Page 22 of The Emma Special

James stuck his hand out for a shake. “Thanks, man. I trust you’ll use that power for good.”

The kid shook James’s hand. “I do. Mostly.”

James hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to see if the princess is ready.”

“Okay. Bye.” The kid turned his bike around and rode back toward the house.

James got back in the car, careful not to look toward the back seat. “The coast is clear, m’lady.”

“Thanks. I didn’t want to destroy that kid’s innocence today. Jamesy Boy, you’re always saving me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

A chuckle bubbled out of James’s chest. “My life was so boring before you.”

“I bet you never had to cover for Florence to sneak off to a party.”

James shook his head. “You’re sneaking off to an elementary birthday party. I don’t think you’ll be getting a black mark on your record for this one.”

Emma leaned between the seats. “Can you zip the back?”

The poof of fabric that ballooned over her shoulders brushed against his ear. She’d twisted her hair into a floofy bun and added a dainty crown. “You know, we could totally do this together sometime. You’d make a great Prince Charming.” She turned her back toward him.

“Nah.” James grabbed the tiny zipper and pulled it to her nape. “You’re the star of the show. I’ll just be the driver. Do you have someone to pick you up?”

“Katie’s coming to get me. Thanks again for the ride.”

“You have my cell number, right? Call me if you ever need me to pick you up somewhere. Please don’t walk alone.”

Emma cleared her throat and averted her gaze. “Thanks for the offer.”

James shifted into gear. “Ready for your grand entrance?”

“Yeah. Just need to slip my shoes on.”

He stopped the car next to the porch, and Emma stepped out holding her skirt up with one hand and waving goodbye with the other in full princess persona. She skipped up the steps and knocked on the door.

It was a perfect image of Emma bounding in and out of his days, spreading joy and laughter wherever she went.

Chapter 7

Emma Does Important Work

Limping back from the boardroom, Emma slowed to cast a glance into James’s office. He had the phone hitched to his ear and was deep in what she’d learned was his problem-solving mode.

“I’ve already deposed her doctor, and I produced the transcript.” James scribbled on a notepad then swiveled to type on his keyboard. “You had the opportunity to participate in the depo, and you chose not to. Do you think he’ll be thrilled when he has to cancel appointments because you didn’t do your job when you should have?”

She lived for these opportunities at work. After taking a moment to appreciate James in his element—bringing justice to the world, one case at a time—she eased into his office. She shouldn’t mess with him again. She really shouldn’t, but these tiny games were a drop of happiness while waiting for another paycheck.

James watched Emma enter his office but didn’t halt his conversation. His continued gaze tracked her as she walked to his desk drawer and took out the stapler. Testing him, she stapled one of his business cards and slid it into his shirt pocket. Yep, not a single reaction. She could probably do an Irish jig and he wouldn’t break character.

“It’s in the transcript.” He scrolled through the office network, then opened a new tab to compose an email. “I’m sending it over. Again. The judge won’t be able to ignore the facts, Bill.”

Emma stole a sheet of stationary and folded it into an origami frog. She propped it on the top of his monitor then walked around to James’s other side and handed him the stapler. When he took it from her without even a questioning glance, she whispered, “Let the games begin.”

Without rush, Emma picked up one item after another—anything that wasn’t nailed down—and offered it to him. He put the stapler in his lap to take his empty coffee mug from her.

He placed the mug next to his keyboard to take the bobby pin she found in her pocket. He dropped it into the mug when she offered him the glass orb she found on his bookshelf.

“I agree, if Franklin won’t back down then—” James glanced at his other hand that held Emma’s navy blue leather pump. “—then I’ll file a subpoena for the records. Franklin won’t be swayed by anything but hard facts.”