When you’re sitting that close to me.
I shake the thought away. It’s not true.
“Yeah, I could hear that much,” he quips, still following me. His palm lands on the small of my back when we stop at the diner’s door, and he reaches over my shoulder to open it for me. His chest brushes against my back as he does.
I draw in a sharp breath and scoot through the entryway, trying to create a little distance. Part of me hopes that he’s just making sure I get in the door before heading home on his own.
But when we walk in, Martha’s head pops up, her salt-and-pepper bob swaying with the motion as she greets me from behind the cash register, “Hey, doll, table for… two?”
I’m ready to sayNo, he’s leaving, but Emmett beats me to the punch with another touch to my waist and a surprising, “Yes, please.”
Martha looks far too happy. Her eyes crinkle at the sides, showing at least fifty years of smiling. “A cowboy businessman, huh,” she murmurs appreciatively while looking Emmett overwith an amused tilt to her lips. Like I chose to bring him here with me. Dressed like this.
Then, without another word, she holds up two menus with a quick grin before turning and waving them over her shoulder as a signal for us to follow along.
Emmett’s strong hand on my back urges me forward as he leans down and jokingly whispers, “Let’s go,doll.”
His breath fans across my neck, chasing a shiver down my spine as we proceed into the quiet diner.
Martha tosses the menus on the table of a booth next to the window and walks away. But not before tossing me a saucy wink accompanied by, “Two coffees coming right up.”
With a heavy sigh, I slide onto the red pleather bench across from Emmett.
“Coffee? At this time of night? Are we pulling an all-nighter, Baby Silva?”
“The Baby Silva thing has got to go,” I mutter, staring out the window into the night as cars flash past, barreling away from the diner. I’m almost jealous. It would be nice to escape this late-night rendezvous.
Especially when Emmett smirks at me the way he is right now. “You’re right. I’ve seen your ass now, so that nickname has probably run its course.”
Okay. Funny. But I don’t want to egg him on, so I don’t react. Instead, I glare at him.
That’s how Martha finds us when she returns with two cups of piping hot black coffee. “Here we go.” She plunks them on the table. “The usual for you, Jules?”
“Yep,” I say, not looking away from Emmett.
“And for you?” she asks Emmett.
“He’s not staying,” I provide for him, but he chuckles.
“Of course I am. I’ll have whatever she’s having.” He turns and blinds Martha with his most charming smile. And even sheisn’t immune—she walks away fanning herself with exaggerated flair.
Abandoning me with Emmett like a total traitor.
“What if you don’t like what I’m having?”
He shrugs. “I will.”
“And if you don’t?”
“I’ll acquire a taste.”
“Why?”
“Just to impress you.”
My eyes narrow. “Why?”
“Just to piss your brother off.”
