Page 66 of Owning Emma

“Just because you saw how skilled my fingers can be in bed, doesn’t mean you can put them to work in the bakery.”

She stuck her lip out, giving me a set of sad little eyes with her pout. “But you are one of the best . . .”

“Just one of?”

She shrugged. “I can’t pick between you two.”

I moved my hand up her leg. “He doesn’t have to know.”

“Well, you’re going to have to prove it to me,” he grabbed my wrist and stopped its movement upward, “the old fashion way.”

“Fine.” I sighed, even though I wasn’t the least bit disappointed. I would have helped her whenever she asked. “But, you’ve only got me for three hours, then I’m taking out my laptop.”

“Are you going to wear those nerdy little glasses I love so much?”

“Will they get me to third base?” I raised an eyebrow in question.

“Most definitely.”

Without responding I reached across her body and pulled open the glove box taking out my spare glasses before putting them on and smiling broadly. She gave her face a dramatic fanning before she let out a weighted sigh. “We need to go inside.”

She was right, but I hated it. I hated having to share her with the outside world when our little bubble inside the truck seemed so perfect to me. But instead of arguing how wrong it felt to leave my slice of heaven, I reached for the door handle and pulled, releasing the warmth and inviting in the cold as I hopped out of the truck.

I jogged around the vehicle to open the door and help her down. Then I grabbed my bag from behind the seat and took her hand to walk to the back door. I almost hoped her weak excuse of a father opened the door. I wanted to dare him to say something to us, to voice his disapproval of my hands on his precious daughter, but the door never budged. Not until I took the key from her hands and placed it in the lock and pulled it open myself.

As promised, I helped her for three hours then I moved on to doing my bookwork, getting lost in our system updates and sorting through files up until the bell rang midafternoon. I looked up just in time to see Bianca give me a side glance before saying something to Emma and bursting into tears.

Shit. Whatever this was . . . it could not be good.

I took out my phone and shot Royal and Troy a text before sending a nearly identical one to Roman. Although Royal and Troy’s text went unanswered, Roman replied almost instantly.

Bring her home.

An order I didn’t need. I would have done it regardless. Protecting what’s ours was always my priority and the wife of a childhood friend falls right in that category. I watched her wearily as Emma comforted her, her eyes on me the whole time.

I wanted to deny that whatever Bianca was going through, it was part of the life we lead, but I couldn’t. Everything about our lives was complicated and a part of me feared that this glimpse might chase Emma away. That reality might have popped her euphoric bubble and maybe she would no longer choose us.

But when Bianca was calm enough to sit at a side table and sip some coffee, Emma breezed by my table, her eyes quickly glancing around before she leaned down and pecked my cheek, then whispered against my ear. “Your eyes say you’re scared Shaw, but I’m not planning to budge.”

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