Chapter Twenty-Two
Asher
I looked over at Emma at the pub that night. She was chatting happily with Cassie. For an introvert, she was doing a great job making friends with Cassie.
And right now, I wanted to spend some time alone with Emma. We’d shared a few kisses, but it hadn’t gone much further than that. I wanted more.
As if she knew I was thinking about her, Emma turned her head and stared at me. Her eyes went wide for a moment. What did she see? Did my expression give me away? I didn’t think so.
“Maybe it’s time to get a room for you two,” Marcus whispered in my ear.
I turned to look at him. “That obvious?” Hell, I was usually better at keeping my thoughts off my face.
“A little, but she’s looking at you with eyes that want to eat you up, so I would say it’s mutual.”
I digested Marcus’s words, then looked over at Emma. She was staring at me. Oh yes, there was hunger in her eyes. I cleared my throat.
Marcus chuckled and stood. “Honey, it’s time for us to go home,” he said.
“Of course.” The women stood and embraced.
I stood up. “We should probably go as well.” I’d been very careful tonight to only have one beer. I wasn’t about to repeat what happened a last week.
As a group, we walked back to the parking garage. Marcus and Cassie went on their way, and I walked Emma to her vehicle. “I’ll see you tomorrow at six-fifteen.” I held the door open for her.
“Yes.” As I was shutting the door, I noticed a white garment bag lying on her back seat.
“Buy something new?” I asked after she rolled down her window. Her cheeks turned pink.
“I didn’t have anything for the event tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait to see you in it.” I brushed a kiss over her lips, then walked to my vehicle. I waited until I saw her pull out before I started my car. Too many things could happen.
I pulled up one of my smooth jazz playlists for the drive home. Traffic was light, and I was enjoying the music and the drive.
Until my cell rang.
I answered, using handsfree. “Hello?”
“Asher, finally.” My mother’s voice was loud and clear. Her emphasis on ‘finally’ grabbed my attention.
“Mom, is something wrong?”
“Oh, no, dear. Everything is fine. You never called me back.”
The relief was immediate. But messages? “You left me a message?” I hadn’t seen any calls, voicemails or texts on my cell. Had there been any, I would’ve responded right away or as soon as convenient.
“At work.”
“Mom, how many times have I told you to call my cell or text me.” I couldn’t help the flash of frustration in my tone.
“I know, but I forgot. I wanted to remind you that your dad’s sixtieth birthday is coming up.”
“That’s not until fall.”
“True, but I wanted you to put in vacation now. I know you; you’ll forget or swear that company you work for can’t afford to let you leave for a week.”
She wasn’t wrong. “I’ve already scheduled the time off.” Taking vacation time was almost unheard of for me – even in the face of the company’s work-life philosophy. My work is my life.
“Oh, good. Will you be bringing a friend or maybe someone special?”
I shook my head and chuckled. She always asked me if there was someone special in my life. I was tempted to talk to her about Emma. “Maybe.”
“Tell me about her. It is a her?”
I laughed. “Yes, Mom, she’s a her. Her name is Emma, and we’re working together.”
“Another person in tech. Well, at least you can talk about whatever it is you do.”
It still amazed me that Mom has never understood about my career. Even so, she’s supported me doing what made me happy. “Yes. It’s a pretty new situation.”
“Don’t let that ex get into your head. She was never right for you.” I could picture her mother knows best expression. I’d seen it often enough as a kid.
I rolled my eyes, but I wasn’t surprised at her advice. Mom never liked Tiffany. I always thought it was funny how she had a sixth sense about things like this. “I know, Mom. Emma is the total opposite.”
“Tell me how she’s different.”
I paused. How was Emma different? “She doesn’t chatter at me all the time, doesn’t demand that I take her out, or spend money like I’m a bank or a mint.
She doesn’t get upset if I have to work late now and again.
” Although I hadn’t worked late as often since Emma arrived, and honestly, if we had to stay late, we never went over an hour or two every week.
“A woman who can take care of herself.” I could tell by her tone she was analyzing every word I said.
“Yes. She’s beautiful, Mom. Intelligent eyes, curvy figure, doesn’t feel the need to be in the latest fashions, and smells like honeysuckle.”
Mom’s laughter filled my vehicle. “I’ve never heard you wax so poetically about a woman.”
“Like I told you, Mom, Emma’s different.” As I was telling Mom about her, I was beginning to realize how unique Emma really is. “I’m taking her to some event her parents want her to be at tomorrow.”
“Who are her parents?”
“Roger and Victoria Palmer. The family owns a big tech company in California.”
“And she working with you in Washington? Why?”
After everything Emma’d told me about her family, I had no problem answering that question. “Probably because she wanted to make it on her own.”
“Makes sense.”
I pulled into my driveway and tapped the remote to open the garage. “I’m home, Mom. Is there anything else?”
“No, dear. Keep a hold of this young lady. She sounds interesting. Bye.”
The call ended, and all I could do was shake my head. Some people would’ve probably thought Mom was nosey, but I knew her questions were motivated by love. I sat in the car after the garage door came down.
I wondered how Emma would feel about my family. Mom’s a traditional homemaker who’d never wanted to work outside the home. My dad is a retired engineer.
My brother’s a doctor who enjoys working in the emergency room—something about organized chaos and no boredom, and my sister’s a lawyer, a public defender in the AG’s office for the Western District of Washington—lives the principle of fair and impartial justice.
Mom and Dad supported all three of us doing what we wanted and never held us back.
Maybe that was why I had a hard time understanding Emma’s parents.
Were they completely blind to what an amazing woman their daughter is?
I was going to let my gut make the final call, but I was steadfast in one decision: I would have Emma’s back tomorrow night, no matter what
Once inside, I took a quick shower and then went through my closet.
Luckily, I still had a tux. I took it out of the garment bag and laid it on the bed.
I checked it over, replaced it in the bag, and hung it up in the doorway.
Didn’t even need to be pressed. Digging back into the closet, I finally found the black dress shoes and opened the box.
They were in perfect condition; a quick brush up and they’d look brand new.
Gold monogramed cufflinks (thanks again, Mom) and studs for the shirt, yep, right where I always kept them, the box now all the way in the back of the drawer. No surprise.
When was the last time I really dressed up? It had been a while. And I didn’t miss it one bit. But for Emma, yeah, I’d do the penguin suit. I wondered about the garment bag in her back seat. What kind of dress had she bought?
Is that why she took a long lunch? Dress shopping? I couldn’t picture Emma in anything too revealing, that wasn’t her, but the chance to see her in formal evening clothes was too good to pass up. I would have to wait until tomorrow.
I’d done some preliminary research on the occasion and the venue after she showed me the invitation, so I knew what we were getting into.
I also did some research into her family.
Not something I would normally do, but after everything Emma told me about her parents and how they’d used her and her sisters as props to give the impression of ‘the perfect family’, I wanted to know more.
I stood in front of the full length mirror on the closet door and thought through what I’d found out.
The Palmers didn’t run with ‘regular’ people. They hung out with what I called the MGZB crowd. Yeah, that crowd. Along with well known, very well healed Wall Street types, and the cream of the business and technology fields.
The internet revealed everything, some of it unforgiving. I found pictures of a teenage Emma looking uncomfortable in clothes that didn’t fit her. In several family shots, she was leaning away from her family. My heart broke for her.
My rumbling stomach snapped me out of my musings. I’d only had an appetizer at the pub, so I made my way downstairs and called for pizza.
It was time to relax and plan. I wanted to make damn sure Emma had a good time.