Unadulterated Something, page 20
Campbell hummed and turned away from the wreath bedecked front door to look at Emma. “So, we should probably decide how we want to do this.”
“Do what?” Emma frowned.
Campbell glanced toward the little colonial house across the street as she reached for Emma’s hand. “This.”
Emma laced their fingers together and, with a quick look to make sure they weren’t being watched, tugged Campbell closer to kiss her softly. “I like this.”
“Me too,” Campbell murmured, smiling against Emma’s lips. “But that still doesn’t answer—”
“I KNEW IT!” a positively triumphant voice shouted.
Emma groaned and turned to glare at Beca, who was standing on her front porch grinning at them, as Campbell blushed and moved very deliberately away from her. “Looks like the cat is at least partially out of the bag.” Emma dragged a hand through her hair and looked at Campbell. “You want me to kick her ass?”
Campbell shook her head as she lifted her eyes to look at Emma. “No. I’d have preferred to keep this to ourselves for a bit longer, especially with colleagues I don’t really know, at least until—”
Painfully aware of the fact that they had an audience, Emma moved to put herself between Beca and Campbell as she stopped her with a gentle finger to her lips. When Campbell huffed a sigh and gave her a look that said fine, you win, she let her hand drop to Campbell’s hip. “I get it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m not exactly ready to share you with them, either.” Emma shook her head at the surprised look Campbell gave her. “What?”
“You’re serious.”
“Yeah.” Emma squeezed Campbell’s hip reassuringly. “Stonebridge is kind of an island where everyone knows everyone’s business, and I know this is, like, incredibly new, but… I like you. I really like kissing you.” She smiled at the way Campbell bit her lip and nodded. “And I would like the chance to enjoy getting to explore this without the world butting in.”
“Me too,” Campbell whispered.
“Good.” Emma winked. “And, to be honest,” she added, leaning in closer and letting her voice drop to a conspiratorial tone, “I was looking forward to sneakily holding your hand under the table and stealing a kiss or two whenever we were alone.”
An adorably charmed smile curled Campbell’s lips. “Really?”
It was all Emma could do to not pull Campbell into her to kiss her right then, but she somehow managed to restrain herself to a small nod instead. “Yeah.” She tugged at the hem of the jersey Campbell was wearing. “But if you keep looking at me like that, I might just say ‘screw it’ and kiss you in front of everyone.”
Campbell laughed. “Sorry?”
Emma smiled, relieved that she had managed to lighten the mood. “Don’t worry about Becs. I know she’s probably back there looking like a proud big sister right now, but she actually does know how to be discreet—unlike some people we know—so I’ll talk to her about it.”
“It’s fine. You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” Emma interrupted. Even though she knew that Beca would keep their secret for them, she still stole a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure Beca was their only audience before she pulled Campbell closer. “Okay?”
Campbell nodded as she lifted a hand to tug on the strings of Emma’s hoodie. “Okay.”
“Good.” When Campbell didn’t pull away, Emma laughed and said, “I wasn’t kidding about kissing you if you keep looking at me like that.”
Campbell’s eyes dropped to Emma’s lips. “Yeah?”
Emma groaned. “Jordan…”
Campbell chuckled softly and shook her head. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” Emma grumbled.
“No, I’m really not.” Hazel eyes sparked with laughter as Campbell darted forward to steal a quick kiss. “But you are just too beautiful to resist,” she whispered as she pulled away, letting her hand slip slowly from the strings of Emma’s hoodie.
Emma blinked as she pulled Campbell back in for another kiss, lingering just long enough to convey how much she liked what had just happened. “Glad it’s not just me,” she murmured against Campbell’s lips as she stole one last sweet, chaste kiss before pulling away.
“Awoo!” Dash’s familiar rasp heralded his approach.
“Guess it’s time to head inside.” Emma turned to grab Dash before he could crash into them. “You have really bad timing, Mr. Dash,” she lectured, smiling at Campbell over her shoulder as she grabbed his collar with her left hand and scratched his ears with her right. “Can I hold your hand whenever nobody’s looking?”
