“He wants to do it anonymously,” Sully chimes in. “Which is what your dumb ass should have done.” He turns toward us for the first time. He’s looking at us but not, eyes unfocused. “But you didn’t, because you weren’t supposed to. It was always supposed to be Foster.”
Winston rolls his eyes. “I thought I told your hippie ass to quit doing that weird shit.”
“What weird shit?”
“He thinks he gets these vibes or whatever.” Winston hits his joint again, holds, then exhales. “Like he knows when things are meant to be or some bullshit like that.”
“What did I tell you when you tried to help Wren the first time?”
“That it wasn’t my place.”
“And I was right. It’s not your place. It’s Foster’s.”
Winston shakes his head. “Whatever, hippie.”
Sully pushes off the glass and saunters over, snatching the joint from Winston’s hand and tossing it into the ashtray. “I’m not a hippie. I just…feel things.”
“Hey, dick!” Winston glares at him, reaching for his joint. “Whatever. Sounds like hippie bullshit to me.”
“You just need to cleanse your chakra and open yourself to possibilities.”
I smirk. “Now that sounded like hippie bullshit.”
He shrugs, not caring what we think, and I start liking Sully just a little bit more.
“I think I’m gonna talk to Mr. Carlton, try to get the old man to cave. If that doesn’t work, I’m going to at least pay her rent for another year and guarantee her a space while I keep working on getting him to give in.”
Winston shakes his head. “She’s gonna be pissed.”
“I’m not scared of Wren.”
“You should be. She’s scrappy. Hell of a right hook.”
“How do you know?” I ask Sully.
He cradles his jaw. “She might have swung on me for swinging on her brother.”
“You two met from fighting? Jesus, Winston, do you have to try to fight everyone when you first meet them?”
“Hey, I didn’t start it,” he defends himself. “It was all his drunk ass. He mistook me for someone else, tried to scrap, and after Wren clocked him, we got it all sorted out. He’s been sleeping in my spare bedroom ever since.”
I can’t help but laugh. That means the Daniels twins both took strangers home and befriended them while I was gone.
“You sure about this, Foster? I mean, what if she finds out it’s you?”
“She won’t. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Okay,” Winston says, but he doesn’t sound too sure.
“I promise. She won’t find out. It’ll all be fine.”
“We’ll see.”
“Does this mean you’re going to text or something and finally see her?” Sully asks. When I give him a what the fuck look, he shrugs. “You’ve been antsy as hell the last few days. Figured it was because you haven’t seen her since you came home with blue balls.”
“How’d you know I had blue balls?”
“Because no one comes home after a date and takes that long of a shower when they’ve scored.”
“Ugh.” Winston groans. “Please don’t talk about blue balls and long showers and my sister in the same conversation. I might puke.”
“Hey, Winston?”
He leans forward, dropping his dead joint into the ashtray. “Yeah?”
“Your sister gave me blue balls.”
* * *
What comes after blue balls? Because if there’s no name for this shit, there needs to be.
I’ve been on two more dates with Wren and I am officially tired of taking showers. Every night when I walk in and head to the bathroom, I hear Sully laugh at me.
Bastard.
Tonight is date five, but Wren’s already warned me she’s on her period so there will be no banging.
And because I’m human, I’m naturally bummed.
But I also don’t give a shit. I’m not dating her to bang her; that’s just going to be a bonus when we get to it.
“So…” she draws out as we climb into the bed of my truck and onto the air mattress I have back there. After our first night in here we discovered we are way too old to still be lying in the back of this thing like we used to. We need more cushion. “Something crazy happened today.”
“Yeah?”
She bobs her head up and down, smiling brightly. Her grin is infectious, and I find myself smiling too.
“Well, don’t leave a guy hanging. Tell me.”
“I—”
“Hold that thought,” I interrupt, reaching for the cooler tucked off to the side. “I have a feeling we need drinks to celebrate whatever this is.”
“How do you know it’s good news?”
“Because you can’t stop smiling and you’ve been practically bouncing in your seat all day.” I pull two beers out, pop the tops on them both, and hand one to her.
She grabs the beer and takes a drink, grinning around the rim of the bottle. “You have me there. It’s definitely good news.”
I mock gasp. “Please tell me the good news is that your period ended early and we’re finally going to bang.” I cross my fingers and squeeze my eyes shut, praying to the gods for a miracle.
She smacks at my chest. “Shut up.”
“Oh, she’s still testy. Never mind. A man can dream.”
