The Perfect Homecoming (Pine River #3)

Jill looked at Emma. “What toast, then?”


“You toasted yourself, remember?” Emma said. “You toasted yourself and unmarried women, and then talked about how you wanted to get married.” Emma did not add that the toast had turned into a long and tipsy rant about how awful men were in general and how badly Jill wanted one that she could actually marry. That clip was probably looping on Radar Online.

Jill’s smile froze at the reminder, and Cooper’s brows floated upward with surprise. “Is that right?” he drawled, looking at Jill.

Jill flashed a brief, forced smile. “Oh, I probably did,” she said dismissively. “Of course I’d like to be married someday. Wouldn’t everyone?” She stepped around Emma and Cooper. “Nice to see you again, Emma. Is there any fruit?”

“Yes,” Emma said. “Down at the end.”

Jill wandered off, her dress skintight, her legs long and lean in her heels.

Cooper shifted to stand beside Emma, leaned down, and said low, “I don’t think you were supposed to remember that.”

“Probably not,” Emma agreed with a slight shrug. “But it’s impossible to forget. The speech was long and kind of whiny.” She glanced up at Cooper.

He hesitated, as if he expected her to make a joke of it. When she didn’t, he chuckled. “You’re a firecracker, aren’t you? That’s no way to win friends and influence people, Emma Tyler.”

“I’ve heard that.”

He laughed again and, with a shake of his head, moved on.

This was the way it usually went for Emma. Socially awkward and tactless, as her parents had always said. Hard and flinty. That was a phrase from the novel Jane Eyre, which Emma had read in high school. She remembered how struck she’d been by those words when Jane used them to describe herself. It was as if Jane were describing Emma, and the phrase had stuck with her all these years.

Emma may have been hard and flinty all her life, but she’d never intended to hurt anyone. In her head, the things she said never sounded as people perceived them. Jill had surely known which toast Emma meant, and if she didn’t, how else was Emma to say it? When she tried to shade the truth, she sounded ridiculous—she had no feel for telling stories. Something was wrong with her in that regard.

Emma watched Cooper move down the buffet, admiring him. She could still recall the sight of Cooper in swim trunks, helping fat old men zip down to the beach. He’d been all rippling muscle and sweaty sheen, glorious to behold. But Emma . . . Emma had made a date with one of those fat old men, and she’d missed Cooper’s departure from the island.

Not that it mattered. She never went near him. Men like him—handsome, competent, sexy men—had the power to crush.

Cooper caught up to Jill, and they struck up a conversation over the shrimp before disappearing into the crowd.

Emma ate a piece of chicken, and the party wore on.

Some of the parents with young children began to leave. A few drunken young men took over the kiddie bowl and bouncy castle, a big no-no, and it took some doing by Paul to get them to leave. Emma decided to close down the kiddie lounge before more drunken teens or young adults attempted to commandeer the rented equipment. By the time they’d finished deflating, the karaoke was going strong in the adult lounge and the kids were swarming the photo booths, unable to get enough of themselves.

Emma sent Paul out of the kiddie lounge to check on Princess Brat. “I’ve got this,” she said, gesturing to what was left of the cleanup. There wasn’t much to do but pick up the pins and balls—someone would come tomorrow and take care of the rest. And the best part was that karaoke wasn’t so loud in this lounge. Emma could actually hear herself think.

She had gathered up an armful of Nerf bowling pins and was carrying them across the room when she heard the door open. “Kids’ lounge is closed,” she called out.

“Need some help?”

Emma glanced over her shoulder, startled to see Cooper. A smile spread her lips before she could even speak. “As a matter of fact, yes. Did you come to rescue me?”

“I did,” he said, and walked into the lounge and bent down to pick up a stray bowling ball. “Karaoke is definitely not my thing, so . . . I thought I’d wander around. Where is everyone?” he asked, gesturing to the room.

“Dispatched.” Emma nudged a box with her shoe, maneuvering it around until she had it in front of her, and knelt down to stack the pins inside.

Cooper grabbed some pins and squatted down beside her. “Is it just me, or do parties like this make you wonder why anyone thinks kids are a good idea?” he asked as he put the pins and bowling ball into the box.

Emma laughed. “The little ones are cute.”

“True.”

“But the teens? I’d like to tee them up and kick them right out of Beverly Hills.”