XXX CHAPTER 30 XXX

"Call Tammy Lutz."

"Calling Tammy Lutz . . ." his Spyder echoed.

"Well, hello there, my extremely hot ex."

"Hi." Now that he had her on the line, Emmett felt a little silly about calling, not that Tammy would let him off the hook.

"Change your mind? Scared straight? Ready to beg me to come back?"

"Hmm, none of the above." She already had him grinning. Oh wait, he hadn't stopped grinning since Edward opened the door last night.

"Eh, okay. Then, to what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?"

"Thought I'd check on you and the photographer and see how things were going."

Tammy lowered her voice nearly to a whisper. "You're calling me at work to ask me about my love life?"

"Sorry, I got excited. Didn't really think it through." Emmett seemed to be master of the understatement lately. Or possibly, the underthinking of things.

Tammy laughed. Right. She didn't believe him for a second, but she was game to play along, bless her. "Hang on; I need to shut my door."

"Oh, this is gonna be good!" Emmett said, listening for the telltale click of the door before Tammy continued.

"We're doing very well, thank you. He took me to Jazz Alley Saturday night."

"Very romantic."

"Yes, it was very nice."

"Annnd?"

"And he picked me up on Sunday"—she paused to leave no room for misinterpretation—"and took me to Mt. Baker for the day."

"Clearly, you left out a few details, but we'll come back to that. Driving or hiking?"

"Both. He showed me his favorite spots to take photos. It was actually pretty thrilling to see a little part of the world through his eyes." Her voice had that dreamy lilt you get at the beginning of something new, when every day with the other person is an expedition to an exotic land.

Emmett knew the feeling well. "You sound quite smitten, Miss Lutz."

"I like him, Em. Probably too much."

"There's no 'too much' in love, Tammy." Not when it's mutual, he didn't have to add.

"We'll see."

This wistful mood he'd set off was no good. "So, has he taken any glamour shots of you?"

A guffaw quickly replaced the sigh. "Okay, that's just wrong."

"Hmm, I didn't take you for a prude."

"What? You'd pose for nude photos?"

"If my boyfriend had a thing for cameras? Sure!"

"Well shit, Em! You just painted some really pretty pictures I don't need in my head."

"You asked."

"I'd venture to say we're taking things a bit slower than you and your number one fan."

"Ha! Slower? It took me six weeks to work up to telling him I liked him."

"Maybe so, but I'm guessing you blasted right through the hand-holding phase."

"Yeah, we might've skipped that part," Emmett answered with a chuckle.

"Well that's too bad. I hope you loop back to it someday."

"Might be a while before we can skip down the sidewalk holding hands." The reality of Emmett's situation never quite faded out of consciousness even if everything was perfect behind closed doors.

"I sure hope you didn't bypass the kissing," she said.

"No way." For a brief moment, Emmett's thoughts drifted back to the soft Ultrasuede couch in Edward's den and the thrill of that first experimental taste. "Edward wouldn't have allowed that."

"Oh! Someone's fanatical about kissing?"

"He believes you can tell everything you need to know from the first kiss."

"Wow. Talk about romantic! Sooooo, how was it?"

"Mmm, let's just say I'm breaking the speed limit here trying to get back to him."

"Don't blame you. You haven't seen him in . . . what, seven days?"

"Um, actually . . . I just left his place after lunch."

"Wait, back up. When did you arrive at Edward's house?"

"Sometime around three-thirty this morning."

"That's so classic!" Tammy laughed. "You woke the guy up in the middle of the night?"

"He didn't seem too angry."

"Emmett, is this guy even capable of getting angry with you?"

"Hmm, don't know about that. I've seen him get upset when he thought I was blowing him off, but I'm not sure anger is in his repertoire."

"That must be refreshing."

"I guess. I feel like I have to be careful not to be an asshole around him because he's so damn accepting of everything I say and do. I could see where he might be taken advantage of. It scares me."

"Emmett, you're not an asshole, and you don't take advantage of people. I wouldn't have been your fake girlfriend for so long if you weren't a great guy. Give yourself some credit."

If Emmett was unsure about why he'd called Tammy, he now had his answer. She had this way of looking at him and reflecting the best parts back, but she wasn't afraid to expose the ugly underbelly either. He hadn't realized he'd needed the reassurance until he'd already cast his fishing line, but if Tammy gave him a compliment, Emmett knew he'd earned it.

"Yeah, okay."

"So, why'd you pry yourself away? You're off today, right?"

"Sawyer and I had our date at the batting cage, but I'm heading back to Edward's now for dinner. Just wanted to call and check in."

"He's cooking for you?"

"Yep."

"Oh, you better hang onto this guy."

"That's my plan."

"Listen, you have a good time tonight. You deserve to be happy."

"You do too, Tammy. Tell that guy to take good care of you or I'll come after him with my Louisville Slugger."

"I suppose that's one way to up your batting average."

