Part 19 (2/2)
”Knock it off, Eli,” Owen said, although a tiny smile poked at the corners of his mouth. ”You're just jealous you didn't get to spend your afternoon with a pretty girl, too.”
Eli held up his hands in concession, his blue eyes twinkling in the low light of the bar. ”Too right, brother. While I love old Clarabelle, working in the barn definitely doesn't compare.”
The mention of Cross Creek tickled something in the back of Emerson's brain, and she sent her gaze past their table and all the way around the moderately populated bar. ”Oh. Your dad decided not to come?”
”Yeah, where is Dad?” Hunter asked, his brows furrowing just slightly in concern.
Owen tipped his head, taking a long draw off the amber-colored bottle between his fingers. ”I asked him if he wanted to join us, but he said he was gonna catch up on a few things and turn in early. He said to be sure we threw one back for him, though.”
Emerson exhaled a silent breath of relief. She always liked Mr. Cross's company, but it took one to know one in the exhaustion department, and while he thankfully wasn't duking it out with an illness like MS, he'd looked all too tired to her this week.
”Guess it wouldn't be polite to say no to the old man, now would it?” Hunter asked, a slow smile moving over his face. ”I'm going to grab a beer. Anyone need another round?”
”With you buying?” Eli asked, raising his gla.s.s to drain the last of its contents. ”h.e.l.l yes. I'm with you.”
”Me, too,” Daisy chimed in, palming her empty gla.s.s and sliding off her barstool to follow Eli toward the bar.
Emerson shook her head. ”Just soda for me.” Hopefully the bubbles would call a truce to the epic game of I Hate Your Guts that her medication had waged against her stomach.
”Okay.” Hunter pulled out a nearby barstool, his hand lingering on her lower back as he ushered her onto the seat. ”O, you straight?”
”I'm good for now,” Owen said, holding up his half-empty beer. ”Don't worry, I'll keep Emerson company.”
After Hunter followed Daisy and Eli over the boot-scuffed floorboards to the bar, Owen leaned a forearm over the table across from her, piquing the h.e.l.l out of her curiosity. ”You know, we're really grateful for all the work you've done at Cross Creek.”
”I'm happy to help,” Emerson said, and meant it. ”Being part of things at the farm has gone a long way toward making me feel at home. Believe me, the grat.i.tude goes both ways.”
”Still, it's an awful lot of work. Are you sure we're not keeping you from anything down at Doc Sanders's?”
”Not at all, although my schedule has been a lot busier this week.” Her lips folded together over a smile that felt far too good to suppress at the thought of the three new clients she'd booked, plus two more she'd consulted with during their appointments with Doc Sanders. ”Maybe something to do with someone down at the co-op, talking about . . . what was it? Oh right. The best hand ma.s.sage this side of the Mississippi.”
Owen rolled his eyes but managed a laugh all the same. ”That's Eli for you, although I'm sure you're great at your job.”
Surprise rippled up her spine, straightening her creaky back as it went. ”But you've never seen me work.”
”Don't have to,” Owen said, lifting a shoulder beneath the plaid b.u.t.ton-down he'd slung over his T-s.h.i.+rt. ”Hunter might be more laid back than most, but I know how he feels about Cross Creek. I'm betting he wasn't exactly a prince about rehabbing his shoulder for four weeks. You got him fixed up good as new, which makes you alright in my book.”
”Thanks.” Emerson had been around the Cross men enough over the last few weeks to know the guy-speak version of high praise when she heard it.
”Just tellin' you what I see.” Owen sent her a covert wink just as Hunter, Eli, and Daisy returned, and huh, who knew the serious brother had a flirty side?
”One soda, coming right up,” Hunter said. Placing the gla.s.s in front of her, he situated himself on the barstool to her left, giving her enough breathing room to be comfortable but staying just close enough for his proximity to warm her blood. The conversation flowed as easily as the laughter and the beer, and even when Amber Ca.s.sidy came in with Kelsey and Mollie Mae to take advantage of the two-for-one ladies' night drink specials, their obvious whispers and pointed looks at Hunter's very visible closeness didn't dampen her mood.
Emerson managed to baby sip most of her soda without too much protest from her stomach, although she hadn't needed to think twice about making the I-had-a-big-lunch excuse when their server brought a giant platter of atomic hot wings to the table. All too soon, though, the drink took its toll on her mouse-sized bladder, and she carefully pushed to her feet to excuse herself.
