Page 119 of The Emma Special

Emma Is Toast

The room came into focus. Emma closed her eyes and blinked them open again. This wasn’t her room.

She fisted her hand in the blanket and raised it. These blankets didn’t belong on her bed. This was James’s quilt.

Emma froze, staring across his room to his open closet. His tux from last night hung on the back of his door, neatly put back together on the hanger.

Why was she in his bed?

Slowly she rolled toward the center of the mattress and startled at the whole person sharing her bed.

No. His bed.

James lay on his side, eyes open, watching her. “Morning, sunshine,” he said.

“I sleepwalk!” The words burst from her mouth in a yell, and she clamped her hands over her mouth.

“Ah, that explains your advances last night.”

“I did not advance on you!”

He leaned in and whispered, “You slid into my bed as if you were my wife. I would say we advanced to the next level.” His lips curved in a playful half-smile.

“No, no, no. We’re still on level one. We haven’t even made it to second base yet.”

The bed vibrated with his low chuckle. “Remind me what the bases are again? It’s been a while since I was in high school.”

When she didn’t answer, he shrugged. “Maybe I should play more baseball. You interested?”

“Speaking of baseball, I’ll be sticking a red sock in your laundry today.” She was at a disadvantage here, and he was taking full advantage of the quirky side effect of Summer’s cure-all potion.

“Pink is good. I’m secure enough in my manhood to wear any color I want.”

She flung the blanket back. “Just go to work.”

“It’s Saturday. I’m not going to work.” His face relaxed. “Oh, did I tell you? Last Sunday was my last week in the tech booth, so I can join you at your church tomorrow.”

Emma blinked through the shock at his admission. “Oh.”

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you want to come to my church instead? Mom would like that.”

They’d gone back and forth over the church debate over the last few weeks. Now, things were happening!

“Whatever you want,” she quipped.

“No, what do you want? We’re both allowed to have preferences.”

“My preference is whatever you want.”

He frowned. “Whatever I want? I don’t like that. What if you’re not happy with something simple, and we could have just talked about it?”

“Okay. What do you want for breakfast? I’ll go make it now.” Emma slid out from under the covers. She wasn’t even wearing pants! Without waiting for an answer, she left his room and ran down the hallway to her own bedroom.

The cheery room welcomed her yet immediately left her empty. This was the room of a single woman, not a wife. “What is wrong with me?” Emma whispered as she slid her back down the wall and fell sideways onto the carpet.