“Tim…” Horrible scenarios flashed through her mind.
“I’m just telling you what I was told, Emma,” he said, his voice gentle.
“This is bullshit!” she erupted.
“Yeah, it is.”
“Okay, well, thanks for letting me know. I really appreciate it.”
“Emma, we’ll find him.”
Emery hoped they would find him, but she didn’t think the mom was the real problem. It was the boyfriend who was the physical threat.
“Emma? Have you eaten?”
“Dinner?” The question took her off guard. She looked at her watch and realized it was 8:30.
“At all?”
She shook her head without answering him.
“Can I take you to dinner?”
Emma smiled weakly at his attempt. “Tim, I’m exhausted, Lucas isn’t here, and all I want to do is crawl in bed.”
“Well, you have to eat. My grandmother made me dinner and I have fantastic leftovers.”
Emery didn’t want to eat, she wanted to sleep. “No thank you, Tim.”
“Please? I’ll just drop the food off and you can eat it by yourself.”
“Tim…”
“I’m a cop, you’re safe with me.”
“Do you use that line with all women?” Emery opened the car door and slid into her seat, unable to keep the smile off her lips.
“What?” He feigned horror. “No way.”
Silence.
“It’s fried catfish, collards, and cornbread,” he tempted her.
“Shit, I can’t say no to that.” Her stomach growled just thinking about it.
“So…”
“So I’m at 315 Lorch, just text me when you get there.” She exited the parking lot and headed home.
“Wow, I got your number and your address in the span of ten minutes, you must really want me.”
“Never mind, then.” Emery laughed.
“I’m kidding. One to go plate on the way. I’m only a few blocks from you anyway.”
There was a comfortable silence as she took in the fact this guy was about to come to her apartment. No one had been there except Rachel and Derrick and she couldn’t help feeling like this was a really bad decision.
“Okay, Emma. I’m headed your way. I’ll text you.”
“Tim…”
“Yes.”
“Thank you,” Emery said into the phone and she meant it. She knew he was off and he didn’t have to get that information about Lucas for her. He didn’t have to bring her dinner.
“You’re welcome, Emma Simpson.”
Emma Simpson.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Strategery
Emery had just taken off her suit jacket and kicked off her heels when her phone dinged with a text message. Her throbbing feet were a reminder why she never wore them to work.
I’m downstairs.
She blew out a breath. That was fast. Emery walked gingerly down the stairs barefoot, her feet pulsing painfully with every step. As she stood in front of the door to let Tim in, she wiggled her toes and took in his gray cable knit sweater and a matching wool cap pulled down over his brown hair and ears. The September air carried the hint of the fall. He was looking toward the street and she drank him in without him noticing. His features were too perfect; she needed something to be really wrong with this guy. When he glanced toward the door and saw she was standing there staring at him, he smirked.
Emery opened the door and stepped back, letting him in. He entered quickly, his entire body moving like he was shaking off the cold.
“I know, it’s so cold for September! I was wearing shorts last week,” Emery said, making small talk. She was really bad at small talk.
Tim opened his mouth to respond, but then his eyes changed, darkening as he obviously took in the camisole she’d been wearing under her suit and her bare feet.
The few seconds he looked her over seemed to last hours and they twisted and turned in her mind. His eyes scorched her skin with something she couldn’t determine and it made her take a step back from him. Then he looked down at her left arm and the moment broke in two and clattered on the floor.
“Emma, I—”
“Thank you so much for bringing over this food. You definitely didn’t have to do this,” she cut him off. “I really just want to get in bed, so it’s awesome that I don’t even have to pour cereal, which is probably what I would’ve done.”
“You’re welcome.” He took a step toward her and closed the gap she’d created.
“Tim, I know you didn’t have to help me today. Thank you.” She moved to open the door again so that she let him out, but he put his hand on her left forearm. The touch was exactly what she needed after the last 24 hours. She wanted to touch someone—anyone. She was so lonely. Emery was desperate for this sort of connection, but she knew she couldn’t have it. She pulled her arm back from him.