CHAPTER 38
Emma
I turn on my side to watch the sunrise through the window. Sunrises are beautiful here, but the sunsets are better.
And today is my first paycheck day! Three whole weeks—from here on out it will be every two weeks—and I plan to buy a swimsuit so that I can finally get in that backyard resort-style pool. My dream is to be in the water while watching the sun go down.
After making my bed and hopping into the shower that I still love more than chocolate, I tiptoe down the stairs so I don’t wake Jasmine and Finn. I’m going to surprise them this morning with Belgian waffles.
I light an orange-blossom-scented candle in the living room and take a look around.
Everything is pristine and organized. I’m proud of the work I’ve done in the past three weeks.
Finn’s office and the garage are still off limits to cleaning, and that’s fine.
If he wants me to tackle those jobs, I’m happy to do it.
And if he doesn’t, I’m happy with that, too.
What I do know is that the garage and office reflect Finn’s weird chaotic organizational touch. His office is covered in papers. He’s got so many computers and monitors and electronic devices that it reminds me of the NASA command centers I’ve seen on TV.
The garage is even worse, packed with years of discarded electronics, wires, adapters, computers and monitors, and video gaming equipment.
Should I ever get permission to tackle those areas, I will tread lightly. I will respect his space.
I realize that I’ve been standing in the living room, deep in thought, for a while.
Turning on my heel, I head for the kitchen, which has become my domain.
I’m fairly territorial about it. Last week I even dared to move everything around—what stays on the countertops, what is stored in which cabinets, what cracked and stained plasticware can go to the garbage bin.
Finn didn’t even mind when his favorite morning coffee mug wasn’t where it had always been, but that is probably because I made fresh donuts to smooth over the rearranging.
I smile at the memory. I’ve been smiling a lot, lately. I’ve probably smiled more in the past three weeks than all the rest of my life.
After I start the coffee, I spot a piece of paper on the counter and pick it up.
It looks like a check, but larger than a standard personal check.
At first, I think that Finn accidentally left one of his business checks in the kitchen, because I see four zeros on it.
I’m about to put it back when I see my name on it.
This can’t be right. But my name is there. Spelled right and everything. But I have to read it over and over to get my brain to come along for the ride.
“I don’t have your bank information for automatic deposit, so I wrote out a check.”
I look up to see Finn standing near the kitchen entrance. He’s wearing running shorts, running shoes, and nothing else, giving me an eyeful as he uses his balled-up shirt to wipe sweat from his face, rock-hard chest, and chiseled abs.
His delicious, muscly chest and abs.
He drops his arms and frowns at me.
“I don’t think this amount is right.”
“Too little? Phyllis and I discussed—”
I’m holding the check away from my body, as if it might bite. “Are you paying by the quarter?”
“This check is for three weeks, but from here on out, it will be every two. Isn’t that normal? Would you prefer every week? Once a month?”
I shake my head, unable to speak. I press the check to my chest and close my eyes. Every two weeks. A mountain of money every two weeks. My life has completely changed.
I dare believe this is real. Warm security washes through me. Safety. I can take care of myself. I can protect myself. I am safe and cared for and comfortable and safe for the first time in my whole life. Safe. I let myself believe that everything is going to work out.
Safe. Safe. Safe.
“Is it enough, Emma?”
I open my eyes. Tears spill from my lower lids onto my cheeks. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. “Thank you. It’s enough. It’s more than enough. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”
Finn looks embarrassed, and maybe nervous.
It must be because I’m crying. He looks so breathtakingly sexy.
He’s so beautiful that my chest hurts. In any other situation, I would hug him so hard, thank him from the bottom of my heart and kiss his cheeks, his lips, his eyelids, and just keep giggling the whole time I did it.
But that wouldn’t be wise.
If I touch him I’ll just end up throwing my legs around his waist again. Which didn’t work out the last time. And it isn’t exactly the cool and collected vibe I’ve been trying for.
I laugh. I must sound crazy.
Tears roll down my face. I must look crazy.
I nod with enthusiasm and wipe away the tears. “I’m going to make you Belgian waffles for breakfast. I hope you ran a lot because I’m going to make a mountain of delicious hot waffles with butter and real maple syrup and you’re going to be the happiest freaking man alive.”
“Fifteen miles.”
“That might be enough. Bacon?”
He stands still, confusion spread all over his handsome face.
I shoot him a huge smile to reassure him that I’m happy. That I love my job and that the pay is more than enough and I’m thrilled to finally have a job that pays a livable wage.
“You deserve that money, Emma.” His voice is soft and gravelly. I haven’t heard him sound like that since the kiss. “You work very hard, and you are exceptional at what you do. You are conscientious and reliable, and you deserve every penny of that money. You’ve earned it.”
I nod again and sniff. “Thank you. Yes, you’re right. I do work hard, and I am good at my job. Thank you for being a wonderful boss.”
His head drops and he turns to go. But then he spins around again.
“Have you heard about the Travis Ranch Summer Fair? It’s a little thing they do every year at the next ranch over.
They have rides and games and a lot of food—all the major food groups: sugar, fat, and salt.
And sometimes, they deep fry the sugar, fat, and salt. ”
I laugh. This paycheck has made me giddy.
Finn smiles. “One year they had a two-headed steer. Now, that was a real crowd-pleaser.”
“Sounds fun,” I say. “Except for the two-headed steer part.”
“That was a few years back. I doubt they’ll have anything like that this year. The Travis brothers have been bragging about their singing chicken, but, like everything they say, I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Uh huh.” I’m not sure where this is leading. Most of our conversations over the past few weeks have been like this, strained and awkward. Although there are a whole lot more words in this one.
“Anyway,” he says, running a hand over his hair. His bicep bulges as he does this, and I choke back a sigh. “The fair is tonight and Jasmine and I are going. Would you like to join us?”
“To see the singing chicken?”
He laughs. “Probably just to eat cotton candy and maybe a deep-fried Snickers bar if you’re up to it. And we can play a lot of unwinnable carnival games.”
“Sure! I’ve never been to a carnival as a paying guest.”
A shadow falls across his face. “We’ll right that wrong tonight.”