Unexpectedly Hers(40)

Glancing in the rearview mirror, she noticed the cameramen and Mari unloading their equipment, so Emma got out and retrieved the two large platters of rum balls from the back of her van. Wyatt came over to where she was wrestling the van’s back doors while juggling the party trays.

“Let me take these.” He took the treats from her so she could lock the doors. Like earlier in the morning, his manner remained polite but distant.

She owed him an apology. At some point today, she’d offer one and then, no matter what, she’d focus on the inn and her writing. Those were her only priorities—the realities of her life. She would not screw it all up by being in some kind of warped, self-destructive thrall to Wyatt flippin’ Lawson.

Without exactly meeting his gaze, she said, “Ms. Henley, the executive director, said a few of the folks are quite thrilled about being in this documentary. Mrs. Ritter asked for help with her hair. Mr. Tomlin is wearing a bow tie! Normally he’s in sweatpants and a pullover, but I always suspected he’d been quite dapper in his day. He’s a big flirt, that one.”

Although his head was bowed, Wyatt smiled, which made Emma’s heart flutter like a baby bird testing new wings. She remembered how his cheerful smile had won her attention the first time she’d spotted him in that bar in Aspen. He’d lit the room, and that had filled her with warmth, just as it did right now.

She supposed some part of her pissy attitude toward him yesterday had stemmed from a perverted resentment that he still didn’t remember her and Aspen—even as she thanked God for that fact.

It couldn’t go on, this twisted resentment she carried. She’d chosen to be Alexa. To abandon her principles for a night of pleasure. Wyatt had no way of knowing that their night together had haunted and taunted her—tempted her—ever since. Or that, like her father, those sensations whispered dangerous thoughts that made her orderly world feel unfamiliar.

Wyatt remained clueless that his renewed presence in her life not only reminded her of the pleasure and freedom she’d experienced with him, but made her feel guilty about using those intimate moments as inspiration for a story.

No, Emma’s scorn should be aimed toward herself. But before she could apologize for last night, Mari approached them.

Without sparing a polite glance at Emma, she said, “Wyatt, let’s get an establishing shot of you and Ryder out here first. Perhaps Emma can go in ahead of us with Buddy and get things set up, get waivers signed and such. That way we can keep rolling the cameras as we enter the building so we can capture realistic reactions from people when they meet you.”

“To the extent any of them care about this project, it’s about being on camera, not about me. I bet very few of them even know who I am, so don’t expect a big reaction.”

“Some might not have heard of you before this morning, but they all know who you are now. That, plus your gorgeous face, guarantees some reaction.” Mari smiled at him, chilling gesture that it was. The dark plum lipstick didn’t help, either.

Not for the first time, Emma wondered if Mari’s interest in Wyatt was more than professional.

“Fine.” Wyatt extended the trays toward Emma. “Sorry. See you in a bit.”

“Good luck.” Knowing a bit about Wyatt’s pride made Emma aware of how much he disliked being Mari’s puppet. Like her, he also hated marketing himself. Empathy prompted a sincere smile, and for the first time in days, the tight knot of worry in her chest unwound enough to allow her to breathe easily.

She then caught sight of Ryder staring at the care center. Gone were the grim lines usually bracketing his mouth. His typically rigid posture softened into a casual slouch, as if his entire being had relaxed from the relief of not having to worry about Wyatt’s safety today. She suspected his eyes might even be crinkled at the corners.

If only he could remove his sunglasses, it would help others better decipher his moods. As it stood, his debilitated nonverbal communication skills kept him somewhat alienated. The urge to help him heal pulled at her heart.

Yanking herself out of her reverie, she caught up to Buddy and went inside.

Ms. Henley was waiting for them in the antiseptic-smelling lobby, smoothing her sleek, silver hair. A peer of Emma’s mother, Ms. Henley also had taken to the unfortunate habit of ruining the appearance of her business attire by wearing unattractive orthopedic shoes. Perhaps for Christmas this year, Emma would scour the Internet for better options and buy all of her elder acquaintances prettier footwear.

Ms. Henley smiled warmly, as she always did whenever volunteers came to entertain the residents. “Emma, are those your rum balls?”