“You better.” Campbell winked at her as she lifted the bowl of pasta salad from the trunk.
Emma laughed and gave Dash’s head one last scratch before giving him a light push back toward the house. He took off with a bark and jabbered the entire way back to Beca’s side like he was reporting on what had just happened. “Good to know. And what about stealing kisses when we’re alone?” she asked as she reached past Campbell to gather the dessert.
“Mmm, yes,” Campbell hummed. “Definitely.”
Emma licked her lips and conjured the best glare she could manage. Which was, admittedly, probably rather pathetic because Campbell was looking so damn good she unfortunately really was only human. “That’s mean.”
“What’s mean?”
Emma huffed a laugh as she slammed the hatch shut. “You know what!”
“But it’s so fun to rile you up, though.” Campbell laughed at the exasperated look Emma shot her. “Fine. Sorry. I’ll be good.”
“Will you?”
“Scout’s honor,” Campbell promised.
Emma shook her head. She recognized the mischief sparkling in Campbell’s eyes—had seen it on the ice too many times over the years to not—and she sighed as she asked, “Were you ever even a scout?”
“Well, no, but my brother was, so…” Campbell grinned.
“Right. Well, consider me appropriately convinced, then,” Emma murmured. She motioned toward Beca, who was leaning against the front post and scratching Dash’s head. “Shall we?”
Beca watched them make their way across the street and up with walk with a smirk that was pleased and promised trouble at the same time, and when they were close enough that she didn’t have to yell to be heard, she drawled, “Nice shirt, Jordan.”
“Thanks,” Campbell said without missing a beat. “It’s a replica I bought at a tournament a few years ago.”
Beca’s eyes widened to a comical degree. “You did?”
“No,” Campbell chuckled. She lifted the bowl in her hands and asked, “Can I stick this pasta salad in the fridge?”
“If you can find room for it, knock yourself out. Otherwise, we have a couple coolers on the back patio with ice in them for drinks and stuff—you might be able to fit it in one of those.”
Emma nodded at the questioning look Campbell shot her, and when Campbell had disappeared inside, she turned to Beca, who was practically vibrating with giddiness. “Please be good.”
“I’m always good,” Beca scoffed. “Besides, you’ve been holding out on me! When did this happen?”
“Like an hour ago?”
Beca clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her squeal of joy. “Seriously? Oh my god, Val is going to flip!”
“Seriously. But, Becs…” Emma’s voice trailed off at the sound of Campbell’s voice echoing down the hall as she greeted the other dinner guests, and she bit her lip as she looked toward the open front door. It was a strange feeling, falling back into real life like this so soon after everything had changed between them, like the bubble that had surrounded them from the moment they first kissed had been violently popped. Laughter, loud and happy, exploded inside the house, shattering Emma’s reflective mood, and she cleared her throat as she looked back at Beca, who was watching her with a goofy, proud smile. “What?”
“She is stupid-pretty.”
“Believe me, I know,” Emma murmured.
“Who made the first move?”
Emma’s gaze drifted back to the hall beyond the front door as her thoughts slipped back to Campbell’s kitchen. Her pulse stuttered at the memory of Campbell’s voice, so soft and rough and quietly pleading, and the feeling of her hand cradling her jaw so gently as she asked her what she wanted. That kiss was a moment of pure, blissful surrender that was weeks and months and possibly years in the making, but the only move either of them made had been to stop holding back and just let go.
“It wasn’t anything like that,” Emma murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. She blinked and refocused on Beca. “We were in her kitchen, talking about these”—she lifted the sheet pan in her hands—“and it just…happened.”
Beca bounced happily in place. “And it’s good, right?”
Emma nodded. “Really good,” she confirmed, chuckling softly at the way Beca was beaming at her. “So if you could please, please, please be good and give us just a little bit of time to explore this on our own before the world blows up around us—because it will, I know it will, because this is me and Campbell and, god, I’d be laughing my ass off if it were anyone else in this situation, but—”
“Breathe, Em,” Beca murmured, her dark brown eyes gentling with understanding. “I get it. And I will let you guys break the news when you’re ready.”
