11. Emmy
CHAPTER 11
EMMY
“There’s an old saying with bikers,” Dawson says over the hum of the engine. “Most motorcycle problems are caused by the nut that connects the handlebars to the saddle.”
I smile, even though he can’t see it. “So the problem is you?”
“Except this nut is not going to let anything happen to you.”
Logically, I know that at any point this bike could wipe out, and I’ll become another face on a slightly depressing legal commercial that preaches the dangers of motorcycles.
I’ve always been the responsible one in the family. The child with the good grades who came home before curfew and did her chores like clockwork. I didn’t break the rules—at least, not on purpose. And I definitely wasn’t riding on the back of a cute guy’s bike.
Now that Dawson’s put me at ease, it’s like I’m having an out-of-body experience next to him. He feels solid, like he wouldn’t let anything touch me. When I lean close, I smell his body wash. The scent is like some sort of magical elixir. So delicious, I’d like to drink it by the bucketful.
I feel like the luckiest girl in the world right now, even though I almost got hit by a car, I hate my new boss, and my car is broken down. Again.
Dawson makes me forget the dumpster fire which is my life.
Even though I’m twenty-five, and technically an adult by any standard, I’m still learning that life can toss you into a pot of boiling water when you least expect it. Why, then, do I persist in white-knuckling my life when it seems like the world has other plans for me?
And why do so many of these things seem tied to Dawson Hayes’s reappearance in my life?
Perhaps he’s my lucky penny, the one person who can turn this season around. I’ve lived buckled down for too long. This is my opportunity to say yes to new things, and that yes includes Dawson.
When we arrive at the restaurant, he climbs off the bike and turns to me with a wry grin. “Was it as bad as you thought?”
“Surprisingly better,” I say, embracing my newfound optimism until the other shoe drops. I attempt to swing my leg over the bike the way Dawson did, but my leather pants won’t let me.
I’m afraid of what might happen to the seam of my pants if I lift my leg too high.
“May I help?” he says, noticing my predicament.
I hesitate, but there’s no way I can get off this bike without looking like someone who doesn’t know how to climb off a bike.
“If you can keep me from a wardrobe malfunction, I’d appreciate the help.” Instead of taking my hand, he whisks me off the seat like I weigh nothing.
“Thanks,” I whisper, my heart jumping into my throat.
“Look at you. You’re a biker babe,” he says with a smile so easy, it makes my heart do an inconvenient flip.
He’s a natural flirt—and he knows it. And he knows I know it, which makes me blush even more. How could he not be aware of his effect on me? Dawson is used to attention from women because he’s a professional athlete. But he’s also super respectful, with a smile that makes me weak. How could any woman not notice?
He glances at his jacket, still wrapped around my body, and a grin slowly spreads across his face. “Looks good on you.”
“You sure you don’t want it back now?”
“Keep it,” he says with a nod of approval. “You’ll need it on the way home.”
As we head inside, I notice Dawson checking out the name on the door, Thai-M for Thai.
“This place isn’t fancy, but their pad thai is to die for,” I say.
“You like pad thai?”
“Next to their panang curry, it’s probably my favorite.”
“Then it’s Thai-M to indulge in some Asian cuisine.” He puts some air quotes around the pun and I laugh.
“You’re not going to use puns all night, are you?”
“Only if you laugh. And if it’s the right Thai-M, ” he deadpans.
Only Dawson could make me crack up at a bad joke.
“This isn’t one of those hipster Asian fusion restaurants,” I say. “We order at the counter, and they call your name when the food is hot off the wok.”
“Just the way I like it.” He glances around at the red booths. “Plus, it’s practically empty. No one to bother us.”
A lady eyes us from the kitchen. Only two people are working and no customers.
I breathe in the pungent smells of curry and Thai basil.
We place orders for pad thai, bowls of curry, and sweet thai teas. They hand us our drinks and curries, and we slip into a back booth while they prepare the rest.
