“That’s not…” Em said, frantically pulling once more. “He’s not…”
“It’s a ruse for social media,” Ethan announced. “Em’s helping me out.”
“I don’t understand. What do you mean, a ruse? Are you dating?” Mom asked, nudging Dad with her elbow in a look-she’s-doing-it-again kind of way.
“Yes,” Ethan said at the same time Em said, “No.”
“Yes and no,” Ethan sort of clarified.
“Huh.” James crossed his arms. “Did your new boyfriend call in a favor or something? Hold a little knowledge over your head to get you to agree, maybe?”
“James,” Em hissed before Ethan could respond. “Stop. It’s not like that at all.”
Well, it sort ofwas,but not mostly.
“You’re either dating or you’re not.” Dad kneeled to study the situation. “No idea how you do both at the same time. Doesn’t matter, though, because you’ve got yourself good and stuck.”
“Mom’s saving my bracelet,” Fiona announced. “She’s being a hero like you and Uncle James!”
“I hope it’s worth something to get your arm caught over.” Dad frowned at the situation.
No, of course, it wasn’t. It was cheap beads and embroidery thread.
“It’s in my hand,” Emmaline said, gritting her teeth so hard Ethan could probably feel it inhismolars. “The bracelet.”
Dad kneeled to check out what he’d be dealing with. “Rescuing things is in the blood. Good to see you did get a dash of that Eaton blood, after all.”
Was that the pride of a father even when his daughter made a poor choice, or a little dig because Em’s life hadn’t quite gone as planned?
“Okay. I’ve got a plan.” Dad held Em’s gaze tight. “Patty, grab me the WD-40 in the trunk.”
Oh, God. Dad used the stuff for everything. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise Em if he used it as a salad dressing sometimes.
Mom nodded and said to Ethan, “We stocked up since Em came back to town. Figured we’d need it.”
Em dropped her forehead to her arm while Mom hurried off to find the blue-and-yellow can, and returned. Dad doused Emmaline’s arm with the cold, oily solution and that scent brought back with it all the times in her childhood when she’d found herself in a mess.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Dad said, keeping eye contact with her the whole time, like his goal was to keep her calm while he attempted to release her arm.
Of note, this did not make Emmaline calm.
“I’m going to pull. You’re going to twist like this.” Using his arm, he illustrated the maneuver with a confidence she did not have.
But she’d try it so perhaps Ethan wouldn’t have to serve all her future meals out here on the sidewalk.
“Ready?” Dad asked.
Emmaline nodded.
Then she twisted as he tugged. The girls cheered, and Dad heaved until his face turned red. Meanwhile, her arm twisted further than she’d known it could.
She may have been in a mess and she may havebeena mess, but she wouldn’t give her dad any future ammunition for zingers at her expense, so she didn’t say a word—not even a peep.
“I’m out.” Emmaline fell backwards against Ethan.
He caught her and, was it only her, or did he take an extra moment before setting her to rights? Helping her sit on her tush so she wouldn’t topple over, his hand lingered a little too long on her hip.
No chance to really consider that since her arm was finally free, Emmaline opened her hand. The poor bracelet hung there all wet, like a limp bag of sand.
