A Hot Winter (New Adult Romance) (The Attraction Series Book 2) (9 page)

“Oh, my God, where’s Andy?” Pellican shouted over the music blaring through the Billiard Grill, as he lurched through a crowd of people to reach Tragan.  “Tray, what the hell!  You promised you’d bring her!”

“Relax!” Tragan said, jerking his head back.  “She’s in the bathroom, Jesus.”

“Oh!” Pellican exclaimed, clutching his chest with a sigh.  “Thank
God
.”

Tragan shot a questioning glance to Bardo, who was trailing a few steps behind Pellican.  “What’s up?”  

“It’s his first date with this girl,” Bardo explained casually through a mouthful of pretzels.

“Technically, yeah,” Pellican agreed.  “We’ve talked on the phone since my cousin’s wedding, but this will be our first time meeting out.”

“Cool, so what are you nervous about?” Tragan asked.

“It’s not like I’m
nervous
,” Pellican insisted.  As usual, the guy didn’t realize how defensive he sounded.  “It’s just--shit, that’s her!  Oh--no, wait.  False alarm,” he said, exhaling a breath. 

“Good thing he’s not nervous,” Bardo quipped.

Chuckling, Tragan said, “Seriously, man, no worries.  But I don’t get it.  If it’s your first date with this girl, why do you want me and Andy here?”

“I, uh, just thought it would be good to have another female here.  You know, for girl talk,” Pellican claimed.  “All right, I’m gonna wait for Janine by the front.”

Once he left, Tragan looked at Bardo.

“Chick’s too smart for him,” Bardo elaborated.  “That’s what this is all about.  He feels inferior to her intellect. I’m paraphrasing.  Anyway, he wants to impress her.  That’s why he asked me to come tonight.”

Tragan ran a hand over his jaw.  “Are you saying you make him look smart?”

“No, no.  I make him look good at pool.”

“Oh…right, good call,” Tragan said, nodding, “You kind of suck at pool.  No offense.”

“I’m fine with it,” Bardo declared, as he stuck another pretzel in his mouth.  “Bar trivia is my game.”

“True.”

“Now the reason Pellican wants
Andy
here is because she’s like a brainiac.  She can keep the conversation going in case Janine starts speaking Latin or something.”

“God, is she that bad?” Tragan said with a laugh.

Bardo shrugged.  “Never met her.  All I know is that she has red hair and blue eyes and Pellican is sweating her.”

“Wow,” Tragan said, surprised.  He rarely saw Pellican get that infatuated.  Then he mentioned offhandedly, “Hey, it’s a good thing Matt’s not here tonight.  He kills everyone at pool.”

“Where is he anyway?”

Tragan shrugged.  “Not sure.  But I figured that since Pellican’s been crashing with him, maybe he needs a break from the guy,” he joked.

“Who are you talking about?” Andy said conversationally, coming up behind them.  Tragan put his arm around her. 

“Matt,” Bardo said.  “He’s been keeping more to himself lately.  Have you noticed, Tray?”

“Not really.”

“He’s been working on my sister’s house,” Andy mentioned.  “I think they’ve been bonding.”  She slipped Tragan a sly look and he said nothing.  He knew that Andy was hoping sparks would fly between Emma and Matt, but that was because Andy was an optimist.  Either way, Tragan didn’t plan to butt in.

It was about forty-five minutes later, when the five of them were sitting at a table, on their second round of drinks that Pellican finally seemed to relax.  It must have helped that Janine and Andy were getting along great and talking a lot about books.  The guys mostly talked sports, though at one point their conversation lulled and they overheard Janine saying: “I re-read Candide the other day and I laughed hysterically the whole time.  Have you read that?”

Smiling, Andy nodded.  “Yes, but not since Sophomore English.  I remember I liked it, but it’s been a while.”

Janine’s eyes lit up as she said, “Oh, Andy, you have to read it again when you’re just in the mood for something light.  It’s not your typical, been-there-done-that 18th-century French satire.  Voltaire really knows how to bring it.”

While Andy seemed to follow easily, the guys were momentarily struck stupid.  Tragan, for one, was grateful that a brainy chick was going to be his wife.  Still, he muttered, “We’re outmatched.”  Pellican didn’t bother denying it. 

“On the bright side,” Bardo whispered, “at least we’re not outnumbered.”

