Chapter 22
582 Words
Chapter Twenty-Two
A small hand nudged Emily, but Emily tucked the warm duvet higher under her chin—in her warm cocoon. She struggled to open her sleepy eyes, searching out the bedside clock; the red numbers flashed 6:10 a.m. For a moment her heart felt like it had expanded two sizes in her chest. She bolted upright, throwing back the covers and jumped from bed. How could she have overslept? She cursed under her breath at her own stupidity, she’d forgotten, in her funk of self-pity, to turn on her alarm. You i***t. She’d never relied on it anyway—she was usually awake at five a.m. But last night—well—what could she say? Talk about leapfrogging right over moral boundaries.
Emily dressed in yesterday’s jeans and pulled on a fresh shirt she'd yanked from her five-drawer dresser. Why didn’t Brad wake me?
Emily pushed back her tangled hair and noticed her door had been pulled closed. And piled on the overstuffed chair beside the door were her shoes, sweater and under things she’d left sprawled on Brad’s bedroom floor. Emily groaned as she pressed her hands over both warm cheeks.
“Mama, hungry.” Katy bounced on top of the bed in her pink ladybug pajamas.
“Okay, I know Katy. Just let me finish.”
Emily pulled a brush through her hair, yanking at the tangles a little harder than she needed. Then tied it back, and was downstairs with Katy a few minutes later. She plopped Katy on the couch with her baby blanket and flicked on the television. “You watch Treehouse; I’ll make breakfast.”
Emily darted around the corner into the kitchen, slamming into the solid wall of a man’s chest. Brad squeezed her shoulders and Emily felt her cheeks burn when she looked up into the mysterious eyes that appeared to brighten in the light of day. “I’m sorry, Brad. I overslept, I—”
He rubbed her shoulders in a familiar sort of way. “Don’t worry, Em. I didn’t wake you, I thought you needed the sleep. The coffee’s already made. We’ll be back in about half an hour. Is that enough time for you to fix something?”
He was being kind—no generous. And Emily was being a flustered, stuttering i***t; unable to jumpstart her tongue. “No… I mean, yes it is. Thanks. Sorry.” She winced and squeezed her eyes shut. But when she opened them, he hadn’t moved, even though he'd dropped his hand and no longer touched her.
He watched her with this magical twinkle sparkling in those all-seeing eyes, turning Emily’s insides to jelly. She’d no clue to what he was thinking. Did he regret what happened between them? That would be the worst. She wanted to ask, but was scared of what his answer might be.
Brad ran the back of his hand over her cheek. He paused; he studied, then dropped his hand and strode away. A man with a purpose.
It was instinctive to cover his imprint with her hand.
“Mama, hungry.”
Come on girl, back to reality. “Ah, Katy, just give me a minute.” She rushed to the fridge and took out two dozen eggs, kicking the door of the fridge closed behind her. In record time, she’d whipped up scrambled eggs and toast. She was just seating Katy as Brad, Cliff and Mac tromped in the back door, stomping the mud off their boots, discussing the recent feed order for the cattle.
“Good morning, Emily.” Mac said and Cliff nodded, as they scraped back their chairs and sat.
Pour the coffee. Take a deep breath. Here we go.
- Writer
