They all drew closer together.
“I was at the old swimming hole, just minding my business, when he rode up on his horse.”
“Prince Phillip in Sleeping Beauty, finding the princess hidden in the woods. He was lovely,” Felicia said.
“He was a cartoon,” Carlota said. “Go on, Em.”
Emmy didn’t take their Deston-drooling very seriously. It’d been more of a bonding exercise for them anyway, until they started getting real boyfriends. She linked arms with Felicia, and the blonde grinned at her.
“He started chatting with me,” Emmy said, “as if he was a host at a dinner party making small talk, conducting business.”
“Of course,” Carlota said. “Even when he’s out of the office, he’s in it. At least, that’s what they say.”
“Right. But he sounded as if he knew me already. Called me ‘Lemon Face.’”
“So he was obviously romancing you,” Carlota said, laughing.
Emmy’s cheeks flared with embarrassment, remembrance: The brush of the slight hair on his chest as it whisked against her own skin. His choppy breaths warming her ear. A wish come true, swelled with dangerous hope.
Carlota’s mouth gaped. “He was romancing you. Is that why you’re so glum?”
“It doesn’t matter. He thinks I’m Lila. As in Stanhope.”
“Wait.” Carlota took a step back. “He thought you were one of our ranch guests?”
“Yeah. I guess she was a corporate kid who used to visit.”
“Right,” Carlota said, voice laced with wariness. “One of them.”
Her friend still felt the needles of their teasing, too. Could the three of them ever forget? Your mom scrubs toilets! they’d yell. Your dad waits on mine!
Emmy swallowed. “When Deston sees me around the ranch, he’s going to think I’m his childhood ‘Lemon Face’ and daughter of a bigwig. Just my luck, isn’t it?”
“He won’t see you around the ranch,” Felicia said.
Emmy stared at her friend.
“She’s right.” Carlota held up a finger. “Number one: He’s never here. Well, every once in a while when big Mr. Rhodes requests his presence for a deal, but rarely. Deston lives in San Antonio, in his office. They say that his daddy is sending him to New York soon, too.”
Emmy folded her arms over her stomach. “He is?”
“To oversee business there. You have a short window to further this opportunity, Em.”
“Not an option.” Emmy shook her head. He was leaving, right when she’d caught his eye? Not that it was relevant, but it was her typical luck with men. And maybe it was for the best, considering her track record.
“And number two…?” Felicia asked.
“When is the last time you saw anyone in the family besides Mrs. Rhodes in the kitchens? Or in the laundry? Or anywhere downstairs? That’s why they have Hendrich and Hausfrau Dominatrix,” Carlota said, referring to the head butler who’d taken the place of Emmy’s father after his death, as well as head of household. For reasons known only to them, the maids called her the Hausfrau Dominatrix rather than her real name, Mrs. Wagner.
“So,” Emmy said, somewhat entertained and flattered by their enthusiasm, “if I told you that Deston sort of asked me out, you all would tell me I should go?”
“Emmy? Do you know what this means?” Felicia gave a hop of excitement. “You’ve done it. You’ve reached the dream of every girl who grew up staring at Deston with hearts in her eyes, every girl who ever cheered him from the stands. You’re a chosen one!”
Emmy narrowed her eyes, though she smiled, as well. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“More details,” Carlota said, still analyzing the situation. “Fill us in on everything.”
It was almost as if someone had taken a little mini Emmy skillet and placed it on a stove, lighting the burner to full flame. The heat came in waves over her body, making her weak, strong, weak.
“He swam in his boxers, and then asked me to dinner. That’s all,” Emmy said, reluctant to reveal the most intimate details. Something lost and vulnerable told her to keep the skin-on-skin part of it to herself. It was her secret moment, kept in the memory box of her heart, because it’d never happen again.
“Oh,” Carlota said, closing her eyes, “I can bet he looked muy guapo.” She flapped her hand for emphasis.
They all paused for a moment, allowing Emmy to relive the sight. His cut-muscled torso, tanned and gleaming in the sun. Water darkening his hair, sliding in drops down his full lips, chiseled jaw, neck.
Carlota sighed. “And he thinks you’re Lila Stanhope?”
“Yes, he does. I never managed to correct his assumption. I thought it wouldn’t go any further than the swimming hole.”
And I didn’t want to see his disappointment.
“Well,” Carlota said, “at least you had a good view of Deston in his boxers. That’ll last you for years. And if you go to dinner tonight…”
“You’re not serious.”
“Em—”
“No,” she repeated. “Enough is enough. Dinner’s absolutely out of the question.”
Felicia held up three fingers, silencing the debate. “There’s a number three, you know.”
“What?” Carlota said.
“The third reason Emmy doesn’t have to worry about Deston discovering who she is.” She held up her hands, palms facing the sky. Elementary, my dear girlfriends. “We packed up the Stanhopes this morning. They left about a half hour ago.”
Carlota got a scary gleam in her dark eyes. “So with a little adjusting, you can be Lila tonight.”
“You all are crazy.” Emmy started to walk away. “Mama’s expecting me in the kitchen.”
“Why not do it?” Felicia asked.
“This is ludicrous.”
“Hey.” Carlota’s no-nonsense tone stopped Emmy in her tracks. “Think of how he looked at you.”
That did it.
His gaze had meant everything because, in his eyes, she’d felt beautiful. Felt as if she’d walked into a ball wearing a dress that whispered against her skin like stardust. Felt as if she’d been living in a fantasy.
But those never lasted long enough, did they?
Felicia took Emmy by the shoulders. “Did you feel like you were one of them?” Her them was more rose-tinged than Carlota’s rendition of the word.
Emmy swallowed away the lump in her throat. One of them. “I guess I did.”
“Then go to dinner,” Felicia continued. “You can say that you, Lila, wanted to see him one last time and will join your family tomorrow. Then, in one week, he’ll be across the country without ever knowing. No harm done.”
“What if he searches her out?”
Carlota waved away the question. “I don’t think he will. Remember, he’ll be gone in one week. Besides, everyone knows that Deston isn’t the committing type. He’s married to the office. After tonight, you make it clear that it’s over. It’s just a dinner, after all.”
Emmy’s heartbeat tripped at the thought of it. This was wrong to even consider.
Yet,