A Hot Winter (New Adult Romance) (The Attraction Series Book 2) (17 page)

When Matt was hanging out at Tragan’s place that afternoon, he asked for some advice about Emma--while at the same time keeping things vague.  He knew Tray wasn’t one to pry for details.  Leaning back in an armchair, Matt said, “Hey, I was thinking of taking Emma out, because she’s been down about her sons being away and I wanted to take her mind off of it.”

“That’s cool,” Tragan said casually as he turned on his PlayStation.

“Listen, you’ve known Andy’s sister awhile.  What do you think she’d like?  Because sometimes she seems so serious, and…”  He shrugged.  “I just wanted her to have some fun.”

“Um…”  Tragan slouched on the couch, thinking it over.  Then he snapped his fingers and said, “I know.  And this is not the gamer in me telling you this, all right?  This is fact.”

“What?” Matt said curiously.

“Believe it or not, there’s something Andy and Emma used to do as kids--which doesn’t seem like it would be their style, but Andy said they had the best time.”

“All right, so educate me, man,” Matt said, leaning forward.

~

“Now I see,” Emma remarked that night, talking over the whir of machines and the trill of bells and whistles.  “When you said ‘A game,’ the ‘A’ stood for arcade.”  Grabbing reams of tickets from the ticket window, Matt just grinned at her.   “I can’t believe I’m actually here right now,” she added as he took her hand. 

“Why not?” he said, eying her with concern as he led her past the pool tables.  “You don’t like it?”

“No, are you kidding?” she said, smiling up at him and giving his hand a squeeze.  “I love it!  Andy and I used to go to a place like this when we were kids.  I just meant it’s ridiculous to think that of all the times to come to an arcade, I do it when my sons are out of town.  That’s all I meant.”

“We’ll take them next time,” Matt commented.  Emma’s first reaction to that was joy--picturing her sons having fun and Matt making them laugh--but joy was one of those un-cautious emotions.  It didn’t see the problems.  For instance: if Matt was going to be pretty much out of her life in a couple of weeks, then why would she let her sons start getting attached to him?  Obviously she couldn’t.

Matt must have noticed her pinched brow of distress.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Emma fibbed.  “I just don’t remember how to play a lot of these games.  So you’ll have to help me.”

“No problem,” he said, sliding his hand around her waist as his voice dipped lower.  “I’ll teach you everything I know.” 

An hour later, as Emma tossed her last Skee ball, Matt said, “Are you hungry yet?”

“Yes.  Now I am.”

“C’mon,” he said, taking her hand and leading her toward the upholstered booths that filled the warmly lit back corner of the arcade.  Over here, the air was fragrant with pizza and soft pretzels, and the aroma was a bit like mind control--because when Matt asked her what she wanted, Emma said, “Um, pizza’s good.  And a pretzel.”

Tonight she’d held tightly to Matt whenever he offered his hand, feeling close to him and a sort of adrenaline rush from the games they were playing together and all their laughing.  It wasn’t just the surroundings; being with Matt did something to her.  It brought back a younger version of herself, a younger time in her life.

Before Matt left to get their food, he warned, “Now don’t let any guys steal you away from me while I’m gone.”

“Promise.”

While they ate, Matt surprised her by asking: “By the way, am I allowed to tell anyone about us yet?”

“Oh…um, do you
want
to tell people?” Emma asked.

Matt shrugged.  “It’s just I haven’t been around much and my friends are probably wondering what’s up.”

Thoughtfully, she chewed her lip for a moment.  “Well, what would you say?”

“Just that we’ve got something going,” he replied casually.

“Do you think they’d understand what that means?”

At that, Matt gave a laugh.  “Of course they’d understand--it’s not that complicated.  Emma, I know you like to
make
it complicated, but actually…it isn’t,” he informed her.

She didn’t bother arguing.  Why should she spoil Matt’s blissfully simplistic view of things?  Especially tonight, when he was making her feel so happy?

He appeared momentarily startled when she said, “Okay.  You can tell your friends.”

“Yeah?” he said, looking pleasantly surprised. 

Grinning at him, Emma nodded.  “Sure, I don’t see why not.  It’s just as well, too, because I hate keeping stuff from Andy.”

