Let It Be Me E-Book

Kait Nolan

• Herausgeber: Take The Leap Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Four years ago, firefighter Caleb Romero saved a child and met the woman of his dreams. But trauma killed the timing, so he’s contented himself with being the friend she needed as she navigated sudden parenthood.

Four years ago, Emerson Aldridge became a mom in the worst possible way. Without qualm, she abandoned her own dreams to shepherd her teenage daughter through their shared grief. Her number one priority has been to raise Fiona the way her best friend would have wanted.

Now Fi’s headed off to college and Emerson has no idea how to feel about her suddenly empty nest. She barely even remembers life before motherhood, but Caleb’s right next door to give her a reminder—along with a toe-curling kiss that catapults them past friends and into something more. The life she wanted before the accident is still within reach. He just has to convince her that their age difference means nothing.

Piece of cake. Right?

Leseprobe

LET IT BE ME

MEN OF THE MISFIT INN BOOK #1

KAIT NOLAN

TAKE THE LEAP PUBLISHING

Let It Be Me

Written and published by Kait Nolan

Cover design by Najla Qamber

Copyright © 2020 by Kait Nolan

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: The following is a work of fiction. All people, places, and events are purely products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is entirely coincidental.

For Amy, narrator extraordinaire,

Thank you for giving life to all the people in my head

Do you need more small town sass and spark? Sign up for my newsletter to hear about new releases, book deals, and exclusive content!

Want to get social? Join me in Kait's Cantina!

CONTENTS

A Letter to Readers

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

Sneak Peek Our Kind of Love

Sneak Peek When You Got A Good Thing

Other Books By Kait Nolan

About Kait

A LETTER TO READERS

Dear Reader,

This book is set in the Deep South. As such, it contains a great deal of colorful, colloquial, and occasionally grammatically incorrect language. This is a deliberate choice on my part as an author to most accurately represent the region where I have lived my entire life. This book also contains swearing and pre-marital sex between the lead couple, as those things are part of the realistic lives of characters of this generation, and of many of my readers.

If any of these things are not your cup of tea, please consider that you may not be the right audience for this book. There are scores of other books out there that are written with you in mind. In fact, I’ve got a list of some of my favorite authors who write on the sweeter side on my website at https://kaitnolan.com/on-the-sweeter-side/

If you choose to stick with me, I hope you enjoy!

Happy reading!

Kait

CHAPTER1

“I am not drunk enough for this.”

As truly horrific honky-tonk music slammed into her like a freight train, Emerson wished for a shot of something stout and the silence of the recording booth. Emerson almost turned around to go home to Hamilton as the blonde on stage reached the ear-splitting chorus of “Stand By Your Man.” But her boyfriend had blown their plans tonight because of work, and she’d promised Paisley she’d meet her new man. It seemed a shame to waste all the effort she’d put into her appearance for the cancelled date, so she’d dragged herself all the way into Nashville to Lower Broadway.

Weaving her way through the crowd that didn’t seem in the least deterred by the steady drizzle of spring rain, Emerson scanned the bar for familiar brunette curls. As she edged past too many bodies, her phone vibrated. Fishing it out, she saw Fiona Gaffney flash across the screen. Her goddaughter. One of the lights of her life. It was too damned loud to answer now. She’d get this meet and greet over with and call her back on the way home.

“Emmy!” Paisley’s excited squeal reached her, even over the catcalling toward the stage. She materialized out of the throng and looped an arm through Emerson’s. “You came!”

“You did not tell me it was karaoke night. You know how I feel about karaoke.” She had to lean close to be heard over the noise. Bad music aside, Paisley knew she avoided places like this because she had to protect her voice for work.

But her long-time friend didn’t wilt under the accusatory stare. “Oh, don’t be a fuddy duddy.” She began to drag Emerson through the bar. “You need to hear Dustin sing.”

“Please tell me you haven’t latched on to another country music hopeful.” Her excessively romantic best friend had definitely had a type back in college. They’d attended more than their fair share of open mic nights and karaoke competitions in the name of being supportive.

“God no. He’s just got a gorgeous voice.” Paisley winked. “And a really great ass.”

Stopping at a high-top table with a sandy-haired guy in jeans and an untucked black button down, she waved an enthusiastic hand. “Dustin, baby, this is my dearest, darling bestie, Emerson Aldridge. Emerson, my boyfriend, Dustin Phelps.”

