A Hot Winter (New Adult Romance) (The Attraction Series Book 2) (10 page)

Several hours later, Emma was on the phone--trying to distract herself from the butterflies in her stomach by talking to Andy.

“Can you even believe I’m going on a date tonight?” she said excitedly, nestling her cell between her ear and her shoulder as she curled each eyelash and applied black mascara.

“I honestly can’t,” Andy admitted.  “You have to tell me everything when you get home.  Or tomorrow, at the latest.”

“Of course I will.”

“Where’s he taking you?”

“Um, we’re supposed to do dinner, but I’m not sure where.”

Earlier, after Matt left, Emma had had the whole afternoon to think about their talk.  The whole afternoon to feel lonely and incomplete, knowing Jake and Ben would not be back for days.  Finally, when her pity party had reached pathetic levels, she’d made an impulsive decision to return Phil Parker’s call.  After talking for about half an hour, he’d asked her out for tonight. 

“I should go soon, actually,” she told Andy now.  “He’s coming at seven.”

“Okay.  Oh, wait.  Just one question.  I’m just curious…”

“Yes?”

“How come you’re going out with this guy when you said no to Matt originally?”  At a loss for the answer, Emma’s mouth hung open for a few moments, and Andy said, “Oh, I get it.”

“Get what?” Emma snapped.

“You’re not afraid you’ll fall for Phil Parker.  But Matt’s a different story.”

If Andy had been the least bit smug, it would have given Emma an excuse to pick a fight.  But instead, her sister just sounded calm and perceptive.  Ugh, Emma thought, rolling her eyes in the bathroom mirror. 

“Where do you come up with that?” she said.  “You tell me you want me to have fun in my life, and now you’re overanalyzing me and taking all the fun out.”

Quickly, Andy scrambled to make amends.  “I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean to do that!  Don’t be mad, okay?”

“I’m not.”

“All right, well…have fun!” Andy said brightly.

With a twist of her lips, Emma thanked her and promised to call her later.  Andy made it impossible to stay mad at her so why even try?

The doorbell rang just as she was slipping on high heels.  As she hurried to the foyer, Emma felt a tremendous flutter of nerves assail her belly, and prickle aggressively up her chest.  She hadn’t been on a date in forever, and the only guy she’d ever dated was Connor.

When she glanced through the side window, she saw the sleeve of a familiar jacket.  “Matt?” she said as soon as she swung the door open.  His eyes widened when he saw her--then coasted down over her black dress.  “What are you doing here?  Is everything okay?”

“Hey,” he said, seeming distracted as his eyes traveled back up to her face.  “I’m, uh, sorry to show up like this, but in my rush before, I left my tablet here.  Do you mind if I grab it?”

“Oh--um--sure,” Emma said quickly, ushering him inside the foyer.  She followed him to the kitchen and watched as he looked around and then spotted it near the windowsill. 

As he walked toward it, he threw her a quick look and said, “Are you going out?”

Inhaling a breath, Emma said, “Yes.  I actually have plans.  Try not to die of shock.”

“What does that mean?”

“I know you think I just hide in my house doing crossword puzzles,” she said lightly.

“No, I don’t,” he said, sounding sincere. 

Self-consciously, Emma brushed her hair behind her shoulder and said, “Well, I thought about what you said before and I made plans.” 

When she didn’t elaborate, Matt didn’t pry.  Grabbing his tablet, he nodded and said, “Well, I don’t want to make you late for, you know, whatever your plans are.”

“No problem,” was all she said to that.

He looked like he wanted to say more--but instead, he kept his jaw tight as his eyes gave her another once-over.  Then he headed to the front door.  “Have fun tonight, Emma,” he called over his shoulder. 

“Thanks, um, I’ll see you tomorrow!” she said, watching the door shut behind him.

It was less than five minutes later that Phil Parker arrived.

As Matt got into his truck, he saw a silver Nissan pull into Emma’s driveway.  His chest drew tight as he watched a man get out and straighten his button-down shirt.  The driver of the car was a tall guy with dark hair, maybe in his early thirties, and he had the nerve to carry a rose with him to the door.  As an angry swell of jealousy expanded in Matt’s chest, he shoved his truck in reverse harder than he meant to; swallowing his frustration, he pulled out of Emma’s driveway, glaring at the other car--and tried to ignore the raging heat of his blood as he read the vanity plate: PPARKR.

Just fucking perfect.

~

It didn’t take a very observant person to see that Matt’s head was not in the game.  Tragan had noticed that his friend had been phoning it in all night with his lackluster poker playing, and still it continued.  “Winter--hello?” Pellican barked.  “I raised the bet ten bucks.  You in or out?”

