The Perfect Homecoming (Pine River #3)

“Just tell him you don’t have it,” Madeline said. “You don’t have to be such a . . .” Her voice trailed away and she averted her gaze.

“A bitch,” Emma finished for her. She couldn’t help but laugh a little at Madeline’s guilty look. “Don’t worry, it’s not the first time I’ve been called that.” She smiled wryly at the absurdity of everything—who would ever understand how difficult it was for her to be the sort of woman who always said the right thing? The kind of woman who instantly knew how to put everyone at ease? Emma had never grasped the softer side of her personality—if it even existed—even on those few occasions she’d really tried.

She was suddenly reminded of herself at fifteen, trying so hard to fit in when Laura had friends over for a sleepover. Laura had always included Emma, even when it was clear her friends didn’t want Emma to be included. On one of those nights, they’d played a silly game, a loves-me, loves-me-not sort of game. When it was Brenda Kingsley’s turn, she wanted reassurance from the others that she was cute enough, popular enough, for Jose Pachecho. To Emma, it had been a ridiculous question. In the rigid and cruel class system of high school society, of which they’d all been citizens, there was no moment when Brenda would be cute or cool enough for Jose Pachecho. Emma could see by the expressions on the other girls they were all thinking the same thing. No, she’d said to Brenda. You will never be good enough for Jose.

She hadn’t said it flatly, or without some regard for Brenda’s feelings. Honestly, Emma thought she’d said it as kindly as it could be said. Not so, Laura told her later. You don’t tell someone like Brenda that she’s not good enough! The girls hated her for being so mean, Laura said. Emma had tried to argue that they were all thinking the same thing, and maybe Brenda needed to hear the truth.

Laura had looked at her as if she were crazy. Of course they were thinking the same thing, Laura had said. But they would never say it.

“I don’t know if I can pretend not to be a bitch,” Emma said now, shaking off that ancient memory. “I’ll try, but I think that horse has left the barn.”

“I’m sorry,” Madeline said, looking stung. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t care.”

What Emma had meant to convey was that she wasn’t easily wounded, but of course, Madeline didn’t take it that way. “You never care. You’re so damn hard to deal with sometimes, you know that?” she said, the injured party now, and walked out of the dining room.

“Yes,” Emma muttered. “I know.” A curl of shame wrapped around her heart, and she stared down at the box of silverware without really seeing it. How did anyone become something different than what they were at their core? It was hard as hell to live in this skin. Nothing but brass tacks coming out of that mouth.

The sound of laughter from the kitchen reminded Emma of her task; she finished setting the table.

When Madeline announced dinner was served, they all trooped into the dining room and took their seats. Somehow, whether by conspiracy or sheer dumb luck, Emma was seated directly across from Cooper. There would be no avoiding his intent gaze now. There would definitely be no forgetting that kiss now. Or the way he’d put her back on her heels. With him sitting across from her, his chin and cheeks shadowed by a beard, his hair finger-combed, there was no possible way Emma could avoid the lust and distrust and insecurity and interest that was beginning to leak into her belly in a confusingly sweet-and-sour mix.

As the salad was passed around, Luke regaled them with all the places he’d taken Cooper today. Which, to Emma, sounded like a big canyon where they’d climbed some rocks. That was the last thing she would do on a day like this.

“You should try it,” Cooper said, and Emma realized he was talking to her.

She glanced around them to be doubly sure. “Try what? Trespassing into closed national forests?”

“Luke!” Libby said, glancing nervously at Sam. “You didn’t take him up there to do that, did you? Those roads are closed.”

“Yeah,” Luke said with a wave of his hand, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Maybe we crossed a boundary or two. You have to break a rule every now and then.”

“Please don’t suggest that to her,” Sam said, pointing to Libby, and settled back, draping his arm across the back of Libby’s chair. “We finally convinced her not to break rules, remember?”

“Point taken,” Luke said to Sam, and smiled fondly at Libby.

Sam was referring to Libby’s infamous meltdown last summer. Libby had lost it over a bad breakup and then would not obey a restraining order to stay away from her ex-douchebag’s children, to whom she’d become very close. Which, in that way these things had of working themselves out, was how she’d come to be with Sam. As a deputy sheriff, Sam had enforced the restraining order.

“I meant canyoneering,” Cooper said to Emma. “Climbing rocks. Sliding down waterfalls. It’s fun.”