La Vie en Rose {Life in Pink} (21 page)

Locking her fingers behind his neck, she lifted and deliberately came down, taking him deep. His words, more than his body, had her physically trembling.

Pulling his mouth to hers, she kissed him and whispered, “You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met. I love you for loving me the way you do.”

“I love you so much. Never doubt that, Em.”

She tightened her arms around his neck and found his mouth with hers. Making love had never been so raw or vulnerable, but she had no defense against him.

There was no hiding from Riley and there never would be, so long as he continued to look past the surface and see the real her he’d always have every bit of her soul, even the ugly pieces she struggled to disguise. But that was okay, because he apparently wanted them too.

––––––––

“C
an you wash the strawberries?”

Riley carried the basket to the sink and adjusted the water. It was Thanksgiving and Emma was wearing the little apron with the pink polka dots, so he was on high alert. Whatever she was baking smelled awesome and he couldn’t wait to eat it.

Lexi came out of Rarity’s bedroom, her black hair in perfect order as she buttoned her jacket. “Something smells delicious. What are you making, Emma?”

“Strawberry short cake. It’s my special recipe.”

Rarity joined them, stealing a strawberry. She hugged Lexi and kissed her long cocoa neck. “I’ll call you when I’m back.”

Lexi sent her a sidelong glance, which he interpreted as disappointment.

“Sittin’ out another holiday, Lex?” Riley thought it was ridiculous that his sister still hid the fact that she was a lesbian from their parents.

“Not by choice,” Lexi said, her frustration clear.  Nabbing a berry for the road, she grinned and grabbed her purse. “I’ll see you guys later. Happy Thanksgiving.”

Rarity smacked him in the head and water splashed on his shirt. “Watch it! I’m handling the berries.”

“Thanks, moron,” she snapped, going after Lexi.

“You shouldn’t have said that, Riley. You know how your parents are.”

He shut off the faucet and carried the fruit to the counter. Maybe they were all hiding from his parents to some degree. “I know. I can be a jerk. I’ll apologize when she comes back.”

“Do you want to start slicing?”

“Sure.” He grabbed a knife and began butchering a strawberry.

“No.” Emma took the knife. “Like this.”

Stepping behind her he rested his chin on her shoulder as she showed him how to properly chop a berry. Sighing, he slipped his arms around her waist, hugging her from behind. “I’m not gonna lie, you in the kitchen totally turns me on.”

She giggled. “It does?”

“Mmm-hmm.” He breathed in her scent, pressing his face to the curve of her neck.

“Riley, I’m using a knife.”

He kissed her ear and she shivered, pressing her cheek to her shoulder and forcing him out. “Let me feed you berries while you’re wearing nothing but that apron.”

“Okay,” she agreed easily, immediately doubling his excitement. “But not today. We have too much to do.”

He groaned. Holidays were so tedious. His family always managed to screw up the simplest meal with talk of disappointments and unreachable expectations. Maybe her family dinners would be different.

She handed him the knife and he carefully cut them as instructed. He really would’ve liked some morning sex before they started the busy day, but when he woke up she was already running around like a crazy person. The idea of meeting her parents had him mildly freaked out. Sex would’ve been a nice stress reliever.

Trying to keep his thoughts away from the boudoir, he focused on other things. “I think strawberries are one of the sexier fruits.” He really had a one-dimensional mind.

“What?”

“Well, there’s the banana, of course, but that’s obvious.”

“Are you telling me you find fruit erotic?” She used that weird wire tool to make the frosting he wasn’t allowed to taste.

“Only the sexy ones. Kumquats should be sexy, but they’re not. They’re just a sad cross between a yellow tomato and an orange, but with a filthy name—kumquats.” He loved pronouncing it in a slow Sean Connery voice.

She added sugar. “You’ve really thought about this.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“No.”

“I bet they do. They just don’t talk about it.”

“I’m pretty sure they don’t. When you’re done slicing them put them in this bowl.”

He scooped up a handful and tossed them in the dish. “Not only is the juice of a strawberry sexy, like, I want to smear it on your boobies sexy, but the seeds scream suggestive. I mean, they’re wearing their fertility where everyone can see. It’s more than sexy, really, they’re a little slutty.”