~

While his friends were at the Billiard Grill, Matt was home alone, trying to unwind after a long, frustrating day working on a remodel in Watertown.  The project had been cursed with problems since the beginning, which was why his dad had sent him there today.  Now he had the TV on and a bottle of beer in front of him, but he was in his own world, still keyed up and tense. 

He couldn’t blame all--or even most--of his tension on the remodel, though.  A big part of it came from the book that he’d dug out of his desk tonight, which was now sitting uselessly on his coffee table. 
How to Pass Your Contractor Exam
.  A straightforward enough title, yet nothing in the book helped Matt at all.  No surprise there.  Since Matt’s issue wasn’t a lack of knowledge or a lack of preparation--and since he refused to think of it as a disability, either--he was pretty much up shit’s creek when it came to finding a helpful guidebook.

Also…

He missed Emma.  It had only been a day since he’d seen her, but still, his thoughts kept traveling to her.  Last he’d seen her was after Jake’s magic show the night before--when her prying neighbor had “casually” strolled across the lawn to find out who Matt was. 

Now he sat forward on the sofa, his arms resting on his legs, contemplating what Emma was doing at this very moment.  Had she put the kids to bed already?  Was she sleeping?  Reading quietly?  Bundled up in a blanket on the sofa, watching a movie? 

For a second, Matt considered the possibility that Emma had a secret wild side.  That maybe after the house was quiet, she went to her bedroom, stripped down to lacy, barely-there lingerie and lay in bed, touching herself.  With a quiet laugh, he shook his head as he set his beer bottle down and rose to his feet.  As much he loved picturing it, somehow he doubted it. 

He yanked off his shirt on the way to take a shower when he heard a chime from his computer, indicating a message.  Illogically, he hoped it might be Emma, even though they’d never exchanged email addresses or message handles.

When he rounded his desk to take a quick glance at his laptop, he froze. 

After what Bardo had told him the other day, maybe he shouldn’t have been so surprised.  But he was.  Girls had a way of catching you off-guard like that.  It was a message from
SweetBrunette21
: 

Hi Matt, it’s been so long! Just randomly thought of you and wanted to say hi, see how you’ve been.  I really hope you’re doing well.  Let me know, ok?  ~Keri xox

Though he didn’t want to have a reaction, it was automatic.  Seeing Keri’s name and signature “xox” after a year-plus of silence did something to him.  It didn’t twist him in knots or make him want her again.  But it was like he was tapped hard in the chest for a second. 

Had Bardo been right?  Maybe Neeta
had
been acting on Keri’s behalf; maybe she’d reached out to Bardo for the sole purpose of bridging some gap of silence between Matt and Keri. 

Matt closed the message screen and went to take a shower.  Almost absently, he scrubbed his hair under the hot water as he thought about the first night he’d met Keri.  Bardo had invited him and the guys to happy hour with his co-workers--one of whom was Neeta, who had brought along her roommate. 

Matt would never forget the moment he laid eyes on Keri.  The girl was drop-dead gorgeous--a complete knockout.  She had blue eyes and dark, silky hair that trailed halfway down her back--the kind of hair a guy could immediately picture tangling his hands in, or pulling on in bed. God, she was so beautiful.  At the time she was working as an executive assistant at Fidelity.  The position had started as a temp job right after college, but the Vice President she was reporting to liked her so much that he hired her on full-time. 

Matt had hit it off with her instantly; they’d talked and laughed most of the night.  There was no denying their mutual interest.  So they’d started hanging out and hooking up.  Then one night, Keri confessed the tearful truth that she already had a boyfriend--but had been desperately trying to get out of the relationship. Apparently she’d gotten involved with her boss and regretted it soon after but didn’t know how to handle it.  Matt recalled how emotional and clingy Keri had been, confessing all this.  How she’d never planned on meeting Matt, how she never meant to fall for him, and then once she did, how terrified she was to tell him about the other guy. 

Basically, Keri put a whole complicated spin on something that was actually simple: she’d started sleeping with her rich, older boss early on in her employment and now wanted to dump him--but couldn’t bear to lose her cushy job and nice paycheck.  Wasn’t that really what it came down to?  Of course at the time Matt hadn’t looked at it so cynically.  He was already crazy about her by the time she’d told him, and she’d sworn that she was no longer sleeping the guy, even though she did have to see him everyday at the office. 