“Oh, um…yeah, I’m in,” Matt said distractedly and tossed a chip on the pile.

“What’s up with you tonight?” Tragan asked, tossing a chip in.

“Nothing, I was just thinking about Andy’s sister,” Matt muttered.

“What about her?  Is there a problem with the job?” Tragan asked.

“No, it’s not that.  It’s…look, it’s stupid,” Matt continued, eyeing the group briefly before giving a careless shrug.  “It’s just that she went out with some guy tonight and I think it’s my fault.  I think I accidentally convinced her to do something that she doesn’t want to do.”

Skeptically, Tragan said, “Nah, I’m sure you didn’t.  She’s a grown woman.  She wouldn’t go out with a guy unless she wanted to, right?”

Seeming agitated, Matt began tapping his thumb on the table as he studied his cards.  “You don’t understand.  She’s…naïve.”

“Doesn’t she have kids?” Bardo interjected.  “How naïve could she be?”

Impatiently, Matt rolled his eyes.  “Forget it.”

“Seriously, what’s the big deal?” Tragan said.

“It’s just that she’s a sweet girl and the guy she went out with tonight looked like a real douchebag,” Matt grumbled.

“Why?” Tragan asked.

“I could just tell.”

Bardo pressed for details.  “Well, did he wear wingtips?  A sweatband?  What?  C’mon, give us something.”

“Well he had a personalized license plate on a fucking
Nissan
--if you can believe that shit.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty douchey,” Pellican agreed, even though it was obvious Matt was reaching with that one.  “Okay, I’m raising the bet again,” Pellican added.

With a sigh, Matt rubbed his temple, staring blankly at his cards.  “It’s just that this is my fault,” Matt continued, half under his breath.  “If I hadn’t said anything to her, she never would have gone.”

What the hell?
Tragan thought.  If Matt was
this
twisted up over Emma going on a date, then…

“Hey, remind me not to go on any dates when I’m having work done on my house,” Bardo said.  “Apparently the contractor takes it very personally.”

While Pellican snorted a laugh, Tragan eyed Matt cautiously.  If there ever was a time to rip into Bardo about still living at home with his parents, this would have been it.  But Matt didn’t do that.  Instead, he dropped his cards face-down beside his unused chips.  “I’m out,” he said and pushed his chair away from the table.

“Where are you going?” Bardo asked.

“I fold.  I…need some air.”

In a different circumstance, the gamer in Tragan would have given Matt a hard time about leaving--would have reminded him that poker with less than four people completely sucked--but tonight he could see that Matt was beyond convincing. 

Matt got to Emma’s late the following afternoon to finish the new floors.  She was working in her office most of the time he was there, so they kept to themselves for the most part.  Now, Matt was cleaning up his materials as Emma walked into the kitchen.  “Careful,” he warned her quickly.  “Only walk on this section right here until tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay,” she said, jumping to the left.  Then she looked all around, eyes widening.  “God, Matt, it is gorgeous!  It looks so high-end--Stacy Creston’s favorite catchphrase.  You saved me,” she added with a smile.

“Just doing my job,” he said humbly.

“Speaking of that…” Emma bit her lip as her eyebrows pinched together.  “I guess your job is done now, huh?”

“Yep,” Matt agreed, but jerked his head toward the shelf below the windowsill.  “After I install that light fixture, that is.  Then I’m out.”

“Oh, that,” Emma said, casting a glance at the unopened light fixture, which sat beside the unopened cordless drill. “I was planning to do that myself.”

Matt gave a short laugh at that.  “I know.  That’s why it’s been sitting there in the box since the first day I walked in here.”

“Well aren’t you observant?” she said tartly, but there was a smile in her eyes. 

“Look, this is the last day I’m going to be working here,” Matt reminded her.  “You might as well take advantage of me--and I don’t mean that in a sexual way.”  Shocked, Emma’s mouth curved open as he grinned, adding, “So don’t get your hopes up.”

At first it looked like she was about to protest, but then her mouth broke into a smile.  “Fine, you can do it.  But only if it will make you feel useful.”

Chuckling, Matt said, “Yeah, that’s exactly what it is.”

Once he was done with the light fixture, now he really was done--with the job, with Emma’s house.  With Emma…? 

Just the thought made him tense with impatience.  As it was, it had taken all his restraint not to ask her about last night.  Not to engage in conversation about her date with that Parker guy.  Because if Matt went there, it would probably take Emma all of five seconds to recognize that his causal interest was no such thing--that it was only prying, and a transparently thin cover for his jealousy, which had gnawed relentlessly at him all night.

Now, as Matt headed to the front door, Emma trailed close behind him and he sensed there was more she wanted to say.  So he stopped and paused in the foyer, as she blinked up at him--with those goddamn seductive eyes. 

