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“Thank you.”
“You, too, young man,” June said as she squatted in front of Charlie. “My gosh, what happened to your leg?”
“Emmett almost ran over me.” Charlie was so cavalier about the whole thing.
“Hewhat?” Samantha exclaimed.
June gaped at her son. “Emmett, is this true?”
“Yes. It’s true.”
Was Emmett pouting?
“It was an accident,” I assured them.
“Well, I’m sure it’s been a long trip. Why don’t we go and get you a pomegranate and chocolate oatmeal cookie?” June suggested.
“A what cookie?” Charlie asked.
“You’ll find out. Trust me, they’re delicious.”
Charlie readily followed Emmett’s mother, with the rest of us bringing up the rear.
“Happy birthday, Samantha,” I said.
“Thank you,” Samantha said.
She was gorgeous in that flawless, rich girl way—long legs, tiny waist, tanned skin, perfect make-up; a younger version of her mother. I hadn’t met his father yet, but it seemed Emmett’s entire family was as good-looking as he was.
“So, tell me the scoop. How did you two meet?”
“Ahh . . . at a seafood restaurant,” Emmett said.
“A dating agency,” I answered at the same time.
“Wait, adatingagency? Not that one I signed you up to when you first discharged?”
Emmett lifted his gaze to the sky. “Yes, Sierra’s.”
“I told you it would pay off!” Samantha slapped his stomach. “You see? If you listened to me more often, this could have happened sooner.”
“But then we wouldn’t have happened because I’m a new member,” I countered.
“Hah!” Emmett jabbed a finger in his sister’s direction.
The three of us laughed.
We entered the house, and I glanced around at the high ceilings with natural beams and the free-flowing kitchen and living area. The entire area was tiled. The kitchen was the most beautiful kitchen I’d ever seen with a huge island the size of Emmett’s bed. The predominant colours were stained, natural timbers and warm tans with wrought iron fixings.
“Wow, you’ve got such a beautiful home, Mrs. Shepherd.”
“Thank you so much. But please, call me June, Olivia,” June said as she placed some cookies out on a plate with a pair of rubber-tipped tongs.
“Coffee, anyone?” Samantha asked as she fired up the full-blown coffee machine.
My eyes lit up. “Can you make vanilla lattes?”
“Easy.”
