Chapter 9
“Go go go!” Emily cried out, her hand fisting in the air as they watched the receiver catch the ball, cradle it securely against his side, then pivot and run down the field. Emily’s exuberant voice mixed with Hendrix’s deeper one, as they cheered for the same team.
“Yes!” she yelled, jumping up from the sofa to do a little victory dance.
Hendrix chuckled and leaned back against the sofa cushions. He took a long sip of his beer, watching her with intense male admiration.
When she stopped dancing, there was a rosy glow to her cheeks and she looked…happy. Damn, she was so beautiful! And this was a side of her personality that he hadn’t known about. “I had no idea you were such a fan of football.”
Emily grinned, fisting her hands on her hips as she stared down at him. “I love college football, college basketball, and professional football. I’m not as big of a fan of professional basketball. It doesn’t seem as if they try as hard as the college boys.” She jerked her thumb towards the kitchen. “I’m no longer painfully full from dinner. Is it time for dessert yet?”
“Definitely,” he replied with a soft chuckle, then stuck his hand out.
Emily stared at the hand for a long moment, then she grinned and grabbed his hand.
The man was huge, with muscles rippling up and down his body, but Emily knew that a simple tug was more about leverage than strength. With a grin and a jerk, she pulled Hendrix off the sofa and…right into her arms.
For a long moment, Emily and Hendrix stood there, neither moving. She could feel the heat of his body and his soft breath caress her cheek as he exhaled. She could feel the roughness of his jeans against her thighs and…!
Then he stepped back. “Thanks,” he grumbled, his voice doing that low, husky thing again.
She watched as he walked into the kitchen. Emily stood there for a long moment, not sure what to think. Had that really just happened? Had he stood there, staring down at her, looking like he didn’t want to move?
Breathing in slowly, she turned and followed him into the kitchen and…froze again.
Hendrix was doing the dishes! He had already rinsed off most of the plates and was standing at the sink scrubbing off their dinner dishes!
When he glanced over his shoulder at her, she still couldn’t move.
“I know a lot of people are particular about how they load up the dishwasher,” he started, “but I thought I’d get these cleaned up so they’re out of the way.” He grabbed the last glass and rinsed it off before storing it carefully on the top shelf. When he was done, Hendrix grabbed a dishtowel and started drying his hands. “Now there isn’t such a mess.”
“You…washed all the dishes?” she whispered, looking around before letting her eyes move back to him. “You…?”
“It’s not hard,” he grumbled, carefully returning the towel to the handle of the oven. “Sorry if I…”
“Don’t apologize, Hendrix,” she laughed, walking over to the fridge. She bent down and pulled out the pie he’d brought. “I might just kiss you for…!” she stopped, her hands clutching at the pie as she stared up at him. Emily knew that her mouth was moving, but no sounds came out.
What could she say after that flub?
For a long, pregnant moment, she stared up at Hendrix, not sure what to say and not sure how to break free of this moment.
“I should…” he stared, then looked down at the pie. “Pie sounds good.”
The sounds of the football game came to her through the television and Emily finally snapped out of it. Looking down at the box in her hands, she nodded. “Pie. Yeah, pie…sounds good.” She moved towards the counter and Hendrix reached into her cabinet, pulling out two smaller plates. For some reason, the fact that he’d figured out her kitchen storage system after just one meal seemed significant somehow.
Or maybe he was just uber observant, she thought as she pulled a knife out of the drawer and cut two slices of the pie.
“I’ll need two slices that big,” Hendrix replied, stepping behind her and taking her hand in his. With his fingers over her hand, he guided her fingers as he cut another slice, then lifted it onto his plate.
“Better,” he said, his voice a whisper in her ear. “I really need whipped cream.”
Immediately, Emily’s mind filled with thoughts of whipped cream and all of the different ways that he could use the creamy dessert topping…on her!
“Fridge,” she choked out.