Just then Matt’s phone buzzed. 

“It’s my dad; I’ll call him back,” he explained and stuck his cell back in his pocket. 

“Do you think it might be important?”

“No, it’s work stuff,” Matt stated matter-of-factly. 

“Speaking of work,” Emma said after taking another sip of soda, “do you like working on houses?  I mean, do you see yourself wanting to do that for a long time?”

With a sigh, Matt replied, “Well, I’d love to take over my dad’s business someday and run the company.”

“Oh, that’s great!  Duh, of course, that makes sense.”

“We’ll see.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nah, nothing,” Matt said, tossing his cup back to chew on an ice cube. 

“What is it?” Emma pressed gently.

After a beat, Matt gave a shrug and told her, “It’s just that I have to get my Contractor’s License first--in order to run the business.”

“Okay…” Emma said, waiting for more.

“And I’ve blown the exam twice already,” Matt confessed, heaving another sigh.  Despite his relaxed, slouching posture in the booth, he started crunching more ice--a sure sign of stress.  Emma didn’t want to pry, but at the same time, she was genuinely curious why Matt hadn’t passed the exam.  He seemed so knowledgeable when it came to his job, and surely his dad could have prepped him.

She kept her tone neutral when she asked, “Is it a test that requires a lot of studying?”

“I
do
study,” Matt said, frustration edging his voice.

“Are the questions really hard?”

“I’m sure I would know the answers to most of them.”

“What do you mean you’re sure you
would
know?” she asked, confused. 

Matt looked at her earnestly, his dark eyes locking with her gaze in a way that felt special.  “Look, Emma, the truth is…”  She suddenly got a sinking feeling.  A sense of foreboding seemed only natural when someone started with “The truth is…” and then let a protracted silence hang in the air.

“I’m dyslexic,” he finished.  She stayed quiet, not letting on that Andy had told her that already.  “I can read,” Matt was quick to add, his voice sounding a bit urgent. 

“Of course you can read; I know that,” Emma assured him, putting her hand over his.  Her heart twisted at the thought that Matt might feel self-conscious about having dyslexia. 

His shoulders tensed a little as he elaborated, “I can read okay under normal circumstances.  It’s just test-taking.  See, it’s a really long exam and after a while, sometimes my brain starts to scramble letters.  And when that happens, my mind starts to blank.  That’s all.”

“But wait,” Emma said.  “If you have dyslexia, surely you can get special arrangements made for your test.  They must have special conditions for people with--”

Before she could refer to dyslexia as a “learning disability”--which might not actually be the right term, she wasn’t sure--Matt cut her off.  Shaking his head, he immediately waved away her suggestion, stating, “No, I don’t want that.  I don’t want to request special arrangements like I have some disability.”  (Inwardly, Emma was grateful that Matt had interrupted before she’d accidentally offended him.)

“My dyslexia is not that bad,” he went on.  “I got through school without needing all that much help.”

“I understand what you’re saying, but--”

“Emma, look, if I’m going to run my dad’s business, I need to be on point.  There’s so much that he does.  And so much paperwork to deal with.  If I need to make ‘special arrangements’ just to pass the effing exam, then forget it; I’m not cut out for the job.”

“You’re being way too hard on yourself,” she told him.

“No, I’m not,” he stated stubbornly.  “I just want to pass the test on my own.  I
should
be able to pass.  There’s no excuse.” 
Actually there is,
was Emma’s first thought, but she didn’t bother saying that.  She didn’t want to make Matt more defensive; he obviously had a lot of pride about this issue.  She just wished there was a way she could help.  “Anyway, there’s supposed to be another test coming up in the spring, so I’ll just try again.  Want dessert?” he said, abruptly diverting the subject off of himself.

She shook her head, and then took his outstretched hand when he stood.  As he tugged her up from the booth, he also pulled her in for a kiss.  As his lips brushed over hers, Emma slid a hand onto his cheek and kissed him tenderly in return. 

When they pulled apart, Matt was gazing down at her.  “Hey,” he said suddenly, breaking the romantic trance that was beginning to befall them, despite the public setting.  “I forgot one important part of the arcade experience.  C’mon.”

