“He’ll be down in a few minutes.” Figuring it was something a domesticated woman would do, she fixed him a cup of coffee along with her own. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble for us.”
“Don’t think I didn’t see the boxes of doughnuts and instant oatmeal in the pantry. And cooking for one isn’t any fun.”
Emma didn’t think cooking for any amount of people was fun, but she wasn’t going to turn down a homemade breakfast. “I was able to rearrange a few things to get a couple of days off, but Wednesday I have a job I have to do. And Sean, of course.”
“I knew you’d be busy this time of year, so I wasn’t expecting you to keep me company every minute. I’ll probably go into town and see some old friends.”
Emma smiled, but a slight tremor racked her insides. The nearest town, where they’d always gone and Emma had gone to school, wasn’t a small town, but it wasn’t big, either. Knowing Gram was probably in contact with old friends, she’d been pretending she was engaged there, too. Her own friends knew the truth, but anybody in Gram’s circle was convinced Emma was engaged, even though they’d never met the lucky fellow.
It had been a careful balancing act. Sean tended to travel to the town where his family lived so he could visit them at the same, she told people. And sometimes they’d just missed him. Or he’d gone back to Maine for a visit but work had kept her from accompanying him.
Hopefully all her groundwork wouldn’t crumble under Gram’s scrutiny.
“Something smells good,” Sean said as he walked into the kitchen. And like any good fiancé, he slid an arm around Emma’s waist and leaned in for a quick morning kiss, smelling of shampoo and shaving cream and toothpaste.
It was over almost before she registered his intention, but she managed not to jump back like…how had he put it? A virgin at a frat party?
“You’re in for a treat,” she said in a surprisingly normal voice. “Gram’s scrambled eggs are to die for.”
“So what’s the plan for today?” Gram asked while dishing up the eggs and bacon.
“Whatever you want to do.” Emma handed Sean his coffee cup.
“We should go buy a new grill,” Gram said. “And I’ll see if there’s any decent salmon to be had.”
Emma nodded. At least grill shopping meant going to the city rather than in to town. One step at a time. One day at a time. That’s how they’d get through the month.
And, God help her, one kiss at a time.
Chapter Six
Sean got the summons he’d been dreading in the form of a voice mail left on his cell phone while they were struggling to get the new grill out of the back of the truck.
“Sean, it’s Aunt Mary.” As if any other woman in his life ever used that tone of voice with him. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I want to see you. Today. Alone. Don’t make me come looking for you, young man.”
Yeah, he was in trouble. And it was own damn fault because he should have known his cousins couldn’t keep their mouths shut. They never had. Especially Mikey. He was always the rat growing up.
He gave Emma and Cat a song and dance about promising his uncle he’d give him a hand changing the oil in his riding lawnmower and made the drive over like a criminal being marched into the courtroom to face the judge. This judge, though, would whack the shit out of him with kitchen utensils if she didn’t like his answers.
He was already exhausted and a confrontation with his aunt was the last thing he wanted. The clock on Emma’s bedside table had read one in the morning when a sound had penetrated his sleep. A sleepy, sexy and definitely feminine moan wasn’t a bad thing to wake up to, except when the female was sleeping on a couch across the room. Alone.
She’d quieted after that single sound, but his body sure as hell hadn’t. As a result, he’d drifted in and out of a tortured sleep and woken up on the wrong side of the bed.
Aunt Mary was in the kitchen—as usual—when he arrived and right after pointing him in that direction, Uncle Leo disappeared into his den and closed the door. Chicken.
She started in on him the second he crossed the threshold from the living room. “I was wrong about you all these years. I always thought you were a smart boy, but you don’t have the brains God gave a jackass.”
“Aunt Mary, I—”
“Don’t you Aunt Mary me, Sean Michael Kowalski. I should go get my wooden spoon and thunk some sense into that thick head of yours.”
Sean sighed and tried to school his expression into something closer to contrition than belligerence. Not that she wouldn’t see through it, but he made the effort regardless. “I’m just helping her out for a few weeks so that—”
“Helping her lie to her grandmother, you mean.”
“I know it sounds bad, but—”
“Because you were raised better than that.”
He’d known this wouldn’t be easy, but he’d been hoping to at least finish a sentence or two. “Can I talk? Please?”