Page 34 of Tasting Fire
She’d envied that.
Lord knows she loved her mom and Kris, but after her dad died when Emmy was in elementary school, it had always been just the three of them, and three girls were only so rough-and-tumble. Her dad’s death had changed so much in Emmy’s life.
Kris had recently to come to terms with who and what her real dad was.
But Emmy was still struggling with her own father and his advice to her. She could still hear the words he always said in his drawling baritone.
Life is serious, Em. Give it your very best.
Cash shifted away from her, pulling Emmy out of her thoughts. “You look sad. If you’re feeling sorry for me, don’t.”
Emmy’s sadness was so deep-seated that it was hard to pick it apart into individual causes. “I’m trying to learn how not to be so serious,” she blurted out.
“What?”
Suddenly embarrassed that she’d said that aloud, Emmy reached for Cash’s plate of questionable breakfast and shoved it into his hands. “I toasted this.”
“Wow,” he said. “I didn’t think it could get any darker.”
“I put butter and jelly on it.”
Cash grunted and broke off a corner of the bread. It looked like a poop-colored cinderblock.
“Think of it this way,” she told him, “if you take a bite, then you can tell your mom you ate it and you won’t be fibbing.”
“I’m only risking it because I know you’re familiar with the Heimlich.” He put the piece in his mouth and chewed. And chewed. And chewed. With a hand, he made a frantic rolling motion toward his coffee.
Emmy traded the cup for his plate, and Cash gulped down the coffee like he’d been marching through the desert for a week. When he came up for air, he said, “Your turn.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. How did it taste?”
He considered, two slow blinks of his beautiful brown eyes that made his golden eyelashes reflect the morning sunlight. “Like a cross between a petrified fruitcake and a charred mudpie.”
He slid the plate back onto the coffee table and sat forward until he and Emmy were mere inches apart. “What did you mean about being too serious?”
Stupid, Emmy.When you keep your mouth shut, people don’t ask questions.She fiddled with her cup, twisting it this way and that. “Everyone wants to be happier.”
“Yeah, but it’s more than that.”
It was, but she wasn’t certain he was the right person to share her plan with. He was naturally happy—always had a quick smile, a teasing joke, a kind word. Cash Kingston was the definition of fun. He didn’t understand what it was like to have a linear, objective-driven personality like hers.
And if she told him what she wanted, he’d laugh right in her face. “It was just an offhand thought.”
“Emmy McKay, nothing with you is just an offhand thought.”
Which was exactly the reason she’d developed the plan o’ fun. She didn’t know how to play, how to be lighthearted and carefree. Didn’t know how to be something other than the serious Emerson McKay with other people.
Without overthinking it, she jumped to her feet and grabbed her purse from a hook near the door.
She couldn’t look at Cash and talk about this at the same time, so she pulled out a small spiral notebook and walked over to peer out the window overlooking Main Street. With her thumb, she riffled the pages.Zip. Zip.“Other people naturally know how to have fun. Me? Not so much.”
“Aw, Em…”
She held up a hand. If he started throwing her a pity party, she’d have to RSVP with her regrets. “Don’t get me wrong, being the knuckle-down brainy girl has earned me a lot. Good grades, good college, great career.”
But only a so-so life.
She hadn’t heard Cash move, but her skin rippled and his heat blanketed her back.Please put your arms around me.
