Only then does her attention shift to me.
Her eyes slide over my face, my hair, my dress, the way I’m holding Emmett’s so casually. “Well,” she says again, slower this time. “You do listen.”
Emmett glances at me, and for the first time since we left Timberline Peak, some of the tension leaves his shoulders.
“This is her—Aspen.”
His grandmother’s gaze warms instantly. “Aspen,” she repeats like she’s memorizing it. “What a beautiful name.”
I nod. “I’ve always thought it was a little dramatic and on the nose.”
She smiles at that. “I like drama,” she says. “Boring is for someone far less interesting than you and I, darling.”
Then she gestures at the empty chair on the other side of the window. “Sit,” she says. “You owe me time after staying away so long.”
Emmett drags over one of the dining chairs and places it across from Monica instead of between us.
When I try to trade spots with him, his hand brushes my back and he shakes his head, pointing to the red armchair.
“That’s yours. You’re the one she wants to talk to.”
Unsure, I step forward and take it. Guilt flickers through me as I sit. This feels like a moment Emmett should get to keep for himself.
She sets her knitting project aside.
“What were you working on?”
“Oh, it’s supposed to be a shawl, but I messed something up the other day. Not sure what I was thinking. It might not be worth salvaging.”
”It’s beautiful already. That color with your eyes? Stunning.”
“You don’t have to flatter me. I like you already.” Her eyes flick briefly to Emmett, who rolls his eyes.
“You don’t even know her.”
“Hey!” I exclaim, “I’m very likeable.”
“Well aware, Angel.”
“He wouldn’t have brought you if you weren’t. But that’s not why I’m smitten.”
“Here we go.” Emmett groans.
“This one would rot away in that camper all alone. He needs someone to like you to remind him that life is worth living.”
Emmett mutters, “A touch over the top.”
She ignores him completely and reaches out, light fingers brushing my wrist. Warm and steady.
“You make him nervous,” she says smiling.
Emmett looks embarrassed enough that I’d almost feel bad for him if it wasn’t so adorable.
“Are you sure you’ve met him?” I tease.
She laughs, and her hand tightens around mine a little. “He likes to act tough but between you and me, he’s not very good at it.”
“I’m right here.”