Looking back, Matt
should have just bailed on her immediately.  But he couldn’t let her go.  Not when he already loved her, or thought he did.  Not when she seemed so sincere abou
t loving him, too.  For a few months, Keri had pleaded with Matt to be patient as she tried to line up another job, promising she would figure out how to make everything work. 
What crap
, Matt thought now, as he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower.  Thinking about his own stupidity used to make him angry, but by now he’d let most of that go.

Honestly, he didn’t think everything with Keri had been a lie.  Looking back it was obvious that she and Matt had lots of fun, great sex, and there was genuine affection there.  But what her boss, Douglas, had was more important: a high-powered job, a sleek BMW, an open account at Tiffany’s, and access to the kind of lifestyle that was just too tempting for Keri to pass up.  In the end, Douglas upped his game and proposed to her.  Matt found out via text message.  The words were still inscribed in his mind:

“I’m so sorry but I can’t see you anymore. I got engaged to D. Please don’t hate me. I will always love you.” 

Matt had dated a few girls since Keri, but nothing serious.  Though a year had more than numbed the pain of what Keri did, he supposed he still had the same reaction now as he did when he first received that text message.  Which was:
Who the fuck kisses someone off by adding ‘I’ll always love you’?

Did he believe that Keri really loved Douglas?  No way.  If she had, she never would have started up with Matt in the first place.  At the same time…she’d let Matt go, so she obviously hadn’t really loved him, either.

Enough of this shit
, he told himself as he toweled off, threw on some boxer-briefs and climbed into bed.  Who cared anymore?  Just because Keri felt
like reappearing in his life didn’t mean he had to let her become relevant again.  In fact…

As he closed his eyes and let out a tired sigh against his pillow, forgetting about Keri actually became effortless.  The image that kept drifting into his mind was Emma’s.  Those pretty hazel eyes, blinking at him, her head tilting sarcastically, her brown hair twisted up in a pencil, always on the verge of spilling down.  Her face, her mouth…as he thought about her breasts, his cock reacted.  Would it scare her off if she knew how hard she made him?  Idly he wondered if she ever thought about him, too.

The next morning Emma was having a guilt attack over Marta Vincent.  It started when Emma awoke in the night and wasn’t able to fall back asleep right away.  As expected, once her mind started churning, she was hit with a slew of disconnected thoughts--and one of them involved her poor handling of Marta during their meeting a couple of days ago. 

Looking back now, Emma realized how rude she’d been to hustle the woman out when she was trying to make small talk.  Maybe she was lonely; maybe she wanted to become friendlier with Emma, on a more personal basis.  Some writers enjoyed a personal friendship with their editors, and perhaps that was all Marta had been seeking. 

Granted, she didn’t have to call Emma’s boss and tattle on her; granted, she
was
pretty self-important.  But still...by the time Emma rolled out of bed, she had decided that she probably owed Marta Vincent an apology.  She sat at her desk with a fortifying cup of black coffee, and made the call. 

“Hi, Marta, it’s Emma!” she said brightly. 

“Hello, how are you?” Marta responded, her tone neither hostile nor particularly friendly.

“I’m fine.  I hope you got the notes I emailed you.”

“Yes, I haven’t had a chance to look at them yet, though,” she stated.

“No problem!” Emma continued, being deliberately cheery.  “Listen, I also wanted to say that I really enjoyed having you over to my house the other day, and I’m sorry if I seemed to be rushing you out.  The truth is, I was concerned about the weather and having to pick up my sons at school, and I know that’s no excuse for my rudeness, but if I in any way offended you, please accept my apology.  And--I hope you’ll come again!” she added for good measure.

At that point, haughty Marta Vincent did something totally unexpected.  She responded kindly, reasonably, and even humbly.  “Oh, no, I understand!” she rushed to say.  “Really, I’m not upset with you!  And I shouldn’t have been going on and on when we both had other obligations that day.  Let’s forget the whole misunderstanding,” she offered.

“Great, okay,” Emma said, smiling, feeling a sense of relief that Marta wasn’t such an unlikable diva after all. (It was ironic how much negativity seemed to weigh.)  After getting a second cup of coffee, she booted up her laptop and started her work.

~

“Oh, my God, the floor looks amazing!” Emma gushed later that afternoon when she entered her kitchen.  Matt had started putting down the new floor panels first thing that morning, and now it appeared he was three-quarters of the way done.  “It looks gorgeous!” she exclaimed, almost about to reach out and hug him, but snapped to her senses just in time. 