They bypassed riotous pinball machines, mechanical chairs with steering wheels, and a row of basketball nets before they reached a giant photo booth.  “Oh, no…” Emma groaned, shutting her eyes.

“Oh,
yes
.”

“Really, a spontaneous photo strip?” Emma said--at first, dreading the idea, but then realizing how stodgy she sounded. 

“I want a photo with my girl,” Matt said simply as he slid tickets into the machine.  And just like that…in some warm place in her heart, she felt a surge of adolescent excitement.  Damn it, she didn’t want to feel this way.  She was getting lost in him.  Matt was making her forget that she
wasn’t
actually a carefree soul who could afford to be recklessly romantic. 

At the same time, she was too relaxed tonight to fight this contented feeling.

Emma snatched up the photo strip as soon as they were done, prepared to laugh, but then couldn’t bring herself to make fun of it.  Instead, her breath caught for a moment as she looked at the photos--four in total, two with them kissing, two smiling--and she thought how perfect she and Matt looked together. 
Happy
. 

On their way to his truck, Matt put his arm around her and pulled her against him to warm her up.  Over the hum of the icy wind, he said, “Well?  Tell me: on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate our date?”

“The best,” was all Emma said with a sigh--and proceeded to lean against his shoulder the whole ride home.

On their way up Emma’s walkway, Cheryl came scurrying over from next door, wearing a snow hat that barely contained her blonde and silver curls.  “Emma!” she called, clutching her coat tightly as the wind picked up.

“Hi, Cheryl,” Emma said, smiling.  “Is everything okay?”

“Just that I got some mail of yours,” she replied, pulling out an envelope.  “Put in my box by mistake.  That happens sometimes.”

“Thanks, I didn’t realize that.”  Though it probably explained why she’d never gotten the notice the school had sent about the bake sale. 

“Also, I wanted to let you know that Ed and I got a trampoline for our grandkids.  It’s in our garage.  Any time your boys want to come play on it, just come on by!”

“That’s so kind, thank you,” Emma said politely, even though in her mind she was vetoing the idea, big-time.  She wasn’t going to let her sons play on a trampoline unsupervised, and even
if
Emma had extra leisure time these days, she sure didn’t feel like squandering it in Cheryl’s freezing-cold garage.  Since Cheryl seemed so excited about the idea, though, Emma didn’t want to offend her by turning her down cold.

“Sure thing.  Jake and Ben will love it!” Cheryl went on.  “You have the sweetest little boys.  Next time I see them, I’ll mention it to them.”

“Uh, no, that’s okay,” Emma said quickly, pasting on a smile.  She felt a little awkward blurting that, but she didn’t want Cheryl putting the notion in Emma’s sons’ heads to try to go over and test out the trampoline.  It wasn’t Ben she was worried about, who was still, more or less, her sidekick.  Jake, on the other hand, was seven now and becoming more willful and independent.  “I’ll let them know about it,” Emma lied. 

“And I want to thank you for letting me stay at your house for a while the other night,” Cheryl added.  “It was just so anxiety-producing, what with the vandalism and Ed out of town.”

“No problem,” Emma assured her.

“I see you got your truck fixed,” Cheryl mentioned to Matt.  He nodded graciously at that, but didn’t elaborate.  “Well, I’m freezing my rear off out here.  Goodnight now!”

Only after they stepped inside Emma’s house did Matt remark, “Not sure if you want my opinion, but…that trampoline idea sounds kind of dangerous.”

“Yes, that’s what I was thinking!” Emma said, touching his arm.  “So we’re on the same page.  You don’t think I’m being too uptight then?”

“No way.  I mean, what if they bounce off the thing and land on a rake or something.  It’s not like it’s in a big open field.” 

“Unh, I’m relieved you agree with me,” she said.  “I hate to be overprotective, but…”

“You’ve got to be,” Matt supplied.

“Exactly,” Emma said, thinking that protecting them
physically
was only part of her job.  She had to look after their emotions, too.  No matter what, she couldn’t let them get hurt.

~

“Good morning,” Emma said when Matt shuffled into the kitchen the next day looking adorably scruffy. 

“Hi, beautiful,” he said crossing over to the table and kissing her on the cheek.  “What are you doing?  Work stuff?” he asked when he saw her open laptop. 

