Page 11 of Play Action Pass

He rose and came over to her. Emmie looked up, and he held out his hand. Wondering if this was smart of her, she decided to hell with playing it safe and placed her hand in his. Being safe had gotten her nowhere. It caused her to leave her brother behind when he needed her, a decision with devastating consequences.

Maybe it was the intimacy of the setting. Maybe it was because he was the first man she’d had a date with who didn’t know who she was. That her bank account was probably bigger than he could possibly imagine. It was why she’d dyed her hairbrown, covering up the honey locks she was known for.

When he tugged her closer, she eagerly stepped into his arms, not having too far to reach to fuse their mouths together. His heart thundered beneath her hand, his muscles ripping with every breath he took. Everywhere they touched, electrical charges danced over her skin. Heat, desire, need. How did a man she just met invoke such white-hot lust? His kiss was voracious, taking everything she had to give and demanding even more. When they finally broke for air, she stared up at him in complete surprise. He must have felt the same because he looked like a Mack truck just blindsided him.

“You make it hard to be a good boy,” he murmured as he trailed his fingers across her cheekbone and pushed some hair behind her ear.

“Why do you have to be good?”

He smiled. “Because I’m not going to take advantage when we’re bothhurting.”

“Fair enough,” she replied.

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into his warm body. “Thank you for dinner.”

“Thank you for cooking.”

“I’d be happy to give you lessons.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Or whatever. I’d just like to see you again.”

“How about I bring you lunch tomorrow? From a deli that knows what they’re doing.”

“I’d love that,” he replied.

“Oh, um, one little question,” she said, spacing up her index finger and thumb about an inch apart. “Would you happen to know how to operate a washing machine?”

Chapter Seven

The next day Emmie parked in front of the ice cream parlor and saw through the window a young woman making an ice cream shake for a customer. Locking up her car, she headed inside, waiting until the customer paid and left. Then she stepped up to the counter, and the employee smiled sweetly at her. She had an air of sadness around her that matched the sorrow radiating from her eyes.

“What can I get you?”

“Hi, are you the owner?”

“I am.”

Emmie pulled up a picture of Jacoby on her phone and held it up. “I was wondering if you recognized this man.”

Immediately, the smile left the woman’s face as she studied the photo. “Did he do something wrong?”

“Oh, no, he’s my brother.” The present tense she used hurt her heart. “Are you sure you don’t recognize him?”

The woman shook her head. “Is he missing?”

“He passed away,” Emmie said softly. The woman’s eyes widened and she quickly looked down. Something told Emmie this woman had, indeed, known Jacoby. “He left a notebook that talked about this town. About how wonderful it was.”

The woman cleared her throat. “Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Disappointment filled Emmie. “Can I leave you my number? Just in case you happen to remember something?”

“Uh, sure.”

The woman held out a pen. Smiling, Emmie grabbed it and a napkin, jotting down her cell.

“Thank you,” she said, holding it out. The woman slowly, or perhaps reluctantly, took it. “I’ve missed him, and I don’t understand why he’s gone. In his notebook, he detailed howmuch he loved your shop. How he’d come every day for your salted caramel ribbon. So, I thought maybe you’d remember him and it would bring me close to him again. Like he’s not impossibly far away. Anyway, thank you for your time. Have a nice day.”

Reluctantly, she left the ice cream parlor and only when she stepped outside did she realize she’d been crying. Wiping her cheeks, she headed to the sub shop down the street. Beyond any doubt, the woman knew her brother, but Emmie couldn’t figure out why she lied. She could only hope the woman called her.

She ordered lunch for her and Coleson, and then drove to his house. As she approached the front door, it opened and he waved her in. The interior was straight out of the sixties. Or seventies. Or whatever age crushed velvet had been a thing. Boxes were all over the place. The heavy scent of pine cleaner hung in the air.

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