“Thanks, man.” He started to climb into his truck, then stopped. “Look, I know this is funny to you guys but don’t forget it’s not a joke to Emma and Cat. If we blow this, her grandmother’s going to be really upset.”
Joe grinned and slapped the side of the truck. “Come on, cousin. You know we’ve always got your back.”
“Yeah, that’s where you usually stick the Kick Me sign.” His cousin was still laughing when he backed out of the driveway.
“I never would have guessed something with orange juice and soy sauce in it could taste so good,” Emma said, leaning back in the lawn chair with a sigh. They’d demolished Gram’s honey-ginger grilled salmon in record time and she had no desire to move.
“I’ll write the recipe down for you.”
“I’ll just screw it up anyway.”
Gram laughed. “All you do is mix the ingredients together, pour it in a bag with the salmon and half an hour later, give it to Sean to throw on the grill. He cooked the salmon to perfection tonight.”
Of course he did. As he’d told her earlier, she had nothing to worry about because the Y chromosome came with an innate ability to master the barbeque grill.
“The salad was good, too,” Sean said.
“Thanks,” Emma muttered. “Even I can’t screw up shredding lettuce.”
The man looked incredibly relaxed for somebody who’d been raked over the coals by his aunt and was now relaxing with two women he barely knew. She, on the other hand, felt like she was detoxing. Jumpy. Twitching. A trickle of sweat at the small of her back.
Sean stood and started gathering dishes, but held out a hand when Emma started to get up. “You ladies sit and visit. I’ll take care of the clean-up.”
Once he was inside, Gram smiled and raised her eyebrows. “He does dishes, too? No wonder you snapped him up.”
It was tempting to point out a few of his less-attractive traits, like the fact he was a sexist baboon who wouldn’t let her drive. But he was doing a good job of convincing Gram he was Emma’s Prince Charming, which was the whole point, so she bit back her annoyance with the Saint Sean routine. “He’s a keeper.”
“Something’s bothering you. Tell me what it is and you’ll feel better.”
Emma really doubted that. She made a conscious effort to relax her face. “It’s nothing, really. Work stuff.”
“Really, Emma, I won’t be bothered if you and Sean have to work tomorrow. I understand you’re very busy. And I’m proud of the fact your business is doing so well.”
“It is going well.” Emma gave her grandmother a genuine smile. “The summer people love to show off my work and then all the other summer people just have to have me, too.”
“That’s wonderful, dear.” Gram took a sip of her iced tea, then set the glass on the patio table. “But I want to hear more about Sean.”
“Um…like what?” She knew he didn’t like broccoli or peas.
“Oh, I don’t know. How does he like working for you? Since you’re the owner, will he be a stay-at-home dad once you have children?”
Emma was pretty sure Sean’s ideal wife would be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen with a baby on one hip and a laundry basket on the other, but she didn’t say so. “Him working for me isn’t really long-term. He’s just not sure what he wants to do yet. And we’ll figure out the baby thing when the time comes.”
In other words, she had no clue, but she hoped Gram wouldn’t figure that out. Maybe if she was vague enough, whatever Sean would say about the subject wouldn’t contradict her. She sipped at her iced tea and concentrated on not looking stressed out.
Gram reached over and touched her hand. “Are you happy?”
And there it was—the million-dollar question. Everything she and Sean were going through was meant to convince Gram the answer to that question was a resounding yes.
“I’m happy, Gram. I really am. My company’s thriving and I…have Sean. And, even though I miss you, I love knowing you’re having a great time in Florida with your friends.”
“You should see us down there. That warm sunshine does wonders for the body and we feel ten years younger, at least. You should see Martha line dance! That woman can shake and shimmy like a twenty-year-old.”
Emma laughed, trying very hard not to visualize Martha—who could only be described as stout—shaking and shimmying. “I loved the pictures of you swimming with the dolphins.”
“That was amazing! You wouldn’t believe how friendly they are.” And, as Gram started telling her the story, Emma felt the tension easing out of her body.
At some point Sean joined them, bringing a fresh pitcher of iced tea with him, and they sat on the deck listening to Gram talk about frolicking in sunny Florida until long after the sun had set. And then, once Gram had gone up to bed, Emma and Sean faced each other across the patio table.
“I like Cat,” he said, once her grandmother was safely out of earshot. “This isn’t quite as hard as I thought it would be.”
“It’s going better than I thought,” she agreed. “I’m still having a hard time believing it might actually work.”