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He nodded, then waved a hand at what covered her fridge door. “This is what I mean. You influence the minds of the littlest kids and they adore you for it. Look.” He bent down to read one of the pictures. “Case in point. This one says ‘Miss Kerry, best teacher ever’.”
Actually, it said best teesher ever, which was even cuter. “But none of that means I’m Mary Freaking Poppins,” she said, amused, even as she wondered why it was important to him that she might be innocent and sweet. Which, given how many times she’d masturbated to imagining being with him, she didn’t really think she was… He turned with two bottles in hand, his expression entirely confused. “Mary Poppins. The magical, always cheery and perfect British nanny?”
“That’s not really…my speed,” he managed.
“Well, you get the point.” Grinning, Emma brought the Italian bread to the table, then scooped big squares of lasagna onto their plates. “I’m just a normal girl trying to feed a boy some homemade lasagna.”
Plates in hand, she turned—and nearly walked right into Caine.
“Oh, geez, sorry. I almost dumped this all over you. See? Definitely not perfect.”
He stepped to her right to let her past, but she went to that side, too. Then they repeated the little dance on the left. She chuckled. He smirked. And then, suddenly, that smirk smoldered and flashed hot. His gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered there a while.
Time slowed as her heart tripped into a sprint. A shiver raced down her spine. Her nipples hardened. It was entirely possible that she was misreading what her body seemed to be feeling, except his eyes were now blazing. She licked her lips, hungry for just…one…taste…
All at once, he shook his head, his brow furrowing. He took one of the plates from her hand. “I got it.”
“Sure. Thanks,” she managed, wondering if he heard the breathy desire in her voice. Because for a moment there she’d been sure he was going to kiss her. And, damnit, she was disappointed he hadn’t.
They settled at her little kitchen table, and Chewy danced around for a moment until Emma signaled for him to lay down. On a resigned grunt, he curled into a ball under the table near her feet.
Emma was just about to dig into the mound of sauce and cheese and noodles on her plate when his words stopped her short.
“I’m not a normal boy, though.” Focusing on his plate, he sliced the fork into his food and took a big bite.
“What?”
That icy gaze latched onto hers. “You said you were a normal girl. I’m not… That’s not me. Normal. I’m not the guy you invite to dinner. Or take home to meet family.”
His words rattled around in her thoughts while she dug into her food, and they ate in silence for a long moment. Why didn’t he think he was normal or worthy of being invited in and acknowledged? A little ache set off in her chest, just left of center, because she’d had students who expressed similar sentiments, and a troubled home life was, without exception, behind whatever had given them such negative thoughts about themselves.
Making that connection, she finally began to understand what all his comments tonight were adding up to—an argument about why they wouldn’t and couldn’t work. Which both tied her belly up in knots, because he didn’t think they could work, but also unleashed a strange sensation of tingling lightness in her chest, because he was thinking about the idea of a them at all. “Well, I don’t have any family for you to meet, so you’re safe there.”
He swallowed another bite of lasagna and nailed her with a stare. “How do you mean?”
She gave a little shrug. “Never knew my father. My mother died when I was nine. And my grandmother who raised me died three years ago. It’s just me. Well, me and Chewy.” It made her a little sad to lay it out that way, but she wasn’t sad or unhappy. She was generally satisfied with her life. She had a good job she loved. Friends who cared about her. An awesome dog. Plenty of the things she needed.
Caine’s brow cranked down. Not like he was displeased, but almost like he was confused. He took another big bite, which was when Emma realized that he’d nearly finished his piece of lasagna while she hadn’t eaten quite half of hers.
“How about you?” she asked, wondering what was going on in that mind of his. Caine was definitely not someone she’d ever describe as talkative, but she got the impression that there was a thoughtful, complicated mind behind the scowls and silences.
“Ravens are my only family.”
Maybe it was the tension suddenly in his shoulders or the way he’d slowed down from eating, but he strongly radiated that this topic wasn’t open for discussion. Which no doubt meant there was plenty to discuss, and that it wasn’t particularly good. “I met Dare and Jagger.”
