Page 20 of Bright Lights and Summer Nights

“Do you want cream?” I ask.

Emma quirks an eyebrow. “Preston,” she scolds. “That sounded a little dirty.”

My ears heat. I didn’t mean for it to be dirty at all, but now my mind is going places it absolutely shouldn’t be going. I blink, trying to rid my memory of the way she said the word dirty. Turns out, her saying it sent very filthy thoughts to my head.

I swallow, trying to play it cool. I don’t know what it is about this woman, but she gets to me more than anyone I’ve ever met. I’m known on the field—and to the world—as a stone-cold quarterback. No one can get to me, but she makes a dirty joke and I’m blushing like a child.

This is bad. But I don’t care—it’s not going to stop me from bringing her to my sister’s wedding party today and surely making things even worse. She’ll undoubtedly get me to blush more because of the way she doesn’t hold back with every thought that comes to her mind.

“Preston,” Emma calls, playfully hitting my arm.

I shake my head, focusing on her once again.

“I lost you there for a minute,” she teases, her lips wrapping around the glass straw in her coffee.

“Turns out I might need this coffee more than I thought,” I lie, carefully lifting the mug to my lips and blowing on the hot liquid for a second before taking a sip.

It’s quiet between us for a moment. We both look at one another, our eyes roaming the other’s face. I want to look away, to hide my face and hope she doesn’t see the slight color that is covering my skin because of her.

“Thank you, by the way.” Emma’s words break me from my thoughts.

“For what?”

“For the coffee. It’s much needed.”

I shrug. “It’s no big deal, really.”

Emma cocks her head to the side, watching me intently. “Small things matter, too. It’s still sweet you thought of me.”

A sarcastic laugh comes from deep in my throat. “No one’s ever called me sweet.”

It’s her turn to laugh. She laughs so effortlessly, her head thrown back and her eyes closed. “Oh, I didn’t call you sweet,” she corrects. “I just called the gesture sweet.”

I hold my free hand up in defense. “My mistake.”

Emma drops the conversation, instead taking a step away from me and looking behind me. “Did you decide to raid the pantry while looking for coffee?” she asks, pointing to the array of food lined up on the counter.

I let out a long exhale. “I wanted to make you some food to help cure the hangover, but it turns out you have nothing here to eat but stale Pop-Tarts and an abundance of boxes of noodles.”

“My flight got in late last night,” she tells me, picking up the box of Pop-Tarts and inspecting the expiration date. “I didn’t have time to get groceries.”

I nod, setting my coffee down on the kitchen island and tucking my hands into my pockets. “That’s right, you were too busy breaking and entering.”

Her free hand falls to her chest. “Low blow, Preston Rhodes. Plus, if I hadn’t broken into the party, you wouldn’t have a fake girlfriend preventing all your sister’s friends from flocking to you at the wedding.”

I drop the topic, surprisingly grateful she decided to crash the party. Despite her propensity to catch me off guard and even make me blush, I’ve enjoyed the little time I’ve spent with her so far. I’ve enjoyed it so much that I’m ready for more of it.

“Rhodes, huh?” I prod, changing the subject. “Seems to me you did some research instead of getting ready.”

She told me she was going to do so, and her beaming smile tells me she doesn’t care at all that I know about her looking me up, that her doing that is probably the reason we’re running late to this party.

“I had to know everything about you before I spent the next week being your girlfriend.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. “You can’t know everything about me from the internet.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Your family is in investment banking—I basically called that, by the way,” she adds with a smug look in her eyes.

“That’s a very safe guess,” I point out.

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