Part 19 (1/2)
”My appointment is at three forty-five. I'd love the company, but only if you promise we'll have our daily marketing session on the way there.”
Hunter huffed out a laugh. ”You drive a hard bargain. I'll tell you what. We can have our marketing session on the way to Lockridge if you promise to close your eyes and rest on the way back.”
Now it was Emerson's turn to laugh. ”Are you bargaining with me?”
He lasered his gaze on her perfect, peach-colored mouth. ”I believe I am, Miss Montgomery.”
The kiss she pressed over his mouth tasted flawless, and felt even better.
”You're lucky I'm in a good mood,” she said, and he kissed her back with just enough suggestion to make her tremble under his touch.
”You think you're in a good mood now? Just you wait.”
CHAPTER TWENTY.
Emerson turned over, wrapped in the comfort of warm bedsheets. The woodsy scent of cedar filled her lungs, and she breathed deeper, wanting to hold on to every ounce of the intoxicating smell. Her body felt unnaturally light, as if she were being held close and weightlessly carried. A deep sigh drifted up from her chest, soothing her mind upon release, and she clung to the strong, solid arms curled around her.
Haven't you ever wondered what if . . . what if . . . what if . . .
Emerson jerked upright with a gasp. Pain and confusion dug in hard, fighting for the attention of her senses, and she tried desperately to take in her surroundings.
Soft, rhythmic thump-thump of winds.h.i.+eld wipers. Diffused gray daylight draped over the otherwise scenic Shenandoah countryside. Unrelenting stiffness vise-gripping her back and both legs.
Right. She and Hunter were on the way back from her neurologist's office.
”Hey, easy there.” Hunter's voice delivered the calm, cool steadiness she'd been coming to rely on lately, mixed with a splash of concern. ”You fell asleep a little while ago. It's been a long day, so I figured you could probably use the breather.”
Emerson blinked, swiping a hand over her face in an effort to clear her groggy head. ”How long was I out?”
”About an hour,” Hunter said, making her already achy muscles tighten.
”Really?” Dammit, they had to be nearly home by now. ”I wanted to talk to you about that article I read on advertising trends in specialty food markets.”
”Nope,” he replied, and okay, that snagged her attention.
”What do you mean, 'nope'?” she asked, unable to stifle a laugh at the ear-to-ear grin spreading over his handsome face.
”Just that. We have a ton of solid marketing ideas, some of which are already working, it's been steadily raining for the last three hours, and I've got my follow-up appointment with Dr. Norris tomorrow, where I fully expect to get the green light to get back to work at full steam. So yeah, we are officially putting work on the shelf until tomorrow.”
The light, carefree feeling from her dream filled Emerson's mind, and she couldn't deny that it came pretty d.a.m.ned close to matching her reality right now. ”Okay, you win. What should we do to celebrate this fantastic turn of events?”
”Funny you should ask.” Hunter lifted his brows in an exaggerated waggle, which only made her laugh go for round two. ”Eli sent out a group text while you were asleep and it popped up on the dashboard. He wanted to know if we were all in for a drink. His message was, and I quote, 'Get your a.s.ses to The Bar. Owen's buying!'”
”I'll bet Owen had a thing or two to say about that,” Emerson replied. His brothers had managed a bit of a truce this week according to Hunter, and even though the camaraderie was caught up in a weird, testosterone-fueled force field she was sure she'd never quite understand, it was still nice to see.
”Yeah, his response was not PG-13,” Hunter confirmed, amus.e.m.e.nt sparking in his gray-blue stare. ”So do you want to go have a beer or two? I wasn't sure if you'd be beat after all the hauling around you've done today.”
Ugh. Emerson's stomach soured at the thought of liquor, but the celebration? Now that would make up for her killjoy of an appet.i.te. ”No, I'm up for it. Can I invite Daisy, too?”
”I don't see why not. The more the merrier.” Hunter waited out Emerson's quick text message to Daisy before adding, ”There aren't a whole lot of dinner options at The Bar, unless you count hot wings or nachos. We can stop at the cottage before we go out, though. There's some leftover chicken in the fridge from last night.”
