Читать книгу ROMeANTICALLY CHALLENGED - Marina Adair - Страница 10

Chapter 4

September was in a mood. The air was so thick that with one breath Emmitt choked on the humidity. He took it as a sign that Mother Nature was menopausal and his trip home was going to be a series of hot flashes with intermittent night sweats and unpredictable outbursts.

Emmitt shoved his hands in his pants pockets and took in the yellow and white house on the other side of the street. The large Cape Cod-style house was family ready with a charming front porch, matching bikes, a mini-me mailbox, and a Subaru that had just enough mom-mobile vibe to give any self-respecting bachelor hives. It was a far cry from the bungalow he’d grown up in a few blocks over.

It was the kind of place that had happy family written all over it.

Emmitt had never experienced that kind of family until the day he’d met Paisley.

One look at her and his entire world had changed. Emmitt had changed. Becoming an insta-dad had that kind of effect. And every day he was changing more and more. He only hoped he could change as fast as Paisley deserved.

But instead of knocking on the front door, he stood on the curb sweating his balls off in a hoodie and ballcap, looking like some kind of stalker casing the joint. By tomorrow his stealth homecoming would likely make the front page of the morning paper, and he wanted Paisley to hear it from him first. Which was why, instead of picking the lock and climbing into bed with his smart-mouthed tenant, Emmitt had come here.

Ignoring the sweat on his brow, which had nothing to do with Mother Nature, Emmitt strode up the cobblestone pathway to the bright red door. There was a wreath of sunflowers hanging in the center, twinkle lights lining the porch rail and twisting up each of the columns, and a bronzed plaque on the wood shingled wall, reading THE TANNER FAMILY.

Emmitt let that sink in, and even after ten years it didn’t sit right.

He pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes and, ignoring how gritty they were, entered the door code. The lock clicked open, and he let himself in. He considered hanging his jacket next to the others lined in a neat little row on their rightful hooks. Then he considered just how pissy Gray became over “outside” clothes lying on the upholstery and had a better idea.

Grinning, Emmitt tossed his jacket over the back of the couch. His ballcap went over the lamp, sneakers stayed on, and the loose leaf stuck to his right heel went squarely in the middle of the coffee table. Satisfied with his handiwork, he walked down the hallway toward the loud voices erupting from the kitchen, sure to squeak his shoes on the recently polished wood floor.

Sunday at the Tanner house was reserved for football, barbecuing, and—after Paisley went to bed—a few rounds of poker. And while he’d missed the feast part of the festivities, the four-letter tirade coming from the kitchen told him he’d arrived just in time for the cards.

In keeping with Tanner tradition, his buddies were engaged in a high-stakes game of car-pool poker where someone’s man-card, it sounded, was in question.

“It’s just a few hours out of your week,” Gray said, cards in hand and working extra hard to maintain his poker face. For a guy whose career included delivering life-and-death news, he had more tells than an OCD patient in a public bathroom. “You know how important this dance committee thing is to Paisley.”

“The science club was important to her, too, which was how I wound up spending a good chunk of last year knitting sweaters for penguins in New Zealand.” This came from Grayson’s brother-in-law, Levi Rhodes. A straight-shooter and retired sailing legend who now owned the Rome marina and attached bar and grill, he was also Emmitt’s best friend—and the reason Emmitt had a half-naked woman sleeping in his bed. “I paid my time. You’re up, pal.”

“When she told me she’d signed me up to help with the dance decorations, I completely forgot that tomorrow is my only day off,” Gray said and Emmitt might have stepped in to help a friend in need—had either one of his friends bothered to remind him that the dance in question was this month. Okay, so he’d been out of reach for a few weeks, but an e-mail would have been nice. So he stood quietly in the doorway and waited for them to notice his arrival.

“I have plans,” Gray added.

