Chapter Eighteen

The ice cream parlor was busy. Emmie and Coleson waited patiently in line, talking and keeping to themselves. He kept pulling her close and kissing her somewhere on the face. She’d laugh and pretend to pull away and he’d pull her back into his arms.

“What flavor ice cream are you going to get?” she asked.

His eyes widened. “What? You don’t know my favorite flavor of ice cream? I’m devastated. You don’t care for me—”

She slapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh, my goodness. Are you always so dramatic?”

He nipped at her fingers and she pulled them away. “ Moi ?”

Rolling her eyes, she shuffled forward as the customer in front of her finished their order. Coleson wrapped his arms around her to murmur in her ear.

“You’re going to get salted caramel ribbon, am I right?”

He nipped her earlobe and she squirmed.

“Stop that,” she whispered.

“Why?” he probed while his warm breath softly blew in her ear. “Are you getting hot and bothered?”

“Just wait until we get home,” she warned. “I’m going to drive you crazy.”

“Oh, baby, you already do.”

“Emmie, Coleson, it’s so good to see you again.” They whipped their heads around and saw Mallory smiling at them. “Let me guess. Salted caramel ribbon? Double chocolate fudge?”

“Right on both. How’d you know?”

“When you run an ice cream parlor, you gain the wisdom of the cosmos.”

She seemed so serious, until a small smile cracked her mouth. Then they were laughing.

Once they got their ice cream, Coleson paid and they waved at Mallory as they headed to the exit. As soon as he opened the door to exit, a flash went off in his face. He blinked and stumbled back, directly into her which caused her to drop her ice cream.

“Damn it,” she muttered.

They were surrounded by reporters as they pressed forward, each one trying hard to outdo the other. Questions flew, surrounding them. Each one more intrusive than the other. Coleson pushed her back into the ice cream parlor and closed the door. The reporters pressed up against the window, cameras going off to capture a perfect shot. The remaining patrons inside the shop stared at them, whispering to each other.

“Shit,” Coleson muttered. “How the fuck did they find me?”

“How did they know I was here?”

Both turned to look at each other.

“You?”

“What do you mean, you ?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve not been completely honest. Coleson is my middle name.”

She blinked. “What’s your first name?”

“Crew. Crew Coleson Kiles. I’m a quarterback with the St. Louis Archers, and … we just won the Super Bowl.”

“Oh.”

“I didn’t mean to omit that from you. I was flying under the radar. I didn’t want to share my grief with the paparazzi.”

She held up a hand. “I completely understand.”

“You do?”

She nodded. “My real name is Emerson Adinson.”

He tilted his head. “That’s a horrible rhyming combination.”

He was being sincere, which only made it funnier, and Emmie burst into laughter. A moment later he joined her.

“I don’t know who you are,” she managed to say when she got herself under control.

“I don’t know who you are either.”

“You mean to say we were both using pseudonyms when we didn’t have to?”

He laughed even harder, nodding.

“Come on, you two,” Mallory said, waving at them. “Go out the employee entrance in the back. I’ll distract them.”

Coleson, or Crew, gave Mallory his ice cream and then grabbed hold of her hand and led her through the privacy door, which led to a narrow hallway. A small break room rested on the right, and a bathroom on the left, and at the end, the exit. He opened the door and stuck his head out to make sure the coast was clear, then he yanked on her hand and off they went, hurrying down the alley. Emmie was glad it wasn’t as disgusting as the New York City alleys.

“My car might be compromised,” he said.

They reached the end and both peaked around the corner. Mallory held court, engaging with the reporters. Crew pulled out his car key and they kept their heads down as they hurried to the car. And then they slipped inside and Crew quickly drove away, leaving the reporters behind.

“So,” she said. “St. Louis, eh?”

“Have you ever been?”

“No, but suddenly I find I have a fascination to visit it.”

He smiled. “I’m kind of hoping you’ll stay longer than a visit.”

She blinked. “What are you implying?”

“I thought that was obvious. I want you to visit and stay.”

Excitement pulsed through her body. Her heart rate jumped, causing all type of butterflies to swarm in her belly.

“We’ve only known each other for a minute,” she said. “What if you get sick of me?”

“What if you don’t like watching football?” he countered.

“What if you find someone else?”

“What if you get bored?”

“What if you cheat?”

He threw her a quick glance. “What if you cheat?”

“I’ll have you know that I don’t believe in cheating,” she said firmly. “If you feel like you’re going to cheat, then just break up with the person you’re with.”

“We happen to be in agreement on that,” he said calmly. “I think it’s the second most important thing in a relationship.”

“What’s the first?”

“Respect.”

She liked that answer. “Like I said, we don’t know each other very well.”

“True. But that’s what relationships are all about. I can’t do long distance. It never works.”

“I’m warning you right now, my past relationships are plastered all over the Internet,” she said. “My great, great, great … well, I’m not quite sure how many greats they were, but my ancestors were smart enough to buy a lot of land in New York City, back when it was known as New Amsterdam.”

“Fuck. American tycoons?”

“Pretty much. I guess I’m what you’d call a socialite. Or, at least I was.”

“What are you now?”

“I am what I told you.” She took a deep breath. “A sister mourning her brother. However, I used to be one of those girls who thought about nothing more than clothes, jewelry, and anything else that lacked substance. Drinking. Partying. I’ll be the first to admit I wasn’t the most conscientious person.”

“Thomas had to kick my ass once or twice because I was a horrible brat,” he said.

“Thanks for trying … oh, shit,” she gasped.

“What?” he demanded.

She pointed at the limo in her driveway. “My parents are here.”