She shouldn’t feel guilty. It wasn’t like she was the only person responsible here.
Brandon strolled back in, and she smiled at the look on his face. “Tell me what that was about,” she said as he resumed his seat.
“Remember how I put myself on tape for the soap last Wednesday?”
“Yes. It was Days of Our Lives.” She smiled. “Memaw always said you’d be perfect on a soap opera. Brad Pitt got his start on one, you know.”
“Is that right? Well, I thought nothing came from it, since a week has passed.” Even though he tried to hide his excitement, the silly grin clung to his face. “I have a callback Friday afternoon. It’s time I prove just how smart your memaw is.”
Without warning, Embry’s eyes filled with tears. She tried to blink them back, but one was already blazing a trail down her cheek. Swiping it away, she smiled. “That’s amazing!”
He tilted his head and looked at her, the concern in his eyes palpable. “Why the tears, Em?”
“They’re happy tears. I promise. It’s really good news.”
He raised a brow. “I’m going to get this one for us, okay?”
He thinks I’m crying because I’m afraid he won’t get the part. Goodness, that couldn’t be further from the truth. “I’m so proud of you.” She lifted her hands, clasping them in front of her. “I’m just emotional because it’s our anniversary, and I love you so, so much.”
He touched a hand to her cheek. “I would marry you again today.”
“I’d marry you again too.”
He pulled cash from his wallet and smoothed one bill after another onto the plastic tray.
Laying his sexy gaze on her, he stepped from his chair and took her hand. “Since we’re already married, let’s skip right to the honeymoon.”
Desire made her stomach flip as they rushed from the restaurant. Everything will be fine, she reassured herself. It had to be.
Riki McFarlan sat at the Taylors’ kitchen table, a stack of graded papers piled to her right and ungraded papers on her left. A baby monitor hummed from its spot on the kitchen counter.
Carson had been asleep for two hours, so her ears were primed for his cry. A few hours was a long stretch for him, but he was such a sweet baby. And those blue eyes . . . they were so much like Brandon’s. Riki’s eyes were blue, but they were nowhere near as exquisite as Brandon’s. His were violet blue, while hers were stuck somewhere between blue and green and totally expected with her light-red hair and the smattering of freckles across her nose. Hers blended. His popped. She twirled a pen in her hand and sighed. And then there was Embry. She was a doll—a great friend and one of the nicest people she knew. And she looked nice, too, like someone who’d be in a commercial for a foaming face wash that promised a pure and fresh clean. What would it be like to have flawless skin and a childlike pout that made her seem endlessly kissable? Not that Riki wanted to kiss her.
She just wanted to be her sometimes, late at night, when Riki imagined Brandon caressing her full breasts. Carson yelped, and she nearly fell out of her chair. She froze where she was, straining to hear more. One alligator, two alligator, three alligator . . . She counted fifteen alligators before she moved. The apartment was quiet, and she released the breath she’d been holding as she repositioned herself in the chair.
She grabbed her pen and focused on the page in front of her. Darcy earned 100 percent on her test as usual. Her mother would expect nothing less. Technically, the teachers weren’t required to give spelling tests any longer, but Riki hated the idea of kids relying on spell-check for everything. She was arming them for future success. Drawing a smiley face at the top of the page, she moved to the next. Kenji had spelled heat, seat, and treat correctly, but he’d missed cheat. Riki circled the word and wrote the correct spelling next to ceat just as she heard Embry’s tinkling laughter followed by a key turning in the lock.
The Taylors walked in, all smiles, and Brandon had an arm slung low on Embry’s hips as he pushed the door closed. Riki busied herself with capping the pen and packing up her work so she wouldn’t stare. “Hey, guys. Fun night?”
Brandon circled his arms around Embry’s waist, and she leaned into him as he spoke. “It was nice, thanks. How’d my little rug rats do? Did Carson wake up?”
“They were both great,” Riki said, relieved to discuss the business of bedtime. It gave her something to focus on besides Brandon. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t stop her heart from breaking into a sprint when he walked into the room. “Carson had a bottle at seven thirty and was asleep by eight.”
“Thanks, Riki. You’re sure sweet to help us out so much.”
She bit back her smile, trying to contain it, but it spread across her face. It felt like her cheeks were on fire. Was her blushing obvious? She looked down as she shouldered her tote, wishing she could gain control of her reaction to Brandon. “Happy to do it,” she said, forcing a detached tone. “See you soon.”
“Wait!” Embry wriggled from Brandon’s arms and rushed to the kitchen, taking a foil-wrapped plate from the counter and placing it in Riki’s hands. “Death-by-chocolate cookies.” She paused. “I usually don’t bake with chocolate. I’m more of a fruit-and-butter kind of gal, but for some reason, chocolate appealed to me.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I hope you enjoy them.”
“Thanks. You make the best treats. You could open your own bake shop.”
Embry smiled. “There was a time I was working on it. I was hoping to start with a stand at the farmers’ market. I got my permit, but then Carson came along, and well . . .”
“Life got in the way,” Riki finished. “And I’m going to have to carve out time for extra spin classes if you keep giving me cookies.” She wouldn’t let them pay her for babysitting, but nonetheless, Embry insisted on sending home-baked treats with her every time she watched the kids.
Brandon rubbed a hand down his stomach—the stomach that Riki knew was muscled to perfection. Every Saturday morning, she was reminded of that when he cut the grass shirtless. Apparently, the Taylors’ rent was reduced thanks to his mowing skills. Whatever the case, if she timed it right, she never missed a viewing.
“Don’t I know it? It’s hard to resist the sweet stuff.”
Her face flamed hotter. Was that a double entendre? Was he referring to her as the sweet stuff? The smile remained on his lips. It was too much. She veered her eyes to Embry. “Thanks again for these. They won’t really kill me, right?”
Embry’s hazel eyes grew wide. “Huh?”
“Death-by-chocolate?” When Embry still didn’t get it, she added, “Poisoned cookies?”
She shook her head, laughing. “Goodness! I’ve never considered how strange the name is. Of course they’re not poisoned.”
“Right. Bad joke.” Riki tried for a laugh, but it fell flat. “Yes, well, good night, you guys. I have an early morning. It’s the jog-a-thon at school tomorrow. Bye!” She didn’t wait for a response.
Once the door was closed behind her, she sped across the long driveway to her apartment, trying to escape the frustration that chased her. It would be really nice if she had an antidote for her body’s response to Brandon.