Dr. Grayson Tanner was only a few years older than Emmitt but acted as if he were the grandpa of the group. He was stable, straitlaced, starched, and in the running for Stepdad of the Year. He liked long walks on the beach, shell collecting, and making detailed grocery lists color coded by category. He was a hometown freaking hero, and every single lady’s real-life Dr. Dreamboat.

Not that Gray was all that interested in dating after losing the love of his life four months ago. Emmitt wouldn’t be surprised if the guy never looked at another woman again.

“What? With a bottle of lotion?” Levi plucked two cards from his hand and placed them facedown, pulling two fresh ones from the deck.

“With your mom.”

Levi met Gray’s gaze over the top of his cards. “Everything all right?”

Gray shrugged. “Just catching up. We haven’t seen each other much since Michelle’s... uh... funeral.”

“Want me to talk to her?”

“I don’t need you holding my damn hand,” Gray said, discarding not a single card. “What I need is for you to find someone to cover the bar so you can go with Paisley to the meeting, then take her home.”

“No can do.” Levi leaned back and cracked his neck from side to side. He was built like a bouncer; had more tattoos than fingers; and, with his buzzed head and badass attitude, was often taken for a fighter rather than a boat builder who hand-carved high-end sailboats from wood boards.

“The Patriots are playing tomorrow, which means all hands on deck at the Crow’s Nest. I know that’s breaking news, since I have so many free nights,” Levi patronized. “But I’ll be working the bar and overseeing my new manager, which means you’re doing decorations and babysitting.”

“Can’t someone fill in for you?” Gray tossed three flash cards into the pile—two COOK DINNER and one EMPTY DISHWASHER. “I call.”

“Since when does a fifteen-year-old need a sitter?” Emmitt finally said, stepping into the room.

Both startled gazes swung toward him. Levi’s accusatory. Gray’s pissy.

Ah, home sweet home.

“What the hell are you doing home?” Levi asked at the same time Gray said, “Are you wearing shoes in my house? There’s a shoe rack for a reason. I even put a sign above it so you’d remember.”

“Oh, I remembered.” Emmitt opened the fridge, and the light caused a sharp pain to build behind his eyes. “I trampled through your flower bed on the way in. Lots of tread on these babies, wanted to make sure they were nice and dirty.”

“You don’t call, you don’t write, you just show up and drink my beer,” Gray said.

Water was more Emmitt’s speed these days. Not that a cold beer didn’t sound good after the shit in his fridge at home, but it wasn’t all that compatible with the elephant-tranquilizer-sized painkiller he’d taken before leaving home. He popped the cap then tipped the bottle back, nearly emptying it in one swallow. He grabbed a second bottle before closing the fridge.

He was still in the throes of jet lag. “Jet lag” that, according to the doctors in China, could last another three to forever weeks, depending on how lucky he got. Recent history told him lady luck was one vindictive bitch.

“Seriously, what are you doing home?” Gray pressed.

“Nice to see you too.” Emmitt flipped a kitchen chair around and, straddling it, took his seat at the table. “China was epic, by the way. The trip home was a little bumpy, but arrived safe and sound, thanks for asking.” He turned to Levi. “Call him out. He’s got a shit hand.”

“Looking at my cards and then spilling isn’t cool.” Gray stood. “This is why I hate playing with you two.”

“You love playing with us,” Emmitt said. “For the record, don’t look all smug when you have a shit hand. It tells everyone you have a shit hand.”

“I fold.” Gray tossed his cards on the table and stomped to the stove. When he came back, he held a big plate with a piece of chicken and—what smelled like—Michelle’s mac-n-cheese recipe.

The delicious scent of the melted cheddar had Emmitt’s stomach rumbling. He hadn’t eaten more than a few bags of peanuts and a protein bar on his flight home. That was thirty-some-long-hours ago.

“Any more of that in the oven?” Emmitt asked.

“Nope.”

“How about an extra fork?”

Gray looked up. Zero amusement on his face. “If you’d called to tell us you were home, I would’ve made more.”

