There was a light tapping at the door, and Emma tiptoed over to check the peephole and let George in.
“Hey, stranger.”
“Hey, yourself.” She swallowed hard as she looked up into his dark eyes. It seemed like every time she saw him lately, there was an electric charge to the air, something crackling and unspoken happening between them that made her feel like if she didn’t grab hold of something, she’d lose control.
Emma did not like to lose control of anything, especially not her feelings. She escaped to the kitchen and opened the fridge. “Someday I’ll have to give up this late night eating. You want to watch something and have some chocolate pudding with me?”
“Sure.”
She focused on getting out bowls and spoons and serving them up. Handing one bowl to George, she led the way into the den and sat against the armrest on her side of the loveseat. Pulling a blanket over herself and draping it between them, it almost seemed like less of a gulf. Almost. Cuddling just wasn’t the natural friendly thing it used to be. Now, it made her want things she shouldn’t want. They’d always been friends. Becoming more than that could ruin the perfectly good relationship they already had.
George didn’t test her on the extra space between them. He sat on his side and rolled out his neck. “I was invited to dinner by one of my patients.”
“Are you gonna go?” Emma asked.
“I already did. It was tonight.”
“Do tell.” Emma listened to him talk about some woman named Betty and her aging mother while she scrolled to her saved shows and found their next episode ofCooking with Strangers.
“Wait, who is Jane?” she asked, trying to keep track of names in his story.
“She’s my new receptionist and Betty’s niece.” He picked at the ties on the blanket. “Would it be okay if I invited Betty to your costume party? I think it would be the thrill of her life.”
Emma paused the TV. “I guess that would be fine.” George so rarely asked for things that Emma couldn’t help agreeing. And the more people who hid the true purpose of the party, the better.
The various character roles still available scrolled through Emma’s mind. She had the principle people already assigned, of course, but the kit allowed add-ons as needed. “Do you think she’d want to play the nosy neighbor or the down-on-her-luck dancer?”
“I’ll ask her, though I don’t think she’ll care. I have a feeling she’ll try to weasel an invitation out of me for her niece too, but I don’t think Jane will accept. If Betty insists, would you have room for Jane, too?”
Emma poked him in the side. “Your ‘one more’ is starting to get complicated. Didn’t you say Jane’s friend was staying for the next two weeks? Will he want an invite? What about Betty’s mother?”
“I’ll get back to you on that.” He smiled in a way which said he knew exactly how annoying his request was.
Emma turned the show back on. It was elimination time, and she scooted a little closer to George as the camera focused in on Donny and Denise, their favorite couple. They looked like they knew this was their episode to go.
“They’ve been so distracted by each other that their cooking has gone to complete crap,” George murmured.
On the screen, they were doing a flashback montage of previous dishes and kitchen mishaps, like the time Donny oh so slowly wiped flour off Denise’s cheeks while their pie overbrowned.
“Is that a good sign or a bad sign in a relationship?” Emma asked. “When all you can think about is the other person, and when you’re with them you forget about everything else?”
George’s eyes left the TV and slowly turned toward her. His gaze darted to her lips, and a tug low in her belly warned her something was happening. She both desperately wanted it to happen and was terrified by the possibility.
George slid his fingers around a lock of her hair as he came in closer. “Emma,” he whispered. His lips looked soft.
“What?” The little word came out in a puff of air between their mouths.
A soft knock sounded at the door, and she jumped as if stung by a bee. The remote rolled off her lap, and she dove for it and paused the TV on a jubilant Donny and Denise. Somehow, they were safe for another week. She’d missed it.
“That sounds like Elton, doesn’t it?” George asked. He was studying his hands with deep concentration.
“Yeah.” She escaped the den, taking deep breaths in the foyer until she felt calm enough to answer the door.
Seeing Elton’s oblivious smile on the other side filled her with a sudden urge to slam it in his face. But that was insane. This was better. A buffer person was most definitely in order.
“Come on in. We just started an episode ofCooking with Strangers.” She led him into the den, and as much as she wanted to plop him right in the middle of her and George, that would have made things awkward in a whole different way. Nope, she had to be in the middle. It was a small loveseat, with barely enough room for the three of them, but the best view of the TV. Perhaps she should rearrange the furniture. She’d have Harriet help her with that tomorrow.
Emma tossed the blanket she’d been using back into the basket, suddenly feeling warm and claustrophobic, and tried not to notice the way she was brushing up against both men’s arms. Of course, all the sensations were firing on George’s side.
