Every Little Kiss (10 page)

“I, um, yes, I invited him, too.”

It was a rare thing to see Andi look panicked, and Emma had to bite back a laugh. She patted her mother’s shoulder as she walked inside, hearing Steve and Ginny Andersen calling out their greetings.

“It’s okay, Mom. But just so you know, Sam and I are getting kind of tired of you two putting off Jasper’s ‘meet the daughters’ dinner. He’s got to run that gauntlet sometime, you know.”

Andi’s startled, throaty laugh followed Emma into the house. She stopped in the foyer, unzipped the bag, and
hauled Boof out. He immediately trotted off in search of his sister—or more likely, her food dish—while Emma dumped the bag and her purse on a chair by the staircase. Andi stepped onto the porch, leaving the house quiet enough that Emma didn’t realize anyone had followed her in. Seth’s voice, low and warm, sounded near her ear just as she started to head back to the kitchen, and it made her jump.

“What did you say to her?” He only sounded curious, but Emma felt the rough buzz of his voice ripple over skin already sensitized by his nearness. And when she turned around to speak to him, he was far too close.

“Just teasing,” Emma replied. In the dim foyer, Seth’s face was shrouded in shadow, but there was no missing the way his eyes dropped to her mouth when she spoke. Nor was there any denying the way her body responded to his nearness. Everywhere. She swallowed hard.

“About me?” There was a hint of vulnerability in the way he asked the question that surprised her.

“I wouldn’t joke about you.”

“I guess I figured that. Look,” Seth said with a sigh. “About the other day. You made yourself really clear, and I’m s—”

Oh God, not sorry. Be anything but that.

“No,” Emma rushed on. “It’s fine. Really,” she added for good measure when Seth simply stared at her. How was she supposed to say that she hadn’t stopped thinking about it? That if there was one thing she didn’t want him to be sorry for where she was concerned, it was kissing her that way? She knew it didn’t make any sense, not after she’d been so adamant about not wanting to head down that road with him. But Seth had managed to touch a part of her that she kept hidden from almost
everyone, doing it with a sheer stubbornness that rivaled her own.

And she didn’t want him to be sorry.

“What’s fine? Kissing you?” He sounded as confused as she felt.

“Yes. I mean, it was. It isn’t, normally, but it was. Really, very extremely fine. At the time.” She wished she could just sink through the floor and disappear. Quickly. Forever.

“So you don’t want me kissing you again, but it was pretty amazing the other day, is what you’re saying,” Seth translated, and Emma thought the hint of amusement she heard in his voice was uncalled for.

“I didn’t say that.”

“That you didn’t want me kissing you again?” His smile was completely distracting. Emma glanced toward the door, where she heard Steve and Ginny coming up the steps as her mother chatted happily with them. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have within earshot of their families.

“No. I mean, yes. Wait.” She closed her eyes and frowned, wishing he wasn’t standing so close to her. Why did he have to smell so good? She touched a hand to her temple. “We’ll have to talk about it later. They’re coming in.” She opened her eyes to find Seth watching her closely, and the warm interest she’d missed outside was back. He hadn’t been lying, she realized—he actually did like her. She had no idea why, all things considered, but it was easy to see. In fact, he’d been up front from the start.

The rush of affection, entirely separate from the lust she didn’t seem to have any control over, took her completely by surprise. It was silly, she told herself, to feel even remotely attached to someone so quickly.
Especially when he kept seeing her at her worst—drunk, or drenched, or just generally ornery. Except that was part of why she felt this way. That, and the smile playing at the corners of his mouth while he watched her deal with him.

Damn. I like him, too.

Right that second, it didn’t seem to matter that he was exactly wrong for her in every way possible. All that mattered was feeling, quite unexpectedly, part of a unit instead of her usual solo. It had been so long, she hardly remembered it. It was so sweet and lovely that it banished every trace of her confusion and frustration.

Seth glanced toward the door. “Sure. When do you want to—”

She rose up and pressed a quick, hard kiss to his lips, silencing him before he could finish. Emma heard his sharp intake of breath, but he didn’t pull away, staying perfectly still even when she lifted her hand to trail her fingertips lightly over the shadow of stubble along his jaw. His lips were still as soft as sin, silken and pliant beneath her own. She gently kissed his lower lip before drawing back completely and lowering her heels to the floor. His eyes opened slowly to look down at her with the kind of heat that made her grateful they weren’t completely alone. He’d be impossible to resist, and she wasn’t even sure she was ready to progress past, say, hand-holding. And yet here they were.

Seth looked as though he might be about to say something, when the door opened and everyone came in, clomping merrily down the hallway and into a discussion—she guessed it could loosely be called a discussion—that she really wanted to finish.