“Would you also have reminded me that the father-daughter dance is this month?” When the other two exchanged guilty looks, Emmitt added, “I got a note about needing a dress.”

“Would it have mattered if I had told you?” Gray asked. “You’re supposed to be on assignment for another few months.”

Jesus, was the guy serious?

“Hell, yeah, it would have mattered,” Emmitt said. “It’s the father-daughter dance. I’m her father. Therefore, I should have been informed about the dance since I’ll be the one taking her.”

Her name was Paisley Rhodes-Bradley, for Christ’s sake. Emmitt had first met Paisley’s mom when he’d moved to Rome in middle school. He was twelve, Michelle sixteen, and she was his best friend’s sister. But it wasn’t until Emmitt had come home from college, when those four years didn’t seem to make such a big difference anymore. Michelle was fresh out of a relationship and looking for a rebound, and Emmitt was looking to live out one of his childhood fantasies.

The timing seemed perfect.

All it took was one kiss and their fates were sealed. That kiss led to a sizzling-summer weekend spent together on a deserted strip of beach, sleeping in a tent and bathing in the Atlantic. They both knew it going in, the weekend was all they had, so they enjoyed every moment.

It wasn’t until six years later, when he was covering a subway bombing in Berlin, that he heard from Michelle again. She’d had a baby. And she was pretty confident Paisley was his.

When Paisley had been born, Michelle thought the father was her current boyfriend, leaving no reason to notify Emmitt. But after some lab work had proven that Paisley’s dad wasn’t the guy on the birth certificate, she’d e-mailed Emmitt immediately. He was on the first flight home, ring in his pocket, ready to do the right thing.

Only, Michelle already had a steady man in her life. Dr. Dreamboat had come onto the scene a few years earlier with a heartfelt drop to a single knee.

Not that it mattered. One look at those big brown eyes and adorable dimples and Emmitt didn’t need to wait for the test to come back. Without a doubt, that travel-sized pixie in soccer cleats and a grin that could heal the world was one hundred percent his.

Overnight, Emmitt had become daddy to a five-year-old little girl.

But Paisley was a package deal. She didn’t go anywhere without her mom and the two men in her life—Uncle Levi and Stepdad Grayson, who’d already staked a solid claim in her little world.

Since Emmitt was the last one to the table, he was still fighting for his rightful place in the family, and in Paisley’s life.

“If you’re going by that logic,” Gray explained, “then I’d like to go on record saying that since she introduces me as her father and you as her dad, I’m the most logical choice to take Paisley to the father-daughter dance.”

“Go on record?” Emmitt laughed. “This isn’t an autopsy, Doc. It’s my kid’s dance. And since my name’s on the birth certificate now, it blows your logic right out of the water.”

“So is mine,” Levi interrupted. “She’s a born-and-bred Rhodes. I’d also like to point out that I was around before any of you guys bothered to show up.”

To say his family situation was complicated was an understatement.

“Raise your hand if you changed a single diaper,” Levi went on.

Gray started to raise a hand, and Levi skewered him with a look. “Paisley’s diapers? Your patients don’t count.”

Grayson folded his arms across his chest.

“Ever do a late-night drive through town until she fell asleep?” He looked around. His was the only hand up. “No? How about an early morning feeding where she puked your sister’s breast milk all over your face? Snotted on your workshirt? Kicked you in the junk?”

All three hands went in the air at the last question.

Levi shook his head and gave an unimpressed huff. “She was already mobile by that point. That’s on you guys.” Levi put his hand down. “All I’m saying is that if anyone has a right to take Paisley to that dance, it’s me.”

“Like hell.” Gray stood, getting on his self-righteous soapbox. “It’s quality, not quantity. I’m the homework guy, the hold my hand while I get a shot guy, wipe away the tears guy, PTA guy, carpool guy—”

“Only because you’re a shitty poker player,” Levi pointed out.

