Kady Cross - The Girl with the Iron Touch

“He looks like he is on the verge of imploding,” Finley commented. They were walking back from the stables where they’d left their velocycles.

Emily smiled, glancing up. Her gaze met Sam’s for a second before he dropped the curtain. “That he does.” But she considered it a victory that he hadn’t tried to follow her, that he had trusted her to go with Finley and to return in one piece.

“Gadzooks. You like it when he’s all scowly and thumping his chest.”

Sometimes, thought Emily, Finley was infuriatingly intuitive. Although, perhaps she underestimated her friend’s intelligence. perhaps she didn’t hide her feelings as brilliantly as she thought.

“It lets me know he cares,” she admitted. “It’s not as though he’s the type to say what he’s feeling.” Today was turning out to be a champion for sharing secrets. Why not tell Finley the shocking thoughts she sometimes had about Sam? Intimate thoughts based on pictures she’d seen in a book in Griffin’s library…thoughts of her and Sam doing some of those things—things she thought she’d never want to do with anyone. “What?”

Finley stared at her as they crossed the garden terrace to the French doors. “Your face is burning so bright, I’m afraid for the draperies. Are you all right?”

Fortunately, no one ever died of embarrassment. “Must be the sun. I always end up looking like a tomato.”

“Right,” her friend drawled. “Because the sun is so very hot through those thick rain clouds.”

“Oh, shut up!” Emily laughed despite herself. “I’m blushing and I’ve no intention of explaining why.”

A slow grin spread across the other girl’s pretty face. Eyes the color of honey twinkled as she opened the terrace door. “Oh, is that the way of it, then?”

Emily swept past her into the house. “’Tis.” Her mirth faded when she saw Sam waiting for her. He looked relieved to see her. That was almost as good as happy. He’d been worried, that was obvious. She could assume he thought she couldn’t take care of herself, but she knew that wasn’t it. Sam just thought he could look after her better than anyone else.

It was sweet when she thought about it. Somewhat.

Even Finley noticed the difference in his expression, though he wore his usual frown. She took one look at him and turned to Emily. “Right. I’m going to go…do that…thing I have to do.”

“Griffin wants to see you,” Sam said in a tone that made Griffin sound like the matron at a strict school.

“Does he?” Finley’s jaw set stubbornly. “I don’t know if I have time. I’m going to be terribly busy.”

“Doing that thing you have to do?” he inquired. Was he actually teasing Finley? He used to make sport of his friends quite often before his accident.

“Quite.” Finley lifted her chin. “It’s very important.”

For a moment, Emily thought Sam might actually smile. He shrugged. “I don’t care what games the two of you play with each other. You’re both mad as far as I’m concerned.”

As Finley walked past him, she gave him a sweet smile. “Maybe you can find out why she’s the color of a ripe tomato.”

Emily’s cheeks heated once more, and she bit the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing. She couldn’t laugh, not when Sam might think it was directed at him.

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