She licked her lips and backed up. He wanted to see her lick her lips again, because he could almost feel her tongue on his neck. The imagined moment pooled blood in his lower half. “Well, you don’t look like a guy who wants to hang out with old people.”
“But Ryder does?” Wyatt set one hand on the counter and closed the gap she’d created. He liked the way she got hot and flustered when he drew near. Those fair cheeks of hers gave everything away every time they pinked up. He had a shot. His heart knocked a little harder in his chest.
She suddenly turned pensive, looking toward the window above the sink. He could smell her light perfume despite the aroma of onion and cilantro coming from the bowl in front of her. “Ryder looks like someone who wants to feel needed. The elderly residents at the home can fulfill that longing.”
In that moment, he recognized that she, too, longed to be needed—a need he could fulfill if she’d let him.
“Everyone likes to feel needed, Emma.” He edged closer still, forcing her to meet his gaze. He dropped his voice to a low murmur, hoping it would sharpen her desire to match his. “Even someone like me.”
A delicious tension wound its way through his limbs, and he suspected she’d been caught in its trap, too. Her head tipped back and her green eyes took on a fathomless quality, but before she could answer, Ryder thumped into the kitchen and broke the spell.
“Mari’s out here.” He glanced at Wyatt. “Wants you to do a voice-over for the c-clip she’s putting up on YouTube tonight. Also wants to know if dinner will be on time.”
Emma closed her eyes like she was praying for patience. “Tell Mari dinner will be on time, assuming you both leave me be for five minutes so I can finish pulling everything together.”
Before Wyatt walked away from Emma, he muttered, “Consider this conversation on hold.”
When she faced him, he noticed her gaze snagged on his mouth. That fact made his pulse, and other parts of his anatomy, jump. Trip’s bet and warning drifted through his mind as he dragged himself out of the kitchen.
“Everyone likes to feel needed, Emma.” His melancholy words had sounded feverish, or maybe she’d only thought so because her blood had boiled faster than water in an electric teakettle. Had the day’s events affected his outlook, his priorities? He’d kept looking at her like he wanted something. Her attention? Her approval? Her touch?
A hopeful but doomed zing sailed through her heart before she took hold of herself. Wyatt Lawson desired women like Alexa, not Emma. Whatever he wanted from her, it had more to do with needing a distraction than wanting someone to burn up the sheets with, for Pete’s sake.
Besides, even if she could stomach dating a highly sought-after man, she wouldn’t pin her hopes on a guy hell-bent on making a name for himself—traveling the globe chasing storms and competitions. No. At best, she’d be as lonely as ever with a man like that, at worst, she’d end up brokenhearted. Been there, done that . . .
Her father placed a silver necklace with a heart-shaped locket in her hands, closing his fingers around her fist. “I know you’re sad, sweetie. But when I get settled, you’ll love visiting me in Los Angeles. We’ll go to the beach. Learn to surf. I’ll even bring you on a movie set. It’ll be fun. You’ll have a life here in the mountains, and one by the ocean.”
He had a way of dramatizing things to make them sound exciting—of needing them to be so, too—but Emma might as well have been an oak tree for how rooted in reality she’d been.
Whatever promises he made, she doubted that he’d keep them once he left, and not just because she’d overheard her mom’s accusations or sobs. Emma’d spent her childhood desperately seeking his attention, determined to make him proud. There’d been moments when she’d thought she’d succeeded. When he’d sat in front of the fire reading to her as if fully content with his life, his family. But he was a decent actor, and apparently those moments had been just for show.
“Now give me a hug before I go, baby.”
She complied, although woodenly. One thing she would not do was break down in front of him. If anything, her sadness had given way to resentment. But Emma would hide her anger. As far as she was concerned, he’d lost the privilege of seeing any of her emotions. “’Bye, Daddy.”
He tweaked her nose, then he stood, hands welded to his hips, and took a last look at the lobby. She knew right then she would never, ever forget the utter relief reflected in his eyes as he closed this chapter of his life. A look that proved he’d never loved her enough. “’Bye.”