“I really want to thank you--”

“Don’t,” Matt interrupted.  “It’s not necessary.”  She wouldn’t be so adoringly grateful if she knew how many times he’d entertained graphic sexual images of her since they’d met.  How many times he’d thought about fucking her against the counter, or twisting his hand in her hair while she was on her knees, sucking him off right there on the new flooring.  And, of course, how many times he’d stolen appreciative glances at her ass as she’d traipsed innocently in and out of the kitchen.  He was a guy; he couldn’t help his thoughts.  But that didn’t mean Emma would like it. 

He kept his tone light.  “Is there anything else I can do for you before I go?”

With a deprecating laugh, Emma said, “Please, how nervy would I have to be to ask you for
another
favor right now?”

At that, Matt narrowed his eyes at her and gave her a knowing grin.  “So what is it?”

~

“You want it here?”

“Yes, perfect, thank you,” Emma was saying as Matt set down the box he’d brought from the attic to the living room.

“While I was up there, I did another quick check for big spiders,” he informed her.  “You’re all good.”

“Thanks!” Emma said as she peeled back the flaps on the box and started unpacking the artificial tree that she put up every year.  Despite the fact that it was a small tree, which stood only about half an inch taller than she did, it managed to weigh a ton when it was broken apart into a heap of color-coded branches. 

Emma explained to Matt how it usually worked at Christmastime: she would drag the heavy box down from the attic herself, wobbling and praying, as the box plunked down each step--loudly, like the ominous, booming footsteps of a slow-moving giant--and always with the implied understanding that, at any moment, the box could spring from her control like a runaway sled.  Every year her sons were her captive audience, peering over from the couch where she’d instructed them to stay. 

“Hey, how come you don’t get a real tree?” Matt asked, as she sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the box, and began separating blue-tipped branches from red- and yellow-tipped. 

“Are you kidding?” she said, giving him a wry look.  “I can barely handle this little one.”

“Do you like real trees?  Some people are into the artificial,” he commented with a shrug.

“No, I
love
real Christmas trees!  We always had one growing up.  They were beautiful; they always made the house smell so good,” Emma said, stacking more piles.  “This is a practicality thing for me now,” she continued.  “Getting a real tree each year is just too unwieldy.  Setting it up myself and then taking it down…”  Her voice trailed off as she shook her head, as though burdened even by the thought.

It gave Matt an idea.  “So, if there was a real tree that didn’t weigh a thing, you’d be interested in that?”

At that, Emma scrunched her forehead, while she continued sorting through metal-and-acrylic tree branches.  “Of course.  I mean, who wouldn’t be?  But as with many things that defy the laws of physics…I try not to spend much time contemplating weightless evergreens.”

“All right, wiseass,” Matt said, holding out his hand.  “Let’s go.”

Emma looked up at him with wide eyes.  “Go where?” she asked, even though she took Matt’s outstretched hand without hesitation, letting him tug her up to her feet. 

“Get your coat,” Matt said on their way to the foyer.

“But it’s freezing out,” Emma protested--but she was still holding his hand tightly, which gave him hope. 

“Hence the ‘coat’ part,” Matt said.

“And I’m the wiseass?” she remarked with a smirk.  “At least tell me where we’re going.”

“We’re going to the tree lot.”

“What!  Why would we do that?  There’s a perfectly good tree over there,” she said, pointing to the box sitting in the living room.

“No, there’s a perfectly adequate fake shrub,” Matt countered. 

“Same diff,” she quipped.

“No,” he insisted.  “Not ‘same diff.’”

“But--”

“Emma, c’mon, don’t you want to surprise the boys with a big, awesome tree this year?”

“Well, I…”

“Look, just pick whichever tree you want, and then I’ll carry it for you, okay?  I’ll bring it back here in my truck and set it up for you.  Then, when Christmas is over, I can haul it away.  You won’t even have to worry about it.”

Now Emma’s eyes were searching his as her expression showed a look of either wonder or concern--he couldn’t tell which.  “No, Matt, but that’s way too much to ask.”

“Think of it as a service, not a favor,” he told her. 

Immediately her pinched forehead relaxed.  “Oh, wait, that makes sense.  Is the Christmas tree thing a service that Winter Contracting offers during the holidays?”

“Hey, why not?” he said, evading the precise question.  “It’s simple enough, from our perspective.”

“True,” Emma agreed, seeming relieved that she could pay him for his time.  “Okay, let’s do it!” she added brightly, then glanced down, as though just realizing they were still holding hands.  When her eyes traveled up, they found Matt’s, and their gaze held for a moment.  Braving a smile, Emma said, “I guess we should go before it snows.”