“I’m the everyday in the trenches guy.” Gray ended with so much superiority, Emmitt was surprised he didn’t jump on the table and drop the mic.

“Sounds like you’re the tight-ass guy who no one wants to take to a dance,” Emmitt joked.

Gray didn’t laugh. In fact, he looked more serious than usual. “I’m the guy who shows up every day, no matter what.”

Emmitt didn’t think Gray meant for his words to cut as deep as they did, but they’d definitely leave a mark.

When Emmitt was in Rome, he threw off the natural balance of things. He’d known that the moment he’d been accepted into the fold. It also wasn’t a secret that when he was away on assignment, everyone else’s life got a whole hell of a lot less complicated. Paisley didn’t have to choose whose house she was going to sleep at. Didn’t have to rush over before school because she’d left her homework at Gray’s place. And she didn’t have to divide her attention among her three dads.

Gray was always on his ass about cutting back on the number of assignments he took, being home more. Easy for someone whose job restricted him to a one-block radius to pass judgment.

Emmitt had cut back a lot over the past few years. With Michelle gone, he planned on cutting back even further. He’d even approached Paisley about moving in with him full time. To Emmitt’s disappointment, her therapist had agreed with Gray that it was best to keep Paisley in the only home she’d ever known.

Emmitt had buried another dream that day. The full-time guy wasn’t going to be him. That honor went to Gray. So Emmitt went back to being the cool dad, the one who interviewed the occasional star, gave outlandish and indulgent gifts, and came home on random weekends and holidays.

It sucked. Big time. But there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to make his little girl happy, even if it meant co-parenting with a guy who was the poster child for Dad of the Year. And an uncle who fancied himself the father figure against which all other father figures should be measured.

Every girl should be so lucky as to have this much love surrounding her.

“I’d have an easier time showing up if you weren’t always keeping me out of the loop on things. Such as, I don’t know? The father-daughter dance.”

“I’ve been a little distracted. I buried the love of my life four months ago, and this is the first big event since Michelle’s been gone,” Gray whispered. “Let me have this. Michelle would have wanted it.”

The table was silent for a long moment. Finally, Levi spoke, “Are you playing the widower card?”

Gray slowly smiled. “Did it work?”

“Hell no,” Levi said, and they all burst out laughing.

“Michelle would have loved this,” Emmitt said. “The three of us acting like a bunch of old biddies over a dance card.”

“Yeah, she would have.” Gray sobered, as did the rest of them.

The moment was suddenly swallowed by the grief that clung to each of them, weighing them down and making it hard to breathe.

Michelle had been Emmitt’s last thought when the concrete factory he’d been covering in China exploded. She was the glue that held everyone together, the gentle strength of the family, and the one person who never gave Emmitt shit for being Emmitt and chasing a story.

Levi had lost his sister, Gray his soul mate, and Emmitt had lost the one person who never judged him.

And Paisley?

God, Paisley hadn’t just lost her mom. She’d lost her best friend, her sounding board, and her advocate. The grounding love in her life that all other loves would be compared to. It was a soul-deep kind of loss Emmitt could relate to. So he’d vowed on his way to the hospital that Paisley wouldn’t lose two parents in the same year.

He knew how isolating and painful it was to lose a parent. His mom had died when he’d been a little younger than Paisley. His dad became withdrawn, sullen, rarely putting the bottle down long enough to check in on Emmitt—let alone stock the kitchen or drive him to school. That day standing next to the empty hole in the cemetery, Emmitt buried his childhood along with his mom.

So when they’d lost Michelle, he’d committed to doing whatever it took to make sure Paisley didn’t grow up faster than she needed to.

“Does that gash on your arm there have anything to do with your unexpected arrival?” Gray pointed to the patch of raw skin, puckered from recent stitches, peeking from beneath Emmitt’s shirt cuff.

Emmitt tugged down his sleeve. “There was a little mishap at the factory I was covering, and I got caught by a few pieces of stray concrete.”

