All at once, the fondness on Emmy’s face disappeared. “Oh God damn it, no. I am not doing this,” she snapped, pushing herself off him.
She stood up just fine now, Will noted. In fact, she looked like she was bracing herself for battle. He rolled into a sitting position and looked up at her.
“Of all the dirty tricks,” she continued, starting to pace as the tirade overtook her. Will didn’t think she remembered he was there, she was so worked up. “That never happens in real life. I should’ve been ready for it. I should’ve expected it.”
“Want to clue me in?” Will asked. “I didn’t plan that at all. It wasn’t a trick.”
Emmy stopped pacing and planted her hands on her hips. “Notyou. The book did this. I just know it. Motherfucker tried to pull a fast one, but I’ve got its number.”
“What exactly did the book do?”
“I fell down on top of you!”
His smile was slow and a little cocky. “Yeah, I noticed.”
“See? That’s exactly the point. This always happens in romances. Books, movies, whatever. Somehow gravity affects people differently, and two adults who should be perfectly competent at balancing on their own two feet fall all over each other. And then there’s the breathless gasps and the swooning as they realize they are basically in the missionary position but with clothes on. Then they start thinking ‘Hey, we could do this with our clothesoff,’ but they don’t because it’s only the second act and they can’t have sex until the third act even though they are both consenting adults.”
He wished she could see herself, hair flying around her face in the wind, fists clenched as if she could punch the romance away. He had never met anyone like her. Probably because he’d never met anyone from the real world. Still, she’d hit his thought process pretty much spot on. How could he not think about getting her clothes off when she was nestled against him? He was only human. Rising slowly,Will approached her. He saw the wariness in her gaze as he moved into her space. Her breath shuddered out when he reached up to run his fingers over the side of her face.
“And did you?” he asked quietly, his eyes searching hers.
“Did I what?”
“Start thinking about doing that with our clothes off?”
She turned her head until his hand no longer touched her face. “That’s not the point,” she huffed.
Will bent enough to intrude on her eye line again. “I’m curious. Come on, Em, I won’t hold you to it.” When she remained silent, he decided to wait her out. Finally, she sighed and looked back up at him. It was easy enough to read the turmoil and the desire in her eyes. He nodded, cutting her off before she could formulate words. “I won’t hold you to it,” he repeated quietly. “But I want to make sure we’re, no pun intended, on even ground here. I want you to know I think about you that way.”
“We can’t.” She said it like a plea, though she could no longer remember why they couldn’t. Why they shouldn’t. Any argument she thought of sounded weak, even in her own head.
“We can. We’re both consenting adults, after all,” he said, using her earlier words. His expression was somber, sincere. “I know what I feel for you, Emmy. I think you feel something, too.” Emmy almost gave in at his words, but he stepped back. “I won’t pressure you.” He smiled a little, ran a finger slowly down the side of her face. “But think about it. Think about me.”
How could she not? Just that one touch had left her skin tingling.
That was another problem. Who was to say she felt anything real for Will at all? Maybe it was the very air inside the romance novel that made her see him in that light.
And that argument was as weak as all the others she’d tried to come up with. She either believed in his realness or she didn’t. She couldn’t simultaneously believe in his validity as a personandthat her feelings for him were manufactured. It was tempting to take that escape route, but she couldn’t stomach it. Her feelings for him were as real as the man himself. But she was adult enough to deny herself what she wanted in order to find what she needed.
Will stopped after unlocking the door to pick up a nondescript plastic grocery bag that was weighed down with clinking bottles. Emmy felt a sense of trepidation overtake her, effectively wiping out her thoughts of intimacy, as they went into the house. He’d hit the liquor store before coming home? She knew the last few days had been rough for him. There were shadows under his eyes, and sometimes when he walked in the door, he had this expression on his face that made her gut clench. Grim. Defeated.
He went to the kitchen, set the bag down on the counter, and opened the fridge. He frowned as he noted the vegetables.
“Where’d these come from?”
Once again, her train of thought shifted. “Oh, some farmer named Paul came by to drop them off. He said this is a regular occurrence. It is, right?”
“Yeah, it is. I should’ve warned you about that.” Will looked over at her, still frowning a little. “He didn’t come on to you, did he?”
Emmy decided not to tell him how vulnerable and uneasy she’d felt. He didn’t need her adding to his mental load. “A little bit. But he left without proposing to me, so I think we’re good.”
“Okay.” He turned back to the fridge, stared at the produce.
Emmy held back a laugh. “Just rearrange them. You know you want to.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. They’re fine.”
“Will.” Emmy smiled indulgently. “I tried my best, but it’s your fridge, not mine. I won’t be offended if you move things around.”
