Page 101 of Wedlocked

“Karma.”

“Somewhere, a tree is producing oxygen for you and feels ashamed,” Emmett deadpanned.

“See if I make one for you,” Jamie told him.

“Get away from the fire, Owens. You’re gonna burn the place down.”

“Oh, ye of little faith, Coach. This next one is going to be superb. Just watch. Now that I know how fast the little suckers catch on fire, I’m about to perfect my roasting game.” He grabbed a big white marshmallow off the tray and stuck it to the end of his stick.

“The first one’s for you, bro,” he told Ryan, jamming it into the flames.

“Where’s everyone else?” I wondered, basically stalling for time.

Yeah, I’m nervous. Sue me.

Good luck trying to beat my lawyer, though.

“Arsen and P are out to dinner with his gram,” Ryan said. “Max and Wes are… not here.”

“Probably boning,” Jamie announced. “And all the girls are doing girly stuff.”

“Where’s Kruger?” I asked.

“Trying to spy on the girls,” Bodhi replied. “Jess already yelled at him.”

It really was the perfect time. I stepped around the chair Emmett and Bodhi were in, and they both looked up. Awkwardness tightened my throat, so I cleared it. Then, “Can I talk to you a minute?”

“I don’t know. Can you?” Emmett replied.

“In private.”

That got his attention, and he looked up, gaze much sharper. “Landry?”

“She’s fine. Currently fawning over Jess’s gown.”

“All right.” He agreed, standing up and bringing Bodhi with him.

“Fuck!” Jamie yelled from the mouth of the fireplace. Another fireball hurled by, nearly smacking Bodhi.

“For Christ’s sake,” Emmett growled, plunking Bodhi onto his feet. He stalked over, pushing himself between Ryan and Jamie to smack Jamie in the back of the head.

“Ow, Coach!” Jamie whined, rubbing his head.

“Pay attention, nimrod,” Coach ordered, plucking the stick out of Jamie’s hand and snagging a fresh marshmallow to jam on the end. “Clearly, you were never a Boy Scout.”

“I was too busy swimming.” Jamie defended himself.

Emmett grunted. “Well, thank God you swim better than you do this,” he muttered. “The key to a nice brown crust on the outside with a gooey warm center is all about going low and slow,” he explained, sticking the treat into the fire.

“Don’t get it too close to the hottest part of the flame.” He went on as the rest of us stared in astonishment. “Then it will just burn too fast and you’ll be left with one black patch and the rest raw. Put it up higher, like this,” he instructed. “And rotate it. Round and round so all the sides cook evenly.”

He continued twirling the stick, and a minute or so later, he pulled a perfectly browned marshmallow from the fire. “You boys gotta learn some patience. I know, in the pool, it’s all about speed, but some things you gotta take slower.”

The only sound was the crackling and popping of the fire as the rest of us stood there staring between Emmett and his marshmallow. Finally realizing our silence, Emmett thrust the stick to Jamie, who immediately accepted it and once again housed the entire thing.

He moaned like it was a blow job, not dessert. “Coach,” Jamie broke the silence. “I never knew you were amarshmallow god.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Emmett muttered, then winced. “I can say that here because this is a family vacation and we aren’t at the pool. And I said you could all call me Emmett this week.”

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