Beastly (The Ever After Collection) (6 page)

“Emma and Heath, sitting in a tree,” Collette teased.

And Luca, of course, was all too happy to take off where she’d left off. “K-I-S-S-I-N-pphsh-”

Emma reached over the table and slapped a hand over each of their mouths. She glared. “Would you two shut up?”

Collette laughed, prying Emma’s hand off her face. “Sorry, I just never thought I’d see the day. My little Emma is growing up right before my eyes.”

Luca pretended to wipe away a tear.

Emma rolled her eyes, but sat back in her seat. “It’s not like that,” she insisted.

Collette’s resulting expression embodied the word doubtful. “What’s it like then?” she demanded.

“I don’t know,” Emma attempted to explain. “It’s just that… I mean, I thought… but then…” She hid her face in her hands, knowing her ineloquence was probably only serving as further proof to Collette that she liked Heath. She took a deep breath and started again. “It’s just that he’s been ignoring me since the whole lake incident.” She knew her friends knew exactly what she was referring to. “I wanted to thank him on Monday – you know, for jumping in after me – but he hasn’t even so much as glanced in my direction. Anyway, Miss Blanchett paired us together for this massive book report that’s due mid-December. It’s worth a third of our final grade, and he won’t even talk to me about it! He literally runs away from me. It’s like he hates me. And I… I don’t know what to do.”

She made sure not to mention how pretty she thought he was. After all, it wasn’t like Collette and Luca didn’t have eyes and couldn't see for themselves just how unfairly attractive Heath was.

“Just come by the diner tonight if you really need to talk to him.” It was Luca, surprisingly enough, who offered her a solution. “He usually works there with me on Friday evenings.”

Emma blinked.

“He does?”

Luca frowned. “Uh…yes? That is what I just said.”

Collette slapped him on the shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?” the blond boy protested.

“Why have you never mentioned this to us before?”

Luca shrugged. “Why would I? I didn’t think it was important. He’s Mr. and Mrs. Potter’s new foster kid, I guess. He just started working there a few weeks ago, about when he started school.”

Emma and Collette continued to stare.

“And you never saw fit to tell us this?” Collette demanded.

“Why would I?”

“Because Emma has a crush on him, that’s why!”

“What? No I don’t,” Emma protested.

“Well, it’s not like I knew that until now,” Luca pointed out, ignoring Emma completely.

Collette sighed. “I guess.”

Emma pressed her lips together, ignoring her friends since they were apparently content to disregard anything she had to say anyway.
Foster child?
She wondered what had happened to Heath’s real parents. Were they dead? If so, it shed a whole new light on how he’d looked at her after she’d declared her mother was dead last Monday.

Or maybe they were … bad people? The kind of people who got their kicks from hurting innocent kids. She thought of the scars on his hand and her stomach churned in dismay.

“Earth to Emma!” Collette snapped her fingers in front of Emma’s face, bringing her train of thought to an abrupt halt. (Not that Emma was upset exactly, considering the distressing turn said thoughts had taken.)

She blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“As I was saying,” Luca teased, “as your waiter, Heath will have no choice but to talk to you. And don’t worry, I’ll take it upon myself to make sure that you’re seated at one of his tables.”

Emma’s mouth dipped into a frown. She didn’t really like the idea of
forcing
Heath to talk to her, but she didn't know what else to do. She sighed. “What time should we be there?”

Luca grinned. “Seven should be perfect.”

* * *

It was seven o’clock on the nose when Emma and Collette arrived at Downtown Diner, the large glass door dinging behind them as they entered the restaurant. Emma thought it may seem a bit desperate to get there exactly at seven, but Collette had a thing about being on time – she was one of the few of their generation who still wore a wrist watch – and so seven exactly it was when they entered.

Luca greeted them as promised. “Hello, ladies-”

“Emma! Hey, Emma!”

And then an unexpected snag in their plan came barreling at Emma.

Still, she couldn't stop a genuinely delighted smile from pulling at the corners of her lips when Charlie Potter all but knocked her over as he launched himself at her and threw his arms around her waist in a hug.

Charlie was as cute as a button and had a personality as bright as the sun and a disposition as sweet as cherry pie. His manners were impeccable as well.

Well,
usually
.

Emma bent down to return his tight embrace for Charlie was also only eight years old. And although she hadn’t watched him in a month or so, Emma was his regular babysitter. (Or at least she
had
been until Heath showed up.)

“What are you doing here?” he asked excitedly, releasing her from his robust hold.

“Eating, of course, you silly boy.”

Charlie blushed. “Oh.”

“What are
you
doing here?” Emma asked.

“Oh, well, some girl – she had a weird name, Babe, or Bambi, or something – called in sick. Mom had to come in and cover her shift, so now I’m stuck here too, doing my homework. It isn’t even due until Monday!” He scrunched his nose up at that, and Emma couldn't help but laugh.

“Yeah, but now you’ll have all weekend to play,” she pointed out sensibly.

In many ways, Charlie was Mr. and Mrs. Potter’s miracle child. After years of fostering many different children and even attempting to adopt a few of them – each attempt had fallen through – they’d finally managed to conceive a child of their own. They’d named him Charles after Mrs. Potter’s late father, but everyone called him Charlie.

“Can I sit with you?” he begged, looking up at her with wide eyes.

Collette groaned from where she stood on Emma’s right.

“Charles Maverick Potter,” Mrs. Potter scolded from across the diner. She’d finally spotted where her wayward son had wandered and was quickly approaching. Charlie looked just like her. They shared the same blonde hair, round face, and naturally flushed cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Emma, dear,” she apologized when she reached them. “I hope he isn’t bothering you.”

