The Bet | Ethma

12

Ethan knew his brother was lying. What kind of fool falls for that type of crap? But sure enough his father, upon Grayson's exit, sighed and said, "I just wish I wouldn't have retired. He seems so stressed."

"Must be the strippers," Emma mumbled under her breath so only Ethan could hear. He choked on his chicken for the second time that night.

"Ethan, honey, be careful to chew your food before you swallow!" his mother scolded. Emma took his mother's scolding as a hint that he needed help cutting his chicken. Smiling sweetly, she reached across his plate, her arm brushing his, and cut his chicken into tiny manageable pieces, then poked the fork into one of the pieces and lifted it to his lips.

"Here comes the choo-choo train!"

Obviously, Emma wasn't frightened by Ethan's murderous glare. The rest of his family looked on as if it was completely normal for her to be feeding him like a small child.

Then again, he had played the dog when they were little.

And he did have headgear when he was fourteen.

It was also possible that his mother knew he'd named his bunny after Emma.

She looked up, her eyes shining with humor.

Damn. Ethan opened his mouth, and a small bite of chicken swooped in. Emma giggled. "You're welcome."

He shook his head but ended up grinning like a fool when she picked up a second piece. It was still hot, and she blew on t to cool it off. He found himself so damn distracted by the way her lips pouted over his chicken that it took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to take her on his family's dinner table.

Ah, lust by chicken. How humiliating.

Ethan looked longingly at the table again. Maybe if he just pushed all the dishes to the ground. Too bad she wasn't wearing a skirt. What was wrong with him? Was he really weighing his options here on where best to screw his brother's fiancée?

His parents would be livid.

Grandma, however, would probably applaud then take pictures for the scrapbook. Though he wasn't so sure that scrapbook would be legal, considering its pornographic nature.

Grandmothers made grandsons so proud at times.

Ethan sighed and quickly grabbed the fork from Emma's hand. He couldn't take much more.

"So, Emma..." His mother shoveled more food into her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and winked. He groaned. She didn't know how to converse over dinner and eat at the same time. It made for very long dinner conversation and even more torture for everyone around them.

"...I was just wondering..." She took another sip of wine.

He eyed his dad, trying to give him a private message of stealing his mother's plate and wine so she would spit it out faster.

"...Are you guys going to move into Grayson's place once the wedding is over, or buy something new?"

His dad elbowed his mom.

What were they getting at?

Emma looked to Ethan for help. He gave a slow shake of his head.

"Uh," Emma said as she pushed food around her plate. "The thing is, I have a really small apartment, so Grayson's would be best, but I kinda don't want to live downtown."

"Perfect!" His mother clapped her hands and nudged his father. He jumped out of his seat, grabbed an envelope, then brought it over to Emma.

"Just consider it an early wedding present."