He looked up in thought and then laughed. “Oh yeah, that’s right. Leave it to Malcolm’s son to bring something so crappy.”
Laughing again, I shook my head. My father and Malcolm were the best of friends, but they still had a bit of competition between them. It was all in fun, but they loved sticking it to each other anytime they could. And sometimes it was at the expense of us kids.
“Later, Dad!” I called out before I drove off and headed to my place. I had bought a house a few months ago, not far from the ranch but closer to Waco. I knew I wanted to be close to both Emmerson and my folks, as well as the shop.
My phone rang, and Emmerson’s name popped up. I hit answer with a smile on my face. “Hey, Emme.”
“Hey, are you still able to meet me?”
“Yeah, I’m heading back to my place to shower and change. Do you want to tell me what’s going on? What kind of trouble are you in?”
“Um, let’s just wait and talk in person.”
I groaned. “Emme, are you…I mean…have you gotten yourself…you know?”
“Have I gotten myself what?” she asked.
“Pregnant?”
There was a silence so eerie on the other end of the line, I was positive she was about to confirm my worst fear. Then she broke out in a fit of laughter.
“Pregnant! I’d actually have to be having sex to get pregnant, Landon.”
Christ Almighty, the sense of relief I felt was almost terrifying.
“Well, what in the hell was I supposed to think, Emme?”
She laughed again and said, “Just meet at my place, then we can go and pick up that expensive-ass wine you’re getting from Rachel.”
I let out a sigh of relief that the woman I was secretly in love with wasn’t pregnant with another man’s baby. “I’ll be there soon.”
“Drive carefully, Landon.”
“I will.”
I pulled into the driveway of the small house Emmerson had bought six months ago. It was a historical home a block from the main square in Clifton. She had always loved the house, and when it came on the market, she’d somehow won out on the swift bidding war that had taken place. It helped that the original owners knew our families and adored Emmerson.
“Landon, how are you doing?” Mrs. O’Conner asked as she waved her free hand at me. She held onto her large black lab with the other as she stopped walking.
“Afternoon, Mrs. O’Conner. How’s business?” I called out to her.
She gave me a thumbs up. “Thank God people like beer!”
I laughed as I headed up the sidewalk that led to Emmerson’s front porch. Mr. and Mrs. O’Conner owned O’Conner’s Irish Bar, about a two-block walk from here. I had found myself drunk there plenty of times after partaking in my fair share of Guinness.
Using my key, I let myself in, then called out Emmerson’s name as I shut the door and tossed my keys into the small dish she had sitting on a table by the front door. I smiled when a small German shorthaired pointer came running and sliding across the floor as she tried to stop. I caught her right before she collided with me.
“Hey, Peaches, how are you doing today?”
“Stop calling her Peaches, you know her name is Lady.”
I glanced up to see Emmerson standing there desperately trying not to smile but losing. She was beautiful. Her light brown hair was piled on top of her head, and those blue eyes seemed to light up the entire room.
I smirked. “I’m going to get a mutt dog and name him Tramp then.”
Emmerson’s brows shot up. “Oh my gosh, you are? Oh, Lady would love a puppy friend, wouldn’t you, girl?” She reached down and scratched the dog under her chin.
With a shake of my head and a chuckle, I replied, “No, I don’t have time to watch a puppy.”
She huffed and folded her arms over her chest. “Bullshit. You could take him to the shop with you.”
I had to pull my eyes away from her amazing breasts, focusing back on the dog. “Listen to your momma, trying to shackle me down with a dog.”
“Well, better a dog than a woman.”
I glanced up at her and frowned. What did she mean by that?
“What’s this thing you need my help with?” I asked as I grabbed a ball and rolled it across the floor for Lady to chase after.
Emmerson’s teeth dug into her bottom lip and she batted her eyes like she did whenever she needed something from me. If she only knew I would give her the world. All she had to do was ask.
Her eyes lit up as if an idea suddenly hit her. “Let me pour you a drink before I tell you.”
“Oh shit,” I mumbled. I rolled the ball across the floor once again and then followed Emmerson through her living room and into her newly remodeled kitchen. Noah and I nearly died while trying to do the electrical in here, but it was worth it to see Emmerson’s face when it was all finished. We knocked down walls and made the entire first floor an open concept, giving Emmerson the kitchen she had always dreamed of—from a large, six-burner stove that had side-by-side ovens, to the massive island in the middle of the kitchen. It was decorated in a French farmhouse style, and the gray and white cabinets looked amazing with the rustic wood beams overhead and rustic wooden range hood.