Emerson shook his proffered hand and slid onto one of the chairs, sending up a prayer of sincere gratitude as the caterwauling from the stage finally stopped. Why? Why couldn’t they have picked one of the other venues that had actual good music? There were so many to choose from.

Once the waitress had taken her order, Dustin leaned across the table. “So Emerson, what is it you do?”

Yet again she had to lean too close to be heard without shouting. “I’m a voice actor.”

“Yeah? Like, what? Cartoons? Video games?”

“Sometimes. But mostly I do audiobooks.”

He blinked. “So you read for a living.”

She performed entire casts of characters, giving unique voices to each, such that listeners had a well-rounded experience and felt immersed in the story. But sure. They could just reduce her life’s work down to reading. He clearly wasn’t an audiobook listener. A lot of people didn’t understand, and she was not in the proper mood to educate him, particularly as she suspected he wouldn’t last the month once Paisley had her fill.

“I suppose.”

Did he even know that Paisley wrote romance? If he didn’t, how serious could this relationship be?

One drink. She’d have one drink and visit for a bit, then the social niceties would be discharged and she could go back home to the quiet. As the next pair of singers took the stage for an extremely drunk rendition of “Beer Run,” she knew that would be sooner rather than later. She was absolutely not in the mood for this. But she did her best to engage in conversation during the lulls between singers, listening to Dustin talk about his job as assistant baseball coach for one of the area universities. That explained the nice ass. Nearly a dozen more tone-deaf performers took the stage, each progressively worse than the last. Emerson wondered if blood was leaking from her ears. Where the hell was her drink?

Paisley studied her face. “You are not in a fun-loving-Emerson frame of mind.”

She definitely was not. But that wasn’t Paisley’s fault, and it wasn’t fair of her to spoil the night. Reeling in her lousy mood, she offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I’m disappointed that Blaine’s work schedule ruined what was supposed to be a romantic date night. Again. I know he’s trying to make partner, but I’m feeling a bit neglected lately.” The past few months, he’d been so dialed into work. At first, she’d been fine with it. It had given her time to really dig in and expand her own portfolio, making her name known in the industry. But she missed coming out like this with him. Being third wheel was not what she’d had in mind for tonight.

“That sucks. But it’s all the more reason to come out with girlfriends!”

Emerson slid a look over to Dustin, who was scrolling on his phone.

Paisley leaned closer. “Okay, fair point. But we haven’t gotten together in forever. I feel like I never see you anymore since you started dating Blaine.”

The waitress finally came back with her drink, and Emerson pounced on it in the name of buying herself time to find an answer. She had let her friendship slide in the past year since Blaine had come into her life. To some extent that was to be expected with a new relationship, but she could absolutely make more of an effort.

Before she could say as much, she spotted another familiar face across the room and froze.

Surely it wasn’t him.

But even as she watched, Blaine laughed and loosed that megawatt grin she’d seen him whip out at countless meet-and-greet mixers for work. What the hell was he doing at a karaoke bar on Lower Broadway? This wasn’t the kind of networking his firm engaged in. His arm was around the shoulders of another woman. The same one in cling-wrap jeans who’d been butchering Tammy Wynette when Emerson came in.

Paisley followed her gaze. “Is that…Oh shit.”

Blaine hauled the blonde to her toes and planted a smoldering kiss on her mouth.

Emerson was out of her seat and walking over before she could think better of it. She had to be sure. She dodged around tables, circling the room until she came up behind him. He still had his mouth fused to the blonde when she tapped on his shoulder.

His head came up, and the utter shock on his face was all the answer she needed. “Emerson?”

“You had to work?” How many times had he used that excuse and been doing this?

Blaine released the blonde, opening his mouth to make some kind of an explanation, but Emerson just lifted a trembling hand. “Don’t bother. We’re done.”

She needed to get the hell out of here before the reaction set in because, right now, she wasn’t sure if she’d fall apart or utterly lose her shit, and she wasn’t keen on having an audience for either. Eye on the door, she turned.

“Emerson, wait.” Blaine caught her by the arm and jerked her around.

She led with the drink still in her hand, flinging it in his face. “Let me go, you cheating bastard!”

