Page 21 of Bright Lights and Summer Nights

She waves at the air dismissively, not caring about my comment at all. “Your dad could’ve owned a law firm, been a brain surgeon, or even funded a start-up. Instead, he took over investment banking just like your grandfather and grandfather’s father and so forth.”

“You were right about my family.” I keep my tone soft, wanting her to know I’m not upset about her looking us up. It was nice when she didn’t know who I was, but she was bound to find out eventually.

Emma takes a drink of her coffee, but her eyes stay focused on me. I want to know what she’s thinking. Does she think differently of me now that she’s looked me up? It doesn’t seem like she does, but I can’t be completely sure.

“As much as I like to brag about myself, I don’t think I was right about you. You screamed investment banker…not one of the best quarterbacks in the NFL.” Her eyes drift to my arms. I’d opted for a short-sleeved polo and a pair of slacks, knowing that’s how Peyton would want me to dress. My mother will be furious that my tattoos are exposed, but I know Peyton won’t care as long as I’m dressed well. “I also wouldn’t have guessed you’d be hiding those tattoos either. You seemed so prim and proper. Kind of stiff.”

She laughs, and I don’t know if she’s laughing at herself or at my reaction to her comment. Either way, she covers her mouth with her hand in an adorable motion.

I rub the back of my neck, waiting for her laughter to die down before speaking. “I’m not stiff.”

She lifts a shoulder. “You kind of are, but it isn’t bad. It’s just your personality.”

She must take my silence as displeasure because she keeps talking, not waiting for me to respond. “Don’t worry, there’s a lot of endearing qualities about you that make you mysterious. The tattoos, the football, even though I could guess your family was very against that. The fact you did actually help fund a start-up that is now one of the leading apps in the world.”

“You don’t need to rattle off everything the internet told you,” I say, pushing off the counter and heading for the front door. I’m surprised Peyton hasn’t already called me asking where I’m at, but I know she’s probably busy entertaining guests. “We should probably get going,” I tell her as I reach the front door.

“What about my coffee?” Emma asks, sticking the straw in her mouth and beginning to suck. My own coffee is abandoned on the kitchen counter, but I didn’t need the caffeine to begin with. I’ll clean it up when we get back from the party.

“You can bring it in the car,” I tell her, opening the front door. I want her to be comfortable and not rush to drink her coffee.

Surprising me, Emma follows without any arguments. She grabs a purse I hadn’t noticed she’d placed on the counter and follows me out the front door—her lips still wrapped around that damn straw as she sucks down her coffee.

“You don’t have to drink it all before we get in the car.” I stand behind her, watching her type in the code to lock the house.

She turns, looking at me and holding up her near empty cup. “My aunt knew nothing about cars, so I know nothing about cars, but I know enough to know my iced coffee doesn’t belong in a car that nice.”

I’m quiet for a moment, fighting the urge to ask more about how she grew up. It’s the second time she’s mentioned it being just her and her aunt, and I want to know more about that. No matter how badly I want to ask for more details, I keep my mouth shut. If she wants to tell me, she will. It’s clear she’s very comfortable sharing at least some details about her life. Until then, I’ll be left wondering.

“I would’ve let you drink it in the car,” I note, walking to the passenger side and opening the door for her.

She gives me a warm smile. I like the way she’s wearing her hair today, all of it pulled away from her face so I can see every radiant inch of it. “I know. But you got all tense when you said to bring it in the car—more tense than you already are.”

“So now you can read my body language?” I shut the door behind her, wanting to fasten her seat belt for her again to make sure it’s done properly but knowing she’s in far better shape this afternoon than she was early this morning. If I tried to do it now, it might just make me look like a control freak. Which I kind of am, but she doesn’t need to know that. It’ll just give her more ammunition to tease me.

Emma waits to respond until I slide into the driver’s seat. She leans back in her seat, tilting her face to the sun with a wide smile. “When your body language is that obvious, yes, I can read it,” Emma finally answers. She keeps her eyes shut as she lets the sunshine beat down on her skin.

“I’ll play more coy next time,” I say, making an attempt at a joke.

It must work because she laughs. “Or you could just let me figure you out, Preston Rhodes.”

I shift the car into drive and pull out of the driveway, mulling her words over for a minute.

“We’ll have to see about that, rebel.”

CHAPTER 12

EMMA

“I think in another life, I was supposed to be rich,” I comment, sitting forward in the seat as Preston drives up a long driveway with trees lining both sides of it. “This is so nice.”

We’ve only been in the car together for ten minutes, and all of the tension I’d felt talking to him last night is back. Finding out he was a professional athlete should’ve made him less attractive—a professional at any sport screams one red flag after another—but I’m afraid the pictures I found of him playing football only made him hotter.

“Wait until the actual wedding day,” Preston responds.

I laugh, staring at the massive fountain at the end of the driveway. I don’t even know if I should call it a fountain—it seems more like a freaking pool.

“My friend Margo married Beckham Sinclair, and they had a huge wedding reception in Manhattan. I think most of New York was there. Will this top that?”

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