shock, and surprise had her stepping away, snapping the shirt over her head, bringing both hands and the blouse out in some sort of karate move designed to fend off any would-be attackers.
Emma took several fearful involuntary steps backward only to propel herself forward when recognition struck. She knocked Ander in the arm as he let out a belly laugh.
