Page 51 of The Double Play

I’m grateful that’s the case, because he joins me when I’m trying to find a sock in the pile of clothes. Not even a matching one, just another one will do at this point.

“Not a fan of laundry?” he asks, amusement in his voice.

I glance over my shoulder and find him leaning against the doorframe.

“I’m at your house so much I never have time,” I say, and then realize how…girlfriend-y that sounds. Like the moment in a movie right before the guy says the girl can have a drawer in his dresser to put her things in.

“You could leave some of your things in one of the guest rooms,” he says, as if reading my thoughts. “I don’t mind.”

I freeze, a pajama top with sunshines on it that I got to match June in my grip.It doesn’t mean anything, I tell my galloping heart.Don’t jump to conclusions.

“I don’t want to overstep,” I say because I don’t know how to respond.

“It’s not overstepping if I offer.”

He has a point there.

“I’ll think about it.” I continue my search. “Thank you.”

It’s quiet for a moment while I dig through this seemingly never-ending pile of laundry. If there weren’t–ahem–undergarmentsin here, I’d enlist Emmett’s help. But I think I’ve blushed enough today without that.

“I like the way you’ve decorated,” Emmett comments right as I find a sock and lift it victoriously…along with a pair of yellow lacy underwear. I jerk my arm back down so fast I worry for a second that I dislocated it.

“Found the sock,” I squeak, then rush over to the floral duffel bag on my bed without looking at Emmett. “Thank you, um, about the apartment. I know it’s brighter than what you gravitate toward.”

“I like that about it. It feels like you.”

I risk a glance at him. He’s watching me with a soft hint of a smile on his lips. The lips I almost kissed twice today. If he keeps looking at me like that, I’m going to risk a lot more than a glance.

If he likes my apartment, and it feels like me…that would stand to reason…“You like me,” I say aloud because, apparently, my filter was left in the hospital waiting room.

He lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah, Wildflower, I like you.”

There’s a vulnerability in his expression that I wouldn’t recognize if I hadn’t spent so much time deciphering every quirk of his lips and raising of his brow the past few weeks. It would seem I’m not the only one unsure of what’s happening between us. Lines are blurring, and Emmett is the kind of man who prefers rigid, clear boundaries.

“I like you too.” My confession floats in the air between us, unable to be taken back. His smile grows a touch, and I find myself grinning at him.

“Hazel, should I bring my backpack?” Raven yells from across the apartment, shattering our moment.

“Yes,” I shout back, then zip up my bag.

“Are you ready?” Emmett asks.

My bag might be, but I don’t know if I am.

Chapter twenty-four

Emmett Foster

“Juneislikelytobowl you over when she sees you,” I say as I turn onto the road that passes through downtown Franklin. We’refinallyout of Nashville. While I don’t mind the city–I’ve certainly traveled to worse ones–I prefer Franklin. It’s quieter and makes for a much more pleasant drive.

“She missed me?” Hazel asks, as if there were a possibility of that not being the case.

“She cried and held the teddy bear you got her in New York last night. This morning I forgot chocolate chips in the pancakes and almost didn’t make it out of the house alive.”

I see Hazel smile out of the corner of my eye.

“Chocolate chips are vital to a good pancake. Who’s staying with her right now?”

---