“That should be enough berries. Stick the rest back in the fridge.” She took the bowl of cut berries and sprinkled sugar on top.

He frowned.

She glanced at him, smirked, and continued to toss the berries in her sexy apron. “What’s the matter, Riley?”

“I’m all turned on from strawberries.”

“Then go take a shower, because I still have to do my hair and make the cranberry sauce.”

He pouted. “You’re mean on Thanksgiving.”

The elevator pinged in the hall. “And your sister’s back.”

“Damn it.” He went to grab a towel.

****

T
he closer they got to Emma’s parents’ house the more he fidgeted. He’d never met a girl’s parents before—not as the official boyfriend. He didn’t know what to expect and kept thinking of his parents—the people expected to unconditionally love and accept him—but they didn’t like him very much, so why would someone else’s parents like him at all?

“Turn right at that stop sign.”

He slowed and turned onto a street with small, two story homes that looked remarkably alike. Though they were in the suburbs, the houses were right on top of each other, providing minimal privacy between neighbors.

“It’s that one there, with the blue door.”

He parked in front of the mailbox since the driveway was full. The house was plain brick, but well kept. It wasn’t until they were walking up the path that he realized it was a duplex. The moment they stepped on the porch claustrophobia set in.

Not giving him much time to prepare, Emma opened the door and walked in. “Mom? Dad? We’re here.”

The house smelled like other people’s cooking and fake gingerbread. He was immediately homesick for the loft.

“Emma? Oh, you made it!”

Though he’d seen her parents in a sea of other parents years ago during school events, he never took the time to really look at them. Mrs. Sanders was Emma twenty years from now, but with straight hair and different laugh lines. She was younger than he expected.

“You must be Riley. I know we’ve met before, but you were a boy the last time I saw you. My goodness you resemble your sister—in a handsome way of course.” She hugged him and he wasn’t sure where to put his hands.

“Nice to see you again, Mrs. Sanders.”

She tsked. “Call me Sarah. Emma’s dad’s around here somewhere.” She turned away from them. “Jim? Emma’s here.”

A man, wearing dark jeans and a US Navy T-shirt, came in from the back door. “Hey, Emmy!” He hugged her and Riley stepped back, his confidence falling off kilter as Emma’s attention turned to her father.

This was the man he needed to impress. Strangely, his casual appearance made him more intimidating, like they were closer to equals and he’d easily sniff out any bullshit regarding his daughter.

“Dad, you know Riley. Riley, this is my dad.”

“Hey there, Riley.” The man had a casual but firm shake.

“How are you, sir?”

“Good. That your DeVille out there?”

God, he was sweating. “Yes, sir.”

Mr. Sanders nodded and peeked out the front window. “What year’s that?”

“Fifty-seven, sir. It was a gift from my grandfather.”

“Nice. You want a beer?”

Emma smiled at him and his apprehension somewhat eased, the day sliding into a place he hadn’t expected, yet her parents’ personable attitudes adding to his paranoia in a strange way. These people were
nothing
like the people who raised him—or paid nannies to do the job. These were just good old regular people, and he wasn’t used to that where parents were concerned.

He smiled at Mr. Sanders. “A beer would be great.”

The women went to the kitchen as he and Jim watched football in the living room. The furniture was dated and the décor was nothing his mother would approve or even sit on, but Riley absolutely loved it. He even adjusted to the gingerbread smell, which he discovered came from a plugin air freshener.

The food was awesome, deep fried turkey, boxed mac and cheese, stuffing that tasted incredible, yams with melted marshmallows on top, and Emma’s sweet strawberry shortcake.

After dinner Sarah brewed a pot of coffee and placed it on a stained potholder right on the dining room table. None of their mugs matched.

Everything was so spectacularly different from what he’d known, he pitied Rarity for missing it. She was probably contemplating suicide as their mother passed around cordials.

“Did you hear anything on the job front, Emma?” Sarah asked.

“Nothing yet. I sent out four more resumes. For now I’m stuck at Phibbs & Grayson.”

“I’d like to have an hour alone with that Grayson kid,” her dad mumbled.

“You and me both,” Riley agreed.

