Her mom smiled, seemingly pleased. After a few minutes of idle chatter, Sue said, “Emmy why don’t you put the bags in your bedroom? You’ll sleep in your old room and Ben can bunk with Porter, or sleep out here on the couch.”
“Couch should be fine, right champ?” Porter said.
“Yeah, sure thing.” I hadn’t realized I wouldn’t be sleeping with Emmy. She gave me a sympathetic look that said she knew all along. I’d wanted to book a hotel for us but the nearest one was fifteen miles away and Emmy had said her parents would be offended if we didn’t stay with them.
Seconds later, Emmy was pulled into the kitchen to help bake pies and I was left sitting there with a dog that looked ready to attack me and two men watching me like I was some sort of dangerous and unpredictable species. I glanced at the shotgun mounted on the wall in the dining room. Yeah, I was f**ked.
Actually I wasn’t, considering I wouldn’t be sharing a bed with Emmy. Not that I would have f**ked her under her father’s roof anyway, but a little messing around would have been nice. I couldn’t resist making Emmy come. Her cheeks flushed so pretty and those breathy little whimpers she made were so sexy.
Shit. I couldn’t be thinking about that right now. Not while Emmy’s dad looked ready to skin me alive.
Emmy emerged from the kitchen with a pink frilly apron tied around her middle and her hair twisted up in a bun. With hands covered in flour, she leaned down to press a kiss to my cheek. “You okay hanging out with the guys, hon?”
I chuckled hearing her southern accent was becoming more pronounced being near her chatty mom. “I’m fine. Go enjoy yourself.” She clearly loved being home. I hadn’t seen her smile so bright before.
“Well, should we do it?” Tom asked, rubbing his palms together.
I looked from him to Porter, trying to understand what he intended. It was tempting to watch the sway of Emmy’s ass as she sauntered back into the kitchen but I kept focused. The man already hated me.
“We’re going out hunting. Got to get us a turkey for tomorrow.”
Shit. This should be interesting.
Emmy
Ben looked stunned to hear that he’d be going hunting with my dad and brother but he rose from the couch, seemingly game for an adventure.
My mom stomped out from the kitchen, appraising Ben’s designer chinos and button-down shirt. “Your clothes are much too nice for romping around in the fields. Emmy, go get him a pair of your dad’s britches.”
Oh. My. God. My mom was officially insane. Did she really think Ben would be comfortable wearing a pair of my dad’s old Wranglers? I wanted to die. Seriously, I closed my eyes and silently prayed that the floor in the trailer would miraculously cave in and swallow me whole.
“I’m fine, Mrs. Clarke. Thank you, though,” Ben said, politely refusing her request.
I watched Ben leave with the men in Porter’s old pickup truck and a wave of nerves hit me. I wondered how he’d fare alone with my dad and brother. But my mom thrust a ten-pound bag of potatoes at me, and I knew peeling them with the old, dull knife from her ancient knife block would be the perfect distraction.
I knew my family life was much different than Ben’s. I could only hope he’d fare okay with my dad and Porter. And hunting no less. There were firearms involved.
“So does Ben want marriage, kids? He’s got a pretty nontraditional lifestyle, sweetie.” My mom was nothing if not direct.
“Uh . . . I’m not really sure. We haven’t talked about it.” Other than my drunken rant telling him we’d make attractive kids. That was just a damn fact of life, though. Any babies with his DNA would be stunning specimens. Superior in every way, I was convinced. Little green-eyed babies with dark hair and full, pouty mouths danced through my head while I methodically peeled the potatoes.
My mom abandoned chopping a pile of onions and turned to face me. “How could you have not talked about it? You’re dating pretty seriously. . . . You’re not one to just bring home a man, Emerson Jean.”
She was right, of course. I’d never brought home a man for a holiday like this before. And I did feel differently about Ben. I wanted him to be my future. I guess part of me was just scared about his possible baby with Fiona and their relationship, even if it was professional now. Mostly I worried that he couldn’t possibly want the simple life I’d envisioned for myself since I was a little girl. A home down the street from my parents, big family holidays, baking pies with my mom, and, one day, my little girl. The sour feeling in the pit of my stomach rolled with unease. “He didn’t have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving. His mom lives all the way down in Australia. I didn’t want him eating Chinese takeout.”
Her look of concern told me I was probably crazy, reading way too much into our relationship.
An errant tear dropped from my eye.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, it’s just those damn onions,” I lied, gazing at the pile of chopped onions on the counter. The weight of her concerns about Ben burned like acid in my stomach. How had I allowed myself to fall for someone so wrong for me? The only reasoning I could find was that it was never a choice.
Loving Ben Shaw wasn’t something I ever planned on doing. Lord knew my family and friends warned me from getting emotionally attached. But I had zero control in the matter.
I had two choices: to enjoy the ride for what it was worth and accept him and his limitations or move on without him.