“You look nice.” There was a lot of mom-like emphasis on the last word.
“I’m trying to decide if I want to ask why you’re saying it like that.”
Her eyebrow rose imperiously. “Like what?”
I sighed. “Like you mean something by it.”
“Do you know how many times he looked upstairs during dinner?” She whistled.
The pantry door protested when I yanked it open a bit too hard. “Did they bring the marshmallows out already?”
She laughed at my evasion. “Yes. And I got an extra bag in case your brothers ate them all before you got down here.”
“You are the best mom in the world,” I proclaimed.
“It’s a heavy crown, but I wear it well.” She gave me a look before I walked outside. “You best not waste any more time in here with me.”
“Why not?”
Mom didn’t answer but simply patted me on the cheek as she passed. “Tim and I are going to a movie with the Clarksons, then to their house afterward for some dessert. We’ll be home late.”
She left the house through the front without a word of explanation.
“Is my entire family in on this?” I whispered, tugging on the back door that exited into the yard behind the house.
The March air was unusually warm as I followed the gravel path that ended at the large bonfire pit. The sound of my siblings’ laughter echoed through the trees, the crackling flames casting the whole area in a warm, flickering light even though the sun was still low and pinky orange in the sky.
“There she is,” Poppy cried. She had the flushed, happy smile of someone who’d had a couple of drinks. Standing from her Adirondack chair, she flung her arms around me. I laughed at her exuberant greeting. “How was your nap?” she asked.
A snippet of my dream flashed hot through my brain, our intertwined hands sliding under his shorts, and before I could stop myself, my gaze snapped to Emmett’s.
Whatever he saw on my face, it had his brow furrowing thoughtfully.
“Fine,” I managed.
“Cameron has beer and margaritas in the cooler,” she said. Greer had one in her hand, so did Cameron. Parker and Emmett, the inhuman physical specimens they were, had bottles of water.
I thought about what Emmett had said about being a perfect gentleman if he knew I’d had a single drink. Without thinking too deeply about it, I shook my head.
“I’m going for a sugar buzz only tonight,” I answered, snatching the open bag of marshmallows from the small circular table next to the bench where Emmett sat. The only free spot around the fire was right next to him.
Naturally.
And he was a man who took up a whole lot of space on that two-person bench.
When I settled onto the wide plank seat, his shoulder brushed against mine, his thigh warm and solid when our knees settled against each other.
He didn’t move.
Neither did I.
Wordlessly, he handed me the roasting stick, and I popped two marshmallows onto the end. But my arm wasn’t quite long enough to reach the perfect, bright orange coals along the edges of the fire. I frowned.
Emmett nudged my shoulder, wrapping his big hand around mine to relieve me of the stick.
“Allow me,” he said.
I watched with keen interest as he set about finding the perfect angle, settling the roasting stick along the edge of the bonfire pit so that the marshmallow was the exact distance away from the coals to keep it from bursting into flames.