“Come on,” Andi called. “Jasper’s got the fire pit
going. Well, that or he’s singed his eyebrows off, but hopefully the fire’s going.”

Steve and Ginny, a sweet couple who’d been friends of her mom’s for years, greeted Emma on their way by. Ginny already had her phone out and was promising to show off pictures of their new puppy, a Pomeranian named Spike who was apparently a handful. Emma was glad to see them, and gladder to see her mother in such a good mood. Not that she was ever very moody, but that new sparkle to her was impossible to miss. Maybe Jasper was the real deal. It was about time, Emma thought. Andi had been an amazing mother, but she’d never stopped missing her husband. It was time she had someone to share things with again.

“You ready to go out?” Seth asked. The discussion had been tabled, but there was no question he was still thinking about it. She nodded.

“Sure. There’s probably a bag of marshmallows out there, too. Mom’s a s’mores junkie.”

“Then she and I are going to get along great,” Seth replied with a grin.

They headed for the French doors that opened onto a stone patio that had seen plenty of parties, plenty of friendly cookouts . . . and plenty of sunsets. It was one of the good places in the Cove, Emma thought. One of the places where she’d made lovely memories to turn over and over in her mind, like a stone carried for protection. Emma stepped outside, eyes on a sky streaked with peach and pink and wild crimson, edged with just a hint of lavender.

“Beautiful,” she murmured. This was one of the reasons she stayed. Practical though she was, deep down, Emma thought there was a kind of magic here that
existed nowhere else. Skies like this were a gift, but they were also a part of the odd and beautiful package that was Harvest Cove.

“It is beautiful,” Seth said. And when they walked out toward the fire pit, and the tall, lanky man muttering curses at it, she felt Seth’s hand at the small of her back. It was a light touch, but it spoke volumes.

What have I started?
she wondered.

It was both worrying and wondrous that this time—just this once—she thought she might allow herself to find out.

A
fter everything he’d been through, and everything that had driven him to run all the way from Florida to Massachusetts, getting involved with someone was the last thing he should be doing. Seth knew it, and he had the memories of a few bad decisions back in Jacksonville to prove it. But when Emma perched on one of the low, semicircular stone slabs that served as seating around the fire pit, his feet immediately overrode his mind’s objections and made a beeline for her.

When she looked up at him, fingers threaded together between her knees and her toes pointed inward, he found himself hopelessly charmed. It didn’t seem to matter that the woman was by turns confusing, abrasive, suspicious, and rude. Because she was also sweet, surprising, and completely adorable just as often . . . and she seemed to have no clue she was any of those things, which only enhanced their effects.

Maybe it’s time to give it a shot. For real this time.

Seth hesitated as the thought occurred to him, even though some part of him had known he was heading in this direction since the first time he’d spotted Emma clipping along the sidewalk in a pair of heels that matched the umbrella she’d been carrying. Both had been yellow,
the color of sunshine despite the cold November rain. He’d smiled when he saw her, the first real smile he’d experienced in a long time.

And now here she was, scooting over so he could sit next to her, making him a part of a scene so cozy that even a month ago he wouldn’t have believed he could be involved in it.

Seth sank down beside her, the stone beneath him cool like the evening air. He’d heard that summer took its time getting to Harvest Cove, and that was fine. He missed his family, but not the sweltering heat. And there was a piece of his family here, a fact he was grateful for every day. If it hadn’t been for Uncle Steve and Aunt Ginny, he wouldn’t have known where to go.

Emma’s mother had put out a small spread of snacks on a low table nearby. When he sat down empty-handed, she leaned around her daughter to admonish him.

“I don’t know if anyone’s told you this, Seth, but if you want to come to my house, you’re basically agreeing to let me feed you while you’re here.”

He raised his eyebrows, amused. “Meaning grab a plate or suffer the consequences?”

Her blue eyes, a deeper shade than Emma’s, sparkled with good humor. “Exactly. And since the consequences involve helping Jasper with the fire, you’re going to want to get eating.”

“Hey,” Jasper said, feigning hurt. “I got this one going, didn’t I?”

“Sure. You’ve also got a couple of new burn holes in your jeans.”

Seth didn’t miss the look the two of them exchanged, one that spoke of a history of teasing and private jokes . . . and more. A glance at Emma told him she hadn’t missed
it, either, though she seemed more intrigued than unhappy. That was good, he decided, standing again to obey the lady of the house. He preferred to see Emma happy. She seemed like someone who hadn’t experienced a lot of happiness, whether by choice or chance.

Not that he knew her well enough to know that, not really. But his need to find out—to find out everything, including what made her tick—was rapidly swamping all of his misgivings.

