“Just a second,” she called through the closed door, and I leaned closer, listening to her shuffle around the living room. A quiet scratching came through the heavy wood, and I chuckled, knowing Minnie the Moocher was on the other side, desperate to greet her new guest. Where most cats cowered in the face of loudnoises and strangers, Minerva basked in the glow of anyone who would give her attention.
“Court. You’re early—” Her voice stuttered, and she put a hand on her chest and tilted her eyes as a furrow appeared between her brows.
“Miller?”
I’d been leaning against the doorframe, holding the bouquet behind my back with one ankle crossed over the other—going for the perfect picture of nonchalance. That persona disappeared when the movement of air from her opening the door brought with it the scent of peaches. I groaned, suppressing the noise by pursing my lips and flourishing the flowers from where they were hidden.
“Miller?” she repeated, my name rolling around her mouth like the finest bourbon—like she was tasting both syllables to see how they fit. I wanted to haul her to me, pressing her back into the unforgiving wall, and own her mouth before demanding she stop the facade of dating other men.
That was a surefire way to scare her off, so my brilliant plan revolved aroundwooingher. Showing that her needlessly wading through every available douchebag within a fifty-mile radius was not something she ever had to concern herself with again.
“For you,” I said, watching as her stunned expression morphed into confusion and then happiness.
She’d never been good at concealing emotions, wearing her feelings as plainly as she wore her favorite turquoise earrings. It was nice not to have to guess, to agonize over what was flitting through her head. I always knew. Knowing her emotions as well as I knew my own made this situation all but unbearable. The subtle way she touched me contradicted her words, making me want to push the boundaries of our friendship to see what would happen.
“Me?” she asked, taking the offered flowers and lowering her head to breathe in the scent. She closed her eyes and pushed the flowers closer to her nose, letting the delicate pink hydrangea petals brush against her skin.
“Of course. Can’t a guy do something sweet for you on a random Thursday?”
Her mouth opened as she lowered the flowers, nothing but this tiny noise escaping her lips.
“It’s Friday, Miller.”
“Oh, that doesn’t matter. Are you going to invite me in?” I prompted, breaking my gaze from her as a fur tornado weaved between my legs. I bent forward and scooped Minnie Magoo from the ground, knowing she’d take the open door as an invitation to venture out and explore the hallway. She pushed her head into my hand, and I chuckled, supporting her belly and scratching underneath her chin.
“Right. Yes. Come in. Please. Sure,” she answered, the words running together as she stepped aside and motioned me to follow. She wore a bathrobe cinched high on her waist, and when I quirked a brow at her appearance, she tugged the garment tighter over the swell of her chest.
“What’s going on?” I set Minerva down on the couch, but she wasn’t having any of that. Instead, she jumped down and weaved herself back between my legs. Careful not to squish one of her toe beans, I walked to the kitchen, taking a vase from under the sink and filling it with water.
Emma leaned against the countertop, watching me. I reached forward and put my index finger on the edge of her mouth, popping it from between her teeth. My eyes widened, and I pulled my hand away, clenching my fingers into a fist before shoving it into my pocket.
“There’s a question I want to ask you, Em. It’s something I’ve been wondering about for a while.”
She placed the flowers in the vase and centered them on her kitchen table then plucked a daisy from the middle of the bouquet and put her other hand on her hip.
“All right. Come on, then. I have a date tonight, but we can chat while I get dressed.”
Another date? Fuck.
This possessive green monster awoke in my chest, growling pathetic words of jealousy and plaguing me with thoughts of being too late.
Easy there,I coaxed, rubbing my sternum as I followed her into her bedroom. It was oddly intimate, me perching on the bed while she disappeared into her closet, humming over her wardrobe.
Man up.
“So, listen. I’ve been doing some thinking.”
“Oh,” she said, sticking her head out of the closet.
“Mostly about you. About the stupid requirement from your boss. Some about me.”
“Listen,” she said, the frustration clear as she walked out of the closet with three dresses, tossing them on the bed and shrugging off her robe. The tan slip she wore covered her unmentionables, had thin straps, and lace trimmed along the cups of her breasts. A slit over her left knee was borderline indecent, making me want to pull her closer and inch the fabric higher so I could see what was underneath.
“My date will be here shortly. What’s this all about?” She grabbed one dress from the bed and pulled it over her head, smoothing out the creases before looking at herself in the full-length mirror. Sighing, she moved her hands to the bottom of the dress to tug it off when I snatched her hand, holding it captive between mine.
“Sorry if I seem tense. You’ve been the one bright spot in an otherwise shitty week.” The hand I wasn’t holding patted mycheek before she tugged the other away and pressed her palm to her stomach.
The doorbell rang, the sound echoing in the space, making us jump apart like we’d been doing something nefarious instead of this careful dance where nothing significant happened except my cowardice.