He released her, howling as the alcohol dripped into his eyes. “What the hell!”

Taking advantage of his momentary blindness, she hustled back to the table to grab her purse. Dustin was throwing down some bills, and Paisley was gathering her own things.

“Don’t bother. I’m sorry. I’m going home.”

“But Emerson—”

“Seriously. Y’all stay and enjoy your date. Don’t let me ruin your night, too.” Not waiting for an answer, she pushed through the throng, dimly registering a few “You go girl”s from some of the women on her way to the door.

Outside, she stopped just underneath the awning, sucking in huge breaths of air.

Blaine was cheating on her. And if he was doing it now, he’d probably done it before. She’d made it so damned easy on him, with her homebody tendencies, so often focused on her work, on the books she loved. Content in her little house outside the city proper, away from all the lights, the traffic, the noise. The pressure of all of it pressed in on her as she trudged through the rain back to where she’d left her car. How much had changed in an hour.

She’d been a damned fool.

Her phone began to vibrate again.

If that son of a bitch was going to try to offer excuses, she’d just have to give him a piece of her mind. But the vitriol died on her tongue as she saw Fiona’s name again.

She could hold it together long enough to talk to her. Hell, maybe talking to Fi would keep her distracted and calm until she got home and could fall apart in private.

“Hey honey. I’m sorry I missed your call earlier, I—”

“Is this Emerson Aldridge?” The deep, male voice was so unexpected, she pulled the phone away from her ear to check the display again.

“Yes?” Delayed concern began to set in, sharpening her tone. “Who is this? Where is Fiona?”

“I’m afraid there’s been an accident.”

* * *

An instant.

That was all it took for lives to be changed. Lives to be lost.

Caleb Romero knew that better than many. Had lived through that knife’s edge when others had not. So he knew, before he even fully registered the truck barreling through the red light, before he heard the crash and shriek of metal, that someone else’s life was over.

He slammed on his brakes, skidding a little on the rain-slicked pavement as he yanked his truck to the shoulder of the road. His mind was already assessing the scene as he leapt out, raced over. Other vehicles were stopping. Someone else would dial 911. He needed to check for survivors, start stabilization if he could.

The truck was flipped on its side, front end accordioned where it had struck the little sedan. The car… Jesus God. It was upside down, the driver’s side entirely caved in. He didn’t need to see past the blood on the shattered window to know the driver was likely a lost cause.

“Mom?”

The tremulous voice had his blood running cold.

His mind tried to throw him back to high school. Back to his own trauma. Caleb blanked it out, focusing instead on the here and now and the life still to be saved. He raced around to the passenger side, hunkering low to see through what remained of the window.

The girl hung upside down from the seatbelt, her blonde hair brushing the collapsed roof of the car. She reached out toward the woman dangling beside her in the driver’s seat.

“Mom!”

“Hey. Hey there. I’m here to help.”

Tears clogged her voice. “Help my mom.”

It was more than evident, now that he could see, that her mother was beyond help. But now wasn’t the time to bring that point home to the kid.

“More help is on the way.” The distant wail of a siren underscored the point. “I need you to focus on me just now. Can you move? Are you hurt?”

The girl turned her head to look at him. Stiffly but with what appeared to be more or less full range of motion. “I don’t…I…”

“Take it slow. Can you wiggle your fingers and toes?”

“Y…yes.”

Good sign. “Are you having any severe pain anywhere?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

She was definitely in shock, so no guarantees, but she didn’t show any obvious signs of spinal injury. “Okay. We’re gonna get you out of there.”

Stripping off his jacket, Caleb used it to break out the last of the window, clearing a space. He didn’t even ask if she could unbuckle the belt, just pulled out his pocket knife and carefully sliced through it, managing to catch her before she crashed to the ceiling of the car.

“I’ve gotcha.” Carefully, he eased her out, not taking a full breath until her legs cleared the wreckage. His mind ran through triage. No signs of massive bleeding or breaks. But there could still be internal bleeding.

“She’s dead, isn’t she?”

The soft question stopped Caleb’s assessment. He met the girl’s shattered eyes, read the horror of knowledge, and swallowed as he felt the long ago echoes of his own. “I’m so sorry.”

As sirens shrieked and emergency personnel began to swarm the scene, the girl slumped against him and wept.

