“Don’t you have an empty needle we could practice with?”

“I have a ton of ’em!” he said, and bounced off the bed to get one.

Emma sat across from Preston. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Preston said. “We’ve got it under control.”

Max returned and handed her the syringe filled with insulin. “Here, hold this so I can give Preston a shot.”

Emma watched Max pinch the back of Preston’s arm and wondered if Preston was frightened at all. He didn’t act like it.

“Are you ready?” Max asked.

Preston nodded and the needle pierced his skin. Max seemed to be taking careful note of his reaction, but Preston merely shrugged. “No big deal, right? You ready to do my stomach?”

Max grinned as Preston lifted his shirt, and Emma felt such an odd mix of admiration for Preston’s gorgeous body and appreciation for his support with Max that she knew she was in trouble. She was falling in love with this man. She’d known him a week and already she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. There had to be something wrong with her. She couldn’t even breathe right when she looked at him.

“Where are you going to do it?” he asked.

“Here.” Max struggled to pinch an inch of Preston’s washboard stomach. Preston didn’t have any fat for the needle to go into, but he didn’t complain when Max gave him another shot. “Did it hurt?” her son asked curiously.

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“Not at all.”

Not half as much as it was going to hurt when Preston left her. Emma felt her chest constrict. What had she done? She’d let him steal her heart. And she wasn’t even sure when it had happened. Maybe when he’d kissed her that first night but had chosen to walk away when Max stirred.

“Okay. Now your leg,” Max said.

Preston moved so that Max could easily reach the inside of his thigh, and Max grinned again. “Here goes.”

The needle went in and came out without so much as a grimace on Preston’s part.

“How’d it feel?” Max asked.

“No worse than in my stomach,” he said.

Skepticism entered Max’s eyes. “You’re just saying that so I’ll do it.”

“No, I’m not. It really doesn’t hurt. You want to poke me again?”

Max inserted the needle three more times before he was convinced it didn’t hurt. Then he took the syringe full of insulin from Emma and injected it into his own leg without even pausing to think about it. “Hey, it doesn’t hurt,” he cried in amazement.

Preston looked at Emma, silently sharing their victory, then ruffled Max’s hair. “How could a puny little shot hurt a beast like you?”

“Thanks, Preston!” Max said, and before Emma could stop him, he threw his arms around Preston’s neck.

THE IMPULSIVENESS of Max’s hug took Preston by surprise. He heard Emma say “Max, no,” as if she was afraid he might be rebuffed. But before Preston could decide how to react, his cell phone rang, and Max scrambled off the bed to get it.

“Can I answer?” he asked.

Preston avoided Emma’s eyes, even though he could sense her watching him. He didn’t want her to know how rattled he was, but the fact that he was off balance probably showed on his face.

Max tapped his shoulder. “Preston?”

It was probably Gordon calling to make sure he’d received Joanie’s contact information. Preston couldn’t see any harm in letting Max talk to him. But then Preston wasn’t sure he could’ve said no to anything Max wanted at that moment.

“Go ahead,” he said, pointing to the Talk button.

Max smiled broadly, acting very important as he pressed the phone to his ear. “Hello?…What?…Beast…That’s my nickname…. Preston gave it to me…. Five…My birthday’s in—” He looked to Emma.

“June,” she supplied.

“June,” he repeated. “Yeah, he’s here….”

“Who is it?” Preston asked.

Max covered the mouthpiece. “Sarah.”

His mother? Preston reached out to take the phone, but Max wasn’t finished talking yet. “We had a slumber party last night,” he told her. “Preston slept in our bed.” Max’s attention returned to Emma. “She’s here…. Yeah, she slept with him, too. She got to be in the middle.”

Preston groaned and fell back on the bed.

“Max, hand Preston his phone,” Emma said.

Max was having too much fun to pay any attention. “Hey, guess what? I’m wearing the new underwear Preston bought me. They’re just like his.”

Preston shot upright again. “Max!”

Max blinked innocently at him. “She wants to talk to you,” he said.

CHAPTER TWENTY

PRESTON WAS HESITANT to put the phone to his ear. After Max’s brief intro, he knew his mother would have more questions than he wanted to deal with.

“Aren’t you going to talk to her?” Emma asked.

Reluctantly, Preston dropped back onto the bed. “Hello?”

At the sound of his voice, his mother said, “It is you. For a minute there, I thought maybe I’d dialed the wrong number.”

Maybe he should’ve hung up and let her continue to think so.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“Who was the little boy who answered the phone?”

“No one.”

“He said you bought him underwear.”

Preston didn’t respond.

“He also said his mother’s there.”

“Mom—”

“Have you met someone? Is this something I should be excited about?”

“No, definitely not.”

Emma got up and began pulling Max from the room in an obvious attempt to give him some privacy.

“Who’s with you, then?”

“Just someone who’s catching a ride. It’s nothing.” From the corner of his eye he saw Emma pause at the door, and knew she’d heard him. Belatedly, he realized how callous he must’ve sounded. But he couldn’t say anything to soften his response or his mother would jump to the wrong conclusion and start in with how grateful she was that he’d found someone, how happy she’d be to have another grandson, how hard she’d prayed that he’d be able to move on with his life. She was causing enough of a fuss as it was.

“Someone who’s catching a ride!” she cried. “A hitchhiker? Do you know how dangerous that is?”




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