“Thank you.”
Beca smiled. “Always.” She laughed at the way Emma’s attention once again drifted to the open front door, and nudged her foot as she said, “Come on, Beauchamp. Let’s go find your girl.”
Emma shook her head and warned, “Beca…” as Dash let out an excited awoo and took off inside without looking back to check that they were following.
“I know, I know. Best behavior starts now,” Beca promised, holding her right hand up as if swearing an oath as she led them into the house. “What’s under the foil?”
“Beavertails.”
Beca sniggered. “I’ve had my share of beaver and tails in my day, and I guess sometimes combined, if straps are taken into account. But that’s not the kind of dessert I was thinking you guys would be bringing. We do have kids inside, you know. And, really, you shouldn’t rush things with Campbell. If she really likes you, she’ll wait.”
“Oh my god,” Emma groaned. She should have known Beca would have just as much to say about the name of the stupid dessert as Val had. “Will you just knock it off. It’s a Canadian pastry-dessert-thing.”
“Uh-huh, sure. Whatever you say, Em.”
Emma pursed her lips to keep from laughing as she playfully jammed the tray into Beca’s back. “Shut up. Where do you want me to put them?”
“Out of Dash’s reach. He’s already stolen an entire bag of dinner rolls.”
Emma glanced at the thief in question, who was laying belly-up on the floor between Isabella’s boys that had hooked their Switch up to the television in the living room. “That’s my boy.”
“Hey, Beauchamp! About time you showed up,” Lars teased in as he made his way into the kitchen from the back patio with a beer.
“I did have to drop your butt off here before I went home to shower,” Emma reminded him.
“Yeah, because that totally takes an hour and a half.” Campbell wandered out of the kitchen just then, and he whistled as he leaned back in his chair and lifted his beer toward her. “Damn, Jordan. Lose a bet?”
“Obviously,” Campbell drawled.
“You better hope the Mounties don’t find out about this—they’ll kick you out!”
Campbell laughed. “How are they going to find out, exactly?”
“Like this,” Beca said, her voice ringing with laughter. “Say cheese, you two!”
Emma and Campbell groaned as they turned to look at Beca, who had her phone aimed at them. “Becs,” Emma warned.
“Sorry, Em, but Campbell Jordan wearing your Team USA jersey is something that needs to be recorded for posterity,” Beca said as the flash on her phone flared. She frowned at the picture and shook her head. “Do it again. Smile, for god’s sake. Pretend like you actually like each other or something.”
“Dunno if anyone can pretend that hard,” Lars cackled as he stole the dessert from her hands and took it into the kitchen.
Emma glared at Beca, whose eyes were positively dancing with mirth, and sighed. “Fine.”
“Good. Now, let’s try this again, girls,” Beca droned in her best teacher voice. “Smile!”
Campbell laughed and leaned into Emma’s side, and Emma couldn’t help but smile as she wrapped her arm around Campbell’s waist. She was still annoyed by Beca’s antics, but it was hard to care too much about it when it gave her an excuse to be close to Campbell.
“Much better.” Beca took three more pictures, and then nodded as she inspected her work. “You want me to send them to you?”
“Please,” Emma said.
Beca tapped at her screen and then grinned at them as she slipped her phone back into her pocket. “There you go, my dears. I sent them to you both.”
Emma’s phone buzzed with Beca’s text, and her stomach flipped at the way at Campbell snuggled closer under the guise of looking at the pictures.
“Lemme see,” Campbell murmured as she turned Emma’s phone for a better look. “Oh, wow…”
Emma licked her lips as she stared at the image on her screen. Beca might have playfully goaded them into position, but there was no mistaking the way they curved so easily into each other, like it was the most natural thing in the world, or the softness of their expressions. “Yeah. Wow…”
“You two look really good together,” Beca murmured. She patted them each on the shoulder as she made her way past them into the kitchen. “I’m happy for you.”