Matt gave her an easy smile as he stood upright.  “Glad you’re happy,” he said.

“Are you ready for a break?”

“Sure.”

“Good.”  She pulled out today’s crossword puzzle, which she had folded and tucked into her daily planner.  “Here,” she said, handing it to him.  “I saved this for you.  I know how it eats at you when two or three clues are left unanswered.”

“Right, sure,” he said, eying her with amusement.  “You’re only thinking of me.”

With a grin, Emma said, “Of course.  You understand me so well.”  Even though she didn’t mean it, she realized in that second that there actually was a shred of truth buried in her sarcasm.  Just then the phone rang.  When Emma leaned over to glance at the number on the display screen, she just shrugged and ignored the call.  “I don’t recognize the number.  So anyway, will the floors be completely finished today?”

“No, you can’t walk on them today.  They need to sit overnight.  So I’m keeping that section over there undone until tomorrow, so you have somewhere to walk,” Matt said, and before Emma could react to the information the machine picked up.

“Hi, Emma.  Phil Parker here.”  Softly, Emma gasped--not expecting to hear from the man, and, for some strange reason, feeling awkward about it in front of Matt.  It didn’t make logical sense; it was just a gut reaction.  As she walked over to the machine to lower the volume, she heard Phil saying something about going to dinner and a movie that weekend.  He was still talking when she muted the sound, and glanced over at Matt.

“Hey, don’t not listen on my account,” he said, picking up some of his materials off the floor. 

“No, I’m not,” Emma lied.  “I just don’t know why he’s calling me.”

With a short, brusque laugh, Matt said, “Isn’t that fairly obvious?  Mr. Homework’s still sweating you.”

“No, it’s not like that.  I saw him at the Bake Sale this week, that’s all,” Emma said, realizing only after she said it that it was more of a non-sequitur than an explanation.

“Well…are you free this weekend?” Matt asked, not looking at her, as he packed up his tools. 

Suddenly her heart began to race.  Where was he going with this…?  “Y-yes, I’m free,” she answered cautiously.

“But I assume you’re not going to go?” Matt said, now eying her.

“Oh.  Out with Phil Parker you mean?” she said, feeling both relieved and disappointed that Matt hadn’t been trying to ask her out himself. 
Mostly relieved
, her mind insisted.  “No, I hadn’t planned on it.  Why?”

“Why not?” Matt asked.  “He sounds nice.”

“He is,” Emma agreed as she took a soda from the fridge.

“So why don’t you want to go out with him?”  Now Matt had set his stuff down and walked toward her.  Her pulse ticked faster the closer he came; her fingers tightened around the cold soda can.  Instinctively, her nerves fluttered when Matt neared, never knowing what to expect--or rather, not wanting to expect something, but in some secret part of her, wondering if he might try to touch her.  And what would happen if he did?  Was she really strong enough to resist? “What’s wrong with him anyway?” he said now.

Emma brushed off the question.  “Why does something have to be wrong with him?”

Crossing his arms, Matt gave her a knowing look.  “C’mon, why else wouldn’t you be interested?  The guy’s gotta be doing
something
wrong.”  For a passing moment, Emma wondered if Matt was really talking about Phil Parker--or if he was merely circling around the larger topic of what she was looking for in a guy.

“Nothing is wrong with Phil Parker,” Emma stated emphatically.  “I mean, as far as I know.  Like I said, I barely know the guy, but yes, he seems very nice.”

Matt appeared to mull that bit of information over for a moment and then said, “I think I get it.  You don’t go for ‘nice.’  You’re into bad boys.  Is that it?”

At that, Emma had to laugh.  “Hardly!”

Nodding, Matt stepped closer.  “Okay.  Is he missing teeth?”

Skeptically, Emma replied, “Not to my knowledge--but I doubt it.”

“Losing his hair?”

“No--but I wouldn’t care about that anyway.”

“That’s sweet,” Matt commented sincerely.

“It’s true.”

“All right, let’s think.  Oh, I know!  He’s shorter than you.”

“I’m five-four!” she burst, setting her hands on her hips in a stance of amusement and disbelief.

With a laugh, Matt held up his hands. “Hey, shit happens.  So is that it?”

