Finally, Luca sighed.
“Here’s the thing.” From Emerson’s periphery, he saw Luca look away from him to stare out the window. “I know I should just let this go, but I’m having a hard time—” He wrapped his fingers around his mouth before dropping his arm back to the couch. “I know you want to forget it. I knowIshould be able to forget it, because I really want to keep this job. Except—you kissed me like you meant it, Emerson.”
Emerson took an unsteady breath, his heartbeat off-kilter in his chest.
Lie, his brain told him.
His mouth did not listen at all.
“I mean. I did. Mean it. But?—”
Any other words his mouth might have had in store cut off in his throat, his brain taking the reins once more. He knew this wasn’t a typical employment situation; Luca wasn’t collecting a paycheck from him. But he was still under Emerson’s care. The power dynamics still didn’t feel right. Emersonwas Daisy’s dad, the owner of this farm. He needed to give every day as much focus as he possibly could in order to give this place a chance of survival.
He needed to shut this down now. But he sensed Luca had more to say. And the animal part of himself, the part of his bloodstream that was still, somehow, running hot twenty-four hours after that kiss, wanted to hear it.
Luca’s fingertips tapped the arm of the couch.
“I’m going to offer an observation,” he said. Emerson tensed.
“Okay.”
“I don’t think this farm is as much of a mess as you think it is.”
Emerson frowned. That wasn’t?—
“Yes, the old barn is a problem, in terms of the wedding. I’m glad my mom is helping out. She likes the opportunity to fix things, and she’ll do a good job. I know the rest of it is a lot of work. My body can attest to that now. But mostly—mostly, Emerson, I think you’re kicking ass here.”
This song and dance again. Luca wouldn’t fucking give it up. But he hadn’t actually seen Emerson’s spreadsheets. He’d barely been here aweek. He had no idea what he was talking about.
“What I think youactuallyneed help with, and I say this with respect,” Luca continued, the words coming more slowly, “is chilling the hell out.”
Emerson went still.
“What?”
Luca sat up. Shuffled until he was facing Emerson, one knee bent on the couch between them.
“You need help relaxing. You’re bearing too much on your own here, running this whole place by yourself, being a dad to Daisy at the same time that you’re working twelve hour days. I think the stress of the wedding has just pushed you past yourmental breaking point. Like, even though I know youcanhandle it, that the wedding will go fine, that the farm is a piece of art, your brain isn’t letting you see that.”
Emerson still couldn’t look at him. He stared straight ahead at the TV, not comprehending what was happening in the game at all.
“And?” he eventually asked.
“And,” Luca replied, “I have a proposition.”
When the silence stretched, Emerson finally turned his head, apprehension raising every hair on his body.
“A proposition.”
Luca swallowed, a hint of nerves entering his face.
“Yeah. That I could…help you with that.”
“With?”
“Relaxing.”
Emerson stared at him, waiting for him to explain more. Luca gestured between them. “I could help you,” he said again. “Relax.”
