Every Little Kiss (22 page)

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, you said you were, um, together, sort of but not really, for a couple of years. I guess I only noticed this was a thing in the last few months, so something changed. What?”

“Some things are just going to have to remain a mystery to you, nosy,” Andi said. “And here comes the man of the hour. He got here fast. Maybe his ears were burning.”

“Mine certainly are,” Sam said as Jasper came in through the fence gate. Tall, lanky, with gray hair just long enough to pull back into a small tail, he had an elegance to the way he moved as he loped toward them. Emma could see the tiny flash of the little gold hoop in his ear, which she had always thought made him look like a pirate. He’d owned Jasper’s Used Books on the square for as long as she could remember, and she’d loved to hear him speak in his British accent. She still did.

It was funny, how
not
strange it was to see him and her mother together. He looked at Andi the way her father had—as if she were the only woman in the world. The memory was sweet, and sad, but she smiled at Jasper when he reached them.

“Oh dear, a gathering of Henrys. Trouble must be afoot.” His brown eyes were warm, and Emma didn’t miss the way he brushed his hand across her mother’s back before he pulled up a chair between Andi and Emma and sat down.

“Double, double, toil and trouble,” Emma agreed. “Fire burn and oh my God here come about ten more people.” Her eyes widened as the gate opened again, and
this time Shane, Jake’s friend Fitz, Aaron and his apparently on-again boyfriend Ryan, and Zoe walked in. Zoe was already bickering with Shane.

“Oh, come on, Zoe,” Shane was saying. “I washed my hands.”

“When, hours ago?” she asked, frowning as she examined whatever was in the large ceramic bowl she’d brought. “I thought you were supposed to be part of the upper crust around here. Did you miss the etiquette lesson about not sticking your fingers in other people’s food?”

“I don’t need etiquette lessons. I have manners. I just don’t always choose to use them. Anyway, you wouldn’t go to the wedding with me, so you can at least let me taste your broccoli salad.”

“You can. With a fork. And I told you, my brother is going to be visiting. He’s my date.”

“I’d make a better one,” Shane grumbled.

“I don’t know,” Zoe said, looking up at him. “He’s got a few things going for him that you don’t. Like being housebroken.”

“Hey.” Shane pretended to look wounded. Emma sighed. Sam’s friends were an interesting crew. And she was going to have to tell Shane that Larkin was willing to put up with him for an evening. That ought to put him in a good mood, which usually meant trouble.

“We’re outnumbered,” she said. “Jake’s going to get it.” But she watched Jake introduce Seth to the friends he didn’t already know, then saw Seth’s polite smile turn into a raucous laugh when Aaron said God knew what to him. She couldn’t help but smile herself. He’d said he wanted to be a part of the community. A bunch of it had just come to him.

“Careful, there.” Jasper’s voice near her ear startled her, and she turned her head to look at him. His long face
was set in more serious lines than usual, though when their eyes met, she got a sympathetic smile. “He’s a nice boy. But you’re wearing your heart all over your face.”

She was too surprised to argue about it—especially because it was probably true. She looked at Sam and her mother, who were deep in conversation about the wedding for the umpteenth time, before responding in a voice as quiet as Jasper’s own. “I am?”

He nodded. “Does he know how you feel?”

Her mouth went dry, and her heart kicked into a wild rhythm. “I doubt it, since I’m not sure about that myself.” This was the question she’d been circling around for days, getting close and then darting away again because she couldn’t quite face it. Especially after she’d agreed to try to take things slow. It shouldn’t even be an issue. People didn’t fall in love this quickly. People were sensible and took their time, thought it through. Especially if those people included Emma Henry.

Of course, her recent activities had been decidedly un-Emma-like. She didn’t know what was normal for her anymore.

“Well, you don’t look unsure. You look besotted.”

Well, that’s not embarrassing. Was I drooling? Was my mouth open? God.
Emma shook her head slowly. “No. No, definitely not besotted. Sorry.” That word, “besotted.” It made her sound like she was drunk on Seth. Which was a little too close to the truth for her liking. She’d done enough stupid things while inebriated to last for a while.

Jasper’s laughter was warm, his eyes kind. “You’re as stubborn as your mum, Emma Henry. What would you call it, then?”

“I think we’ve decided to call it ‘liking each other in an exclusive but slow-moving manner,’” Emma said carefully.

