I watch him unblinkingly, my mouth slightly agape as he watches me right back until he suddenly shifts his gaze to a slack-jawed Yana as though he’s only just remembered her presence.
Once he’s cleared his throat, he nods succinctly. “With all due respect, Miss Hart.”
And with that, he strides toward the elevator, leaving me with a gasping Yana.
“Oh my God, I don’t know about you, Emerson, but when a mild-mannered hunk turns all alpha like that, my feminism goes straight out the window, am I right?”
I blow out a heavy sigh, willing this evening to be over even as I acknowledge the truth to myself.
You’re not wrong, Yana.
CHAPTER 10
FORD
“I’m just goingto wash up real quick, and then we can get down to it, okay?”
Emmy shoots me a hesitant smile as she slides the dishwasher door closed before ducking out of the living area through the arch that leads to her bedroom.
I quickly shoot Alex’s wife, Reyna, a text message.
ME
Thank you for dinner. Your abuelita’s tamales recipe is the best.
I don’t have to wait long for a reply.
REYNA
You’re welcome, Ford. There’s always more where they came from.
I can’t help but grin. During Reyna and Alex’s unusual courtship, I developed a love for Reyna’s traditional Costa Rican food, so she always preps enough to feed me on the off chance that I might drop by. I don’t typically get time, but she continues to do it anyway.
That’s how I’d known where to get good home-cooked comfort food on such short notice when it’d become apparent that Emmy is literally burning the candle at both ends, leaving no time to take care of her basic needs.
That’s gonna change.
I quickly place an order for a bouquet of Reyna’s favorite orchids to be delivered to her later this evening, chuckling to myself as I anticipate the text I’ll undoubtedly get from her husband, telling me to stop harassing his wife.
“Are you ready?”
Emmy’s sweet voice breaks through my musings, and I raise my head from my cell to find her dressed in casual lounge pants and a matching long-sleeved crop top that showcases a sliver of her smooth, tanned abdomen. With her face free of makeup and her long blonde tresses piled haphazardly atop her head, I can’t focus on anything aside from the fact that she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever witnessed.
She pads closer on bare feet, and I forcibly rip my eyes away, murmuring an affirmative, “Ready when you are.”
Then, she passes me a spare manuscript ofBreaking Us, watching me almost expectantly before taking a seat on the opposite end of the long grey couch that dominates the living space.
“I’ve marked each scene and color-coded our lines. You’re the orange.” I nod as I open the script while Emmy murmurs, “Umm…you don’t need to act out your part, but I’m afraid I’ll need to give it someoomph, so I apologize in advance…”
She trails off as her cheeks pinken, and the words escape my lips before I’ve even thought them.
“Watching you perform is a privilege. Never apologize for your talent. It’s a thing of beauty.”
As I berate myself internally, Emmy watches me with wide eyes, clearly picking apart my statement until I look down at the manuscript in my hands and skim to the first marked scene.
“Why are these particular scenes being reshot, do you know?”
Thankfully, my question cuts through the underlying tension, and Emmy flicks open her own manuscript, seemingly content to move forward.
