Page 52 of The Snowball Effect

Emma huffed out a laugh, crossing her arms over her chest in a move that made her breasts seem like they were about to pop out of the thin tank top that she’d slept in. Regan’s eyes lingered for a few seconds.

“IfIwere the only one to make that statement, I’d believe it was sarcasm in a not-so-nice way. But since it was you, I’m assuming you’re being humorous,” Emma mused slowly, studying Regan’s face.

Regan lifted her gaze to meet Emma’s, an easy smile sliding over her face. “You assume correctly.”

Emma’s eyebrows furrowed, before she shook her head. “You know, a part of me wasreallyhoping that I could poke even a small hole in your theory that my attitude is the reason our relationship has never…”

“Blossomed,” Regan supplied, leaning back against the counter as she angled her head up at Emma. She was undeniably curious as to where Emma was going with this.

Emma grimaced. “I mean, that makes it sound like we’re pre-pubescent, but – yes.” She shrugged. “But the truth is that if you snuck up on me like this and made me drop my phone, I’d have flipped out. So. I guess that’s a big point in the Regan Gallagher column.”

Regan felt her smile grow even wider at Emma’s admission, entirely too pleased with it. Even more so because Emma didn’t even sound like she was begrudging the truth. She sounded almost… amazed by it.

“It’s a good outlook,” Emma murmured, studying Regan’s face carefully. Like she was really trying toseeher. Maybe even for the first time.

Regan’s first instinct was to preen into the compliment, to ham it up, but she faltered. Instead, her cheeks felt a little warm at the observation, and she shrugged. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”

“It’s nice,” Emma countered firmly.

“You reallyarestubborn.”

“And the sky is blue.”

The laugh that escaped Regan was swift, and she rolled into it, especially when Emma cracked a small, genuine smile back at her.

After another few seconds, Emma lifted a questioning eyebrow. “So – cupcakes?” She nodded at the ingredients, mixing bowls, and pans Regan had neatly laid out on the counter before Sutton’s text had distracted her.

“Uh, well. I didn’tplanfor us to bake together, no.” She hedged, clearing her throat as she rocked from one foot to the other as if she could hide the slew of ingredients behind her back.

“An interesting choice, then,” Emma drawled.

“I didn’t think you were going to be awake so early,” Regan countered truthfully.

In fairness, Emmawasstill in her pajamas. A gray threadbare tank top with a pair of tiny black shorts – honestly, Regan knew they were pajamas because there wasno wayEmma would dare brave the New York City streets in shorts that barely covered her ass; she’d detest the attention it wouldgarner her. Her silky hair was still piled on top of her head the way Regan had noticed Emma often did before she slept – if she hadn’t fallen asleep while working, that was.

“You told me when we went our separate ways last night that you were opting for our hangout day today,” Emma deadpanned. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I assumed you’d intended for it to be an all-day affair.”

“I’m intending for us to use this as a bridge into a true friendship, actually, and that means accepting you as you are. Which for you – I’ve gleaned through myamazingpowers of deduction – means sleeping as late as humanly possible on days you don’t have work.” She offered Emma a proud, hopeful grin. “I was thinking I’d bake these myself, and by the time they were done, you’d be waking up.”

That thoughtful, studious expression returned to Emma’s face again. As soon as Regan felt her stomach tingle with it, she pressed her hand there. Strange.

“Uh,” she valiantly pushed through the feeling. “Yeah, so… you know. If you want to go back to bed for a while, you totally can.”

She believed so wholly that Emma would take her up on that offer that it legitimately shocked her when Emma shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I mean, I offered you the whole day, and even though I may be stubborn and have a penchant to believe the glass is half empty, I’m a woman of my word. Besides, I’m already up. Getting out of bed means I won the battle.”

A surprised, nervous titter escaped Regan’s lips. “Okay, then. We can… bake… together…” She slid her gaze toward the counter, trying to figure out how to sort through her unexpected anxiety.

Apparently, Emma noticed. “I honestly assumed you’d be thrilled by the offer. You may soon come to see that my company isn’t everything you’ve been dreaming about, but bakingtogether feels like exactly the sort of thing you’ve suggested we do for weeks now.” There was a raw curiosity reflected in her gaze that Regan hadn’t ever had directed at her before.

Andof course, it was regarding this. The one thing in the world that Regan did by and for herself.

“Ha, yeah.” Regan dragged a hand through her hair and looked between the ingredients neatly arranged on the counter and Emma, before admitting, “Only, not really?”

Emma’s dubious stare silently asked what the hell she was talking about.

Regan clasped her hands together behind her back, feeling uncharacteristically sheepish. “I don’t bake with other people,” she informed Emma, feeling a little silly.

More than a little silly, actually.

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