Chapter 15

15

R y told Emerson he was going to drop the catering van at Blackwood BBQ, bring in the empty bins, and then drive his truck to her place. He gave her a basket which had food for their dinner, and she drove to her place.

Nerves filled her as she brought the basket inside. She set it on the counter and opened a bottle of the red blend he'd enjoyed in order to let it breathe. Then she changed out of the white shirt and black pants she typical wore when working at the event center, tossing them and the apron tied around her waist into her laundry basket, and replacing them with a midnight blue shirt and white capris. Removing the hair tie, she shook out her hair and brushed it until the raven waves shone. She dabbed on the tiniest bit of perfume, rubbing her wrists together, hoping she wasn't overdoing it.

The doorbell rang, and her heart thumped against her ribs as she went to answer it.

Ry stood there, his white apron gone, wearing the same black T-shirt and black pants he'd worn while catering.

"You changed. I wish I would've thought to bring another set of clothes," he said, entering the house.

"I had a stain on my shirt," she fibbed as she closed the door, slightly embarrassed now that she had put on a different outfit.

"Do you mind if I pull off my boots and get comfortable? I've been on my feet all day. Like since three this morning, smoking the meats for the reception."

She worried that he might be too tired to go through with what she was going to propose and would have to gauge how things were going before she spoke up.

"Sure. I opened some wine. Let me get you a glass."

He sat on her sofa and removed his boots as she poured glasses for them, using both hands because hers were shaking.

Ry came into the kitchen, and Emerson handed him a glass. He took a long sip.

"Pretty damn good," he growled in that low, sexy voice which brought shivers to her spine. "Braden is a genius. Or Ivy's taught me enough so I can finally appreciate a good wine." He grinned. "Todd and I used to sneak into where Mr. Hart concocted the wines. We'd turn the spigot on for different barrels and fill a thermos. Take it down to Lost Creek and fish and talk and get just a little bit drunk. We'd even sing some."

"You sing?"

"Not at all. Croaking frogs sound like angels compared to what comes out of me. I bellow. Off-key. Drunk or sober. That's why I admired Dax so much. Not only does he write amazing songs, but his voice is so rich."

"You have talents of your own," she said.

His brows shot up. "Oh, really?"

Emerson took a big drink of wine, hoping he wouldn't notice the color warming her cheeks. Then she set down her wineglass and removed two plates from the cupboard.

"You smoke amazing meats," she said as she opened the basket and began removing the containers inside.

He shrugged. "That's just cooking. Anyone can learn to cook. Hell, Finley's teaching Holden to cook. He told me he's learned how to make omelets. Spaghetti. Fried chicken. They're going to work on meatloaf next."

"I didn't know Holden was learning to cook," she said, popping the buns into the toaster. "I hope you like a lightly-toasted bun."

"Love it."

He put his wineglass on the counter and started to open the different containers. "Do you want everything I brought? It's the usual stuff."

"Sure. Do you want me to heat the sliced brisket some?"

"I'll do it."

He placed the brisket on one of the empty plates and set it in the microwave. Emerson got two more plates and dipped into the coleslaw, giving them some of it and the potato salad.

"I'm glad you added mac and cheese as a side option," she told him, putting the mac into a bowl and handing it to him to heat.

"Some barbeque joints don't like to mess with it. Dad has always said mac and cheese is more trouble than it's worth, but it's a comfort food for me. I don't know anyone who doesn't like it. That's why I added it, thinking brides and grooms might like it on their special day."

Ry put their sandwiches together, pouring sauce over the meat and adding onions and relish. She topped off their plates with the warmed mac.

"Do you want to eat at the breakfast bar or on the couch?" he asked, holding their plates.

"The couch is more comfy. I'll grab the wine."

They went to her living room and as they ate, they discussed the plot of Capitol Crimes .

"Holden told me he did a ton of research for the book," Ry said before biting into his brisket sandwich.

"Yes, he mentioned that he took enough notes for more than one book. I think from what he said that he might be going back to Washington, D.C., for the next book he writes. After his Mr. Hamilton book."

He frowned. "What's that?"

"You'll have to get Holden to tell you about Mr. Hamilton. Just as I had a mentor in Miss Kent, Holden became close with the janitor at his school. Mr. Hamilton was a war vet, a very educated man. He took Holden and several other students under his wing and guided them for years. Holden said Mr. Hamilton made him the man he always wanted to be. His next novel is going to be a love letter written for the custodian."

