Page 2 of The Emma Special

Emma smiled and turned to show off the back of her costume. “Is it the wings? They’re not real. I promise.” She wiggled out of the elastic loops around her shoulders and folded the green shimmering things in front of her. “See? I’m a normal human.”

The man scratched the back of his head and averted his eyes. “Um. So. You’re… walking?”

“Not anymore!” Emma limped around to the passenger side of the vehicle and rapped her knuckles softly against the window. “Knock. Knock.”

The lock clicked, and she slid into the sleek car.

Sinking into the leather seat, she whistled. “This is fancy.”

When silence greeted her observation, she turned to her new driver. He was even cuter up close, and he had the whole brooding thing down to an art. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Emma Glass. What’s your number? I mean—name. What’s your name?”

Fiddlesticks. Her brain was working faster than her mouth again. Did she want his number? Yes. Was it polite to lead with that? No.

The stiff man engulfing way too much of his side of the car tentatively reached out his hand. “James Moore. I guess I’m giving you a ride?”

Right. She’d bulldozed her way into his car. Now was the time to ask politely. She shook his large hand. “Will you please drop me at Brews and Books? I’m supposed to meet some friends there at…” She glanced at the clock on the dash. What kind of hoity-toity car had a legit analog clock? “Um, five minutes ago.”

“Bruisin’ Books?”

“Brews. And. Books. That coffee place with the used books in the back with the old couches that smell like a bunch of grandmas—nevermind. It’s a place where I hang out with my friends. The people are nice and the coffee is amazing.”

Her attractive chauffeur for the afternoon shifted into gear and cleared his throat. “It’s on Third Street, correct?”

“I don’t know. It’s on the corner next to The Pink Cone and The Busy Bee Hive.”

James gave her a single nod before focusing his attention on the road. “Third Street.”

If he wasn’t looking at her, she could steal a glimpse of his defined jaw. Mm-hhhm. This here was the walking example. Look up “chiseled jaw” in the dictionary and it would say: Noun. The lower half of Mr. Moore’s face. So fine of a shape that sculptors chisel it into rock when given half a chance. She should stop staring. Wait. He looked familiar, but… No. She would remember this guy. He wasn’t a face a woman would forget. “Do I know you?”

James glanced at her, but only for a second. In that heart-stopping moment, she could have sworn he gave her the unfiltered Flynn Rider smolder. “No, I don’t believe you do.”

“Well, are you from around here? I grew up in Primrose Valley. You’re, what, twenty-eight? Twenty-nine? You can’t be much older than me. When did you graduate?”

“I think that’s something I’ll keep to myself considering you just got into a stranger’s car.”

Emma gasped. “You didn’t say no!”

“It’s a little appalling that you were so quick to take a ride from someone you don’t know.”

“But you even pushed the little unlocker thingy button.” Emma mimed the motion. “What else did that mean?”

“Next time, please call a friend for a ride. I would hate for someone to take advantage of an…” He gave her another one of those smoldering side glances. “Innocent pixie like you.”

Well, that was one way to make her face heat up with the fire of a thousand burning suns. “I know most everyone in this town⁠—”

“You don’t know me,” James pointed out.

“I do now, James Moore. Hi. Nice to meet ya.” She rubbed her aching knee, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. “I really needed a ride, so thank you for being kind enough to stop.”

James pulled the car parallel to the sidewalk beside Brews and Books. “You’re welcome.”

Emma reached for the handle but turned to James with a wide smile. This time, he turned himself toward her and graced her with the full power of his fine features.

“And thanks for not being a murderer,” she added.

His expression didn’t change, but his gaze traveled along her sparkly green costume and back up again. “You’re welcome.”

She had to get out now, but prying herself away from the gorgeous stranger was tougher than peeling an excited kid off her leg after a princess party.