"Ouch."

"Just keeping it real, McCarty."

"Yes, I can always count on your for that, my friend."

XXX

This time, Emmett stood in the center of the stoop and rang the bell, no peeping necessary. Edward was home, filling his house with the magical scents of a home-cooked meal while anticipating Emmett's arrival. Still, Emmett's heart leapt into his throat as Edward opened the door and smiled at him. "Hey."

The urge to kiss him nearly overpowered his instinct for self-preservation, but Emmett managed to keep himself in check until the door closed behind him. Let's try that smooth, romantic thing you blew earlier, shall we?

"Hey," Emmett answered, clearing the frog out of his throat when he heard the croak. "I brought you something."

"What?" Laughter spilled out as Edward took the wrapped gift. "What did you do?"

Despite the cool linen shirt and shorts he was wearing, a hot blast warmed Emmett's face. He waved his hand over the package like a wizard casting some kind of spell. "It's nothing, just a . . . little . . . Just open it."

"You really didn't have to." Edward shook his head as his slender fingers slid beneath the tape and removed the paper with careful, systematic movements.

Emmett rubbed his hands together, the tough patches of skin on his pitching hand grating in a familiar way against the other. He'd never given much thought before to how those calluses might feel against bare skin and intimate places, but watching the math teacher's unblemished hands caused Emmett to file away a note to be mindful.

Finished with his methodical unwrapping, Edward dropped the paper to the ground in a single, reusable swath. "Oh my god, you did not get me juggling balls!"

"Actually, I got them for both of us. Thought it might be a fun activity, you know, if we ever have any down time." Aside from the trinkets and candy he regularly brought Soy, Emmett wasn't exactly an impulsive gift giver, but there was something about Edward that appealed to his generous nature. Emmett was blushing again, but the expression on Edward's face was so worth it.

"This is great!" Edward opened the plastic cylinder and popped the three brightly-colored balls into his hand. "Oh, cool. There are instructions."

Emmett swiped the paper away. "We don't need those. I've been watching YouTube."

"Have you been practicing?" he asked in an Are-you-cheating-on-me tone.

"Nope. Just watching—I didn't have any balls."

Edward barked out a laugh, quickly holding up his hands in apology. "Hey, you said it, not me. I have to check on dinner, so I guess you get to go first." Edward stretched out his arm and dropped the balls into Emmett's hands. "With your ridiculous eye-hand coordination, you'll be an expert by the time dinner is ready."

Following Edward into the small galley kitchen, Emmett drew in a deep breath. Onions sautéing on the stove. "What's for dinner?" he asked, peering over Edward's shoulder.

"Spaghetti with meat sauce. Specialty of the house."

Emmett wrapped his arms around Edward's belly and hummed in his ear. "I wasn't aware Cullen was an Italian name."

"It's Gaelic, but I like pasta, and you could use a little carbo load tonight."

"Oh, is that right?" Chuckling softly, Emmett rocked them side to side.

"Yes, now don't distract the chef or we'll end up eating the sad, charred remains of what could've been."

Emmett pulled the soft lobe of Edward's ear between his teeth. "Might be worth it."

Edward spun in Emmett's arms, threatening him with the wooden spoon. "Step away from the marinara, Mac."

"Okay, okay." He pulled his hands off Edward and backed away. "You want me to toss the salad?"

"Again?" Edward gave him a playful lift of his eyebrows. "Maybe we should wait till after dinner."

A smirk tugged at the corners of Emmett's mouth. "When did you get to be such a dirty boy?"

Folding his arms, Edward grinned at him. "Right around the time you started stalling, McCarty. C'mon, let's see those ball skills."

"I believe I demonstrated those earlier." Emmett's gaze shifted to Edward's knee-length shorts, coming to rest at the bottom of his zipper.

Placing a firm hand on Emmett's chest, Edward give him a no-nonsense shove. "Go. Practice."

"Fiiiine," he answered as he sauntered out of the kitchen.

Fortunately, Edward's house was light on knickknacks, so it wasn't too hard to find a wide open space. Holding two balls in his right hand as he'd studied, Emmett tossed up the first and caught it in the heel of his hand just after releasing the second with his fingertips. The small, squishy balls fit easily into his expert hand, and Emmett barely had to look to get the two balls going. Piece of cake.

Ball number three proved to be a bit more challenging. As with any activity involving two hands, Emmett had to adjust for the novice left hand, but he eventually worked into a rhythm, even getting his hips into it as he grew comfortable.

"Wow, look at you go. I think you're ready for the sharp knives and flaming swords."

Emmett's laughter brought the whole operation tumbling down. "The only flaming sword I'm swallowing tonight is in your shorts, baby."

"Good god, that is awful. You're lucky I'm already hooked. Would you care for a glass of chianti while the pasta boils?"