Jim eyed him for a moment and nodded. “I like you, Riley. I have a good feeling about you.”

It was amazing how much weight he’d placed in her parents’ approval. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’ll have to come visit again sometime,” Sarah invited. “And bring this dog I keep hearing about.”

“I think Marla’s a little too wild to travel, Mom.”

“Nonsense. I miss having a dog. I’d love to meet her.”

He spoke before giving his words a second thought. “You guys are always welcome at the loft.”

Sarah and Jim shared a mutual look of surprise. “Well, that’s a first. We’d love to come for a visit, maybe see the Empire State Building or the Statue of Liberty.”

He smiled, ignoring the look of panic Emma sent him. “It’ll be great. We’ll make a day of it, visit Central Park, have dinner at Peter Lugers. You’ll love it.”

“What does a New York cut of beef sell for at a place like that?” Jim asked.

“It would be my treat.”

The energy at the table shifted. Shit. Had he insulted them? He was merely trying to be accommodating, polite. A New York steakhouse usually averaged a hundred dollars per person for dinner and he’d wanted to show them a nice time.

“There are other places we could eat in the city too,” Emma chimed in. “Riley took me to this great food festival in Brooklyn and it was amazing.”

“That sounds more our pace.” Sarah smiled.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“It’s fine, hon,” she interrupted, patting his hand.

“Well, we should get going. Marla’s been alone all day and she’s probably pacing by now.”

They stood and Riley hated leaving things as they were. Everything had been going so smooth. He wasn’t a pretentious prick and he didn’t want them thinking he was.

Emma hugged her mom at the door and Jim faced him. “Good seeing you again, Riley.”

He shook his hand. “Nice seeing you too, sir.”

He held out his arms and hugged his daughter. “Be safe, Emmy.”

“I will, Dad. Love you.”

Fascinated, Riley watched as her eyes closed and she hugged her father close. He’d never hugged either of his parents like that. He’d once had a nanny that liked to tousle his hair, but that wasn’t the same.

The drive home was passed in quiet reflection. Emma seemed sad to leave her parents, but anxious to get back to Marla. Meeting her parents as more than an acquaintance and getting a glimpse of where she came from filled in a lot of gaps in the Emma puzzle.

Although neither he nor Rarity was captivated by wealth, they’d grown up with a great deal of it and had an easy life by default. There were trusts and bonds they both had waiting, should they jump through the prerequisite hoops stipulated in their ancestor’s wills. As it were, they hardly needed to work, but found it rewarding and refreshingly normal in comparison to what they grew up around.

Emma, on the other hand, absolutely needed to work. According to his sister, Emma’s grandparents had sent her to private schools and left a supplemental income for books, boarding, and transportation, but that money was long gone, skipping right over her parents as a direct investment in their only child’s future.

As well intentioned as it was, they hadn’t planned nearly enough, because once Emma finished her first year of college that money was gone, which was how she’d ended up working at Grayson’s dad’s firm—something that really needed to end. After their date the other night, he didn’t like the chance of her running into that guy again.

When they got home there was a note on the fridge from Rarity saying she was spending the night at Lexi’s.

“I’m going to walk Marla,” Emma announced as the dog wagged wildly at the door.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“That’s okay. I won’t be long.”

When she left he changed into lounge pants and grabbed his copy of
As the Great World Turns.
The peaceful apartment made an easy escape from the day left behind. Settling onto his bed, he opened the book.

Deep into the chapter, Marla greeted him, having returned from their walk then disappeared—probably to lie on Rarity’s bed. He was just falling asleep when Emma cleared her throat.

Unhurriedly glancing to the door he—
sweet mother of sex.

She was holding a bowl of strawberries, wearing nothing but the apron. He tossed the book to the floor and scooted back. “Come to poppa.”

Her lips pursed in a flirty smile as she sauntered inside, bumping the door shut with her hip. God, he loved her and her sexy ass fruit.

“I have some berries I’d like you to taste.”

He tugged her to his lap and she giggled. Biting her lips, he untied the neck of the apron and sung, “
Let me pull this down cause I’m going to... your strawberry fields.”
His mouth found hers, sweeter than any berry.