thirty-eight | will
THIRTY-EIGHTWill
Emberly is flapping one hand behind her back and I’m guessing she’s trying to tell me that I should leave while there’s still time, but I doubt her grandmother is as scary as she sounds.
And I would be wrong.
She’s scarier.
She also looks like an aging film star. Or the leader of a small country.
“Antonia Lockwood.” Her eyes are the same shade of green as Emberly’s, but there’s no warmth in them.
“Nona, this is Will.” Emberly jumps in. “His family owns Pinehart Resort.”
I’m not sure if the intent is to reassure her that I’m a legitimate businessman and not someone who’s holding her granddaughter for ransom, but her expression doesn’t change.
“Mmmm. And that family is …”
“Hartley.”
I see her storing this away in an internal file before her gaze swings to Emberly. “What is all over your face?”
Emberly rubs her cheek. “Flour?”
“They’re baking a cake for his sister’s birthday.” Hazel sneaks into the frame. “They needed some advice.”
“And do you always ask your guests to help you in the kitchen, Will Hartley?”
I’m pretty sure if she knew my middle name, she would have used it.
“Nona, we have to make the frosting now! I’ll talk to you later! Thank you, Hazel! Bye!” Emberly taps the screen and it goes blank.
“She seems nice.”
Emberly tilts her head, as if she’s trying to figure out if I’m joking.
I’m totally joking.
A relationship with a guy like me (as if I was delusional enough to think it could even happen) would upset the Lockwood universe. No wonder her grandmother is suspicious.
I can’t fault her for that, though. The first time Lexi brought Eric home, Dad asked him a few simple questions and was accused of “interrogating” him the minute he left.
Dad hadn’t apologized. Lexi was a sophomore, Eric a senior who’d already talked to a military recruiter. If things got serious, Lexi could be living in another country. He wanted to be sure that Eric was the kind of man he could trust.
“You know that old saying about someone’s bark being worse than their bite?” Emberly sighs. “They weren’t describing Nona.”
And yet the undercurrent of affection in her voice tells me the two women are close.
“You live near each other?”
“Together. Since I was fifteen.” Emberly starts to measure powdered sugar into a bowl. “My parents split up and went their separate ways. Dad transferred to the New York City office and worked a gazillion hours. Mom wanted me to move to Boston with her and her boyfriend.
“Nona terrified me, but she also had a house with a lot of extra bedrooms.” A smile lifts the corners of Emberly’s lips, momentarily distracting me. “I promised she wouldn’t even have to see me if she let me move in with her until I graduated.”
After meeting the woman, I could see how that would tip the scale in Emberly’s favor.
“It must have worked. She didn’t kick you out.”
A hint of pink steals into her cheeks. “She’d never admit it, but I think she liked having me around.
“I came back the summer after I graduated from Langley-Davis, expecting to pack up my things and find a job and an apartment, but Nona asked if I’d help her renovate the library.
Which turned into the living room. Which turned into the kitchen.
Her friends started to call and ask me for advice and my dad introduced me to his clients who wanted someone to decorate their new homes.
” She rubs her nose with the back of her hand and leaves a smudge of powdered sugar behind.
I don’t say anything because it’s kind of adorable.
“Nona encouraged me to start my own business and Ivy Gate Designs evolved from there.”
Emberly’s friends—if I can call them that—described her as a trust fund baby. The shopping a wealthy person’s cure for boredom, not a career.
While Emberly is mixing up the frosting, I take Juni outside and search the name Lockwood on my cell.
I may have been wrong about some things, but I was right about this.
The people in the photo gallery look like royalty.
Lush estates. Golf tournaments with celebrities.
Fancy cars and private jets. A picture of Emberly at the masquerade ball comes up.
A platinum blonde wig covers her hair and a velvet mask the majority of her face, but I would know those emerald green eyes anywhere.
Until now, I’d only imagined what Emberly’s life was like. Now that I’m seeing the pictures, she’d be giving up a lot. More than I could ever replace.
My hands curl into fists at my sides.
I’m angry with myself for being delusional enough to think that I was one of the reasons she’d stayed longer.
“Will?” My name drifts through the window screen. “I need some help.”
She’s not the only one.
I whistle for Juni and we go back inside. Emberly is standing next to the counter, sprinkle canister in hand.
“We have to fill the cake before we can frost it, but you’re the architect, so I’ll let you hollow out the inside. I’m afraid if I do it, the whole thing will collapse.”
I’m not an architect. I’m a guy with a degree in architecture. But I can carve out a hole in the center of the cake, so I grab the appropriate tool and begin.
Emberly leans in and a ribbon of auburn hair brushes against my hand.
My hands are shaking by the time I’m finished. Emberly carefully pours the sprinkles inside.
“Cab is going to love this.”
“I hope so.” She looks up at me and her smile makes me forget the photo of her standing on the steps of a private jet.
It seems like the most natural thing in the world to close the space between us and kiss her.
One kiss.
One taste.
That’s all.
But it’s not enough for either of us.
Emberly’s arms wrap around my waist and I pull her against me. Her lips are soft and I catch her sigh, hold it, deepening the kiss.
Neither one of us hears the door open. Or the thump of a suitcase against the floor.
We have no idea we’re not alone until a familiar voice calls my name.
Emberly and I break apart, breathless and disoriented.
My sister, who’s supposed to be in France, is standing in the doorway.
“We’re making a cake,” I blurt out.
“Yes,” Brighton deadpans. “I can see that.”
I really hope that’s all she saw.
I want to point at the mixer and the empty bowls on the counter as proof, but I glance at Emberly instead. With her flushed cheeks, lips the color of ripe strawberries, and her hair slightly mussed, she looks like a woman who’s been thoroughly kissed.
My sister smiles for the first time.
“You must be Emberly.”