“Coming back to Maple Falls reminds me of my grandparents’ small town in South Carolina,” he comments as he takes a forkful of panang chicken. “Makes me wish I wasn’t always on the road.”
“You haven’t missed much. Except maybe the gossip. Everybody knows your business around here, whether you want them to or not. But as far as career opportunities, it’s limited.”
“You stayed,” he reminds me.
“Everyone expected me to stay to hold the family together. They knew my brothers couldn’t. Ethan has his acting career. Dan has always been an overachiever. My life feels small in comparison.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t see your life as small, Emmy. Truthfully, I kind of wish I could settle in a place like Maple Falls. Being on the road isn’t as glamorous as it looks. Now that I’m moving to Seattle to play for the NHL, I won’t know anyone.”
I play with my spoon, studying his golden-brown eyes.
Getting outside of Maple Falls with Dawson feels strangely good. No one to stare at us or gossip about why we’re here together. We can just be us.
“At least you’ve pursued your dreams. I work a low-paying retail job and live with my grandma. That doesn’t impress anyone.”
He shakes his head. “There’s something to be said for living around people you love and choosing to stay. Just for the record, if you’d moved, I couldn’t have fulfilled the deal I made with you.” He levels his gaze, and those dark eyes drill into me, making me feel a little light-headed.
I set my spoon down. “Tonight was nice. But you don’t have to be my backup date anymore.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Are you trying to get out of dating me, Emmy Roberts?”
I lean back and give him a look. “You don’t need my help, Dawson. I think the blonde tonight proved my point.”
“What blonde?” he asks.
“Stop pretending you didn’t notice the woman who was trying to corner you at the bar.”
He narrows his eyes, like he’s thinking hard. “Oh, her? Not my type.”
My eyes widen. “But she was so plastic and perky.”
“You think I like plastic or perky?” he says, lifting his brows. “That’s like picking a can of generic noodle soup when I could have homemade.”
I laugh. This is so Dawson. “You’re comparing women to chicken noodle soup?”
“Are you offended?” he asks with a smirk.
“Not offended. But I think Miss Chicken Noodle might be.”
“She isn’t worth my time. Or, should I say, not worth my Thai-M ?”
I smile. “Definitely the second.”
“I have everything I could want right here. Why would I want her?” He looks at me from across the table, and I fumble my spoon. It clatters on the edge of my bowl, breaking the moment.
Our name is called for the rest of our food, and Dawson is out of the booth before I can respond. Everything in me wants to fold in on itself, to hide from Dawson instead of accepting the compliment for what it is.
Maybe he was joking. Or maybe he really does enjoy being with me.
Dawson picks up our pad thai and sets it before me, like a gift. It makes me ridiculously overjoyed when a handsome man brings me food. This can’t be my life.
Everything feels like a wonderful dream tonight, and I’m afraid I’m going to wake up at any moment and discover it never happened.
Dawson sits across from me and motions at the dish. “Dig in.”
I spear some cabbage in silence as the peanut and vinegar sauce fill the air. Dawson picks up chopsticks and expertly wrangles his noodles and cilantro. “So, I’ve been reading the book for book club,” he begins.
I nearly choke on a peanut. “You’re actually reading Perfectly Wedded ?”
“I said I would,” he answers. “A promise is a promise.”
I stop chewing and stare at him. I never thought Dawson would take this assignment seriously. Just like I never thought he’d make good on the pact we made in the wine cellar.
“You don’t have to finish if you hate it.” I want him to have an out. Because I don’t know how I’m going to talk about a romance book without burning up from the embarrassment.
“It’s surprisingly enjoyable,” he responds. “I’m just surprised. Not much hockey action in it.”
I grin. “They never do. That’s the irony.”
He frowns. “Really? It also seems like everything is going wrong for this poor couple. They’re so right for each other, but everything keeps getting in the way.”
I swallow a bite. “Let me guess. You’re three-quarters of the way through it?”
“How did you know?”
I stop eating to explain. “Everything goes wrong before it goes right. Spoiler alert: The grand gesture is next.”
