Page 85 of All Tied Down

THEO: I’m a habanero

THEO: Now what do you need…

33

GARRETT

Today has been awesome, the high from making music still coursing through my veins after saying goodbye to Lachlan and Maverick. We’d still be playing if Maverick didn’t have to go pick up his daughter, but it feels good to be back in the game. For so long, we’d been going through the motions but now—now it feels like I’m finally myself again.

I’m nearly to the kitchen when I stop in my tracks, finding Emerson in leggings and a sweatshirt making popcorn, and suddenly my good mood is at risk of taking a nosedive.

“Hey,” I call over the humming of the microwave, “did something happen with the paparazzi?” I know she’s home—here—early because we’d been diligently watching the clock for Mav.

“Are you busy?” she asks, an odd tone to the question, her smile not as bright as it usually is.

“No, I just finished up with the guys. You’re back early.” I try to keep my temper in check as she skips over my question. “Emerson, did something happen?”

“No. They were just there. All day. And I was worried.”

“About what?”

“About you! I was worried something happened to you and that’s why they were camped out. No one cares about me unless there’s something wild happening, but you smile the wrong way and it’s a news story!”

“Emerson—”

“No,” she says, holding her hands up, “I need a second. I was worried and you don’t understand how much that messed with me.”

My heart stutters in my chest, the feeling like the slow roll when you and your crush make eye contact across the room and then they blush and look down but you catch the tiniest smile.

It’s that because Emerson Andrews was worried about me.

Because she cares.

I’ve always known she likes me—kind of hard not to when our chemistry is off the charts. But this is different than just liking someone because you get along in and out of the bedroom.

No, she has feelings for me.

Actual feelings.

Her head dips as the microwave beeps and she pulls out the bag, the steam rising from the top as she pulls it open. “When I was little, my dad used to set up these outside movie nights.” She lifts one delicate shoulder and lets it drop. “I’ve been in a mood and thought a little nostalgia might help. Do you want to join me?”

My heart is at risk of hammering right out of my chest at the way she asks the question—shy and a little unsure and so fucking adorable.

But I have to play it cool because if I don’t, I’ll spook her.

“I would love to,” I say casually, looking down at my clothes with a small smile. “Is this all right or should I change?”

“Whatever you’re comfortable in.”

I’m most comfortable when I’m in you.

Normally, I wouldn’t hesitate to make the joke, but now doesn’t feel like the time.

“Do you need me to bring anything?”

“Just the drinks on the counter.” She motions at two glass bottles of soda, and I pick them up.

“Were you counting on me saying yes?”