Page 41 of You Found Me (The Meadow Springs #1)

Emmaline

Why am I so warm?

Did I forget to turn on my fan? God, how drunk did I end up getting?

Piper’s the best, or worst depending on how you look at it, about getting anyone drunk off their rocker without realizing it.

I go to move hair out of my face, only to realize it’s not my hair.

Not only that, but there’s a warm body attached to that hair.

My eyes fly open.

No .

There’s no way Piper let me go home with some rando from the bar. I start taking stock of my body. I’ve got a shirt and panties on—no bra. Moving my legs to see if I feel sore, I notice I’m practically lying on the stranger.

I don’t cuddle. Ever. It doesn’t make sense.

Taking a deep breath, I tilt my head to see who I’m lying on and I’m met with a familiar, scruffy jawline.

Oh my god.

I’ve stared up at him enough times to know it’s Spencer. I close my eyes trying to place what happened last night that led me here, in his bed. It’s like a highlight reel starts playing on a loop. God, I can’t believe I tried getting naked to tempt him into sleeping with me .

Not only that, I told him I wanted him for real. And since I’m one of those people who believes the old saying, drunk words are sober thoughts, I know that’s how I really feel.

Maybe it’s better that it came out like that. I would’ve been at war with my heart and brain all day leading up to dinner trying to decide if this was the right thing to do. Drunk me apparently leads with her vagina—her brain nowhere to be found.

Why do I always run to him when I’m drinking?

In my mini spiral, I realize I’m still lying on Spencer, with one leg thrown over his lap and start slowly lifting myself off his very warm hard body, when I feel his chest shake.

This buttmunch has been pretending to be asleep—or at the very least woke up in the middle of my internal freak out—without moving a muscle or saying a peep!

I look up to see how red in the face he is from trying to keep his composure.

I pinch his nipple in retaliation. “It isn’t funny! I thought I ended up in bed with someone I couldn’t remember. Then I actually remembered what happened and it’s ten times worse.”

Spencer can’t contain it anymore and lets out a deep wave of belly laughs.

“I knew you’d freak out a little once you woke up with me still in the bed.

But then you tried to sneak out like a thief in the night, who might I add, would get caught immediately considering you were muttering to yourself the whole time. ”

“Yeah. I tend to talk to myself whenever I’m dealing with a freak out or a problem. Honestly, I talk to myself quite a bit. It keeps me focused on the task at hand.”

I sit up fully, turning towards him lying there, shirtless. “Um, I’m really sorry that I woke you up in the middle of the night to throw myself at you. I haven’t quite figured out why you’re the one I always turn to when I’m drunk.”

He sits up against the headboard. “It’s okay. Really. Just so you know, you’re really cute when you don’t get what you want. I hope you understand why I put a stop to you getting naked in my bed.”

Groaning, I throw my hands up to my face and mutter, “On that note, I better go. I’m sure you have to get ready for work. ”

He stops me before I can get up completely. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you at all . . . did you mean what you said last night?”

I move closer, but not close enough that I’d be able to knock him out with my morning breath. “I think I meant it, Spence. I’m just a little scared.”

He lets out a breath as his eyes flutter closed, and I know that was the right thing to say. When he opens his eyes again, his dimple starts to poke out. “I can work with scared. I’ll see you later today. I should be home and cleaned up by 5:30. Come over any time after in comfy clothes.”

“Wait, I thought we were going out for dinner?”

Spencer shakes his head. “I think after last night we need to be somewhere private to talk. I promise to make a meal that will rival any fancy restaurant.”

“Okay. Deal. I’ll see you later.”

***

I pretend like I wasn’t sitting in my room, completely ready and freaking out well before five rolls around.

He said to wear something comfy, which is why I’m in my favorite light-purple jersey knit pj short set with my knee-high socks and slippers. I give myself another once over in the mirror, deciding I look good enough. Or at least better than I did this morning.

Mia sits on the couch eating leftover pasta and looks up when I walk out of my room. A smirk is plastered on her face before she whistles. “Damn, Ems. He’s going to die when he sees your booty in those shorts. Can I creep out in the hallway to see his reaction?”

