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Tears sprang to Nessa’s eyes again, but Calen thought these were of the happy variety. “I’d love that.”
“Great. Calen has your number, so I’ll get it from him and text you the time and address,”Emmy explained.
Emmy and he waved goodbye and stood there, watching Nessa drive away. What a hell of a whirlwind morning this had been. It reminded him of the day before, when Mick had said that bad thingscame in threes.
“Maybe good things come in threes too,” Calen heard himself say. “Nessa’s arrival couldbe the start.”
Emmy looked up at him, smiled and then touched her lips to his. Okay, that could qualify as good thing number two, so Calen decided to go for broke. He held up the flyer he wasstill holding.
“Want to go with me to the Mistletoe Ball?” he asked.
Amusement lit in her eyes. And maybe something more. Maybe pleasure. He added to it by kissing her, and not just a touch. It was long, deep, and French. Just the way he wanted all his kisses to be with Emmy.
When he eased back, he could see she approved of that type of kiss as well because she ran her tongue over her bottom lip and made anmmmsound.
“Let’s test just how strong our friendship is,” Calen added, tipping his head to the flyer. “Let’s make it a date.”
“A real one?” she asked with a naughty glint in her eye.
“A real one,” he assured her with his ownnaughty glint.
Oh, this was going to be fun. And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t screw up things sixways to Sunday.
Chapter 5
A date.
Emmy didn’t even bother to try to tamp down her giddiness. She felt like a teenager on prom night. Specifically, a teenager on prom night who had a date with the hottest cowboy in Texas. Calen’s hotness wasn’t an exaggeration, neither was her giddiness, but since she was in her thirties, she had to add something else to this mix.
Worry.
With all the kissing Calen and she had been doing, sex was up next on the agenda. No way around it if the kissing continued. But while she was certain the sex would be amazing, it was a risk. Not just because it could ruin their friendship but because they could both get their hearts crushed again. Still, even that terrible possibility didn’t stop her from treating this like the date that it was.
The prep for said date had gone on for hours. The long bubble bath, the careful application of her makeup. Then, the hair, also carefully done. Thankfully, she’d already bought a killer red dress that fit her like a second skin. It was way more risqué than the usual outfits she wore to the Mistletoe Ball, but when she’d bought it, Emmy had thought it would be some nice payback to watch Owen’s tongue hit the floor when he saw her in it. Maybe, though, Calen’s tongue would do the same. Not for payback but to add some more flames to an already flaming fire.
Since the giddiness had caused her to get dressed too early, Emmy poured herself some wine and paced across her living room. Not the wisest thing to do in heels that had been designed for looks rather than comfort. Rather than risk blisters, she went to the window and got her own tongue-dropping surprise.
Oh, mercy.
Calen was already there. Stepping out of his truck. And he’d gone forgo head, drown in meimpact too. Of course, he could have managed that no matter what he wore. She figured he could have especially managed it had he worn nothing at all. But for the ball, he’d gone with a Texas tuxedo. Dark jeans, a black jacket, crisp white shirt, and ablack Stetson.
Emmy threw open the door and grinned at him. “You look like Mr. December on one of those hot cowboy calendars.”
He grinned back and skimmed his gaze down her. Yeah, the dress worked. “You look like I’d better get you to the ball before I see if I can change your mind and make this a stay-at-home date.”
Mr. December knew the right thing to say. He touched his mouth to hers, careful not to smear her lipstick, and he slipped a red rose corsage on her wrist.
“Thanks,” she said, returning the kiss and smearing that lipstick after all. But when she eased back, she saw something in his eyes. “Having second thoughts?”
“No.” But then he shook his head. “I don’t want to have second thoughts,” he amended. “They might happen, though.”
The disappointment came, tamping down some of her mood. “They might,” she agreed, and then added, “You know how I always have your favorite beer in my fridge, and you have Pepsi for me? Well, that doesn’t stop us from having other stuff in there. Like now, for instance, I have cherry cheesecake in mine.”
The look he gave her wasn’t exactly flat, but it was close. “Is that your way of telling me that you can have your cheesecake and eat it too?”
“Something like that. Our friendship is the beer and Pepsi. The cheesecake is, well, whatever else our friendship becomes.”
The corner of his mouth lifted in a quick, brief smile. “I just don’t want the beer and Pepsi to get…awkward.” He stopped, cursed. “Probably best if I quit speakingin metaphors.”
