Part 12 (2/2)
”I really hope you do.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
Emerson eyeballed the half-gallon bottle of vodka on Daisy's kitchen table with a little bit of curiosity and a whole lot of skepticism.
”You do know it's a Wednesday night, right?” she asked, but Daisy just laughed in return.
”It's not for drinking, although I guess we could snag a shot or two if the spirit moved us.” She adjusted the blue-and-white bandana keeping her pair of braids at bay, pointing to the row of empty plastic containers next to the sink. ”But most of the vodka will be sacrificed for the cause.”
Emerson peered at the four-ounce tubs, her brows popping. ”You're going to make vodka-scented bath scrub?”
”Facial mask,” Daisy corrected with a grin. ”But yep. I thought if I mixed the vodka with some other invigorating scents, then added sea salt as an exfoliator, the mask would make a great wake-up call. So far I've got peppermint and grapefruit on the agenda.”
”Make it coffee and I'll be your customer for life.” G.o.d, Emerson could use a good wake-up call. Seven thirty in the evening midweek and she was already fighting back exhaustion.
Daisy's green eyes lit up, her smile growing with excitement. ”That is a great idea,” she crowed, moving toward the notepad next to the keg of vodka to scribble down a few notes. ”In the meantime, do you want to see if this new sage-and-jasmine body lotion makes you feel s.e.xy as it softens your skin? I want to use it as part of my sensual scents line, and aphrodisiacs sell like hotcakes, baby.”
Without thinking, Emerson huffed out a laugh. ”Pretty sure I've got all I can handle in that department.”
The cold showers that had become a part of her daily routine were doing nothing for her back pain or her overactive libido. But no matter what she did, she couldn't erase the memory of Hunter's s.e.xy, suggestive smile from her mind, or the truth of the matter from her gut.
She wanted him, and not just for his bathtub.
Emerson registered Daisy's complete silence just a second too late, the brows-up surprise that went with it a second later, and dammit, she really needed to keep her lips on lockdown.
Before she could protest, Daisy's hands were on the vodka, pouring two neat shots into juice gla.s.ses, then pressing one into Emerson's palm. ”That's a story.”
But after that she didn't elaborate, didn't push with a bunch of nosy questions or stare at Emerson with that greedy, tell-all look Amber Ca.s.sidy always had glued to her face whenever Emerson walked within a fifty-foot radius of the Hair Lair, and G.o.d help her, the words just flew out.
”I'm not sure it's a story.” She took a sip from her gla.s.s, the vodka burning a path of courage to her belly. ”Hunter and I may have, um, kissed a little at the Watermelon Festival. For fifteen minutes. Without stopping.”
Daisy's grin was all mischief. ”Oh my G.o.d, how was it?”
”On a scale of one to ten?” Emerson asked, her own laughter blindsiding her as it escaped. ”The whole thing was pretty much a twenty-seven.”
”Girl, good for you!” Daisy toasted her with her juice gla.s.s, pausing to throw back the contents with a quick s.h.i.+ver. ”So why is that more s.e.xiness than you can handle? It was just kissing, right?”
Emerson frowned. They'd been on a park bench. Not that it had stopped her from tasting him like a seven-course meal, complete with happy noises, but that was beside the point. Sort of. ”Yes.”
”And you like him?”
”Yes,” Emerson said, because anything else would've been a raging lie.
”And you're both single, not to mention wildly attracted to each other,” Daisy prompted.
”Yes.” Heat crept over the back of Emerson's neck, but still, she added, ”And yes.”
She took a minute to relay the Reader's Digest version of the conversation she and Hunter had shared on Monday, complete with the offer to use his bathtub and her I'll-think-about-it reply, and Daisy gave up a knowing nod.
”I'd say that's a big yes in the attracted-to-each-other department. So what's holding you back, exactly?” she asked, her gaze going soft in the glare of the kitchen lights. ”Are you worried it'll be weird because of the past?”
”I don't know. Not really,” Emerson amended. She took another sip of vodka, even though the liquor twisted in her empty stomach. ”It's just that I'm starting a brand-new physical therapy practice, and I'm still trying to deal with my overbearing parents.” She'd finally had to bite the bullet and agree to Sunday dinner at their house after her mother had ambushed her with another drive-by yesterday. ”I'm not sure starting a relations.h.i.+p on top of that is the best idea.”
