Page 14 of Saving His Heart
Emory’s eyes cloud over and dart away. “Two of them are. Eli and Tilly are in community college, part time, and living with our dad. That wasn’t the plan, but without my income, everything kind of went to Hell. Anyway,” she says, moving on quickly so I can’t ask a question. “Sloane? She is the wild card. She refused to go to college and moved out of Dad’s place the second she turned eighteen. Apparently, unbeknownst to any of us, she had been writing romance novels and self-publishing since she was sixteen. She said she always knew she wanted to be an author and wasn’t hanging around to make us care for her. She squirreled away a nice little nest egg from her books and is now traveling the country writing. I worry about her, though, because we are pretty sure she lives out the romances before she writes them. I have a feeling it will bite her in the ass eventually, but she’s an adult. I just do my best to keep an eye on her.”
I laugh as she explains why she could come up with a bad pick-up line so quickly, and sit with her as she tells me the dreams of her sisters. When her tone turns melancholy, I do the only thing I can think of. I try to pick her up. Badly.
Pinning her with my gaze, I lean in and whisper, “Excuse me, the FBI called demanding my penis. Help me find it?”
I’m rewarded with the sweetest sounding laughter I’ve ever heard. It has me questioning if this is a good idea, but since when have I ever listened to good ideas? I just have to make sure ‘pretend’ doesn’t break her heart because she just might have the potential to bust mine wide open.
“Oh, gawd, that was terrible, and not terrible in a good way. Is that the best you have, Preston? Tsk, tsk. I expected more from you,” she laughs.
Leaning in closer, so my mouth is almost touching her ear, I lower my voice and try again. “Are you a haunted house, Emory? Because I am going to scream when I’m inside of you.” Pulling away slowly, I love the shiver that covers her body.
Jesus, Preston. What the fuck are you doing? This will go down as your worst idea ever.How the hell do you get that voice to shut up?
Emory’s face and neck flush a deep crimson before she pulls at the collar of her shirt. “Ah, okay. That one was better,” she acknowledges, but jumps up quickly and puts her doctor hat back on.
“Trust me, sweetheart, I only get better the longer we go,” I tell her, watching the flush she is trying desperately to hide.
“I bet you do, Preston,” Emory says under her breath.
I sit up, knowing she is about to pull the IV, and watch as she bends over to grab her supplies.How have you never noticed her ass before?Okay, this is ridiculous. How am I supposed to tell my own conscience to shut the fuck up?
After placing a Band-Aid on my forearm, Emory stands. “You’re all set,” she tells me, inspecting her handiwork. Typically, this is when I bolt, and I definitely need to tonight. This day went from one extreme to the next in less than two hours. I have to get out of here and think, but first, I need to thank her properly.
“Ems, listen, I really appreciate that you’re going along with this.”
“You didn’t really give me much choice now, did you?” she replies through a smile. It’s a smile I love way more than any of the other ones I’ve seen in our interactions together.
My neck tingles with guilt, and I clutch it. Now it’s my turn to blush. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t. I’m sorry, Ems. I just want to make the next few months the best I’ve ever had for my family. Having you with me is the only way to do that.” As I say it, I wash away our intimate moment from before with the stifling promise of death.
“I know, Preston. And I’m happy to help, as long as Dr. Terry approves. If he doesn’t, I—”
“If he doesn’t, I’ll either come clean with my family or find another solution,” I interrupt. “Just really, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she whispers.
Suddenly feeling like I can’t breathe, I stand. “We’ll talk tomorrow and go over the details, okay?
“Mmhm,” is her only response.
Not wanting to leave her like I’m feeling, I step toward her. “Ems?” I question. When she finally raises her eyes to mine, I continue. “I’m going to hug you now … just a hug. We will work up to a kiss because that is going to have to happen. But for tonight, a hug. Okay?”
I’m relieved when she opens her arms to welcome me. Not to brag, but I am a pretty damn good hugger. Wrapping my long arms around her, I squeeze and breathe her in. I hear her breath catch in her throat, and I smile. Holding her, I can’t help but notice she is my perfect size. She fits with me in every way. She is small, but not short like Julia and not an Amazonian like Lexi and Lanie. Ems is my own Goldie Locks, just right.
Emory clears her throat, and I’m aware I’ve just made this hug awkward. I pull back, even though I want nothing more than to hold her.
“Right. So, do you want to come up to the office tomorrow around ten a.m.?”
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Emory replies, walking past me to open the door.
I have one foot in the hallway when she calls my name. “Hey, Preston?”
“Yeah?”
“Was your mother a beaver?” she asks, resting her head against the door, looking very earnest.
“A beaver?” I ask, trying to think of what colleges have a beaver as a mascot. I’m about the tell her my mother went to Brown when she hits me with the punchline.
“’Cause daaamn,” Emory drawls, a little more southern than is her norm, then breaks out in laughter.
