She walked up to him and tucked her arm through his. “Down, girls. Don’t scare the poor man away or Emma will kill us. This is my daughter’s new boyfriend who I was telling you about. Isn’t he delish?”
Delish? Good grief, he had at least ten women staring at him now as if he were a prime piece of meat while Kat stood beside him looking proudly on. “Maybe I should run back upstairs and check on Emma.”
As he turned to make his escape, Emma walked down the last step, landing beside him. “Oh, no need, honey, I’m right here. I see you’ve met the girls.” Then turning toward the group, she offered them a bright smile. “Brant and I can’t wait to sit in on your book club meeting tonight. It’s all he’s been talking about since Mom invited us.”
He gave her a forced smile that he hoped adequately conveyed his feelings of murderous intent. “You know, since there are no other men in the group, maybe we should sit this one out, dear. I wouldn’t want to impose.” As everyone rushed to assure him that they couldn’t wait to have a male opinion in the group, he knew he was screwed. How bad could discussing some book about shades of gray be? He was relieved that the name indicated that it wasn’t any type of romance book. God, that was a relief.
Everyone fell in line behind Kat as she led them out the patio doors off the kitchen. Brant took a deep breath, smelling the ocean along with the mouth-watering scents of the grill. Beside him, Emma suddenly squealed and flew across the patio into a man’s arms. “Daddy!”
“My Emmie!” Emma’s father was a tall, muscular man with a head of thick dark hair just beginning to gray at the tips. It was obvious from his tanned skin that he spent a lot of time outdoors. Brant remembered her telling him once that her dad was a builder and his athletic frame supported that. Her father kept one arm around Emma while stepping forward to extend his other hand to him. “I’m Ken Davis, father to this handful.”
Brant tried to keep a blank expression as he thought that his interpretation of “handful” and Emma’s father’s where she was concerned were probably very different. “Nice to meet you, Ken, I’m Brant Stone, Emma’s . . . boyfriend.” God, that seemed weird to say at his age. Of course, what else was there? Lover? Yeah, that would go over well with her daddy. “This is a beautiful place you have here. Did you build this house?”
Nodding his head, Ken said, “I sure did. Of course, Kat changed her mind about every damn day, but I finally made her happy. You know, if your woman isn’t happy, your life is hell, right?”
He might not actually have a woman, but Brant knew a true statement when he heard it. Emma’s mom handed him a cold beer and he took it gratefully. Wait. Should he pretend that he didn’t drink to impress them? Looking at the group of book club women still gathered behind him making no attempt to hide the fact that they were looking at his ass, he decided, screw it. If they wanted to judge him, then at least he would be slightly more relaxed about the experience with a few beers.
When her mother asked, “So, Brant, honey, are you from South Carolina?” Emma tensed beside him.
“Yes, Kat, I am.” He had already made the mistake of calling her ma’am earlier and he now knew to avoid that.
“What do your parents do?” It had been so long that he didn’t even flinch when he said, “They passed away when I was young.” Everyone seemed to be waiting for him to explain, so he added, “They died in a plane crash near the Florida Keys, actually.”
Emma gave him a look of sympathy even though he knew that she was already aware of the story. Kat stepped forward and gave him a hug. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry to hear that. I’m sure they would be proud of how well you turned out.” Emma found herself nodding in agreement. There was really no debating that. Brant was one big walking accomplishment.
At that moment, her brother came striding out, gaining everyone’s attention toward him. The baby of the family always took center stage. She took a little whiff as he drew closer, thinking he had probably been practicing his “botany” before he came in. She gave him a hug when he finally managed to escape from their mother.
“Hey, Emmie-Lou.”
“Hey, Brat,” she fired back fondly. “How’s school?”
“Not bad; the class load is kicking my ass, though.”
Emma quickly introduced Brant, who asked, “How many classes are you taking this semester?”
Wrinkling his nose, Boston said, “Three. I usually try to stick with two. You know . . . to have more time for other things.”
Brant, oblivious to Boston’s surfer-dude attitude, said, “Oh, you work and go to school part-time?”
Boston looked confused. “No, man, I go full-time. It’s pretty rough, too.”
Emma was grateful when their father interrupted the conversation to say that Robyn had to work late and would have to drop by the next day. By that time, Brant would have already gathered that her brother was a slacker, but why make it worse? Boston walked off to sneak some food off the table, leaving her alone with Brant for the first time since coming downstairs.
“Your brother is quite a character.”
Emma smiled. “Yeah, he’s the go-to guy for all leisure activities.” She took a minute to study him. “You look pretty leisurely yourself. I didn’t think you owned anything besides suits.”
His eyes drifted over her white shorts and turquoise off-the-shoulder top. “You look pretty laid-back yourself. I like the top. A lot.” Emma felt her face flush at his unexpectedly flirtatious words.
“I . . . um . . . thanks.” Oh no, she could feel her nipples start to harden at his continued attention. She could tell by the slight widening of his eyes that her body’s betrayal was obvious to him. Suddenly it was as if their usual insults had turned into come-ons. Frankly, the whole thing had her off center. She didn’t know how to act in a world where her words may now be considered foreplay, not only by Brant but herself as well.
She jerked when Brant settled an arm around her shoulders and nuzzled her neck. Was that his tongue? “I guess we need to look the part, right?” he whispered in her ear.
“Hmmm?” she croaked out, barely able to think with his body this close to hers.
“You know . . . boyfriend, girlfriend, lovers. That’s what we are playing at, right?”