In Your Dreams
Page 38

A half hour later, after slapping several yards of tape over her front to remove German shepherd fur, Emmaline’s doorbell rang. She hobbled to the door, and there he stood, the blond, the blue-eyed, the beautiful Jack Holland.
He had a bouquet of red tulips in his hand. “Hey,” he said. “You look fantastic.”
“Thanks.” She took the bouquet, mentally counted the number of steps it would take to get to the kitchen and put the flowers in a vase and tossed them on the coffee table. “Where are we going? O’Rourke’s?”
“Hugo’s just opened for the season. I thought we’d walk there. It’s nice out. Don’t you want to put those in a vase? Your dog might eat them.”
Indeed, Sarge was snuffling them right now.
She sighed. “Sure.” Then, every step a reminder of heretofore ignored parts of her anatomy, she walked into the kitchen, grabbing the flowers on the way. Put them in a vase, stopping for a minute to touch the smooth, cool petals. Nice choice, tulips. Less cliché than roses. And she’d always liked how they felt.
She rubbed a bloom against her lip, breathing in the faint, peachy fragrance. Small wonder deer ate the blossoms right off every spring. She’d almost like to give it a try and see how they tasted.
Turning, she gave a little start. Jack was leaning in the doorway, hands in his pockets, a half smile on his face.
Something pulled in her chest.
“Ready?” he asked.
“You bet.” She almost forgot her thong pain. He was that beautiful.
They didn’t hold hands as they walked down the sidewalk, which was a shame. Maybe Jack could carry her and make her forget that her thong was trying to eviscerate her. Also, her left breast was incredibly itchy. She tried to rub it with her upper arm, which just made it worse. Wondered if she could subtly go at it with a fork once they sat down.
But they were almost there. (Just thirty or forty painful steps to go, and had she mentioned she was wearing heels? Not the sprain-inducing kind, but the kind that nevertheless made her feet throb.) Being a girl sucked.
Just as they got to Hugo’s, however, Jack stopped in the foyer, and a curse slipped from his lips.
“Forget your wallet? Don’t worry. I’ve got money.”
“No. It’s...uh...”
“Oh, my God! It’s you! Honey, look—it’s Jack Holland!”
Lori Baines charged. A murmur went up from the diners. Lori and Phil Baines were Garrett’s parents. They owed Jack their son’s life.
“Jack, it’s so, so good to see you!” She hugged Jack tightly, her shoulders shaking with sobs.
“We’re buying you dinner,” said Phil, his voice husky. “Whatever you want, on us. Please let us.”
“Hey, guys,” said Jessica Dunn, who worked there one or two nights a week. “Table for two?”
As for Jack himself, his face was on the gray side, but he was trying to smile as Lori showed him pictures on her phone.
“I’m not sure we’re staying,” Em murmured. “Sorry, Jess.”
“No, he looks a little...”
“Yeah.” Em put her hand on his arm. “Hey. They don’t have anything gluten-free here,” she said. “And you know how I am about gluten.”
“My sister is the same way,” Lori said. “And, Officer Neal, we never thanked you. You were wonderful that night, too.”
“I’m glad everything turned out okay. For Garrett, I mean.”
“Yes,” Lori said, her eyes filling once more. “That poor Josh.”
“Give Garrett our best, okay?” Em said. “We have to be going.”
“But we wanted to buy you two dinner—” Phil began.
“That’s so nice of you. Another time, maybe.” Em smiled and took Jack’s arm. “Have a great night.”
He didn’t say anything. Once outside, he started walking toward the green. Em had to hop-run to keep up, hobbled by her underwear.
He stopped at the first bench they came to and sat down heavily, leaning forward with his head in his hands. Didn’t look up when Em sat beside him, subtly trying to adjust the thong of pain.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yep.”
She waited. After a minute he ran his hands through his hair and looked at her. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about.”
He sighed and sat back, closing his eyes.
She wanted to tell him how brave he’d been, tell him about the awe she felt at how he’d put his life on the line for those kids...and how he went back for Josh, even when the odds were so poor.
But she also knew he’d heard that a thousand times, if not more.
“People think when you rescue someone, it’s the greatest thing ever,” she said gently. “They never think about how scary it is, all the what-ifs that go through your head.”
He opened his eyes, the intense blue still a shock to her. “Have you ever saved anyone?” he asked.
“Not yet. Not the way you did. I’ve pulled over a few drunk drivers. But otherwise, no.”
“I really hate the hero worship,” he said quietly. “I’m just a winemaker who was taking pictures of the sky that night. It doesn’t get less heroic than that.”
“What you did was extraordinary, Jack.” She couldn’t help herself.
“But it wasn’t. Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing if you’d been there. Anyone would’ve. My teenage niece would’ve. Faith would’ve. Her dog would’ve.”
“But you did it. You were the one who was there, and you went in and pulled four kids out of a frigid lake, Jack. We might’ve tried, but I don’t know anyone else who could’ve actually done it. And you...you didn’t stop trying.”
