“I’ll walk you to your door so I can ward off surprise ghost attacks.” He winked, so she didn’t argue. He hadn’t been flirting, yet the hairs on her neck tingled in anticipation of something she couldn’t quite define. Might he try to kiss her? Suddenly she wished she’d grabbed the honey pot from the pantry. Oooh, bad, bad Emma. Then again, her mom wasn’t around to notice the messy sheets or missing honey. Maybe they could be together again without anyone getting hurt.
When they arrived at her room, Wyatt said, “Trip invited me to the party. How about we go together?”
Stunned and—ridiculous as it might be—a wee bit disappointed he hadn’t stolen a kiss, her mind blanked. “S-sure.”
“Perfect.” Wyatt flashed that brilliant, toothy smile, and for a second, she wanted to rescind her consent, sensing the growing danger of socializing with him in public. Alexa had been aloof and detached, playing a game. But Emma’s soul had always been a bit like an open wound, absorbing everything and often smarting. She may put on a brave face, but her heart had no shield against Wyatt Lawson. “It’s a date.”
Before she could refute that designation, he added, “Thanks for the late-night snack, Emma. Sweet dreams.”
Then he turned and jogged down the stairs, leaving her yearning for something she absolutely should not be considering.
She waited until she heard his door close before going into her room and collapsing on her bed. Touching her palm to her cheek, the warmth in her face didn’t surprise her. In the silence, her heartbeat pounded out an upbeat tempo. Restlessly she shifted, her hands now brushing across her tightening breasts and down her stomach.
Flushed and heated, she rolled over and pulled the box of books from under her bed. After staring at the cover, she turned to page forty-two—the first of the good parts—and began reading, except this time it was Wyatt, not Dallas, coming to life.
Wyatt slid his arms into the sleeves of his brother’s gray blazer. “Thanks for the loan. I hadn’t packed anything this nice.”
Ryder shrugged. “It’s a little long on you.”
Bluntness—one of the consequences of Ryder’s TBI.
“You love any excuse to remind me that you’re taller than me, don’t you?” Wyatt teased.
Ryder shrugged. “Maybe.”
“You sure you don’t want to come. Trip said it’d be fine.” Wyatt adjusted his shirt collar. “Wouldn’t you like a night out? Like old times.”
“Crowds and music give me headaches now.” Ryder’s mouth set in a firm line, and Wyatt immediately regretted his thoughtless remark.
“I feel lousy leaving you here alone. What will you do?”
“I’m going to a p-pottery class.”
Wyatt’s head snapped toward his brother. “Pottery?”
“Emma suggested it because it’s peaceful and might fire up the creative parts of my brain.” Ryder glanced at the platter of snacks by his bed. “She also made me some food after she got back from delivering all those cupcakes.”
“She’s full of surprises,” Wyatt said, discomfited by the fact that Emma and Ryder still had private conversations.
“She’s nice.” Ryder looked at Wyatt. “Don’t . . .”
“Don’t what?” Wyatt’s shoulders stiffened.
“You know.” Ryder peered over the top of his sunglasses, something he rarely did. Seeing a hint of his brother’s blue eyes fixed on him set Wyatt back a step. “Don’t treat her like one of your g-groupies.”
Unexpected. Wyatt almost asked if Ryder had a crush on her, but he stopped himself. He told himself he didn’t want to embarrass his brother, but the truth was, he didn’t want to know. Preserving his ignorance might lessen whatever guilt he would feel if something were to develop between him and Emma, which Wyatt could no longer pretend he didn’t want to explore, even if it meant taking chances right under Mari’s nose.
“I don’t think she’s the one you need to worry about. She barely tolerates me.” He cocked an eyebrow. At least that statement had been truthful. Hell, for all he knew, Emma liked Ryder. She certainly took more interest in him. A scowl seized Wyatt’s face.
“I didn’t think you’d go out this month, w-with training and all.” Ryder didn’t hide the censure in his tone.
“I won’t drink or stay out late. I just need to take a break from thinking about competition.”
“What will you do about Mari?” Ryder asked.
“What about Mari?”
“I heard her talking to Jim. She wants s-some of this on film. ‘Human interest’ stuff, social life and possible romantic undertones,” he finished, trying to imitate Mari’s clipped voice.