Jasper burst out laughing. “You’ve got a way with words, I’ll give you that, even if it is a bunch of shite.”

She glowered at him. “It’s not
shite
,” she said. “It’s a normal human relationship. We’re taking it slow.”

“Ah, I see.” Jasper’s smile turned wry. “Taking it slow. I may have been through a bit of that myself lately.”

“You didn’t want to? Take it slow, I mean?” As odd as it was to be talking about her mother’s relationship, she found she really wanted to know.

Jasper actually looked surprised. “Me? No, darling. I’m a professional bookworm and a hopeless romantic. Too many times along for the ride on the hero’s journey as a lad, I expect. Now, your mother, gem though she is, tends to be a bit more . . . stubborn.”

“That’s true enough,” Emma agreed, glancing at Seth again. “I guess everyone has to move at their own pace, though.”

“I think I detect a note of the hopeless romantic there as well.” Jasper chuckled.

“What, me? No. I’m just practical and boring.”

“Bollocks.” His look turned serious. “I’ve been watching you your whole life, Emma. And don’t forget, I’m quite well aware of your reading habits. I expect your inner life is anything but boring.”

She flushed, realizing he was right. Her tastes had always run to the escapist, from historical romances to sweeping fantasy—provided there was a happy payoff in the end. Those stories were her secret pleasure. Well, almost secret. “Okay, maybe not completely boring. But practical.”

“It’s not a bad thing. And what about him?” Jasper asked, inclining his head in Seth’s direction. “I enjoyed your Seth the other night. And he seems quite keen on you. He ought to be, by the way. That video was
charming. Dancing your little heart out. I knew you had it in you.”

Emma groaned. “Eveyone in the Cove saw it. Everyone.”

“Probably,” he agreed. “I liked the flourish at the end with the beer. Very artistic. It’s good to see you getting out a little, Em. Making an actual life here, instead of just living here. I worried when you decided to stay, you know. You were always a quiet little thing, very solemn, taking on the weight of the world when your dad died. I thought this might not be the right place for you to figure out who you wanted to be, instead of trying desperately to fit into someone else’s ideas about what you should be.”

Emma smiled, touched. Jasper had been a part of her life for so long, but she’d never considered that he’d looked out for her and worried over the years. She wished she’d known, but telling her wouldn’t have been his way. Besides, she might well have shoved him away like she had most people. Now, though, knowing that he’d been looking out for her was a balm for the ragged edges of her nerves.

“I’m figuring it out, Jasper,” she said, and was surprised to find that she meant it. Everything in her life had started to change, all at once. And for the first time, she found herself lacking the will to fight it. Instead, she was curious about what might come next. Curious, and scared as hell. But not enough to try to go back to where she was before.

He patted her hand gently and leaned forward. “Good. And for what it’s worth, I hope romance wins out over caution. Every romantic should get to be knocked on their ass by love and live happily ever after.”

She couldn’t help but laugh when he put it like that, though there had been nothing particularly romantic in
the way her relationship with Seth had gone so far.
Girl meets boy. Boy nurses girl through alcohol-induced illness. Girl asks boy to pretend to date her. Boy refuses, so girl awkwardly seduces him. Girl wonders if stability is a reasonable trade-off for hot sex.
Not exactly a fairy tale. More like a boozy rom-com. Or a bad porno.

“He’s been through a lot,” she said softly. “I don’t think either of us was looking for someone. Not really. So I’m not expecting the happily ever after.”

Jasper frowned and shook his head. “Emma Henry. You’ve been through your own kind of hell, and your mother told me you were the glue that kept everything from falling apart. You deserve the happily ever after, so don’t settle for less. The world’s a dark enough place, but it’s darker on your own. When you find someone you want to walk it with, though, it can change everything. We’ve got to carry one other through the hard parts. Every little kiss matters.” He glanced meaningfully at Andi, then looked at Emma and winked. “I should know. They’re what I had to make do with until
someone
finally let me knock her on her ass with love.”

She looked at Andi, who was oblivious to the conversation, and felt an odd, aching pull deep in her chest, like the fleeting pain from an old scar. She’d felt so helpless when they’d lost her father. Knowing that she’d made a real difference to the people she loved meant more than she could say.

“Thanks, Jasper,” she said, and he gave her hand a pat. He was still the sweetest pirate she’d ever known.