The warmth from his body left her and she turned, gripping the countertop with both hands behind her back as she watched him walk over to the fridge. He bent down and… good grief, his butt was nice! She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away as he leaned forward, examining the contents of her fridge. It wasn’t overly full since she lived alone. Still, it took him a moment to locate the cannister of whipped cream. When he turned around, she was still staring at him, her heart pounding in her chest. This was Hendrix! Dear heaven, Hendrix was in her house and he was holding a can of whipped cream!
She couldn’t remember having this particular fantasy, but it seemed like a really good one. Now she would spend the next several nights, sleepless, contemplating the various ways that he could use that whipped cream on her. And…oh my gosh, she didn’t have to work very hard to come up with several ways that she could use it on him! His chest, for example. Or his stomach. Hell, Emily immediately pictured a line of whipped cream going from his chest all the way down his stomach to…!
“Yes!” she whispered.
He stopped, lifted the whipped cream cannister halfway up. He looked at her. Then at the cannister. Then back at her. A split second later, his mouth curved into a wicked grin. His blue eyes twinkled with mischief.
“Tell me that you’re not…?”
Emily gasped and straightened. “I’m not!” she whispered, then nearly tripped over her feet, which was pretty impressive since she wasn’t moving. Or…she hadn’t thought she was moving!
“Right,” Hendrix replied, then moved to the counter. He tipped the container upside down, then sprayed an enormous quantity onto her piece of pie, then doubled that amount on his. “Football game is back on. I think I’m going to start cheering for the opposing team, just to rile you.”
Then he took his pie and went back into the family room.
It took a few more seconds before Emily thought she was capable of walking. When she finally lifted her plate with the pie and whipped cream, she walked carefully into the family room. Then with her fork, she scooped up half of the cream and dumped it onto his plate.
She didn’t say anything, but sat back and started eating her pie.
“You don’t like whipped cream?” he asked, shifting towards her. The movement meant that his thigh was much closer to hers. She thought about scooting away, but she couldn’t seem to do it. Emily was paralyzed, ready to literally climb on top of Hendrix and…?
No! She couldn’t do that. She shouldn’t do that! Hendrix was a co-worker! Her feelings towards him should be private. There was no way she’d mess up her relationship with the man by making a stupid pass at him.
“Game is over,” he commented, leaning forward and placing his now-empty plate on the coffee table.
He’d already finished his pie? She stared down at her plate. It was empty as well! But when had she eaten the pie? She couldn’t remember taking a single bite.
“Who are you rooting for in the next game?” Hendrix asked. “It’s the University of Virginia versus Virginia Tech. Both teams are ranked about the same this year. And I know from past experience that they are intense rivals.”
She turned, staring at him. “How do you know that?” she asked. “Most people who haven’t lived in Virginia don’t realize the rivalry between the two colleges.”
Hendrix chuckled. “Their rivalry isn’t as huge as the University of Alabama and Auburn University rivalry, but it’s no secret either.”
Emily huffed, then set her plate on the coffee table right next to his. “I’ll root for UVA,” she blurted, then glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “That means that you’ll have to accept the VA Tech team and they’re going to lose in a huge way.”
She heard his husky laughter again, but before he could respond, she took the remote and flipped over to the game. The kick off was just starting and she held her breath. Not because of the length of the kickoff, but because Hendrix stretched his arm out over the back of the sofa, then shifted his long, powerful legs out in front of him. The move was so reminiscent of a teenage boy, but different. Hendrix wasn’t a teenage boy. He was all man. Powerful, virile, amazing man!
What would happen if she leaned into his side? His chest was at the perfect height to just…lay her head against his chest. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but maybe he could move his arm around so that he pulled her closer. Then Emily could just throw her leg over his hips and…!
“Wine?” she gasped, standing up abruptly. “Or beer? We need beer!” She moved towards the kitchen, taking the dessert dishes with her. “We had wine with dinner. It’s time for beer, right?”