”Oh, I'll go with you,” Daisy said, looping her arm through Emerson's. Eli made the obligatory girls-going-to-the-bathroom-in-packs joke, and Daisy playfully pinched his ear as they headed toward the ladies' room at the back of the bar.
”I know there's safety in numbers,” Emerson joked, ignoring her aching legs in favor of smiling at her friend. ”But I'm pretty sure I've got this covered.”
Daisy made a borderline impolite noise and a face to match. ”Please. If anyone can handle herself, it's you.” Her expression slid into something else, however, after they moved past Amber and the gossip squad, heading toward the alcove housing the restrooms and the emergency exit. ”Actually, I wanted to talk to you in private.”
Emerson's steps slowed, worry peppering tiny holes in her already unthrilled stomach. ”Is everything okay?”
The unease whisking through Daisy's olive-green stare was a surefire precursor to nothing good. ”I'm not trying to poke my nose into your business, but your mother has stopped by your place twice in the last few days.”
Just like that, Emerson's good mood flatlined. ”Are you serious?”
”Yes.” Daisy led her to the back of the alcove, dropping her voice to a soft murmur as the bar noise faded into the background. ”I've been making a lot of extra bath scrub and aromatherapy body spritz for next weekend's craft fair, and my kitchen window faces your front door, so I just happened to see her both times. I know you said things between you and your parents have been strained lately, and I wasn't even sure if I should bring it up, but . . .”
”But?” Emerson managed, and even the single syllable trembled. G.o.d, how stupid she'd been to think her parents would let this whole career change thing go after just one no from her.
”Well, she looked pretty upset,” Daisy said, biting her lip. ”The first time was on Friday afternoon, then she came by again this evening, right before I left to come here. I figured you'd want to know in case something's wrong.”
Emerson inhaled on a five count before doubling the number for her breath out. ”Thank you for telling me, but no. Nothing's wrong.”
”Are you sure?”
She paused, her heart squeezing tight in her chest. While she was still too angry to speak to her parents, she had drafted a polite e-mail to Dr. Norris a few days after the dinner nightmare. He'd been nice enough to consider her for a position at his practice, and just because she didn't want said position didn't mean the man should get caught in the shrapnel of her family blowout. But she wasn't going to change her mind, and her parents weren't going to change theirs, no matter how many times they revisited the subject.
Now it was time to move on.
”Yes,” Emerson said, capping the word with a nod. ”I'm sure.”
By the time she had used the ladies' room and made her way back to the table with Daisy, the wings were mostly gone and the beer along with it. For the first time since she'd started spending the night at Hunter's cottage, Emerson found herself grateful that the workday at Cross Creek started early enough to make everyone head for home after two beers. Between the ride to Lockridge and the news that her parents didn't seem to be through with their full-court press, she just wanted to fall into bed next to Hunter and turn her dream from the truck into reality.
Haven't you ever wondered what if . . .
”Hey. You've been awfully quiet over there,” Hunter said, the tires crunching over the gravel drive as he pulled up to the cottage and turned off the engine. ”You okay?”
”Yeah, I . . .” A humorless laugh puffed past her lips. ”No. Daisy told me my mother has been to my apartment twice this week, looking for me.”
His gaze winged toward hers in the near dark. ”s.h.i.+t, Em. Did Daisy talk to her?”
Emerson shook her head. ”She saw her through the window. I can't believe I thought my parents would actually trust me to live my own life. I don't know how else to make them understand that working for Doc Sanders is what I want.”
Hunter's hesitation lasted long enough to send her warning flags into a full wave. ”Have you given any more thought to telling them you have MS?”
”We've been through this,” she said, frustration snapping in her veins. ”Telling them will do more harm than help.”
”I know you think so.” His voice hardened ever so slightly over the words, outlining frustration of his own. ”But isn't it possible that, despite the fact that they have a c.r.a.ppy way of showing it, they really do want what's best for you?”
Emerson's brain sent an unexpected litany of science fair exhibits, piano recitals, homecoming floats, and graduations through her mind's eye. Although they'd chosen all of those things for her, her parents had been front and center for each one. She'd always a.s.sumed their presence had been for show, the same way her father had felt obligated to attend the Watermelon Festival. Appearances were everything when you were a Montgomery. The only thing good enough for her parents was perfection.
She missed the mark now more than ever.
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