Emma sighed and turned to catch Beca’s eye, to warn her with a look that she had promised to behave, and shook her head when Beca winked at her and mimed zipping her lips. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Can I get you girls a drink? Water? Wine? Beer? Em, we’ve got a cooler full of that stupid-expensive designer root beer you like in the red cooler out back.”
“I’ll take a glass of red, if you’ve got it,” Campbell said.
“Merlot okay?”
Campbell nodded. “Perfect.”
“I’m just going to go grab a root beer,” Emma murmured, squeezing Campbell’s waist before finally pulling her arm away.
“Root beer?” Isabella’s younger son, Sebastian, piped up.
“I’ll bring you one,” Emma promised. “You want one too, Nico?”
Nico threw her a quick grin before turning his attention back to their game. “Yes, please. Thanks, Ms. Beauchamp.”
“You want some help carrying everything in?” Campbell offered.
Emma nodded. She could handle three bottles easily enough on her own, but Campbell “helping” would give her a chance to let her know that Beca had promised to behave without being overheard. “Sure.”
The patio was blessedly deserted, and Emma laughed in surprise when Campbell dragged her around the corner before the door had even fully shut behind them. “Can I help you?”
“You said you were looking forward to stealing kisses, remember?” Campbell’s eyes danced as she used her body to press Emma back against the side of the house. “This is me stealing a kiss.”
Emma’s heart fluttered up into her throat at the feeling of strong hands curving around her hips, holding her in place, and looped her arms around Campbell’s shoulders as she dipped her head to whisper against her lips, “So, kiss me, already.”
She moaned softly as Campbell’s mouth slanted over her own, stealing her breath with a kiss that was so slow and deep and serious that it had her seeing stars and feeling utterly dazed by the time Campbell pulled away.
“You are so good at that,” Campbell murmured, nuzzling Emma’s cheek. She chuckled and brushed their lips together. “I really like this whole stealing kisses thing. But we should probably get back inside before anyone gets suspicious.”
“I really like it, too.” Emma stole one last kiss as her hands slipped to Campbell’s shoulders. “Beca did promise to behave herself, though,” she shared as Campbell stepped out of her arms and turned toward the main part of the patio that had a colorful row of coolers lining its edge. “So we don’t need to worry about her.”
Campbell nodded. “Thank you.”
“White knight, remember?” Emma teased as she followed Campbell around the corner. She glanced toward the house to make sure Beca wasn’t spying on them from the window as she pulled three bottles of root beer from the red cooler, and used her toe to snap the latch back into place as she handed one to Campbell. “Can’t have you going inside empty-handed.”
Campbell smiled. “Good idea.”
“I’m full of them.”
Campbell laughed and nudged Emma with her elbow. “Like stealing kisses?”
“And holding hands under the table.”
Campbell hummed and nodded, her eyes crinkled with happiness. “Oh, that’s right.” She winked at Emma. “I can’t wait.”
Much to Emma’s surprise, it turned out that secretly holding hands under the table was right up there with stolen kisses on the list of things that had made this particular afternoon one of the best of her life so far.
Which, considering she had won an Olympic gold medal, was saying something.
And, while kissing Campbell was fun and all kinds of amazing, Emma found herself almost equally addicted to the feeling of Campbell’s fingers curled around her own or the comforting weight of a hand on a thigh. Her romantic life until this point had been a series of sporadically brief, casual relationships that were more a product of timing and physical attraction than a genuine connection, and it was honestly mind-blowing how different this felt even after only a few hours together. Part of her felt cheated, like she had missed out on something special by never having had a relationship where she was more than content to sit next to the person at a dining table with her hand on their thigh, joking and laughing with friends as day shifted to night; but there was another part of her that recognized she hadn’t been ready for something like this before. While she had been playing, her life had been the game. She ate, slept, walked, talked hockey twenty-four-seven, and she hadn’t been looking for anything more because nothing was as important to her.