"That definitely sounds like something I'd like to read. Holden's really talented, writing both novels and now a screenplay."

"I think that's why he and Finley are such a good fit," Emerson said. "Finley is wildly creative. Not only does she photograph people, but she also has started photographing the Hill Country landscape. She and Ivy go out on long drives and take pictures. Ivy then paints different scenes."

"I actually stopped by and saw some of Ivy's paintings the other day. They blew me away. No wonder she's getting a big exhibit showing her work in New York."

They finished their sandwiches, and Emerson asked him if he had room for dessert.

"Only if you've made it. Take that back. You— or the Little Creamery in Brenham."

She laughed, knowing that was the nickname for the makers of Blue Bell Ice Cream.

"No ice cream. Just something new I was playing around with."

"Now I'm really intrigued. Bring it, Frost."

He scooped up their plates and brought them into the kitchen, rinsing them before placing them in the dishwasher. Ry also grabbed the wine bottle, taking it back and refilling their glasses.

"Stay in there," she called. "I'll bring dessert out soon."

When she did and handed him a bowl topped with whipped cream, his eyes lit up. "I have no idea what this is, but I can't wait to put it in my mouth."

She settled herself on the sofa. "It's a grilled blackberry brioche bread pudding."

"Whoa! Bread pudding is a weakness of mine. This sounds really interesting." He scooped up some and studied it a moment before he bit into it. "Okay. Promise me you'll make this for the next Wednesday dinner. And teach me how to make it."

"You probably feel an affinity for it because I made it on the grill," she revealed.

He took another bite and sighed. "A grilled dessert. Who knew?"

"It's actually fairly easy."

She explained how she whisked milk, eggs, sugar, salt, and vanilla extract together before folding in bread cubes, blackberries, and cream cheese.

"You let the bread soak up everything— about fifteen minutes —and then brush melted butter on foil. I placed the bread mixture in the middle of the foil and folded and sealed it, leaving a little room for steam to form. Then it went on the grill until it was toasty. It's actually better straight off the grill, letting it cool for a few minutes. I didn't have that luxury tonight, though."

Ry took the last bite, obviously savoring it from the contented look on his face. "I'll be your guinea pig anytime, Emerson Frost."

"Do you mean that?" she asked softly, her gaze pinning his. "Because I have another idea."

He placed his bowl on the coffee table. "What are you thinking about trying out on me?" he asked, his voice growing husky.

Emerson leaned over and kissed him softly. She started to pull away, but his warm hand settled on her nape, and he brought his lips to hers again. The kiss was lingering. Something stirred within her.

Desire?

She was so inexperienced that she didn't know. What she did know was that she wanted to explore these new, fragile feelings with this man. Only him.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, and Emerson kissed Ry with everything she had learned from him previously. The kiss deepened. Heated. Soon, it was as if molten heat ran through her. His hands now roamed her back, moving, stroking, causing chills to rush along her spine. She grew breathless from their kisses, her insides giddy.

Excitedly, she broke the kiss, gazing into his eyes. "I want to have sex with you," she declared.

He frowned. "What? No, Emerson."

Everything inside her came to a screeching halt. The old pattern of rejection reared its ugly head. When she was young, she had tried so hard to be the best little girl she could be for both her mom and dad. She would draw them a picture. Pick a flower. Bring home good grades. Nothing moved her parents, and Emerson quickly retreated within herself. Now, it was happening all over with Ry. She had thought he might be different. That she would have a chance to experience something new with him. To grow and learn a little about herself.

Hot tears spilled down her cheeks as she scrambled from the sofa. Embarrassment filled her.

"You can go," she said dully. "See yourself out."

Retreating from the room, she hurried down the hall, ready to lock herself in the lone bathroom until he was gone. As she reached it, though, Ry's hand clasped her elbow turning her.

"Just go!" she shouted, so tired of being alone and unwanted, knowing she was one of the girls who did the ugly cry and got splotchy cheeks and swollen eyes.

"No," he said firmly.

And then he pulled her into his arms.

Emerson wept, soaking his shirt, clinging to him, humiliated that she did so. Being the nice guy he was, Ry comforted her. Stroked her back and hair. Murmured soft, indiscernible words to her. Everything he did only made her cry harder.

