Page 50 of Worth the Fall
EMERSON
“Hello?”
Crap. Why did I think calling him would be easier than texting him? That deep rumble of his voice. The memory of his kiss on my tongue. The thought of that smile that makes butterflies take flight in my stomach.
Get a grip, Em. It’s Phony Maloney.
“Will you stop trying to win my friends over to your side?” Impatience owns my voice as I look through the sliding glass door into Desi’s kitchen, where she is flitting around oohing and ahhing over the delivery.
“Come again?”
“The Williams Sonoma basket. The gift certificate for a cooking class. I mean, really?” I huff and put a hand on my hip.
“What? I’m not allowed to send a thank-you gift for having me over the other night? You know my momma, Em. She’s real big on manners.”
“Manners, my ass.”
“What was that about your ass?” He starts with the questions as responses bit again.
“Nothing. Never mind.”
“Were we hanging up now?” The humor in his voice sparks my temper, and I hate that he’s getting exactly what wants from me—a response.
I can’t help it.
“I forget. Were you always this annoying when we were younger?” I grit out as Desi pulls out a bottle of some kind of olive oil and holds it to her chest as if it’s the Hope Diamond. I roll my eyes as I wait for his answer.
“Not that I know of, but I do remember you being a pain in the ass.”
“I was not.”
“Hmm, you sure about that?”
I hate that his comment gives me pause. That it leaves me standing in Desi’s backyard, scouring my memories and wondering if he’s right. I can’t recall any one situation to disprove him.
“You there?” he asks, his voice full of humor and feigned impatience.
“Stop trying to distract me and stop trying to buy my friends.”
“That’s a steep accusation.”
“What else do you call it?”
“Positioning?” He chuckles.
“This conversation is over.”
“Okay.” There’s silence except for his breathing on the other line. “If it’s over, why haven’t you hung up?”
“Because you need to hang up first.” Oh my God. I’m reverting to being a teenager here. Why does he make me act this juvenile?
“Ladies first.”
If the phone was old school, I would have slammed it down, but it isn’t, so I can’t. There is absolutely no satisfaction in pushing end.
“This is absolute heaven,” Desi calls from inside the house. “Come look.”
“I’ll pass,” I say drolly as I move to the open door to watch her fawn all over what really is a gift tailor-made for my best friend. I can’t be blind to his consideration, but I know deep down he’s doing it to irk me and position himself in my life.
