Page 10 of RomeAntically Challenged
“I don’t need you holding my damn hand,” Gray said, discarding not a single card. “What I need is for you to find someone to cover the bar so you can go with Paisley to the meeting, then take her home.”
“No can do.” Levi leaned back and cracked his neck from side to side. He was built like a bouncer; had more tattoos than fingers; and, with his buzzed head and badass attitude, was often taken for a fighter rather than a boat builder who hand-carved high-end sailboats from wood boards.
“The Patriots are playing tomorrow, which means all hands on deck at the Crow’s Nest. I know that’s breaking news, since I have so many free nights,” Levi patronized. “But I’ll be working the bar and overseeing my new manager, which means you’re doing decorations and babysitting.”
“Can’t someone fill in for you?” Gray tossed three flash cards into the pile—two COOKDINNERand one EMPTYDISHWASHER. “I call.”
“Since when does a fifteen-year-old need a sitter?” Emmitt finally said, stepping into the room.
Both startled gazes swung toward him. Levi’s accusatory. Gray’s pissy.
Ah, home sweet home.
“What the hell are you doing home?” Levi asked at the same time Gray said, “Are you wearing shoes in my house? There’s a shoe rack for a reason. I even put a sign above it so you’d remember.”
“Oh, I remembered.” Emmitt opened the fridge, and the light caused a sharp pain to build behind his eyes. “I trampled through your flower bed on the way in. Lots of tread on these babies, wanted to make sure they were nice and dirty.”
“You don’t call, you don’t write, you just show up and drink my beer,” Gray said.
Water was more Emmitt’s speed these days. Not that a cold beer didn’t sound good after the shit in his fridge at home, but it wasn’t all that compatible with the elephant-tranquilizer-sized painkiller he’d taken before leaving home. He popped the cap then tipped the bottle back, nearly emptying it in one swallow. He grabbed a second bottle before closing the fridge.
He was still in the throes of jet lag. “Jet lag” that, according to the doctors in China, could last another three to forever weeks, depending on how lucky he got. Recent history told him lady luck was one vindictive bitch.
“Seriously, what are you doing home?” Gray pressed.
“Nice to see you too.” Emmitt flipped a kitchen chair around and, straddling it, took his seat at the table. “China was epic, by the way. The trip home was a little bumpy, but arrived safe and sound, thanks for asking.” He turned to Levi. “Call him out. He’s got a shit hand.”
“Looking at my cards and then spilling isn’t cool.” Gray stood. “This is why I hate playing with you two.”
“You love playing with us,” Emmitt said. “For the record, don’t look all smug when you have a shit hand. It tells everyone you have a shit hand.”
“I fold.” Gray tossed his cards on the table and stomped to the stove. When he came back, he held a big plate with a piece of chicken and—what smelled like—Michelle’s mac-n-cheese recipe.
The delicious scent of the melted cheddar had Emmitt’s stomach rumbling. He hadn’t eaten more than a few bags of peanuts and a protein bar on his flight home. That was thirty-some-long-hours ago.
“Any more of that in the oven?” Emmitt asked.
“Nope.”
“How about an extra fork?”
Gray looked up. Zero amusement on his face. “If you’d called to tell us you were home, I would’ve made more.”
“Would you also have reminded me that the father-daughter dance is this month?” When the other two exchanged guilty looks, Emmitt added, “I got a note about needing a dress.”
“Would it have mattered if I had told you?” Gray asked. “You’re supposed to be on assignment for another few months.”
Jesus, was the guy serious?
“Hell, yeah, it would have mattered,” Emmitt said. “It’s thefather-daughter dance. I’m her father. Therefore,Ishould have been informed about the dance since I’ll be the one taking her.”
Her name was Paisley Rhodes-Bradley,for Christ’s sake. Emmitt had first met Paisley’s mom when he’d moved to Rome in middle school. He was twelve, Michelle sixteen, and she was his best friend’s sister. But it wasn’t until Emmitt had come home from college, when those four years didn’t seem to make such a big difference anymore. Michelle was fresh out of a relationship and looking for a rebound, and Emmitt was looking to live out one of his childhood fantasies.
The timing seemed perfect.
All it took was one kiss and their fates were sealed. That kiss led to a sizzling-summer weekend spent together on a deserted strip of beach, sleeping in a tent and bathing in the Atlantic. They both knew it going in, the weekend was all they had, so they enjoyed every moment.
It wasn’t until six years later, when he was covering a subway bombing in Berlin, that he heard from Michelle again. She’d had a baby. And she was pretty confident Paisley was his.