“Actually, I’ve been up doing some research.”

“Yeah?” he said on his way to the coffee maker.

Excitedly, she turned around in her chair.  “Yes--I think I know how you’re going to pass that Contractor Exam.”

Matt ambled back to the table as Emma nudged out the chair next to hers with her foot.  “Sit,” she told him.  “This is what I’m thinking.  So I’ve read a lot online about mnemonic devices helping people with dyslexia.”

Stubbornly, Matt shook his head, already ready to shoot down the idea.  “No, I know all about that.  I used to use those in school.  But I’ve tried that.  The test is too long; the mnemonic tricks don’t work for me with this exam.”

“I understand,” Emma said patiently, seeing Matt’s shoulders tense up at this subject.  “Matt, just hear me out.  What I’ve been reading is that dyslexic triggers are much worse with stress--and obviously you’re putting yourself under tremendous pressure to pass the exam.  You say mnemonic devices helped you in school, but in school you probably didn’t put this much stress on yourself to succeed. 

“Also, according to an article I was reading, the more personal the mnemonic device, the more effective.  What kinds of phrases or acronyms have you come up with in the past?”

Confused, Matt replied, “I have no idea; I can’t remember.”

“Exactly,” Emma said.  “That’s the point.  We just have to find the
right
mnemonic devices--the phrases and words that trigger such a strong personal feeling, you won’t forget them.  Also, we need to find an image that instantly cues your mind to de-stress.  For some people it’s an image in a home magazine, for others it might be a tropical shore.  Whatever it is--it just has to be something that immediately triggers a calming effect in your brain.  Once we figure out what that image is, you’ll bring it with you to the test.  Okay?”

Thoughtfully, Matt inhaled and breathed out a sigh.  “I don’t know.  I appreciate you trying to help, but I feel like I’ve tried--”

“And that’s another thing,” Emma pointed out, reluctantly interrupting him.  “You’re too independent.”

He gave a short laugh at that.  “Really?  That’s a bad thing?”

“No, but it’s just inconvenient when I’m trying to help you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that
you’ve
tried to prepare--on your own.  I would bet anything that you haven’t asked a soul for help on this.  Face it, Matt: you’re stubborn.”

“Look,” he said with a sigh, running a hand over his scratchy jaw, “I’m not going to bother someone with my crap.”

“But without the benefit of another person’s input, you lessen your chance of success.  You need someone to help you work on these strategies.  Someone to do drills with you using online practice exams.  Most importantly: someone who knows you well enough to brainstorm ways to tailor the standard mnemonic tricks to your situation.  One thing I keep reading online is how dyslexia affects people so differently across the board.  There’s no one solution or technique that’s going to work for everyone; you have to experiment.  Let me help!  I really think if we work together, we could figure out what mental triggers are going to work best for you.”

When Matt remained quiet, Emma set her hand on his knee.  “You said you have another test coming up in the spring.  I could help you prepare.”

“You won’t be here in the spring,” Matt remarked.

“Okay, but we have a couple more weeks until I leave.  And we can still email when I’m in New York--I mean as friends, just about the test stuff,” she clarified quickly, not wanting Matt to think she was now trying to force a serious long-distance relationship out of their “fling.”

“I wish you weren’t leaving,” he blurted, and her heart squeezed in her chest.

“But I am.  I
am
leaving, Matt,” Emma said, not meaning to be overly emphatic.  She supposed she was partly reminding herself.  “We knew this going in, right?”

“I suppose.”

“So let’s just enjoy the moment.”  Wasn’t that what casual, laidback types did? Emma thought, as she tried her best to emulate people like that.  She slid off her chair and went to the coffee maker for a refill.

“Ah, so that’s your idea of enjoying the moment?” Matt said with a laugh as he followed her.  Then he took her arm and turned her towards him.  “Helping me prepare for a long, boring exam that’s four months away?”

“Yes,” Emma declared, looking into his eyes with determination.  “That’s my idea of a good time, so deal with it.”  Matt laughed then, and encircled her in a tight hug.
I’ll miss you
, a voice in her mind said as Emma hugged him back and tears came to the surface of her eyes.  Willfully and with great effort, she blinked them back.