She was the only survivor.

Because he knew what it was to be alone and terrified, Caleb had come with her to the hospital, done what needed doing. As a firefighter, he was a first responder and the emergency staff at this hospital knew him, so nobody kicked up a fuss.

By now, the tears had stopped, replaced by the glassy-eyed anesthesia of shock. After what she’d been through, that was a blessing, one that would end far too soon.

As Dr. Chahal performed the exam, the girl—Fiona—offered monosyllabic answers. Caleb wasn’t sure she really heard anything the kind-eyed doctor said. He could feel the tremors wracking her slim frame through the hand gripping his like a vise. He remembered all too clearly how fear and grief pooled just below the surface, waiting to rise and strike. How, when the bubble burst, they’d all but torn him apart when he’d been barely older than she was.

Fiona Gaffney would have a hard, hard road. She’d need solid support. Caleb wondered if the godmother she’d had him call would be that for her.

In the end, Liya Chahal sat back, addressing him, though she kept her dark eyes on Fiona. “She’s banged up, has some bruises and cuts from flying glass. But all in all, she’s physically remarkably unharmed.”

That was something, at least.

“Will she be cleared to leave?”

“Medically, yes.”

They both knew there’d be legal paperwork to hash out in terms of who the girl would be allowed to leave with. Who knew how long that would take?

A nurse knocked on the door before slipping inside. “There’s someone at the front desk pitching a fit to get back here for Miss Gaffney. An Emerson Aldridge?”

The hand holding Caleb’s tightened as Fiona jolted upright. “Auntie Em?” She started to scramble off the bed.

“Hold it.” Gently, Caleb pressed her back. “You stay put.”

“But—”

“I’ll bring her to you.” There were things he needed to tell the woman before she got back here. Things he hadn’t felt comfortable getting into over the phone with a traumatized fourteen-year-old listening in.

Fiona’s eyes skittered to their joined hands.

Caleb squeezed, hoping she found the touch reassuring. “We’ll be right back. I promise.”

“I’ll stay,” the nurse offered. The entire emergency department already knew what they were dealing with here. News traveled fast.

After a long moment, Fiona’s grip loosened, and Caleb slipped out of the room. On the way through the familiar labyrinth of hallways, he braced himself for what was coming. It didn’t matter how many times he’d had to do it, these notifications never got any easier.

A water-logged woman stood at the triage desk, her hands white-knuckling the edge as she clearly struggled not to scream at the nurse on duty. “I was told she’s here. I need to see her.”

“Ma’am, as I said, if you’re not family—”

“How many times do I have to tell you? Her father is not involved. I’m her godmother. I am the next closest thing to family.”

“Emerson Aldridge?”

The woman whipped her head around at the sound of Caleb’s voice. The carefully rehearsed words bled out of his brain as panicked blue eyes met his. The relative chaos of the waiting room faded away as he fell into those eyes, soaking up the sense of recognition, even though he knew he’d never seen her before.

It’s you.

Startled by his own thought, he snapped out of his stupor and closed the distance and nodded to the nurse. “I’ve got this, Janette.”

“Where’s Fiona?”

“I’ll take you to her. C’mon.” He gestured toward the double doors, and she hustled toward them. “I’m Caleb Romero—the one who called you. You need to know right off that Fiona is okay. Minor injuries.” It was the only comfort he’d be able to offer her tonight.

A little of the terror etched on her face faded as they pushed through the doors. But Emerson was sharp. “Could you not reach her mother?”

This was the part he hadn’t wanted to tell her over the phone. Navigating her into one of the empty rooms off to the side, he shut the door. Emerson didn’t move toward any of the chairs. Her whole body drew taut, and he recognized that, deep down, she already knew what was coming.

Tunneling a hand through his hair, Caleb sighed. “Fiona’s mother was in the car. She didn’t make it.”

Like a puppet with suddenly cut strings, Emerson collapsed. It was instinct to catch her, to pull her against his body, as if he could somehow offer protection from the truth. She sucked in a ragged breath, and he waited for the scream of rage and pain. But she didn’t make a sound as she wilted into him, her hands curled to ineffectual fists against his chest. Her silent, potent grief swamped them both for long minutes. Caleb felt a little like a voyeur. He didn’t know this woman. But he knew this pain. So he held her, until she found the strength to stand again.