“For you? Anything. And now,” he announced more loudly, “I’m going to take more than my share of the potato salad your mother brought. The scent of burning probably means the meat’s about done.” He leaned down to Andi, who looked at him with an expression
Emma hadn’t seen in so long that she hardly remembered. “Get you a plate, love?”

Love
. She’d given up on the idea of it, and now she was surrounded by it—Sam and Jake, Andi and Jasper. Happily ever afters. Just like Jasper seemed to think she should want—even demand—for herself.

Seth’s laugh rippled through her as he sprinted out of the house with a couple glasses of water. There was a disturbing amount of fire coming from the grill, and Jake was taking all manner of grief from his audience. Seth caught her eye, his grin full of mischief. Something deep in her chest tightened painfully, then let go as her last defenses crumbled.

Pull it back. Be smart. Do what you do best and protect yourself.

But she knew it was already too late.

“Y
ou’re not going to believe this.”

Emma had her hands full of lunch when she shouldered the door open Wednesday afternoon, only to find Brynn bouncing up and down on the other side.

“What?” She passed her with a confused smile and headed for the desk with a cup of soup and half a sandwich for each of them. Maybe there was at least some decent gossip to be had, though she wasn’t sure that would merit all the excitement. Then again . . . this was Brynn. If nothing else, she could be counted on for bringing enthusiasm to the smallest things.

“I heard the Harding wedding completely blew up this past weekend. Penny’s plans went way over budget, and when Bob found out what his daughter and wife were up to, he hit the roof. Everything’s canceled. Penny threw some kind of operatic fit when she found out. She’s starting from scratch,
and
,” Brynn continued, “my source tells me that we’re back in the running. Bob is determined to take another look at all the options.”

Emma blinked, trying to digest this. Of all the things Brynn might have told her, this was the last thing on her list. “Well. Huh.”

Brynn rounded her eyes. “Don’t just ‘well, huh’ me.
We still have a chance! We can show off the Cove as a great spot for scenic weddings, and we can show off what we do best in making those weddings happen! This,” she announced dramatically, “could be our moment!”

“If we ever make a commercial, you’re going to be in it,” Emma told her, forcing herself into motion again to open the bag containing her lunch. She got out the napkin, spoon, wrapped sandwich, and covered soup container and set them neatly on the desk.

“Emma!”

“Okay, okay, I’m processing. Give me a minute.” She sat down, opened the top of the Styrofoam container of soup, and took a bite of sandwich. Brynn stared at her, looking as close to murder as she’d ever seen her. Inside, though, Emma was already running through the possibilities, the things that would have to be changed from the initial proposal, what to pick Brynn’s brain about—everything. And then, of course, there was the time issue. Sam’s wedding was rapidly approaching, and every weekend was full. Not to mention that she had a few things planned with Sam before the big day, just the two of them. This was an excellent opportunity at the worst time possible. For her, anyway. But that didn’t have to mean it couldn’t come together.

When she was finally ready to speak, she discovered that what would have been impossible for her only recently now seemed like the only sensible option. “You said you knew what she wanted. How quickly can you pull something together? I’d love to be able to give the Hardings something by Monday if they’ll agree to come back in.”

Brynn looked ready to start vibrating, and emitted a noise that made Emma wince. “Sorry!” she yelped, seeing Emma’s expression. “I just . . . Really? You want me to do this?”

“Not all of it, but I’m a little swamped, and you were right about this before. Plus, you did an amazing job on the Jamison proposal. Do you think you can handle it?”

Brynn clapped her hands and made another sound that Emma could only interpret as “yes” before dashing over to one of the photo books. “I had this idea—something really classic, like Gilded Age elegance. We could do the whole thing at Gibson House.”

It was completely different from what she’d envisioned before, but Emma immediately saw how it could work. “Is that going to bother Penny, though? Gibson House is right down from them on the Crescent. It’s like having a party at the neighbor’s.”

“Sure, if your neighbor is Jay Gatsby,” Brynn replied, waving the concern away. “Trust me. It’s not a cheap venue, but it’s going to be much more reasonable than the plans that just got scrapped. And then the flowers! Annalise did these gorgeous centerpieces for a luncheon I went to, and I couldn’t stop thinking how the design would be perfect for—”

“Hang on,” Emma said, holding up one finger. If there was one thing she’d learned, it was to strike while the iron was hot. Waiting had never gained her anything. This was a truth she was having to willfully disregard on a daily basis right now in other areas of her life. This, though, she understood.

