Page 81 of The Snowball Effect

As if summoned by Emma’s thoughts, Regan appeared next to her.

“There you are!” In her hand was one of the little white paper bags from the small café at the back of the store.

Emma placed her hand over her small stack of books. “You know, I didn’tactuallyexpect you to take me to the bookstore tonight.”

Regan shrugged as she walked closer, wedging herself between the little round display of books and the chair, so that she could perch on the arm. “I know. But you said that this is the best way for you to end a bad night, so I figured… why not?”

The rush of appreciation that she felt for the woman taking up far too much of her personal space was alarming. But after the emotional toll of the night, Emma didn’t have it in her to fight it.

“You don’t have to buy my books, though,” she commented, leaning her head back and tilting it up to look at Regan properly.

Who was already looking down at her.

It was annoying, honestly, that Regan’s jaw looked so good from this angle; no one was supposed to look good from an angle under their chin.

Emma figured it had something to do with that radiant grin.

“Emma, what kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t buy your books?” Regan’s gaze dropped to the books in question, her eyeswidening. “Wow. I leave you alone to go to the café, and you amassed half an aisle.”

Before Emma could respond, Regan smiled suddenly, as if just remembering something, as she lifted the bag.

“Right! The bakery.” She opened the bag, reaching into it and emerging with a double-chocolate cookie and a triumphant grin. “Here you go!”

Emma hadn’t even realized how hungry she actually was until she was presented with the treat. Still, she hesitated before taking it. “I can wait until we get home to have something else.”

Regan frowned, first at the cookie, then at her. “I thought it looked good.”

“It does,” she agreed.

Regan pushed it toward her, again, insistently. “Between the enormous stack of books in your lap and then the walk back, it will be at least another half hour or so before we’re home. Take the cookie.”

Emma pursed her lips as she reached out for the dessert, giving into her body’s demands. “It’s a dangerous thing, living with you,” she grumbled. “The desserts you’re always baking. The stuff you like to bring home from the café. This cookie.” She held it up, waving it in front of Regan’s face as if she needed the reminder.

Playfully, Regan leaned forward and took a bite. Her dark eyes grinned down at Emma as she flicked her tongue out and licked a wayward crumb from her bottom lip.

Emma diverted her gaze. Yes, it had been alongnight.

“Emma, you hardly ate anything at dinner. Like, you atenothingtonight. Besides, you have a great body. A little dessert is fine.”

She glanced up at Regan dubiously. “You know, we’re not at my mom’s house anymore. You don’t have to keep up the compliments and the adoring girlfriend thing.”

Regan’s eyebrows knitted together as she turned even more inward on the arm of the chair. Her thigh settled firmly against Emma’s side as she asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Emma stared at her, feeling the burning sensation in her cheeks returning. “The comment about my body,” she muttered.

But Regan didn’t back down. “No, I got that; I still don’t understand what you mean.”

“Regan,” she grit out, exasperated.

“Emma,” Regan mirrored her tone.

It pushed her enough to gesture down at herself. “Imeanthat I’m not… fun-sized like you are. Obviously.”

“And?” Regan immediately asked, her stare intent. Demanding.

Emma squirmed where she sat. “You’ve seen me without my shirt on multiple times,” she reminded her, frustrated with how embarrassed she felt. “Not by my choice, I might add.”

“Uh, yeah? I think that actually makes me a wonderfully qualified source.”

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