“Absolutely not, Amelia! You know I’m nervous about this, I don’t need you being your chaotic, meddling self.”

She huffs before quickly smiling. “Fine. I do hope you guys have a nice date. Don’t let your nerves about the future mess up the right now , okay? Spencer isn’t Chance. He would rather hurt himself a thousand times over than ever hurt you. That much is clear. ”

“I’ll try my best. I’ll be back later.”

“I won’t wait up for you,” she says with a wink.

With a roll of my eyes, I leave our apartment and make the short walk to his door. I knock and when he opens it, I give an awkward wave.

“Emmy. Come on in,” he greets as he steps to the side, pulling the door with him.

I go to thank him for agreeing to tonight but a timer goes off.

“Hold that thought,” he says, walking toward the kitchen and that’s when I notice what he’s wearing.

It’s those freaking gray sweatpants. Mia said he would die once he caught sight of my ass, but here I am, no better than a man, because I’m practically drooling over this man’s ass.

“Since you’re getting a long look at the goods, it’s only fair I get to do the same,” he says with a laugh.

My eyes fly up to meet his and instead of apologizing, I decide to be bold and slowly turn around.

I take a deep breath, letting it out before peeking over my shoulder.

Even from here, I notice how his eyes are quickly losing their color.

And I can’t control the full body tremor that passes through me.

His eyes shoot up to mine, dipping down to my ass one more time, before turning back toward the oven.

“I need you to go sit that gorgeous ass down at the table right now, or the dinner and talk we’re supposed to have will be the least of your worries. I made pasta, a salad, and garlic bread. Do you want a glass of wine? B said it’d go well with pasta.”

It takes me a minute to even realize he asked a question. My mind actually shut down after his comment. I’m affecting him.

ME.

Finally, I nod and croak out, “Please.”

He brings me a chilled glass of red wine. I know, I know. That’s not how you should drink red wine. But it’s the only way I can drink anything. It all has to be ice cold.

However, I’ve never told him that. I’ll need to add him to the small list of people in my life who can read me like an open book.

“Thank you. Do you want any help? ”

“You’re welcome. But no, you stay seated, I’ll bring the bread and salad over so you can start eating.”

I don’t feel right eating while he’s still working on the main course but I’m actually starving since I napped through lunch. Being nervous didn’t help with it either.

I place some of the salad on my plate, taking a few bites. He comes back with steaming plates of delicious looking pasta, and beams once he sees me eating. I can’t even begin to explain what that smile does to my stomach.

Once we’ve eaten and cleaned up, it’s time to have our talk. Spencer asks if I want any more wine and knowing what’s coming, I say yes. One more glass will give me the courage to say what I need to without being too tipsy.

When we’re all settled in next to one another, he reaches over and gives my hand a gentle squeeze.

He pulls it back but leaves it close enough for me to grab if I need to.

And something about that gesture settles me.

His gaze and posture are so open, he’s not rushing me, he’s letting me know I can tell him anything, and that he’s going to be here for me no matter what.

It makes my heart want to burst against my chest.

“So . . . I should probably explain my relationship with men. Starting with the fact that Andrew isn’t my biological father. I know you wouldn’t know that by how he treats me and that’s because he’s the only dad I’ve ever known.”

“You’re right. I saw how much he loves you and that was just from meeting him the one time. His eyes shine with pride when he talks about you. Did you always know he wasn’t your dad?”

I let out a noise somewhere between a snort and a harumph.

“No. I think my mom was waiting to tell me until I was a bit older and could understand everything. When I was nine, I actually heard a few of the old ladies in town gossiping about it in the diner one afternoon. I was talking to Edie when one of them said something along the lines of, ‘you wouldn’t even know she wasn’t Andrew’s kid from how similar they are.

’ Edie realized I’d picked up on it, told them to get out, placed a piece of cake in front of me—which I thought was odd since I hadn’t even had lunch yet—and went to my mom to whisper something into her ear .

“About ten minutes later, my dad showed up, kissed my head, told me he loved me, and went to grab my mom. Edie brought out a bag of to-go containers and put them in front of me. My parents came up to me, said we were going home, and that’s how I found out the truth.”

“Did you ever find out who your birth father was?”