Page 51 of Flare
Ward gathered her in closer. Emily knew she should sit up and return to her room. But she was so tired, and he was so warm, and she felt so safe right now…
“I should let you get some sleep,” Ward murmured, but made no move to dislodge her.
“Mmm,” was all Emily could manage in response, her eyes drifting closed.
Later—she wasn’t sure how much later—she had a vague awareness of being lifted, of powerful arms cradling her against a broad chest. Then she was being carried, heard the soft click of a door, and then he lowered her gently onto the bed, covering her with the quilt. The last thing she remembered clearly was the feeling of Ward’s lips brushing against her temple in a feather-light kiss.“Sleep well,” he whispered.
It felt like only an instant later when her phone alarm went off, blaring music. Emily blinked awake, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings before the events of the previous day came rushing back.
Despite her late night, she felt surprisingly rested. More than that, she felt determined. She had promised Maggie she’d help with the festival, and help she would.
The delicious fragrance of fresh coffee drifted into the room. Emily threw back the covers and got out of bed. It was time to face the day… whatever happened.
Chapter 14
Pancake Courtship
Ward flipped the last blueberry pancake onto the growing stack, pleased with the golden-brown color. He hadn’t slept a wink last night, but having Emily fall asleep so trustingly against him made the exhaustion worthwhile.
A second pot of coffee after he’d tucked her in had done its job keeping him awake through the remaining hours of the night. Now his kitchen smelled of fresh pancakes, crispy bacon, and the blueberry compote he’d thrown together using the remaining frozen berries, sugar, cornstarch, and a squeeze of lemon juice. It sat cooling in a bowl on the table.
He hoped Emily liked breakfast foods. He hadn’t thought to ask before raiding his pantry at six a.m.
He heard soft footsteps in the hallway and turned to see her in the doorway, dressed in jeans and a new, pale-purple t-shirt printed with“First Annual Lavender & Lilacs Festival” and a wreath of mingled lavender sprigs and puffy lilac blossoms. Her ponytail was still damp at the ends from her shower.
His bear rumbled with satisfaction at the sight of her in his kitchen. She looked as if she belonged here. He wanted to make breakfast for her every morning from now on.
“Morning,” she said, sounding surprised.“You didn’t have to cook for me.”
“I wanted to,” Ward replied. He gestured to the table he’d already set with plates, silverware, and a pitcher of orange juice.“Hope you like blueberry pancakes.”
Emily’s face brightened.“I love them! Yours smell amazing.”
She moved to the table and took a seat, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ear in a gesture that made Ward want to reach out and touch the soft strands himself. He busied himself instead with bringing over the platter of pancakes.
“I figured you could use a substantial breakfast before your day at the festival,” he said, setting everything down before returning to grab the plate of bacon.“Did you sleep okay? After, um…”
After I carried you to bed, he didn’t say. The memory of her warm weight in his arms, her head nestled trustingly against his chest, had kept him awake for the rest of the night.
“I did, actually,” Emily said, a hint of color touching her cheeks.“Thank you for… everything.”
The loaded pause told Ward she remembered at least part of what had happened.
He poured them both coffee and settled into the chair across from her, trying not to stare longingly at her as she spooned the compote over her pancakes.
“So, what time does Maggie need you at the festival?” He cut into his own stack.
“She texted that she’d swing by to pick me up around eight.” She glanced at her watch.“About twenty minutes from now.”
Ward nodded.“Will you be working all day?”
“Pretty much. Maggie said we’ll probably be swamped.” Emily took a bite of bacon and made a small noise of appreciation that shot straight to Ward’s frustrated cock.
They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. Ward rarely had anyone over for meals. The unfinished kitchen always seemed too embarrassing, but Emily didn’t seem to mind the exposed drywall or the plywood countertops.
“These are seriously the best pancakes I’ve ever had,” Emily said, breaking the silence.“What’s your secret?”
“Sour cream in the batter,” Ward admitted.“My dad’s trick. Makes them fluffier.”