He resisted the urge to pull the bill of his ballcap lower. The last thing he wanted was to bring attention to the gash on his head. Not if he wanted the always cautious Dr. Grayson to clear him for duty, the last condition Emmitt had to meet before Carmen would put him back in the field. Emmitt didn’t need Gray learning about the meteorite-sized chunk of concrete that had knocked him out cold.

“According to CNN, that little mishap leveled the entire factory,” Gray corrected.

“You know how reporters exaggerate for ratings.”

“That’s what Carmen said.” Gray’s eyes never strayed from Emmitt’s as he spoke. “When you didn’t check in, I called your office. According to her, you’d finally got what was coming to you. According to Paisley, you were enjoying your trip.”

“Aw, you do care,” Emmitt joked, surprised at how moved he was to learn that Gray had checked up on him. He’d woken in the hospital to a few texts from Paisley but nothing from Levi or Gray. Not that Emmitt had contacted them. Paisley’s mental well-being had precluded calling home.

His little girl had trouble sleeping as it was. She didn’t need to see him bruised and battered in a hospital bed whenever she closed her eyes. So he’d kept a steady text thread going with her—funny memes, photos of China, the latest Maru the Cat videos—but not a word about how bad his injuries were.

“I told P that it was just a few—”

“Scrapes and bruises,” the guys interrupted in unison. Then Gray said, “We heard.”

“Scrape.” He pointed to his arm, then showed his other elbow. “Bruise. As for the rest, I wanted to tell her in person. Is she asleep?”

“She’s staying the night at Owen’s,” Levi said, referring to Paisley’s best friend.

“On a school night?” Emmitt clarified, because here they were worried about a fifteen-year-old staying home alone for a few hours after school, but saw zero problems arising from her staying over at a boy’s house—school night notwithstanding.

Was he seriously the only one unsure about his daughter’s best friend being male. Yes, he was aware that Owen had been Paisley’s bestie since they were in diapers. He was also aware that Owen’s mom had been Michelle’s best friend and would protect Paisley as if one of her own.

But a lot had changed between them. Most importantly the toxic level of hormones that could have even the most levelheaded teens losing their good sense—and clothes. They were forced to sleep in different rooms now, so Emmitt was going along with it. But the second Owen started looking at Paisley as a girl, there was going to be some kind of come-to-Jesus meeting, with Owen in the hot seat.

“Tomorrow is a late start. Some kind of district meeting for the teachers,” Gray said as if that were supposed to make everything better. “You want me to call her and tell her you’re here?”

“No, if I wanted someone to call her, I’d call her myself,” Emmitt said, wondering just how out of touch the guys thought he was when it came to his own daughter. “I’ll surprise her tomorrow.”

“She’ll be bummed she missed you,” Gray said. “But it’s your call.”

It was his call. And he was choosing to wait until he didn’t feel as though his head were about to crack in half. And until he wasn’t the reason for a fun “late start” sleepover to come to an early end. “It’s been real, boys.” Emmitt stood and went to stretch, cutting it short when a searing hot pain raced up his right side. Masking a gasp with a yawn he added, “I’m going to head home and catch a few more Zzzs.”

“Oh shit!” Levi stood too. “You’re headed home. Like home home. When did you get in? Please tell me you came straight here.”

Emmitt had to laugh. Thinking back to the feisty brown-eyed beauty sleeping in his bed, he had an idea why his friend was anxiously scrolling through the contacts in his phone.

“Nope. Met my new bunkmate first.”

“Ah shit.” Levi’s head dropped into his hands, his fingers working the temples, pressing into the deep grooves of exhaustion in his face. “I kept meaning to e-mail you, but things have been crazy. Between trying to get the marina up and running and making sure the family bar stays open for business, I haven’t had a spare second. So when Gray came to me with a preapproved tenant for your place, I jumped at it. I mean, I haven’t even had time to work on my boat since, uh, Michelle.”