“You were there?” The question rasped out, as if her vocal cords had been torched.

“I saw it happen. I pulled Fiona out. There wasn’t—” He stopped himself. The driver’s side of the car had taken the brunt of the impact. She didn’t need that horror in her head. “Her mom was already gone.”

Emerson closed her eyes, absorbing that. Maybe she’d take comfort in the fact that death had been all but instant.

“Thank you for saving Fi.” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “Does she know?”

“Yes.”

She visibly armored up, pulling herself together for the sake of the child in a way that impressed the hell out of him. As she straightened, she seemed to register she was still pressed against him. A faint tinge of embarrassment brought color back to her pale cheeks.

Caleb forced himself to drop his arms and step back. “Are you up to seeing her now?”

She sucked in a breath and squared her shoulders. “Take me to her.”

The moment they stepped through the door to the room, Fiona broke. Emerson didn’t hesitate, edging onto the bed and pulling the girl tight into her arms as she sobbed, even as tears tracked down her own cheeks.

Eventually, the unintelligible cries turned into words. “I don’t want to go to my grandparents. You know what they’re like.”

Emerson’s face went fierce. “Not a chance in hell, baby. Your…” She swallowed. “Your mom made provisions. You’re with me.”

Everything in her posture and expression said she’d go to war for this kid.

Some tension in Caleb released. They had a long road to go, but he had a feeling these two would be just fine.

CHAPTER2

4 Years Later

Emerson braced her hands on the kitchen counter and summoned every ounce of Mom-sternness she could manage. “Child, you have got to pack.”

Fiona swiped a Coke out of the fridge and shrugged with a nonchalance that had Emerson’s blood pressure rising. “Eh.”

She was a good kid. A great one, in fact. At no point during the dreaded high school years had she given Emerson more than a few silver hairs, and those had readily been dealt with by her stylist. There’d been no worrisome brushes with boys, no drinking, no excessive partying, and she’d been an exceptional student, all of which Emerson was eternally grateful for. But this whole college thing just might be the death of her. Or Fiona. She wasn’t sure which.

Tamping down her frustration, she trailed her goddaughter down the hall, past the dining room that had been turned into a staging area, full of neatly ordered—by Emerson—piles of bedding, towels, bathroom gear, a microwave, shoe pockets and other detritus associated with freshman living, all packed, labeled, and ready to go. By contrast, the upstairs bedroom Fi swung into looked like a bomb had gone off. She had yet to pack any clothes or toiletries or the personal pictures and knickknacks that were a mark of home. Emerson didn’t know if this was typical teenage procrastination or a sign of Fiona’s true reluctance to go off to college.

She worried about that. Despite the fact that the kid could’ve gone out for Best Teen of the Year at any point, worry about Fi had been Emerson’s default state since she became guardian to her best friend’s child. Every day had been joy and grief as she saw Micah’s eyes looking back at her. She’d done right by her goddaughter, fulfilling to the best of her ability the promise she’d made senior year of high school, when Fiona had been born and Micah’s parents had disowned her. But she’d never stopped questioning whether it was enough, whether she’d gotten it right.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Emerson sent up a prayer. Micah, give me patience for our girl. “Fiona.”

Fi flopped into the lipstick-pink moon chair that was one of the few surfaces in the room not currently draped with clothes. “There’s time.”

“Honey, move-in day is tomorrow.” It wasn’t as if she was ready for the girl to move out. A part of Emerson still wanted to wrap her in cotton and shield her from the world. But facts were facts. This was happening. All the paperwork was signed, the scholarship awarded. Fiona Elizabeth Gaffney was matriculating as a freshman tomorrow.

Thick, gold lashes hid her eyes as she shrugged again. “Yeah, but I’d rather spend the time with you. It’s our last night together.”

Twin surges of love and frustration shot through Emerson. She’d made Fi the center of her world. It was what they’d both needed. But moments like this, she wondered if she’d gone too far in that direction. Had they become codependent? Had she hobbled Fiona’s natural progression to independence? Was she pushing her baby bird out of the nest too soon?

Whatever response she might have made was interrupted by a familiar knock on the back door. Fiona brightened, shooting out of her room like a rocket and bouncing past Emerson to fly downstairs.