"I'd love one. But before you get too blitzed, I want you to try this." Emmett gathered the balls from the floor and put two in Edward's right hand. "Okay, you're gonna toss one up about two feet, and then just before you catch it, toss the second one to the exact same spot. That's the whole key, not to get too wild with your tosses."

"Okay, but before I do this, you need to know that I am hopelessly uncoordinated. Remember that stint with the bassoon? The left hand couldn't figure out what the right hand was doing, and don't even get me started on the mouth."

"Yeah, don't get me started on your mouth either." Emmett smirked; Edward rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, there is a reason I chose running over ball sports."

"Duly noted. We're not calling in Barnum and Bailey just yet. No worries."

"Okay, stand back," Edward said, screwing up his face as he gathered courage to make a fool of himself. The first toss wasn't bad, but the second ball went flying toward Emmett's chest.

He caught it and tossed it back to Edward. "Try again. Just focus on the toss. Don't even worry about catching the first one. It's automatic."

"Pfft, maybe for you!"

Emmett grasped Edward's wrist. "You have to trust it."

"I'll give it a shot."

Stepping out of the way, Emmett tucked his hands into his pockets so he wouldn't be tempted to help. Edward counted out a one-two-three and tossed the first ball into the air. He released the second one too soon, throwing it right into the path of the first and knocking them both off course. Emmett chewed the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing while Edward chased down the balls.

"Well, that was entertaining," Edward said, turning away, "but I think I smell the sauce burning, and I definitely need a glass of wine."

"Hey, you. Not so fast." Emmett grabbed Edward by the waist and tugged him in until their lips were touching. Edward's surprise melted into a soft moan on its way to some serious tonguing when Emmett pulled back. "Thank you."

"For what?" Edward asked.

"Thank you for trying something new for me. Now you know how I feel playing chess with you, Professor."

Edward smiled, his embarrassment replaced by a knowing nod. "It is pretty hot when you make yourself vulnerable like that."

"Mmhmm," Emmett agreed, kissing him again. "Seriously hot."

"Huh, so if I practice and get better, would I be less hot?"

Emmett chuckled. "The hotness factor of you juggling would more than likely cancel out the reverse hotness effect of your decreasing vulnerability."

"Oh my god!"

"What?"

"You're starting to sound like me!"

XXX

The Chianti bottle was empty, and their bellies were pleasantly full. Emmett begged off the brownie fudge sundae but promised he'd be up for it later—if Edward helped him burn off the carbs, an offer Edward was quick to accept.

"Normally, I wouldn't leave all these dishes in the sink, but . . ." Edward gave him one of his need-you-so-bad looks, and Emmett was stiffer than the last piece of garlic bread.

"Screw the dishes. We'll do 'em in the morning."

Edward's face lit up as he jumped out of his chair. "You're staying?"

"Did you not see my toothbrush in your stand?"

"That makes me ridiculously happy."

"Me too." Emmett stood and rubbed his belly. "I brought my running clothes. Do you have a trail around here?"

"Sure. We can head down to the river or hit the park down the road."

"You're the tour guide."

"Well then, allow me to guide you to my bed." Edward brushed past him, casually sliding his hand into Emmett's palm.

Emmett looked down at their joined hands, completely unable to stop the goofy grin from spreading across his face. "You're holding my hand."

"Oh, sorry. Is this weird?"

"Yes." Edward tried to pull his hand away, but Emmett tightened his grip. "It's a good weird."

"You're a little loopy, aren't you?"

"Yep. I don't drink much, remember?" And I haven't held hands since my mother walked me to the bus stop in second grade.

"Hmm, does this mean I finally get to have my way with you?"

Emmett laughed. "You haven't had your way yet? I can't wait to see this!"

Edward stopped walking, tugging Emmett back when he didn't notice. "You know, we should probably have a conversation before we . . ." He trailed off, nodding toward the bedroom.

"Sure. What would you like to talk about? My ERA? Secret family recipes? Co-mingling our dirty socks in your laundry?" Emmett took in Edward's serious expression and sobered right up. "What?"

Edward's gaze dropped to the floor as he twisted in the noose he'd slung around his own neck. "I assume we're about to . . ."

Grinning, Emmett answered, "I was certainly hoping so." Emmett had been so well-behaved tonight, but Edward was seriously testing his restraint.

"All that stuff you said about wanting to throw me down . . .?"

"All true." Emmett drew closer and locked eyes with Edward. The poor guy was holding his breath, and Emmett held the words to put him out of his misery. "I'm a pitcher, Edward, through and through. Will you catch for me tonight?"

A relieved smile crossed Edward's face, and his green eyes danced with joy. "Yes. Any night. Every night. Whenever!"

Chuckling softly, Emmett gave him a gentle kiss. "Glad we got that settled."

Author's Note: Shortest conversation ever! Was there ever a doubt?

Thank you for the WONDERFUL questions, insights, ideas and *hints* you guys are throwing my way. I have a robust file of notes to consult. Always room for more! MWAH!

XXX ~BOH