Best of Three (Counting on Love) (10 page)

“Seriously, Nate. You look like you could be a professor. Or someone’s dad.”

“I am someone’s dad.”

“Someone who is going to
hate
you for going in there and embarrassing him.”

“What do you suggest?”

She looked at the house again. Then sighed. “I guess I could go in.”

He pulled his foot back into the truck and shut the door. “You think you could pass for a college student?”

“Sure.”

“Emma, you’re twenty-eight.”

“So, what? Watch this.” She could get into that party. She could look the part enough that a few guys who’d already been at the beer and shots for a couple of hours would totally go for it. She dug into her purse and pulled out a ponytail holder and a travel pack of makeup remover towelettes.

She hated to mess up her hair and makeup, but this was for a good cause. Shannon deserved to have fun with her friends without her boyfriend’s crazy father crashing the party.

Emma pulled her hair up into a ponytail, aware of Nate’s eyes on her. As she lifted her arms, her breasts pressed against the soft material of her shirt and there was no way he could miss that her nipples were hard. But dammit, she was aroused and it was his fault.

He swallowed hard, but said nothing.

She ran a towelette over her face, removing her eye makeup in particular. Without eyeliner and mascara she lost a good three to five years.

Finally, she pulled off her looser top, leaving her in only a spaghetti strap tank and skirt.

Nate coughed and shifted on the seat.

That was worth some of it right there.

“Don’t…do anything stupid, okay?” she asked as she reached for the door handle.

“You’re going to go in, make sure they’re in there and not…you know,” Nate said.

“Gambling?” she asked.

“N—well, yes, that too,” Nate said.

She rolled her eyes. He needed to lighten up. “Too?” she asked, messing with him. “You want me to be sure they’re not watching an R-rated movie? Oh, but wait, they’re eighteen so they can do that.”

It wasn’t exactly a subtle way to make a point, but Nate had already said that everyone was more subtle than she was. And with him, she was starting to think that direct and in-his-face was the best way to go.

Which completely worked for her.

“Make sure they’re not…naked,” Nate finally said.

“Okay, I’ll confirm they’re snorting the coke fully clothed.” She pushed the door open, but felt Nate grab her arm before she could get out.

“Make sure they’re okay,” he said.

She looked him directly in the eye. “I already explained to you how much Shannon means to me.” She pulled her arm from his grasp. “Don’t piss me off by assuming that you care more about them being safe and happy than I do.”

She got out and slammed the door behind her. But she immediately heard the sound of the electric window going down. She turned back. Nate leaned out the window. “If you’re not out in fifteen minutes, I’m coming in.”

“You’re worried about me?”

“I’m worried you’ll get into a drinking game or dirty dancing with someone and I won’t get the status report on Michael.”

What an ass.

But him being an ass was giving her a great excuse to go into the party and make sure Shannon really was okay. Shannon was a great kid and could be counted on to make good decisions. Most of the time. There were two girls who had graduated last year, Ashley and Carrie, that seemed to have a negative effect on Shannon’s IQ—it dropped when they were around, and Shannon often ended up doing things that she later realized were really stupid. It was very possible Ashley and Carrie were at the party tonight.

All of that, however, was information that Nate did
not
need to have. She scratched her nose with her middle finger as she said, “Just for that, don’t expect me out in less than twenty minutes.”

She should limp as she walked up the sidewalk with Nate’s eyes on her, she thought. But she didn’t limp. The cane was a security blanket ninety percent of the time she used it. Her hip did get tired if she went for a long time. Like when she’d shopped all day with her sister, Isabelle, and then stood on it for an hour at a coffeehouse where three of Shannon’s friends were doing a series of one-act plays. Other times, she took the cane along to remind herself not to go too far or fast.

And the difficulty she’d had the other night with yoga poses she’d done hundreds of times had pissed her off.

But mostly she was fine. Better every day.

She got to the front door and took a deep breath, pasted on a big smile and knocked hard on the door.

The music was loud and she wasn’t sure anyone could hear her knock anyway. She reached for the doorknob and started to turn it, when the door swung in.

A big guy holding a plastic tumbler full of something greeted her. “Uh, hi.”

Emma waited for his attention to return to her face. It took a minute.

“I was wondering if Heather’s here?” she asked.

She’d met Shannon’s friend who was throwing the party several times but she didn’t want to see Heather. However, the party looked crowded enough that Emma could pretend to look for her and never actually find her.

“She’s here somewhere,” he said, stepping back. “Come on in. I’m Landon.”

“Hi. I’m Emma,” she said, scanning the front room for a sign of Shannon or Michael. If they saw her, they’d be confused and maybe mad at first. She could help them understand that she was helping them, but it would be easier if she could simply confirm that they were fine and then get out without them seeing her.

“If you need a drink, it’s all in the kitchen. The poker game is in the back room and there’s a mad game of Black Ops going on in the bedroom upstairs.”

Awesome. Black Ops. Exactly her idea of a good time.

She ducked behind a big guy in the doorway to the living room and checked the room. No Michael or Shannon. She slipped around the colonnade that separated the living room from what would have been a dining room, but that held bedroom furniture instead as the housemates worked to get as many people living there—and sharing the rent—as possible.

People were sitting on the bed, standing near the dresser and leaning against the computer desk talking, laughing and drinking.

She wound through the dining room/bedroom and into the hallway that would lead back to the front foyer. She didn’t see them anywhere. Dammit. They better not be naked upstairs. She didn’t want to walk in on that. She rounded the corner, wondering if she could slip upstairs. There was a small closet to her left, the kitchen was across the hall, and the staircase was a few feet and around the corner to her right.