She picked up the phone, quickly looked up the number, and punched it in. “Mayor Harding,” she said, “this is Emma Henry. Yes, good. How are you? I’m . . . Well, I’m glad I called, too. I just wanted to touch base with you and see if there was anything . . . Really? Oh, that’s too bad.” She grinned at Brynn, who gave her the thumbs-up. “Well, it so happens that after our last meeting, my assistant, Brynn Parker, came up with an alternate idea that . . . Yes,
she is, a very nice girl. Mmmhmm, she mentioned being related to you.” She watched Brynn roll her eyes. “I’d love to. . . . Monday, we thought Monday if that might work. You are? Great. No, no, we’d still be right in the budget range you gave us. Well, let me know what time works for . . . I certainly will. All right. Talk to you soon.”

Emma hung up, widened her eyes at Brynn, and said, “I don’t think anyone has ever been that happy to hear from me. I swear that when I told him you already had something in mind, he just about cried. Especially when I promised he could afford it.”

That was when Brynn did something that was at once completely surprising and somehow, the most natural thing in the world. She dashed around the desk and threw her arms around Emma, enveloping her in a big, affectionate hug. “Thank you so much! I’m going to knock everyone’s socks off, I promise!”

“I have no doubt.” Emma laughed, giving Brynn a gentle squeeze before letting go. She’d thought it would be too difficult to give up control over something like this. It was strange to discover that she was just as happy to advise and let Brynn run with it. She wanted to prove herself. And Emma wanted to let her. Far from finding it nerve-racking, all Emma felt in passing off some of the burden was relief.

We need to carry each other,
Jasper had said. And wasn’t that in a U2 song? If both Bono and Jasper agreed on it, it had to be true.

“Scoot,” Brynn said, shooing her away from the desk. “You have your own desk to eat lunch at, and I need to get on this while the juices are flowing. So. Many. Ideas.”

Emma chuckled. “Um, great? Just be sure the juices don’t make a mess, okay? Napkins. They’re not just for decoration.”

“Go away. I need to impress my snobby relatives.” Brynn wrinkled her nose, waved her off again, and dug her food out of the bag. Emma shook her head and laughed softly to herself as she slunk into the back, wishing she had a little more to do today. That would stop her from brooding, at least. She’d always prided herself on being the kind of person who could keep her work life and personal life separate. Of course, that was a lot easier when she didn’t actually
have
a personal life. As it was, the presence of the one was starting to seriously affect the other, and she didn’t know what to do about it.

She tapped her fingers on her desk, then rearranged her already-organized papers. That day at the park, Seth had asked her if she would be able to work with both of their baggage. His seemed manageable enough, now that she’d dragged it out into the light of day. He still wasn’t a fount of information, but she didn’t feel quite so much like he was hiding from her.

Not hiding . . . but still a long way from being forthcoming.

It’ll change,
she told herself.
Give him time.
Which would have been a perfectly workable solution if only she’d been an entirely different person.

If only she weren’t completely, ridiculously in love with him.

Emma slid her hands into her hair and propped her elbows on her desk with a gusty sigh.

It was too much, too soon, and it didn’t seem to make a damn bit of difference. This was the real thing. Her feelings for Ben had been different. Back then, she’d loved an illusion, one fueled by her need to find someone who could fill all the empty places inside herself. Seth was different. She knew she loved him, the whole sexy, wonderfully flawed package. It had been coming on
since—well, since the beginning, really. But the pieces had only really clicked together at the cookout.

Jasper had seen what her heart had already known. Finally acknowledging it had only made it worse. She loved him so much that it ached. So much that she’d avoided him since Sunday to try to figure out how to get a handle on this, so he didn’t notice, freak out, and lock himself in his house to keep clear of exactly the thing he’d warned her he wasn’t sure he could give.

Seth cared about her—that much she knew. But she also knew, with increasing certainty, that it wasn’t enough. She’d never been good at half measures. Seth was just feeling his way back into having real relationships, and that was completely understandable. But she was clinging to a ledge that hung out over some fathomless abyss, and her grip was slipping. If she fell, she fell alone.

And if she hit the bottom, she would shatter.

Way to embrace the joys of a perfectly good relationship, Emma.
She sighed, picked up her phone, put it down, and then tried to get some work done. All that happened, though, was that she wound up staring at an estimate from Larkin for a baby shower she was planning.
Larkin. Wednesday. Larkin.

