~Emmalyn~
I woke up with rays of sun piercing my eyes. I yawned, stretching my hands over my head.
And then I froze.
Why was I still wearing my clothes from last night? And where the hell was I? This certainly was not my bed!
Before any panic could take hold I forced myself to calm down and think. What happened? I remembered dancing with Rhys—that had a smile tweaking my lips—and then we left and . . .
Right.
But that meant I had spent the night . . . And never gone home.
I whipped the blanket I didn’t remember being there off of me and stumbled out of the room, sure I must have looked a mess. My blouse was hanging off my shoulder and my hair was wild. My gaze darted around the small building, in search of somebody in particular.
“Rhys!” I hissed, not sure why I was keeping my voice so low. He was sprawled over a couch, snoring softly.
I sighed. Seeing as he was my ride home and I had no idea where I was, I couldn’t just sneak out. I approached him, admiring his tattoo, if not the rest of his torso. Did the boy always have to take off his shirt?
“Hey,” I snapped, kicking his leg dangling off the end of the couch. “Wake up.”
He didn’t stir.
“Are you freaking kidding me right now?” I mumbled to myself in disbelief. I noticed little paint smears over his skin, too. I frowned. Had he been up painting? The image of him huddled over his easel was absolutely adorable.
I decided I would go in search of some ice cold liquid of some sort to pour all over his face, knowing that would be a fool-proof plan of waking him up. But the universe, as it turned out, had other plans. As I was walking away my foot caught on the carpet and I executed a rather impressive tumble backward, arms wind-milling and everything.
Looked like Rhys would get a surprising wake-up call after all.
I landed on his stomach, eliciting a painful “Oof” from him as air rushed out of his lungs. I remained still, staring at the ceiling, not quite believe that had actually happened.
“What the hell are you doing?” he questioned, voice rough with sleep. I could admit that was sexy, right? There was no harm in that?
“You didn’t wake me up,” I stated, carefully turning myself around so I was lying on top of him but looking in his face. It wasn’t the position we should have been in, decidedly too intimate, but I found I couldn’t move. “You let me sleep here.”
“Yep.”
I frowned. “Why would you do that?”
“You were tired.”
I rubbed a smudge of brown paint off his cheek with my thumb. “My mom is going to kill me. Now I’ll have to come back and haunt your kitchen cabinets for the rest of your natural life.”
He arched an eyebrow in amusement. “That is definitely a frightening thought.”
“That was the point.” I crawled off of him before any more dangerous feelings could sweep over me. I wasn’t sure what had gotten into me the last few days but I needed to be well aware of our boundaries. “Take me home.”
He plucked his shirt off the ground and pulled it over his head, much to my irrational disappointment. “Yeah, yeah, just get your shoes on.”
I smiled in victory and did so lightning fast. What took us so long to get out the door was his slow-moving ass. When I finally got him in the car at least twenty minutes had gone by.
Eventually I mustered up the courage to pull out my cell phone, and just as I was a call came through from my mother. One of twenty she had made.
“Shit,” I muttered simply, before pressing the phone to my ear. “Hi, Mom.”
“Emmalyn Belinda Hall! Where the hell are you and why didn’t you come home last night?”
I winced. Rhys was smirking, which told me he could hear my mother loud and clear. “Sorry. I fell asleep.”
“Fell asleep?”
“Yes, with—” oh, God. “With Rhys.”
“You better be on your way home right now, young lady.”
“I am, Mom.”
“Good, then we’ll speak when you arrive.” And she cut the call. I had never heard my mom so angry. Then again, I had never slept over with a boy in the same vicinity before.
“She sounds happy,” Rhys commented.
I groaned. “Don’t even joke around. I’m toast. You should have just woken me up.”
He shrugged, clearly still half-asleep.
He pulled up in front of my house and I swallowed hard. “In case I don’t make it out alive, I hereby give you full ownership of all the clothes in my closet. Even the miniskirts.”
He snorted. “Gee, how kind.” He reached over and pushed open my door. “Now go.”
“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying to get rid of me.”
“I’m tired," he garbled around a yawn, "and I want to go back to sleep. You have sweet music to face.”
I released a harsh breath and unbuckled my seatbelt, sliding from the car. “You better hope I’m still alive after this.”
“I’ll cross my fingers.”
I blew him a raspberry as he pulled away and turned to face the door.
I froze.
Both my parents already stood in the open doorway.
Well, this should be loads of fun.
“Hi,” I greeted sheepishly as I confronted them. They wordlessly ushered me inside. I caught sight of Michael and Clara quickly leaving the room. Cowards.
