Page 106 of RomeAntically Challenged
They both laughed at that, but eventually a comfortable silence grew between them as the past became lighter, creating space for a fuller future. A future that he could now picture. A future he wanted and was willing to work for.
With Paisley, the guys, and with Annie.
“I’ll have your equipment and research overnighted to you,” she said, her tone going more professional. “Do you want me to have it sent to your place in Rome? Or will you even be there long enough to sign for it?”
“Rome is fine.” He wasn’t planning on going anywhere anytime soon. How he saw it, there was enough in that small coastal town to keep him busy for a good long while—possibly forever. He’d still take assignments, still dedicate his time to finding the stories everyone else ignores, but they’d have to be pretty spectacular to drag him away from what he was building in Rome.
“I’ll get it out today,” she said. “Oh, and Emmitt, I wouldn’t be so sure about the wholeI’ll never changenumber you’ve done on yourself. Because whoever she is, she looks nice on you.”
Emmitt was still smiling when he disconnected and reached the lobby exit.
The sun was out, the sky blue, and he’d been given the all clear to roam at his pleasure. Yet all he could think about was making dinner with Annie.
There was a lot he couldn’t wait to do with Annie. Between her working double shifts and him helping Paisley prep for the sleepover party, they’d barely seen each other since Tuesday. So yes, he couldn’t wait to (fill in the blank) Annie.
Kiss.
Touch.
Talk.
Lick.
Cuddle.
Grinning like an idiot, he sent off one more text, this one to the woman who’d been his big spoon more than once. And even liked it.
Instead of heading to his car, he leaned against a column and waited for her reply. Before he knew it, those three little dots that created more anticipation than foreplay were blinking. Then came her reply.
He barked out a laugh. Only Annie would ask for the rules in a made-up game. Man, she drove him crazy—in all the right ways.
His fingers slid over the screen, tapping out his reply.
The dots disappeared and he settled in to wait for her reply, a big dopey grin on his face. The same kind of grin Emmitt used to give Gray heat for texting with Michelle.
His phone buzzed. The grin grew dopier.
Lord have mercy, he was no longer grinning or feeling dopey. He was alert and focused, and things were getting a little crowded in his jeans.
Oh, he remembered, all right. And every promise he’d made he was going to follow through on. Every. Single. One. Which was why his answer was more of a collection of words, each one requiring its own space.
He could imagine the expression she’d have when the texts came in one after the other.
He’d never been one for lists or notes, but Annie had him rethinking his stance. She knew what she liked and wasn’t shy about letting him know. Which worked for him, because it ended the wholefeeling things outBS people did when they were dating.
Nope, with Annie there were no pretenses, no uncertainties, and absolutely no games. She was, in a word, refreshing.
But a little spontaneity was always welcome, so he decided to add one more word to his list. He typed then backspaced right over those last four letters because, WTF, he had really typed “love.”
Well, his heart had, because there was no way his brain had anything to do with that snafu. He’d not only typed it, he’d almost sent it, and after all their No Fake Promises talks. He wouldn’t have meant it.
Or maybe he would have. Wasn’t that a thought he wanted to save for a rainy day. And just his luck, the forecast called for heavy showers tonight, because when it rained in Emmitt’s world it poured down shrapnel and words like “love.” So he added a very Emmitt-like “fuck” to the end of that text, then reread it.
Send. He was replaying the last few seconds of his life, wondering how he was going to get back to the way things were before he prematurely typed the L-word, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to take it back.
Even crazier, he hadn’t tried all that hard before realizing he wasn’t checking airlines for the next flight to Anywhere But Here or crafting a list of 192 reasons he couldn’t feel the L-word after only a few weeks of knowing someone.
He’d had his emotional maturity compared to that of a twelve-year-old boy at a boob convention more times than he cared to remember. This might just be another case of his impairment confusing the situation.
