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I sigh and flop back against my seat, waiting for the unusually subdued Emma to climb out of the car. But she doesn’t even undo her seatbelt, she just stares at me. “What?”
She doesn’t flinch at my bark. “I changed my mind. I don’t want you to hire me to walk Max.”
“Fine. I’m glad we agree. Now get out before someone calls the cops on me.”
“Nope.” She crosses her arms and leans against her door, daring me to say something with a quirk of her eyebrow. If only she knew how much she looks like her mom when she does that. And how much it hurts. “You need my help.”
“No, I don’t. Goodbye, Emma.” I hit the button to unlock the door but no way am I reaching across her to pop the door open. She doesn’t move.
Leaning back against my own door I mirror her pose. If she thinks she can out-stubborn me, she’s in for a surprise. Smug, I cross my arms and raise my own eyebrow. It’s a practiced look that has brought more than one business rival to his knees.
Emma doesn’t even flinch.
“Is that supposed to scare me?” Her smart mouth takes me by surprise and I barely hold onto my scowl. “Listen Teddy—I’m gonna call you Teddy no matter how deeply you furrow those eyebrows at me. You need me. You need me more than I need you, I bet. I just wanted to earn a couple of bucks walking your dog, but now I find out that you want something much more valuable.”
I cock my head, curious where she’s going with this, but absolutely certain that this fifteen-year-old terrorist has me by the balls and knows it. “And what’s that?”
“Well, the way I see it, we both want the same thing. I want my mom to be less stressed-out all the time. She’s always worried about something—me, money, Max, Lauren, my stupid dad. You know who she never worries about? Herself.”
I can’t help the snort that escapes me. Emma grins before schooling her face again, the negotiator back in charge.
“You want my mom. To date or whatever.”
“Not whatever.” I need to make sure Emma understands I’m in this for real, not on a whim. She may be playing at being a grownup at the moment, but I’m not. “I want to date your mom, period. She deserves someone who’s going to take care of her, make her life easier, better. I want to be that for her.”
“Right.” She nods, her blond hair bouncing around with the force. “Listen.” She leans forward, digging a finger into my shoulder. “If I didn’t believe you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I could make your life miserable if I wanted to.” She leans back, hands up. “I like you—for now—so I won’t. But I could. Don’t forget that.”
Shaking my head, I run a hand over my chin to hide the smile threatening to make an appearance. Mid-negotiation is not the time. “Do you have an actual proposal or just threats?”
Twenty-five
Sophie
Max glares at me with his good eye as I let myself into Lauren’s apartment. He doesn’t move from his sunny spot on the couch, but his tail waves lazily a few times before he goes back to sleep.
“Hey, Maxy.” My voice is loud in the quiet of her apartment, despite my almost whisper. Lauren won’t be home for another hour or so, she was in a meeting when I left and traffic was a bitch getting here. I glance around her kitchen as I set my purse on the floor. She's obviously been working later nights than I thought, based on the dirty dishes in the sink and the empty wine bottle on the counter.
With nothing better to do while I wait, I empty the dishwasher and reload it. The recycling is too full to add the bottle, but rather than sit here on my phone, I pull the bag out to take it to the dumpster.
Locking the front door behind me, I grip the bag and take off down the stairs.
“You’re not Lauren.” The accusation has me whirling back to face it, halfway down the cement steps. An old man is standing half out of the doorway opposite Lauren’s, glaring at me.
“No, I’m not.” I cut myself off from asking any more questions. He must be in his eighties, the bald top of his head ringed by wispy white hair like a priest. “She’s my friend, I was just taking out the trash for her.” I half lift the bag in my hand to prove it.
“Hmph. So that was you making all that noise earlier?” Ok-ay, so the wrinkles are more of the ‘get off my lawn’ variety than the ‘did I ever tell you about the time’ variety. “You tell Lauren I don’t appreciate her friends coming over and making a racket in the middle of the day.”
Who the hell is this guy? He definitely didn’t live here when Emma and I were staying with Lauren last year. Has it really been that long since I’ve come over?
“I didn’t mean to disturb you, sir.”
He harrumphs at my apology and slams his door shut before I can say anything else. I’ll have to ask Lauren about her new neighbor.
Forty-five minutes later, I’m adding some frozen peas to my impromptu stir fry when Lauren walks in the door. “Soph? What are you doing here? And does it have anything to do with why Sutton was in the foulest mood I’ve ever seen?”
She drops her bag on the floor and scoops up Max who’s been wandering around underfoot waiting for me to drop another piece of kung pao chicken. “That smells delicious. How did you find anything to cook? I haven’t gone grocery shopping in weeks.”
“The leftover Chinese in your fridge smelled okay, so I just cooked some new rice to go with it.” I point to the rice cooker on her countertop, white steam bubbling away in it. “Also, I’m mad at you.”