“Tell that to Josh Deiner. So much for extraordinary.”
“He’d be dead without you.”
He gave a bitter laugh. “From what I can tell, he’s dying right now. Just slowly, in pieces, by inches.”
“So should you have left him?”
“No,” he said quietly. “I should’ve done better.”
Her heart cracked. “You did your best.”
“And it wasn’t good enough.” He looked at her a moment. “Well, this is cheerful, isn’t it? Come on—let’s get dinner.” He grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet. “You hungry?”
“We don’t have to—”
“I’m starving. Let’s go.”
“Jack, what you’re going through is—”
“I’m ordering the nachos. You know Connor will put salmon on them if you ask? Sounds disgusting, but it’s fantastic.” He towed her ruthlessly across the green, yanked open the door to the pub and became manically cheerful, kissing Colleen on the cheek, shaking Lucas’s hand. And great. There were Jack’s dad and stepmother. “You guys know Emmaline, right?”
“Jack. Of course they know me.” He was vibrating with energy. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Holland. Mrs. Holland.” The Jamaican woman gave her a regal nod, and Em suspected she’d just won points for using Mrs. J.’s married name.
“You look very pretty tonight, dear,” Jack’s dad said. He had the same blue eyes as his son, and Em felt her cheeks warm with the compliment. “Well! We’ll let you two kids get back to your date!”
“And we’ll let you two get back to yours,” Jack said. He took another minute to clap Gerard Chartier on the back and say hello to Lorelei.
Crikey. Emmaline was surprised he didn’t fly around the room a few times, he had so much energy.
Finally, they made it to their table.
“Everything okay?” she asked as he sat down.
He sighed. “Please let’s have a good time tonight,” he said, looking her in the eye, giving her the full power of the blue. “I don’t need a social worker. I need a friend.”
Naked friends, she’d been thinking after that make-out session in the church basement. If they weren’t going to be na**d friends, she could’ve worn human underwear instead of this razor wire. “Friends it is,” she said.
“I like you, Emmaline.” He smiled, a wide, adorable smile, and she had a flash of memory of Jack when he picked Faith up from some high school event, the college boy back to see his family, and how it made her wish she had a big brother.
They ordered the nachos and burgers and a bottle of wine that, Jack promised, would be perfect with dinner, a fresh, plummy pinot with hints of nutmeg and autumn leaves.
“If you say so,” Em said, shifting. The thong was giving her a colonoscopy. She tried sitting on her hands. It didn’t help. Crossed her legs—yow! Bad idea, abort, abort!
Jack frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“Other than your panic attack ten minutes ago?”
“No,” he said, ignoring her comment. “With you. You’ve been walking funny, and you keep fidgeting.”
“I’m fine,” she said.
“Did you hurt yourself?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“If you don’t feel good, we can—”
“Jack, I’m fine! Okay? I’m better than you, Captain Avoidance.” She shifted, wincing.
“You just did it again. You’re like a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs.”
“What a quaint Southern phrase. Did you pick that expression up from your wife?”
“Her father, actually. What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m wearing a thong, okay? It hurts.”
Well, that stopped him. It also stopped the Saint Thomas vestry members, too, who were seated at the table next to their booth. Reverend Fisk gave her an appreciative wink, then redirected the rest of them back to their budget woes.
“A thong, huh?” Jack said.
“Yes. Enjoy the visual, because I’m never doing it again.”
“If it’s that uncomfortable, you can take it off.” He grinned, the cheeky man.
“Sucks to be a girl, let me tell you.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it. But I’m glad you are.”
A slow roll of squeezing warmth encompassed her stomach. Just then, Hannah set down their nachos, and Prudence Vanderbeek flopped into the seat next to Jack. “Hey, Useless! Hey, Em! Can I have some? I’m starving.” She helped herself to a heavily laden chip and bit into it. “Are you guys on a date?”
“Just friends,” Em said at the same time Jack said “Yes.” Aha. So maybe the thong had been worth it after all.
“Ooh. I like the conflict,” Pru said. “Keeps things lively. Enjoy all this friction when it’s new, children, because when you’ve been married for a quarter of a century, you start having to be a little more creative in the boudoir, if you know what I mean.”
“I don’t want to know what you mean,” Jack said. “I’ll pay you not to tell me what you mean.”
“Em, ignore him,” Pru said. “I can give you a lifetime’s worth of tips.”
“Do not take sex tips from my sister,” he said. “Pru, get out of here, okay? You’re ruining my game.”
“You have no game,” she said. “He’s a sad, smelly bachelor, Emmaline. And have you seen his cat?” She shuddered. “You can do better.” She took another slab of nachos, smacked Jack on the shoulder and left, her work boots thudding on the wooden floor.
“Deep down, she loves me,” Jack said.
“I can tell.”
He smiled. Em did, too, and for a second, they just looked at each other until she broke.
Damn. Dates were hard. It probably explained why she’d been on so few.