“Have a seat, darling,” my mother stated curtly. I did so in the living room. Both my parents followed me, standing in front. “Would you like to explain just what happened last night?”
This felt an awful lot like an interrogation. And it only made it worse since my dad was a cop. He had his stern face on. “I went to the diner with Rose and Luke.”
“That’s all?”
“And Rhys.”
“Ah.” She folded her arms across her chest. “And what happened afterward?”
“Rhys took me somewhere.”
“Where is that?”
“A place,” I answered cryptically, not wanting to divulge his secret hideout.
“And what did you do there?”
I threw my hands up. “For God’s sakes, Mom. He was just showing me the place, and I was tired. I fell asleep in the bed.”
“A bed!” she exclaimed. “Emma, did you at least use—”
“I was alone!” I cried. “Just me. We didn’t have sex, Mom! Oh, my God.”
She bit her lower lip. My father’s expression was amused now that he didn’t have to kill a hormonal teenage boy. “Honey, I think we might have jumped to conclusions,” he stated as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“I think so, too,” I agreed, looking sharply up at her.
He wrapped his other arm around her. “And she’s a teenager, Jem. God knows we didn’t wait until we were married—”
“Ah! No! Way too much information!” I clamped my hands over my ears, wishing I had never heard those words leave my dad’s mouth. My parents were both smirking now.
“I’m sorry, Emma,” she apologized, shoulders and anger deflating. “I was just worried. No mother likes it when their daughter doesn’t come home and they have no idea where she could be.”
Now that I understood. “I’m sorry, Mom. I really didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“I know.” She kissed my head. “And I need some wine.”
My father roared with laughter. “She’s been up all night,” he explained to me. “Couldn’t sleep a wink.”
Guilt gnawed at my core. “Now I feel horrible.”
“You should,” he teased, ruffling my hair. “Now go change out of those clothes. You look like a frat party gone horribly wrong.”
I rolled my eyes and swatted at his arm, but did as he said and bounded up the stairs to change.
~*~
Jemma tossed back another glass of red wine, knowing she would need bottles more to handle that child.
“Good to see your taking it so well,” she heard her husband chuckle as he entered the kitchen. Jemma rolled her eyes and set the glass on the counter.
“She’ll be the death of me, Jacob,” she murmured. “What are we going to do with her?”
He backed her up to the counter and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Exactly what we’ve done the last seventeen years. It’s seemed to work out okay. I think she’s a wonderful young woman.”
Jemma felt those familiar sparks of heat that she was sure she would always experience whenever this man touched her. “She’s growing up, J,” she murmured. “Our baby’s growing up.”
“I know,” he replied reluctantly.
She rested her hands on the taught muscles of his arms, finding comfort in his closeness. It was truly the only thing that could calm her soul. “I’m thinking we haven’t seen the last of that Rhys boy,” she admitted.
“I’d say not. They still have a heck of a long way to go on that project.”
“No,” Jemma shook her head. “That’s not what I meant.”
Jacob inclined an eyebrow. “No?”
“Uh-uh.” She grabbed the bottle and poured herself another glass, taking a sip. “I’m scared to say it.”
He laughed. “Why? Is she in love or something crazy like that?”
Jemma froze, staring up at him with wide eyes.
“Oh, hell no,” he growled, when he saw the truth in her grey depths. “Where is that kid? I’ll kill him.”
“Soothe the beast,” she murmured teasingly. “It was bound to happen, Jacob. She’ll be eighteen in a couple months. I think she needs someone special in her life.”
“I don’t.”
Jemma laughed. “You’re her father, you’re supposed to feel that way.” She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his middle, feeling his strong arms come around her waist and hold her tightly. “Rhys may seem like a troubled boy but his heart is in the right place. I think he would take care of our daughter.”
“You’re making it sound like they’re getting married,” Jacob retorted gruffly. “Stop doing this to my heart. It can’t take it.”
Jemma smiled cheekily. “You never had a problem sweeping me off my feet, you know.”
Jacob flashed her a wicked grin. “That is because you are the love of my life, dear.” He kissed her nose. “Emma is my daughter. Significantly different.”
“No. She deserves someone to come and sweep her off her feet, too.”
He growled. “Can we please talk about something else?”
“Sure.” She pressed herself up against him. “I’m glad they let you come home. I’ve missed you.”
“This is better,” he stated, tugging her from the room. “I’ve missed you too, love.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Have been for quite a while, ma’am.”
Jemma laughed, a mischievous twinkle entering her eye. “I love you, Jacob Hall.”
He winked. “And I love you, Jemma Hall."