”Sweet pea.” Daisy took the gla.s.s out of Emerson's hand, replacing it with a warm squeeze of her fingers. ”While Hunter is definitely a stand-up guy, I'm not entirely certain a relations.h.i.+p is what's on his mind right now, if you know what I mean. But if you're into each other, a little non-relations.h.i.+p might not be the worst thing in the world.”
Emerson's mouth went desert dry. The no-strings-attached route had flickered enticingly through her mind no fewer than a thousand times over the last two days. While she believed Hunter wouldn't push the invitation to use his bathtub if she declined, just like she knew he'd make good on his promise to give her privacy even if she did take him up on his offer, she was also certain that if she made a move, he'd make one back. Her mind was on board with that-after all, they were adults, and they weren't strangers-and her libido? Holy c.r.a.p, it wasn't so much on board as it was the commander of the whole d.a.m.n starfleet. But there was a third player in the equation, one that could cancel out her mind and even her amped-up libido in less than a blink.
Her body had failed her in so many ways. What if, despite what the rest of her might want, her body didn't let her forget she had MS?
And what if . . . what if for just one night, it did?
Emerson's pulse thrummed harder in her veins, but she squared her shoulders and said, ”You know what, Daisy, I do know what you mean. And you're absolutely right.”
”I am?” Her friend's lashes arced wide to frame the surprise in her eyes, but Emerson's certainty and her smile grew stronger with each pa.s.sing second.
”You are. In fact, I'd love to buy some of this sage-and-jasmine body lotion, along with some of your best foaming body wash. I've got a bath to take.”
Hunter stood on the threshold to his cottage, half hard and half convinced he was out of his f.u.c.king mind. But after Emerson had told him at the end of yesterday's PT session that she'd like to take him up on the offer to borrow his bathtub, then let her eyes linger on his mouth for the span of at least three heartbeats before smiling and walking away, he couldn't deny the truth.
Business as usual was killing him. Despite the fact that he knew he should be calm and cool and rational, what he wanted was to recklessly turn business into pleasure with Emerson.
Hard. Fast. And right now.
Hunter ran a palm down the front of his freshly washed jeans, working up a smile as he reached for the doork.n.o.b. It was Sat.u.r.day afternoon, for Chrissake. Barely three o'clock. He could back up his perfectly innocent offer to let Emerson borrow his bathtub by acting like a gentleman and not a Neanderthal. No problem.
As soon as he opened the door, all bets for gallant behavior were unequivocally off.
”Hey,” he managed, but only just. Emerson stood on his porch, her eyes shaded with one hand, the slim muscles in her shoulder flexing into a long, graceful line. The overabundance of June sunlight turned her long black-and-white skirt just sheer enough to outline the shape of her legs through the fabric, creating a silhouette that fueled both his quickening pulse and his wicked imagination. Her copper-colored hair spilled over her shoulders in a soft waterfall of waves, and her smile tumbled over her mouth just as easily.
Hunter swallowed. Then did it again for good measure.
Yeah. His status quo had been completely obliterated.
”Hey,” she said, that smile that was already making him want to kiss her reaching all the way up to her eyes as she s.h.i.+fted her weight over the porch boards. ”I really appreciate you letting me come over on a Sat.u.r.day. I hope I'm not taking you away from work.”
She gestured over her shoulder, to the tidy bright-green rows of corn and soybeans flanking either side of his cottage past the fence lines, but Hunter shook his head to rea.s.sure her.
”Nah. I clocked my weekend hours this morning.” At least being on restricted duty had one tiny perk. Everything he'd been physically able to accomplish had fit into the time span of about four hours. Normally Sat.u.r.days held a full workload of a good eight to ten, depending on the season. ”Is your back feeling any better?
Emerson let him usher her over the threshold, out of the oppressive summer heat. ”A little. I took some over-the-counter anti-inflammatories, and I've been careful not to mess with any more boxes. But I've got to admit, I'm looking forward to a good, long soak to get me all the way back to normal.”
Images of Emerson, flushed pink from a steamy bath and oh-so naked, formed a naughty slideshow in his mind, and seriously, had every last rational part of his brain been on a leave of absence when he'd offered her his bathtub?
Pretty much, yeah. But d.a.m.n, asking her had felt good.
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