“He’s fine,” Emma assured her. “I don’t mind. And you can sit with us if it’s okay with your mom, Charlie.”

Mr. and Mrs. Potter owned and operated Downtown Diner, the only eatery in all of Maple Valley if one didn’t count the gas station. (No one did.) While Mr. Potter often worked the grill in the back, Mrs. Potter was the face of the diner, waitressing when the urge struck her or one of her staff called in sick, like Bambi apparently had today.

Charlie turned his pleading eyes on her. “Please, Mom!”

Mrs. Potter sighed, throwing the dish towel she was wiping her hands with over her left shoulder. “Oh, alright. But you better be on your best behavior, young man. And since you’re entertaining Charlie, your meal is on the house, Emma. You, too, Collette, honey.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Potter,” they chimed in unison.

“Call me Molly,” she insisted, as she always did, before bustling away.

Luca cleared his throat. “As I was saying, right this way, ladies.”

Emma and Collette, with Charlie in tow, followed him to the northwest corner of the diner, where he promptly seated them in a booth with neon orange padded seats. “Your server will be right with you,” he assured with a wink before walking away.

Emma groaned, sinking into her seat in embarrassment while Collette laughed.

Charlie pouted. “What’s so funny?” he demanded.

Neither girl answered him because their combined attention was suddenly stolen by a bit of commotion erupting on the other side of the dining room. A dumbfounded Luca was shaking his head, his hands high in the air in a placating gesture, as a flustered-looking Heath looked to be chewing him out for something or another before abruptly storming away.

Emma’s wide brown eyes connected with Collette’s equally stunned green ones across the table. “Surely
that
, whatever it was, wasn’t because Luca sat us… well,
you
… here, right?”

Emma shrugged helplessly.

Collette huffed. “He’s such a jerk. What did you ever do to him?”

Emma knew Collette meant the question to be rhetorical, but Emma couldn't help but think she
had
done something to him. She’d tried to hold his hand. She’d touched him. And unknowingly, she’d crossed some sort of invisible line.

But she wasn’t about to tell Collette
that
.

Fortunately – or maybe,
un
fortunately – before Emma was forced to say anything, Heath was there at their table, cheeks still faintly flushed in what had to be anger and hair haphazardly falling into his eyes. “Can I get you guys anything to drink?” he asked, the words strained as they left his mouth, but overall polite enough.

Charlie beamed up at him. “Hi, Heath!”

Heath’s entire expression softened at the enthusiastic greeting. “Hey, Charlie,” he greeted him quietly.

Collette cleared her throat, and Heath’s features immediately shifted back into a hard mask of indifference. “I’ll take a water,” she ordered in a clipped tone, “with two slices of lemon please.”

Emma frowned. She knew it was only wishful thinking, but she willed the hard line of Heath’s mouth to pull back into a smile. She willed the obvious tension in his shoulders to flee. Most of all, she willed that he simply look at her. But his eyes remained glued to the table where his hands were grasping the edge, knuckles white against the dark wood.

“Ow!”

Sharp pain erupted from where Collette abruptly delivered a vicious kick to her shin from across the booth. Emma glared at her friend, who was staring at her pointedly. Why would she…? Oh.
Oh.

She’d been staring like an uncouth fool.

“Water’s fine,” she blurted before she could embarrass herself any further, trying to ignore the fact that she could feel a hot blush creeping up her neck.

“Great,” Heath answered tightly before slamming two menus down on their table with more force than necessary. “Feel free to take your time ordering,” he added sarcastically before walking away.

Collette waited until he’d disappeared into the kitchen to smirk at her. “You
so
like him.”

Emma’s face grew impossibly hotter. “Shut up, no I don’t!”

Charlie peered up at them, his brow wrinkled in confusion. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Nothing,” Emma assured him quickly, shooting a particularly heated glare in Collette’s direction. “Nothing appropriate for little ears anyway.”

The daggers Emma thought she was throwing at Collette with her eyes must have been of the plastic sort, though, because the redhead remained unmoved. In fact, a positively maniacal gleam suddenly presented itself in her eyes. “Hey, Charlie,” she said sweetly, “Heath lives with you and your parents, right?”

Charlie instantly brightened at Heath’s name. “Yeah, he’s my new brother! He’s so nice. He plays Candyland with me!”

Why did it suddenly feel like Emma was melting into her chair? So he played board games with his little foster brother? It wasn’t
that
utterly adorable.

“Hmm,” Collette hummed, before continuing to dig for information. “And has he ever happened to mention any girls he likes while playing Candyland with you?”

It was Emma’s turn to kick Collette from under the table.

“Hey!” her friend cried in protest, but it was overshadowed by Charlie’s antics.

“Ew, no!” he insisted, nose crinkling in disgust. “Girls are gross. Tanner Jennings told me that they even have something called cooties! First I thought he said cookies and I was confused. I
like
cookies. But then he spelled it, C-O-O-T-I-E-S, and he said it was some sort of disease.”

Collette huffed, unreasonably disgruntled that an eight-year-old boy thought girls were gross. “Girls aren’t diseased,” she protested. “You should know better than to listen to that loony Jennings kid. Although… I suppose I can see why he was confused. His sister probably
does
carry a disease of some sort.”

His sister, of course, was Lulu.

Charlie was confused, but he seemed to know intrinsically that his friend had been insulted somehow. “I like Tanner. And
all
girls have cooties.” He frowned, glancing up at Emma. “Wait. You don’t have them, do you, Emma?”

He looked positively devastated by the possibility.

Emma was in the midst of assuring him that she most definitely did
no
t have the ever dreadful cooties while Collette pretended to gag from across the table by the time Heath made his way back to their booth with their drinks. He set the glasses of water down carefully, the one sans lemon slices in front of Emma.