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Which makes me harder than a fucking steel beam. Because I already know how some parts of her taste. I’d like to use my tongue to memorize every detail of her, but I haven’t gone that far yet.
And I probably won’t be able to, based on whatever happened this morning.
I hate how Emily is hiding the fact that she’s scared. And annoyed. She slips her hand into mine and smiles up at me, but it’s not real. I know it’s not because I’ve seen genuine smiles from her.
The media, though? They love it. The flashes go off with an even greater frenzy when I slip my arm around Emily’s waist and guide her toward the restaurant. I press my hand against the small of her back right below where the dress is cut. She’s like fire against my palm, and I have to grind my teeth. We fight through the crowd, which is mostly me sticking my arm out and carefully pushing forward. Not making contact, but demanding space as I keep the other arm wrapped protectively around Emily. It’s a relief when we hit the door.
I push it open and make sure Emily gets in ahead of me. None of the journalists follow, but they’ll probably be at every open window, trying to get a shot of us having dinner, though. I shudder.
I haven’t had a chance to talk to her about this morning. However, I shouldn’t have walked out on her like that. I don’t know what she was thinking, but I got my male panties in a bit of a twist hearing her level accusations like that at me without any reason for it. It stung. It stung my pride, and it stung my erm…well, bits of me inside that I’m not so used to using. It was worse than the ego thing. A lot worse.
Emily leans in while the suited host checks the list after I give him my name. “Time to get the show on the road. The second show. The one back there was obviously the first.” Her voice is thick with accusation and displeasure.
“I didn’t like it either,” I respond.
“Here we are. Table for three,” the host says.
I drop my hand from Emily’s back and motion for her to follow the host. It would obviously suit her just fine if we didn’t have to touch each other for the rest of the night. Which, if there aren’t any camera sharks at the windows, she might be able to get away with.
My granny stands when she sees us. She knows this is all for show, and it leaves a bad taste in my mouth when she grips Emily’s hand, tugs her to herself, and places a kiss on both of her cheeks. Emily sinks down at her seat, stunned. Then, she haphazardly grabs her cloth napkin and immediately tucks it into her lap. There are glasses of water on the table, and she grabs that too, draining half of it in a single gulp before setting it down and smiling that terrible smile that doesn’t even halfway reach her eyes.
I sink down in the seat across from her while granny remains at the head. Our table is in a corner, thank our lucky fortunes, or maybe Granny insisted. The rest of the place is packed, and thankfully, there are no windows around. I let out a small sigh, and I can feel my shoulders slump a little with relief.
Across the table, Emily looks like this is torture. She’s so clearly unhappy.
I have no idea what happened between around three and nine this morning when I got back from getting us coffee.
She obviously had a change of heart. Did she panic? Read something? Hear something? What happened in those twenty minutes I was away?
“You should try the steak, dear,” Granny says smoothly. “It’s delicious, and you can order it any way you like. And get a red to go with it. Something as great as your hair.”
Emily picks up the menu and hides behind it while I shoot Granny a look. She just gives me this innocent, wide-eyed stare in response, and I slowly shake my head. She’s purposely intimidating Emily. Then again, Granny probably doesn’t trust her. She’s never trusted a single woman I’ve been with as she tends to think everyone comes to the table with a shovel and bucket, ready to dig into our family gold. To be fair, she treats my mom’s dates with equal suspicion.
“So.” Granny folds her hands over the menu she hasn’t picked up yet. “How did you two meet?”
I make a noise low in my throat that sounds like a dying coyote. “I told you, remember?” I say, but there’s a warning note in my tone.
“Oh yes, right. Emily impulsively kissed you, a complete stranger, in the middle of the sidewalk.”
