Emma's phone vibrated again on the table, the screen lighting up with the now-familiar name. She sighed, a sound of pure exasperation. "I'm going to murder Liam when we get home," she muttered, staring at the device as if it had personally offended her.
"Answer it," Elijah suggested. "Or he'll just keep calling."
She pushed back her chair, giving me an apologetic glance that made my heart beat faster than seemed reasonable for such a small gesture. "I'll be right back," she promised, before striding toward a quiet corner of the dining room.
I watched her go, unable to completely mask my attention. Even moving away, she drew my gaze like a lodestone draws iron. The crimson blouse emphasized the graceful line of her shoulders, the confident stride that spoke of a warrior accustomed to com