God. I’m really going to get myself into this.
As if there had ever really been any question. The more pressing one would be what he intended to do if and when things went south. That, however, was a subject he’d leave for some three a.m. insomnia-fueled brooding session. Right now, it would be nice if he could just concentrate on sitting around a fire with good company and a beautiful woman who’d kissed him. On purpose, even. And who seemed interested in doing it again. Seth nudged Emma’s shoulder.

“Want anything?”

She shook her head, looking up at him with her lips curved into a wry little smirk. “No. I’m saving myself for the s’mores. They’re my favorite.”

He was filing that information away when Andi began to laugh. “Just not the entire bag this time, Em.”

Emma clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes.
“Mom
.
”
Her blush, Seth decided, made her eyes even bluer.

He didn’t quite manage to hide his grin as he grabbed a heavy stoneware plate and loaded it with a little of everything, from puff pastries stuffed with something or other to little barbecued meatballs in sauce to some kind of pizza roll. He made note of the unopened bag of marshmallows, the chocolate bars and graham crackers,
and the long metal skewers for spiking a marshmallow into the flames. He was looking forward to the s’mores himself.

“So,” he said, settling himself back beside Emma. “Whole bag of marshmallows, huh?”

Her eyes slid back to him, slightly narrowed. “Maybe. Once.”

“How’d that end for you?”

“About as well as you’d expect.”

“You must have been little at the time.”

Her gaze went elsewhere. “Umm . . .”

“Seriously?” Seth started to laugh. “Don’t tell me this was last week or something.”

Emma frowned at him. “No. I was seventeen. And Sam bet me I couldn’t.” Her chin lifted. “So I proved her wrong.”

“Yes, she did,” Andi interjected. “If I remember correctly, you won ten bucks and a night of severe nausea for your trouble.”

“And bragging rights,” Emma added. “You can’t forget those. They’re very important.”

Andi rolled her eyes, but Seth could see the love there. They didn’t look much alike—he supposed Emma must look more like her father—but there was something that marked them as mother and daughter nonetheless. After some of the stories he’d heard, it was nice to discover that Andromeda Henry was far more of a friendly earth mother than an aging pothead, and one hell of a cook besides. He liked picturing Emma growing up here, and wondered what she’d been like. Still serious, he’d bet. But she had visibly relaxed since they’d arrived, and given the marshmallow story, he’d also bet that there’d been more humor and love in her life here than her usual cool facade would suggest.

It was good, Seth thought, to come from a home like that. So had he. But the ties Emma had to hers hadn’t been frayed and damaged the way his had. He tried to brush aside the pang of regret that thought produced. Things were okay now, he told himself. Much better than they had been when he’d been close to home. Hell, he talked more to his parents and sister now than he had when he was there. Things were better. He was better.

Even if he worried that he’d become a man who was best loved at a distance.

Emma’s nudge jerked him out of his brooding, which he was grateful for. The concern on her face surprised him, though it probably shouldn’t have. She had a lot going on beneath that prickly exterior.

“Are you okay? You look like that pastry has destroyed your will to live. You probably shouldn’t eat things that make you feel that way.”

Her teasing did a poor job of masking her worry, but he managed a smile even though that tone in her voice was one that gave him a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The last thing anybody needed to be doing anymore was worrying about him. And it was a reaction he was awfully tired of inspiring in others. Especially because, for the first time in a long time, he was genuinely okay. Okay enough to be sitting here wondering when he might get Emma alone to finally enjoy an uninterrupted kiss and see where it went.

He had a lot of ideas about that. None of which he needed to be thinking about in polite company.

“The pastry’s great,” Seth assured her. “And I’m fine. Just trying to work out how much I can eat and still have room for s’mores. They’re delicate calculations, you know.”

“Sorry for breaking your concentration,” Emma
replied, looking anything but as she plucked a pizza roll off his plate and popped it in her mouth.

“Yeah, I can see that. Food thief.”

“Sharing is caring,” she informed him. “Also, this is my house. So it’s my food. Technically, I’m sharing with you. Be grateful.”

Her grin was so distracting that it took his aunt Ginny to remind him what he was supposed to be looking at.

“Look at that sky.” She sighed, and the group fell silent as all of them did. Seth lifted his eyes to take in the glowing streaks of peach and rose, flame and violet that turned the scene above and around them into a painting of exquisite mastery. It hardly looked real, but the warmth of the woman beside him kept him grounded, reminding him that he was really sitting here. A glance around showed him his aunt snuggled into the side of his uncle and Andi and Jasper not quite touching but angled into each other in a way that made them a unit. A couple.

Normally, this wouldn’t have been his scene. Working as a solo act suited him better. But as conversation started up again, he found himself drawn into the warmth that these people created. Even more because he could see that Emma belonged right where she was, a part of this place and secure in the knowledge that she belonged here. He’d asked her why she stayed, but it seemed like a silly question now.