“The grand what?” he asks, holding his chopsticks midair. He’s staring at me like he’s studying for a literature exam.
“Grand gesture,” I answer. “It’s when one person does something to prove their love. It can be big and gutsy or small and meaningful. Depends on the book. But it’s the pivotal moment of love before their happily ever after.”
“Never heard of it before. I’m learning so much,” he says.
“Are you joking?” Like Dawson Hayes needs training on how to date. He could pretty much write the manual on how to woo a woman.
He gives me a crooked grin. “How to be more romantic. What to do to make a woman swoon.”
I shake my head. “It’s fiction, Dawson. Nobody can be as romantic as the books.”
He blinks. “Some guys are. Maybe you just haven’t met the right one yet.” He doesn’t drop his gaze, and something stirs inside my chest.
“I used to think that, back when I was young and stupid. Now I have more realistic expectations.”
He puts down his chopsticks. “I don’t believe it. You’re a cynic now,” he accuses gently.
I raise my eyebrows and take a sip of tea. “I think I have a healthy dose of realism.”
His eyes cut to mine. “I hope someone unexpectedly charges into your life and turns your world upside down.”
The words vibrate through me, make me want it too. Change my mind, I dare you.
Maybe it’s because my last boyfriend cheated on me. That kind of hurt would make anyone go a little sideways, turning a romantic into a cynic.
I scoop up some noodles. “When it comes to romance, it’s better to believe Mr. Darcy doesn’t exist than to wait for him to show up on my doorstep in his billowy white shirt.”
“So it’s all about the shirt, huh?” He smirks, and an intense feeling circles in my stomach. “I’ll put that down in my notes: Buy Regency man shirt. ”
I shake my head, laughing. “Like you need any help.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Emmy. I do need help.”
“But why? You’re already good at making a girl feel special.”
He studies me for a beat. “I want to learn so that when I find the right woman, I’ll know exactly how to make her smile.”
As soon as I get home from my date, I see a message from Gold Dog.
Gold Dog
How was the date?
Romcom Book
I really had fun. Surprising, huh?
Ever since I started texting him, I feel invested in this conversation although I’m not sure why. The weird thing is, I’m not interested in him for more than what it is—a fun connection with a stranger. Crazy enough, he doesn’t seem interested in me romantically either. We’re just two people sharing life. No pressure. No expectations.
Gold dog
Summary, please!
Romcom Book
Well, he rescued me from a nightmare scenario, and we did what any sensible people would do—grabbed some food. It was low-key. Nothing fancy. Just great food and even better conversation. You know, the best things in life.
Do you think you’ll go out with him again?
As friends, yes. P.S. I hope it’s not weird that I’m telling you about someone else.
Why would that be weird? If you find someone you enjoy being with, then GO FOR IT. I’m here for the post-date reports.
Whew. Glad we got that out of the way. I needed to tell someone. If I share too much with my family, then it becomes a thing, you know?
Do you think he sees you the same way—as a friend only?
You’re getting into personal territory, Gold Dog.
You don’t have to answer if it breaks the PISR!
I think he’s really good-looking and kind, but I don’t know how he feels about me. I’m not like the other girls I’ve seen him with. He can’t move here because of his job. So as much as I’d like for there to be a future, it’s not possible.
Maybe it’s not for forever. But you could be happy for now. Isn’t that worth it?
You sound like my grandma. She’s always giving me advice.
I’m an old soul, RB. And you’re the one who’s convinced guys like those in your books don’t exist. Why not date him and see where it leads? Have a fall fling! What do you have to lose?
You make it sound so easy.
It could be easy. As long as you consider it a relationship with an expiration date.
You think I should really do this?
Ask yourself: WWEBD?
What does WWEBD stand for?
What would Elizabeth Bennet do?
I smile. Of course he would reference Pride and Prejudice. And that’s when I know Gold Dog’s more than a stranger on the internet. He might even be a friend.