She tried to push away from him, but he held fast.

"Please. Just go. I am already mortified enough as it is."

"Why?" he asked.

Meeting his gaze, she told him, "I knew you were too good for me. That I'm dull and boring and you'd never really be interested in me. I guess I should thank you for at least teaching me how to kiss." She paused, fresh tears coursing down her cheeks. "But rejection hurts, Ry. Asking you to have sex with me was a big deal to me. I get that you don't want to. It still hurts all the same. Please leave. I just want to be alone."

He enveloped her in his arms. Warmth filled her. His clean, masculine scent surrounded her. For a moment, she leaned into him and simply enjoyed the feel of him, knowing it would be the last time she found herself in this position.

Then he lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"I wasn't saying no to you , Emerson. I was saying no to sex tonight."

Confusion filled her. "I don't get it."

He smiled gently at her. "I do want to be with you. But I think we need to build up to that. We're getting to know one another. I think we're already building a nice foundation of friendship. I want to expand on that. I don't want to rush things. Especially because it would be the first time for you to take such a big step."

Emerson tried to wrap her head around what he was saying. "So, you aren't turning me down?"

"I am now." He grinned. "But I'm definitely leaving the door open for the future." His palm cradled her cheek. "I don't think you're boring at all. I find you fascinating. I want to get to know you better. I want to be more than friends. And when the time is right, I do want to make love to you. Not have sex."

She really didn't know the difference. All Emerson knew was how she felt being in Ry's arms. How she responded to his kiss. How being in his company made her feel different.

"So, what do you want to do?"

He smiled, a warm smile that felt as if sunshine rained down upon her. "I want to sit on the couch and cuddle with my girlfriend while we watch Capitol Crimes ."

"Your… girlfriend?"

"Yup. My girlfriend. Are you available for the position, Miss Frost?"

Her heart soared. "Yes, Mr. Blackwood. I believe I am."

Threading his fingers through hers, Ry led her back to the living room. They sat on the couch. He picked up the remote and settled in, his arm going around her shoulders, drawing her into him. Emerson rested her head against him, relaxing.

They watched the movie. At least, Ry did. Her head was spinning the entire time. It felt so right sitting with him. She had never been more content in her life.

Once the movie ended, he turned off the TV. They talked about Wolf's film versus the book. Their conversation was back-and-forth, interesting, with each of them pointing out differences between novel and movie as they discussed the finer points of both.

He gave her a lazy smile. "This was fun."

"Yes," she agreed.

Ry kissed her then, and they continued to kiss for several minutes. Emerson supposed this is what couples did.

And now she was a part of a couple.

She smiled against his mouth.

"What are you smiling about?" he asked.

"Just… being with you. It makes me happy."

He brushed back a lock of hair. "I want to make you happy, Emerson. I'm glad you're willing to give me a chance to do that."

"Are we… do we tell anyone?"

Ry laughed. "I'm ready to shout it from the rooftops. Emerson Frost is my girl."

He kissed her again, long and deep. Then he stood, pulling her to her feet. His arms went about her again, and he kissed her tenderly.

"I'll follow your lead," he said. "You can tell whoever you'd like that we're together. Because we are together now, Emerson."

"Okay," she said softly, still trying to adjust the newness of the situation. "I'd like to tell Finley first. We've been friends the longest. Then I'll let the others know."

"I'll wait before I say anything. Guys are worse gossips than girls."

"Really?"

"Really."

Ry kissed her again and took her hand, moving toward the door.

"I'm glad you decided to give me a chance," he said, his voice low and rough.

She framed his face with her hands. "I'm glad you are thoughtful enough not to rush me. And not let me rush us. I don't think many guys would've turned me down when I asked them to have sex with me."

His gaze pinned hers. "When we do come together, I want it to mean something."

She nodded, afraid to speak.

He gave her a light kiss goodbye. "We've got the Bancroft wedding at five tomorrow. Can I see you after that?"

"Yes."

"Goodnight, Emerson."

"Goodnight, Ry."

She let him out the door and locked it behind him, leaning against the door for support because her legs suddenly felt wobbly. She gave into the urge and simply slid her back down the door, plopping on the ground.

Ry Blackwood cared about her. Enough to take things slowly with her. Enough to call her his girlfriend.

Emerson's gut told her she would definitely like being his girlfriend.

She couldn't wait for tomorrow to come.