“Should be good,” he said. He flipped on the faucet for the kitchen sink and nodded when he stuck his hand underneath the water. “Not hot yet, but it’ll get there.”
I glanced over my shoulder. “That didn’t take long.”
“Nope. My dad has been saying for years that he’s going to replace the control panel because the reset button gets stuck.” Emmett slung the garage towel over his shoulder. “I’m glad he didn’t.”
There went all those feelings again, a giant arm-wrestling match in my jumbled brain.
“So,” I said slowly, “you drove up here to … push a button.”
“I did.” His answer was so steady and unrepentant. It was terrifying how clear he was being about what he wanted.
There were a lot of women—and men—who would jump headfirst into any chance with Emmett, who’d probably check my mental capacity for feeling any sort of hesitancy. Did this qualify me for a padded cell? Maybe.
A sane person would’ve jumped him as soon as he cleared the door.
As soon as he brought me donuts when I was hungover.
Hell, as soon as we danced at that masquerade.
But I swallowed all of that down. For now, at least.
“Help me put these in the bedrooms?” I asked.
He nodded, taking two of the vases, fighting a grin.
My evasion was so obvious, I groaned. Emmett laughed, disappearing down the first hallway where Paige and Molly would sleep. I took the other hall, sliding the flowers on Isabel’s dresser. The presents from her sisters were already wrapped in matching paper and settled on the gleaming surface. Tomorrow morning, I’d get a massive balloon arch delivery that would stretch over the front door, flanked by a four and a zero in a soft purple color.
She’d hate the fuss, and that was half the fun in trying to think of every little detail that would make the weekend relaxing and special for all of them. I was fixing the items in Isabel’s basket when I heard Emmett drop something loud in the kitchen.
I rushed down the hallway, sliding to a halt when I caught sight of him.
He’d dropped two of the large skillets on the floor. He was holding a carton of eggs in one hand, a paper grocery bag tucked between his arm as he stared down at the pans.
Emmett hadn’t seen me yet, and I settled my elbows onto the island, peering over the edge where he was picking up the spatulas that had fallen too.
“Whatcha doing?” I asked.
His head snapped up. Oh, yes. The pink crawling over his cheeks made me realize exactly why he loved surprising me so much. It was addicting.
“Uhh, making us dinner.”
“You’re not stealing from the food I brought, are you? Because that menu was meticulously planned, sir.”
“I know better than that. I stopped at the market down the road on my way in.”
My eyebrows rose slowly. “How do you know I haven’t eaten yet?” I asked, a grin spreading.
“Have you?” He set the eggs onto the gleaming stretch of counter, next to a package of goat cheese, a bright green bunch of asparagus, and a container of what looked like roast chicken.
I pulled the container toward me and opened the lid, taking an appreciative whiff. “No.” I smiled. “Omelet?”
He nodded, pulling down a bowl from the cupboard to the right of the sink. “About the only thing I can make well.”
“Asparagus?” I asked warily.
Emmett cracked the eggs expertly, tapping the side of the bright-blue ceramic bowl, using one hand to empty the shell into the bowl. “Veggies are good for you.”