She sighed. There’d be no packing now.

The low rumble of a male voice reached her before she got to the kitchen. Pausing in the hall to steel herself for the encounter, she called herself an idiot.

It’s just Caleb.

Caleb Romero, their neighbor and resident hero, had become a familiar fixture over the years. In the weeks after the accident, he’d come by to check on them both. He’d been an unexpected anchor during turbulent times, at first helping out with things like the yard or picking up groceries, when they were both too overwhelmed to manage. Then he’d stuck around, popping over to drag them out to a movie or ball game, making sure they got out and lived a little.

When the house next door had gone up for sale, he’d bought it. And somehow he’d become a regular part of their lives. Over time, Fi’s hero worship had evolved to something somewhere between friend, brother, and crush. And Emerson…well, she’d developed an improbable friendship with the younger man. If she objectively recognized he could stand in for a great many of the romance heroes she narrated, she was blaming it on the day job. And his six-pack abs. It didn’t mean anything but that she appreciated God’s sense of the artistic. He was way too young for her.

But that didn’t stop her hormones from standing up and dancing a jig when he flashed that familiar grin in her direction as she came into the kitchen. Those double-barrel dimples had landed him as Mr. January in the local firefighter’s calendar the last two years running. “Hey, Em.”

“Hey.” She resisted the urge to fan herself and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge instead. “What brings you by this lovely August evening?”

He held up a gift bag. “I brought a dorm-warming gift for the graduate.”

Emerson’s heart turned to goo, even as Fiona made grabby hands.

“Oooo! Thank you! Gimme!”

Laughing, Caleb handed the bag over.

“Can I open it now?”

“Sure.” He kicked back against the counter beside Emerson, crossing his arms over his chest. She averted her eyes so as not to gawk at how the gesture emphasized his pecs. As if she didn’t know.

Fiona pulled a square plastic thing out of tissue paper, angling her head to read the label. “A microwave bacon tray?”

“I know how much you love bacon. Seems a shame to miss out on it in the dorm.”

Laughing, she bounced over and gave him a side hug. “Thank you. That was really thoughtful. And you should totally stay for dinner tonight.”

Emerson nearly choked on her water. Not that they didn’t hang with him on the regular, but she usually had prior notice to prepare herself.

“You’re not on duty until tomorrow morning, right?” Fiona pressed.

Because, of course, they knew Caleb’s work schedule at the fire station. That was just neighborly. They watered plants and kept an eye out for mail and packages when he was on shift.

“I’m not, but I thought y’all were having girls’ night.” Those dark, chocolate eyes flicked to Emerson, and she could swear the temperature cranked up five degrees. “I wouldn’t want to crash.”

It’s just a hot flash. You’re getting older.

“You never crash,” Fi assured him. “Besides, Emerson’s just going to make me pack.”

Exasperated she crossed her arms. “I’m still going to make you pack. Paisley will be here to load up in the morning.”

“It’s only an hour away.”

After all these years, did the child not understand how much Emerson needed to plan things? “In the morning, child!”

Fiona rolled out her lip in a pout. “You’re just going to hang over me. You know I hate that.”

Emerson did know, and she’d bent over backwards to walk the line between giving Fiona freedom and the structure she needed. But she’d had weeks to take care of this on her own. It hadn’t happened. Emerson did not want to get to the point of loading their cars tomorrow and not be ready to go. It was August, for heaven’s sake. The later in the day, the worse the oppressive heat and humidity would be.

Caleb’s knowing gaze bounced between the two of them. “Okay, okay.” He swung a brotherly arm around Fiona’s shoulders. “I’ll tell you what. Emerson needs a run. I’ll get her out of your hair so you can pack in peace. And if you’re actually done when we get back, I’ll stick around and even spring for pizza.”

“Excuse me?”

Both of them ignored her. When had they wrested all control of the situation from her hands?

Fi pursed her lips in calculation. “Emiliano’s?”

Caleb’s face twisted with mock offense that she dared to suggest he’d think of anywhere else. “Obviously.”

The little minx stuck out a hand. “Deal.”

They shook on it, and Fi headed back upstairs, presumably to get started.

Emerson stared at him. “Did you seriously just manage to bribe my child with pizza to do the thing I’ve been trying to get her to do for weeks?”