Relief flooded her. Seth was working tonight, and she was going to be at loose ends unless she found something to do with herself. At some point very recently, going back to her quiet apartment had ceased to be an acceptable ending for every day. Sometimes, she needed people.

As it happened, she now seemed to have a few. At least, she thought she did. Might as well test out the theory.

Emma grabbed her cell phone and texted Larkin, and for once it had nothing to do with anything covered in
frosting. The response a few minutes later made her smile. She now had plans for the night. With friends. Imagine that.

She eased back into work after that, finally able to relax a little. If falling in love with Seth meant that she was going to exist in a state of constant inner turmoil from now on, Emma thought, at least she now had people to share it with.

*   *   *

“I can’t believe you did that!”

“Believe it,” Emma said, tossing herself into her chair to her friends’ peals of delighted laughter. And they were friends—that had been clear the moment Larkin had driven up in front of the shop in her ancient sedan, rolled down the window, and shouted, “Get in, hot stuff! We’re on a mission!”

Part of that mission, apparently, had been to get Emma to the mic to sing something from the collected works of Britney Spears. After a cosmo, a lot of laughter, and watching Brynn and Annalise duet on “You’re the One That I Want,” it had been surprisingly easy to get up there and bust out her best “Baby, One More Time.”

Larkin high-fived her. “That was a beautiful thing. You’ve even got a good voice. Not like these amateurs.”

Annalise stuck her tongue out. “What we lack in talent we make up for with volume.” Emma had always thought the pretty florist was friendly but shy. Either she’d been mistaken about the “shy” part, or this was just the effect that Larkin had on people. It was hard to be reserved around a six-foot blonde who kept threatening to grab the mic and rap. Badly.

Brynn took a sip of her own cosmo. “I love tonight. I love that I can sit here and eat cheesy bacon fries and not be judged.”

“That’s because we’re all stealing them every time you turn your head to stare at the bartender.” Emma was glad she’d invited Brynn along—she fit in perfectly. Of course, the biggest surprise was how much she felt like she fit in herself. Had she really thought she had no time for this kind of thing? It was exactly what she’d needed. Her problems seemed about a million miles away.

It helped that it was really too loud to hear herself think, too.

“I’m just going to say,” Larkin announced, “that this needs to happen more often. It’s not only fun, but we’re giving back to the community.”

“By singing badly in public?” Annalise leaned back in her chair and smirked, then swiped one of Brynn’s fries.

“Look, between our jobs and outings like this, there are days when we spend a good eighteen hours bringing both money and entertainment to the Cove. We’re huge assets.”

“You mean huge asses,” Annalise replied, then swatted Brynn in the arm. “Will you just go get his number? Larkin can probably figure out a way to frame that as community service if you need more reasons than a great smile and a cute butt.”

“Maybe we should be recognized for being such givers,” Emma agreed. “Don’t know what they’d put on the plaque, though.”

Larkin seemed to consider this. “Keep it mysterious, like in Harry Potter. ‘For services rendered to Harvest Cove’ or something. But we’d know.”

“I don’t know,” Emma said, watching as a large, hairy man in splatter-painted overalls took the mic and launched into a rousing rendition of “Don’t Stop Believin’.” “Using that logic, Big Al should have a wall of plaques by now.
I’m pretty sure all he does is provide money and entertainment to the Cove.” He caught her eye and gave her the thumbs-up. Emma flashed one back. It was hard not to feel some camaraderie with a guy you were supposed to have gone streaking through the downtown with.

“Right? There’ll be a statue of that guy in town one day. Mark my words.” Larkin replied, raising her beer in his direction. All around them, the crowd sang, and Emma wondered if Larkin was right.

Across the bar, Emma caught sight of one of Seth’s friends and waved. He grinned and waved back, then leaned over to say something to the guy he was with.

“Who’s that?” Annalise asked, craning her neck to see. “Don’t hold out on me. I already heard that you hooked Larkin up.”

Emma raised an eyebrow at Larkin. “She may come to hold that against me.”

“That’s Mark Salvatore,” Brynn piped up. “He used to play soccer with my older brother. Now he’s a cop.”

“Seth and some of the guys shoot darts in his garage sometimes,” Emma said. She’d been glad to find that Seth’s personal life featured friends he’d made at work. He got together with them when he felt like it. He was just quiet about it.