”Oh, I'm good.” At least, she would be if she didn't think of food. Everything she'd eaten lately had tasted like a sawdust special, not to mention wreaking havoc on her stomach once it got there.
”Not to go all PSA on you, but you really should eat something,” Hunter said.
Emerson's gut churned for an entirely new reason. Of course he would notice she'd been pus.h.i.+ng her food from one end of her plate to the other this week. He'd been right next to her at every single meal.
”The preventive medication is just making me queasy,” she admitted. Although part of her was tempted to clam up or change the subject-h.e.l.lo, unglamorous and oh-so-unattractive body betrayals-the look of pure calm on Hunter's face made it all too easy to let the truth fly. ”My neurologist said it could take awhile for my body to get used to the treatment. He's hopeful the side effects will lessen over time, and obviously, if the meds keep my symptoms from turning into episodes, they're worth it.”
Hunter nodded in slow agreement. ”True. But it's still kind of a crummy thing to have to get used to,” Hunter said, and even though his tone was completely judgment free, Emerson's pulse flared all the same.
This is still your new normal. Head up, eyes forward.
”Well, hopefully I won't have to get used to it for long,” she said, putting a nail in the topic.
Thankfully, Hunter let her. ”So what were you dreaming about a couple minutes ago?”
Emerson's face burned with all the heat of being flat out busted. Still, a girl (hopefully. Oh G.o.d) had her pride, so she selected her words with caution. ”What makes you think I was dreaming?”
”I'm a.s.suming you mean aside from the fact that your cheeks are the color of the strawberries I put in the CSA orders this week.” He broke out enough of a grin for his dimple to make an appearance, and great G.o.d in heaven, would she ever find an antidote to that thing?
”Yes,” she said, giving in with a wry smile. ”Aside from that.”
”You were kind of sighing in your sleep. I figured your head might be full of thoughts of a mile-long client list or a bushel of heirloom tomatoes or something.”
Emerson's heart thumped in her ears along with the steady rhythm of the winds.h.i.+eld wipers, but she didn't hold back the truth. ”Actually, I was dreaming about you.”
”Why, Miss Montgomery, you're going to make me blush,” Hunter said, pausing for only a minute before her lack of a tart response seemed to register. ”Wait, are you serious?”
”Mmhmm.” Three weeks ago, the words would have terrified her. But somehow, sitting here in the protected comfort of Hunter's truck with the rain and her neurologist and the rest of the world outside, copping to her dream didn't seem like such a big deal.
”I dreamt that we were together and you were carrying me. Not because I was hurt or anything,” Emerson rushed to add. She might be okay with fessing up to the images her unintentional snooze fest had yielded, but the last thing she needed was for him to think she was weak, especially after today's haul into Lockridge. ”You were just holding me close, with one arm around my shoulders and the other behind my knees. I'm sure it sounds pretty silly.” Now that she heard the whole thing out loud, she sounded like one of those sappy greeting cards gone horribly wrong.
But Hunter just looked at her with that wide-open blue stare that told her everything was going to be just fine no matter what, and she believed him before he even said a word.
”That doesn't sound silly at all.”
Quiet filled the truck, interrupted only by the steady patter of rain on the winds.h.i.+eld and the increasing press of Emerson's heart against her rib cage. They spent the rest of the ride in silence as comfortable as a warm quilt, and by the time they pulled up to The Bar and made a dash for the front entrance, everyone else had arrived and gotten comfortable.
”Hey! There you two are,” Daisy called out over the din of the jukebox, lifting her nearly empty pint gla.s.s in happy salute. ”We've already had a round and ordered up some wings. Where on earth have you been? Owen said you cut out from Cross Creek hours ago.”
”Um.” c.r.a.p. c.r.a.p. Emerson scrambled for a pa.s.sably believable answer, but Hunter just fixed Daisy with an easy, nothing-doing smile.
”Emerson and I had some marketing stuff to take care of for Cross Creek,” he said, moving around the tall rectangular table the group had taken over to do the handshake/shoulder b.u.mp thing with both of his brothers.
”Marketing stuff.” Eli laughed and pushed himself back up to the padded leather seat of his barstool. ”Is that what you kids are calling it these days?”