“No, of course not.  In fact,” Emma continued, “he’s practically as tall and fit as you are.”

At that Matt’s expression faltered.  “Really,” he said, his voice flat.

“Really.  Actually, to be completely honest…Phil is a nice-looking guy.”

“Is he?” Matt said tightly.

“Yes.  Hence, there is no secret reason why I’m not pursuing Phil Parker.  I’m just busy, that’s all.  You see how much I’ve got to get done in the next few weeks.”

Matt’s gaze seemed to be assessing her.  “Yeah, but Emma, no one is too busy to spend a little time with the opposite sex.  It’s human nature.  Are you just…not attracted to him?”

Now she was almost sure Matt was asking about more than just Phil Parker.  Either way, she had to deflect the topic and get off this path.  “So you expect me to stand here and discuss who I’m
attracted
to? That’s a little personal don’t you think?”

Just like that, Matt stepped back an inch, pausing before he said, “I’m sorry, Emma--I crossed a line.  I didn’t mean to…”

“No, no,” she interrupted, shaking her head.  “It’s not that serious.  You’re my friend; I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Matt began shaking his head, too, insisting, “No, but still.  I had no right to--”

“Stop, please,” she implored.  “I’m not upset, okay?  If you really want the truth, here it is: I’m moving.  I’m leaving.  There’s no future in any relationship I start right now, so I’m not going to start one.”  Before Matt could say anything, she held up a hand to silence him.  “I know what you’re going to say.  ‘Hey, why does it have to be a relationship?  Just go out and have fun.’  Well, I’ll tell you why.  Because:
that’s not me
.”  Though he appeared slightly taken aback by her tirade, Matt remained silent as she continued: “I was married to someone who went from being my high school sweetheart to my college sweetheart to my husband.  He was my best friend and that’s all I know.  That’s me.”

Seeming at a bit of a loss, Matt hesitated, then said, “I’m sorry, Emma.”

“Don’t be sorry!” she nearly snapped.  “I can handle talking about this; I’m not a fragile teacup!  I’m just trying to explain that I’m…I’m fine on my own,” she finished. 

Abruptly, and inconveniently, her eyes began to water.  In seconds, tears were welling up, threatening to spill over, and Matt was rushing up to put his hands on her upper arms and comfort her.  “Jesus, Emma, I’m the biggest asshole in the world.  Now I’ve made you cry.”

With a humorless laugh, she shook her head, brushing tears away with the back of her hand.  “No, you didn’t.”

“Well, I clearly see that you’re crying,” Matt said gently. 

“It’s not you.  I’m just so emotional today.”  She sniffed and explained, “Connor’s parents picked up the boys yesterday.  I just miss them so much, that’s all,” she mumbled as a couple more tears fell down her cheeks.

“Oh, Emma…” Matt said, his voice warm and sympathetic.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know.” She sniffed again, looking at the floor. 

Suddenly Matt’s phone buzzed. 

“Damn,” he muttered, sounding annoyed by the interruption, and took his cell out of his back pocket.  “Hey, Dad, what’s up?  Oh, shit.  You’re kidding me.”  Glancing up, Emma eyed him with concern, watching as Matt’s head dropped back and he looked to the ceiling in frustration.  Expelling a sigh, he said, “All right, Dad.  I got it.  Yep--call you later.”

“What happened?” Emma said as soon as Matt slid his phone back in his pocket.

“One of our newer guys, Brady, showed up at the work site today drunk.”

“Oh, my God!” Emma yelped.

“Yeah, the woman who owns the house is freaking out on us.  I’ve got to go down there.”

“What can you do?” Emma asked, as Matt hurriedly picked up his tool box and oversized duffel bag. 

“Smooth things over.  Convince her that our company knows what it’s doing--that I’ll take over the job myself.  Oh, yeah, and fire Brady.”

“Wow, you have to do all
that
?” Emma said, surprised.  It was a lot of responsibility for a twenty-three-year-old guy.  But Matt didn’t seem overly fazed by it. 

“I’ve got to go,” he said.

“Of course,” she said quickly, “I understand.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”  Before Matt left, he stopped at the entrance, turned back toward her.  His dark eyes seemed intense as they cast over her, lingering on her face. “Emma, just…no more tears, okay?  Promise me.” 

Her heart swelled a little in her chest as she looked at him.  She didn’t promise that, but she smiled warmly at him instead.