Emma quickly poked her head into the kitchen. There were three guys standing around a keg of beer.

Nate was right about that.

But no Michael and Shannon. They had to be here though. This was Heather’s house and Michael’s car was out front. The door leading into the kitchen from the backyard opened and four people came into the house.

“We need some more beer out there,” one guy said.

“And Heather said there are marshmallows in here,” a girl said, heading for the cupboards.

“Marshmallows?” the guy manning the keg asked.

“We’re going to roast them over the fire pit,” she said, slamming a cupboard and yanking another open.

“Here, I found Cheetos,” another guy said.

“You can’t roast Cheetos,” the girl told him.

“Why would I want to roast Cheetos?”

“I thought we were going to roast marshmallows,” the girl said with a frown.

“Go ahead,” the guy said. “I’ve got Cheetos.”

“You’re an idiot,” she told him.

He shrugged and grabbed a handful of Cheetos from the bag.

They grabbed cups of beer, the bag of marshmallows the girl finally located, the Cheetos and another bag of chips and went back outside.

There were people out back. Hopefully, Michael and Shannon were among them.

Emma stepped into the kitchen. “Hi, guys,” she greeted the boys around the keg.

They all straightened when they saw her. Emma had been getting similar reactions from men for years, but it never grew old.

“Hi,” one of them finally said.

They were at least five years younger than she was, but they weren’t minors and they were cute. She grinned. “Hi.”

One pushed forward in front of the others. “I’m Jake.” He held out his hand.

When she took it, he pulled her close. “I’m Emma.”

“Very nice to meet you, Emma. You a friend of Heather’s?” He didn’t let go of her hand.

“A friend of a friend.”

“I’m a friend of Heather’s,” Jake said. “And I’d be happy to be a friend of a friend with you.”

Cute and flirty. Just how she liked ’em.

Why an image of Nate flashed through her mind right then, she couldn’t say. Nate was hot. Good-looking. Gorgeous even. He played football, so he was in great shape. And he had those hands. And those lips. And that ass… But he definitely wasn’t
cute
. And there was no flirting. Sure, he said a few things that made her toes curl, but they weren’t flirtatious. Hell, he’d been essentially telling her to shut up when she’d most recently had the urge to say “take me now”.

“How about a beer?” she asked Jake, taking her hand from his. She inched toward the back door. She needed a peek into the yard. If Michael and Shannon were there, she was good to go.

If not… Hell, at this point she was tempted to go back to the truck and tell Nate that they were there even if she never put eyes on them.

Her phone chimed with a text and she glanced down.

What the hell are you doing?

Nate.

God, the man was infuriating. Couldn’t he back off and give her some time? Geez.

She typed back,
Kicking ass at quarters.

She wondered if Nate had ever played quarters. It was a popular drinking game from college, but when he’d been in college he’d had an infant son. She didn’t see Nate as a quarters type of guy. She’d seen him drink with the guys at Trudy’s after a game, but he never overdid it, never got the point of making an ass out of himself or being out of control.

That thought hit her—Nate was always in control. He’d said something in the truck…what was it? She wracked her brain. Something about liking things his way…
Insisting
on things being his way. That was it.

Nate liked to be in control.

In everything.

She accepted the glass of beer from Jake with a smile. She saluted him and took a big swig.

Nate Sullivan absolutely had a domineering, I’m-better-than-everyone-else attitude going on that drove her nuts a lot of the time. But she could come up with some scenarios where that take-charge tendency might not be a bad thing.

That could be hot as hell.

In fact, she was certain that it
would be
hot as hell.

Chapter Four

Nate knew that Emma wasn’t playing quarters. She wouldn’t do that while she was supposed to be looking for Shannon.

Unless she had Shannon playing beside her.

No. He shook his head as he stomped up the sidewalk. That wasn’t fair. Emma was just trying to annoy him.

With success.

As usual.

She was also being difficult when she told him she wouldn’t be out for at least twenty minutes. He’d told her he was coming in after fifteen. It had been fourteen. He could be difficult too.

And didn’t care what anyone thought. He knew—too well—how even something innocent and fun could get out of control and change a life forever. The night Stacie had climbed into his backseat had been her grandmother’s seventy-ninth birthday. They’d been at her party. He’d brought her flowers. They’d had cake and ice cream with her. Then he’d gotten her granddaughter pregnant.

There hadn’t been any alcohol or music involved, no convenient bed nearby, no one else around engaging in the same behavior, no short skirt like Shannon had been wearing tonight and he’d still knocked up his high school girlfriend.

He didn’t care what anyone thought—worrying about Michael and Shannon tonight made sense to him. And his was the only opinion that he counted.

He lifted his fist and banged on the front door. He hadn’t liked putting this all in someone else’s hands anyway. Emma was lucky he’d stayed in the truck at all.

It took far too long for anyone to answer, so he let himself in.

There were people everywhere, but no one gave him more than a glance. And as long as they weren’t Emma, Michael or Shannon, that was fine with him.

He was tempted to stand by the front door and bellow Emma’s name. He didn’t typically have to raise his voice to get things done. In the surgery suite, it was all about him. He did raise his voice on the football field but that was more because it was fun versus getting results. On the field, he did, however, expect everyone to do what they were supposed to do, to be where they were supposed to be, to give their whole focus to what was going on.