A mix of complicated emotions, which had been knotting in Emmitt’s stomach for the past few months, swelled and expanded until breathing became a painful reminder that the gaping holes left behind by Michelle’s absence went further than just emotional. And everyone was struggling to fill the void in their own way.

“Tenant,” Gray said firmly. “Unless you’ve bought a set of bunk beds, she’s not your bunkmate, your bedmate, or even your roomie. And she sure as hell isn’t a person you can ever see naked. Is that clear?”

Emmitt considered that, then smiled. “Can she see me naked?”

“No!” they said in unison.

“That will make things challenging.” Emmitt tapped a finger against his chin, hoping to lighten the mood. “I do love a good challenge. It forces me to get creative.”

“Oh no,” Gray said. “Annie is strictly off-limits.”

“Since when did you become the dating police? You gonna tell me where to piss next?”

“If it keeps you from pissing all over my plans,” Gray said firmly. “Levi is, as you heard, busy and I’ve had my plate full with new patients ever since Dr. Smith retired, not to mention helping out in the ER. Annie is my temp physician’s assistant and, until Denise comes back from maternity leave, she’s the only reason I’m able pick up Paisley after school.”

“I can pick her up. What?” Emmitt said to their disbelieving faces. “She gets out at three—”

“Two.”

“Two. I’m around. I can even get there a little early. Chat up some of the hot PTA moms while I wait. How hard can it be?”

“Hot PTA moms are a bad dad move,” Levi said. “Trust me, you don’t want to go there.”

“Okay, so I avoid the moms and drive Paisley home. I mean, I’m here, I can do it and still have plenty of time to get better acquainted with Anh.” Emmitt forced himself to appear more casual than he felt. He’d love to spend his afternoons helping Paisley with homework, making after-school snacks, kicking the soccer ball around. Getting to know Anh wouldn’t be a hardship either, but he’d mainly added that part to piss off Gray.

“For how long?” When Emmitt started to argue, Gray held up a silencing hand. “You’re here now, which is great. But in a few weeks, when you get bored or a new assignment comes in and you head off to Siberia, we’re stuck without someone to hang with Paisley after school. Because you’ll be gone, and Annie will have bailed even though you told her up-front you’re only capable of casual. Because we all know, when it comes to you and women, they all think they will be the one to change you from globe-trotter to groom. But she won’t. She’ll be heartbroken and then quit. I’ll be out a PA, and a sitter, and it’ll be Paisley who suffers.”

“Annie’s had it rough,” Levi added. “She came here to put her life back together. Not have her heart stomped on by some guy who’s just passing through.”

“Passing through?” Emmitt scoffed. “I own a fucking house.”

“That I spend more time showing to potential tenants than you do sleeping in it,” Levi pointed out. “To be safe, why don’t you crash on my boat?”

“And listen to you snore all night?” Emmitt shook his head. “Thanks, but you’re not my type.”

“Neither is Annie and we both know it,” Gray said, proving just how little he knew about Emmitt.

Annie was absolutely, positively, tight bod with a sharp tongue and soft lips, his type—which was why he tended to steer clear of women like her. It wasn’t his fault fate had a twisted sense of humor.

He wasn’t sure what was going on with Annie’s love life, but based on what he’d heard, he had a pretty good idea. And it pissed him off that his two closest friends would lump him in with a guy like Clark. Emmitt had never once led a woman on. He was up-front and honest about what he was looking for and what he was capable of.

Women knew the score before he even ordered a second round.

“I know that what Annie and I do is none of your damn business,” Emmitt said, loving to watch Gray squirm. “I also know she’s a grown woman capable of making choices for herself, unless you think otherwise. I’d be happy to pass on your concerns about her ability to navigate the dating world, Doctor.”

“Just leave her alone. You can have any other woman in town, just not Annie,” Gray said, and Levi shook his head. “What?”

“Man, you just issued him a challenge,” Levi said.

“Which I have accepted. And I’ll pick Paisley up at two.”