Then she turned her head to catch him watching her, and instead of dropping her eyes or blushing or pretending to be interested in something else, she held his gaze and lifted one corner of her mouth in a soft smile. In that instant, he felt something terrible and wonderful flicker to life deep in his chest, and he understood something.

No matter how much he worried that his relationships were always going to be a painful exercise in futility, he’d
known for a while that he was never going to be sure until he tried with someone worth the effort.

And when she smiled, he felt the final piece click into place, letting him know that he’d finally found her. All that remained was the effort. And all he had to lose was everything.

Emma startled him by pulling the plate out of his hands. “Okay,” she said. “No one should look that unhappy over food. You obviously need a marshmallow.”

She was up and walking away before he could think of anything to say, and he heard the soft laughter from the others. Jasper, a tall, lanky Brit he’d encountered at the used bookstore on the square, caught his eye.

“She’s a bossy bit of goods,” he said with a smile. “Like her mum.” That earned him a smack in the arm from Andi. Seth grinned despite himself, feeling his uncle’s eyes on him. When Seth turned his head to look, Steve looked pleased, giving him a small nod. His father’s younger brother was a quiet man, with close-cropped gray hair and the bearing of a soldier—probably because he’d been one, had retired as one . . . and understood what it was like to come back from a war with wounds no one could see.

His uncle’s urging had brought him here. And every time he saw Steve’s contentment with his life, this place, Seth knew that the move was one decision he’d made the right call on. His aunt Ginny looked in the direction Emma had gone, then at him, and gave him a wink. Seth felt his mouth curve into a silly grin and felt as ridiculous, simultaneously embarrassed and pleased as he had the first time he’d brought a girl home to show off. That was either a good sign or a really sad one, and he wasn’t going to sit here trying to figure out which, just in case the answer was the unflattering one.

He might be a little screwed up, but he still had a healthy ego.

Emma reappeared with what looked like all of the supplies from the table, handing out the skewers to everyone before shoving one into Seth’s hand. “Here,” she said. “I’m assuming you know how to toast a marshmallow.”

He tipped his chin down to give her a look. “I was a kid once, too, you know.”

Emma snorted. “This isn’t kid stuff. Proper marshmallow toasting is serious business.”

Steve chuckled softly. “Careful, Seth. I’ve been watching this girl around campfires for years now. You do it wrong, she’ll go after you with the skewer.”

“I’ve never resorted to violence,” Emma said primly, opening up the graham crackers and snapping off a few pieces of chocolate before fishing in the bag for a marshmallow and then carefully impaling it on the metal. “Just lectures.”

“Which may prompt others to violence,” Andi added. “My daughter is nothing if not thorough.”

“Damn right,” Emma replied. Then she looked at Seth expectantly. “Well? Let’s do this thing.”

She was being so easy with him that he didn’t offer even a token objection. It was too much fun to see her so comfortable, so in her element . . . and running the show was definitely her element. Seth obligingly dug out a marshmallow and shoved it on the end of the skewer, making Emma wince.

“What?”

“It’s just all mushed. . . . Never mind.” She exhaled softly through her nose, then smiled. “I can get this to a perfect golden brown, just melty enough. Watch and learn.”

“Don’t need to,” Seth replied, shoving his skewer into the flames. “I’m good at this.”

Her brow arched. “Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah. Check it out.” He felt her watching while she carefully toasted her own marshmallow. He kept an eye on it, his lips curved at the way she methodically turned the skewer to get the entire surface, as promised, a uniform golden brown. He wasn’t as careful, only concerned with making sure the marshmallow didn’t get so mushy inside that it slid off into the fire.

“Done!” Emma pulled her perfect marshmallow off the skewer, stuck it onto the graham cracker and a square of chocolate, mashed another graham cracker on top of it, and bit into the s’more with a moan that nearly made Seth drop his own skewer. The cry of distress that almost immediately followed, however, saved both his marshmallow and his sanity, at least for now.

“It’s on fire! What are you . . . Blow it out—you’ll ruin it!”

“No way. Watch and learn,” he said, grinning as she chewed her s’more and watched his burning marshmallow in horror.

“Nice,” Steve said. “That’s gonna be a good one.”

“Why?” Emma asked. “Why would you incinerate it?” She was laughing, but he could tell she felt he’d violated one of the cardinal rules of the fire pit. Instead of answering right away, he pulled the skewer away from the fire, watched the marshmallow burn to a uniform black, and then blew it out.

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” he said when she wrinkled her nose. “Come on.” He pulled the charred mass from the skewer and held it in front of her. “This is perfect. Just try it, okay? Trust me.”