Her eyes fall to slits, but the smirk curving her lips tells me she’s not upset. She loves it when I give her shit.
“I’m all out of guesses then. Tell me your mediocre news.”
“Mr. Carlton called today. He’s decided to put any decision-making on the back burner and keep up our original contract for a year, which means no more palpitation-inducing month-to-month living.”
Her face is alight with pure delight. I can’t remember the last time I saw her this happy.
It feels good to know I had a hand in it.
I beam at her. “That’s amazing, Wren. I’m happy for you.”
“My business is safe!” She lifts her bottle in the air. “For now.”
She laughs, but I can tell she’s still a little worried about losing everything she’s worked so hard for.
I wish I could tell her if I’m able to wear Carlton down like I plan to over the next year, she won’t ever have to worry about her business again.
“I was flabbergasted when he called out of the blue. I guess my tears and begging at our last meeting finally got to him.”
Tears? She’s been crying at their meetings because of this?
I’ve never wanted to shake an old man as much as I do in this moment.
All because his damn greedy children have gotten into his head about how much money his property is worth. Meaning…they don’t want him to sell because they want to sell it and get more money.
Spoiled rotten asshats.
“So, yeah, that’s my big news. I hope you packed more beer because this chick is celebrating tonight!” She shakes her hips, tipping the beer back again.
“We are definitely getting smashed on this six-pack.”
“A six-pack? Someone’s a big spender.” She winks. “You know, speaking of careers and such…what are you going to do now that you’re back? Slinging pizzas at Slice can’t be your endgame.”
“It’s not. I definitely never thought I’d be back there, that’s for sure.” I wince, hearing my own words. “Not that there’s anything wrong with working there. It’s a wonderful place and I love it, but—”
She holds her hand up. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I get it. What’d you do in California?”
“Worked for Layla’s dad at his housing development business.”
“Yeah? Did you like it?”
“You know, I actually did. Though I preferred the action of the jobsite rather than the office, it was a fun job. I wouldn’t mind doing something like that. I’d need to get my hands a little dirtier than I was, though.”
“You always were good with your hands.”
I give her a wolfish grin. “You would know.”
“I meant building things, you freak!”
“Call me a freak all you want, but we both know you’re dying to feel me touch you again.”
Red steals up her cheeks and she pushes at my shoulder. “Shut up.”
We sip our beers in silence, letting the sounds of the ocean fill the space between us for several minutes.
“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you before.”
Her words catch me off guard.
“What?”
“Before, when we were out here and you told me you loved me. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. I should have. Maybe things would be different now. Maybe the last four years of your life wouldn’t have sucked.”
Please tell me…
“You’re not blaming yourself for my failed marriage, are you?”
She doesn’t say anything.
I groan. “Dammit, Wren. You keep saying silly shit like that and I’ll take this beer away.”
“I’m not saying that specifically. I’m just saying, if I hadn’t been so…closed-minded when it came to us, maybe things would be different.”
“I’m sure they would be. We’d be married and settled in at the blue house by now, sharing one bathroom, and you’d constantly be yelling at me to pick up my socks. Life would be fucking peachy.”
“You don’t pick up your socks?”
“Pfft, no. The floor was made for dirty clothes. I’m a ‘pile it up until I’m tripping over my dank underwear’ kind of guy.”
“The basket is right there, Foster!”
“See?” I point to her. “You’re a natural at it.”
“I could strangle you.”
“Liar.” I laugh and toss back the rest of my beer then set the empty bottle back in the cooler.
Without a word, Wren crawls between my legs, fitting her back against my chest and snuggling into me like she’s always belonged there.
Because she has.
I wrap an arm around her, bringing her even closer.
“Sure, we could have had a good life together by now, but you’re stubborn as shit—which is something I’ve always loved about you, by the way. Despite everything I’ve endured because of your brutal, ego-bruising rejection, I’m good with that, with where we are now. You needed time, just like she said you did.”
“She?” She cranes her neck, looking up at me with a crinkle between her brows, lips pressed together in a thin line. “Who?”
“Your mom.”
“You talked to my mom about being in love with me before you talked to me about it?”
I shake my head, smiling at the memory…and at how offended she sounds because it’s so…well, her.
“No. She just knew. You know that photo in your hallway? The one we looked at after Mike mauled you on the beach?” She nods. “She caught me watching you from the shoreline. She knew and said to give you time, so I did.”
Her brows knit together even tighter. “And you listened to her?”
“Not for long since I told you how I felt just a few months later and you completely cockblocked my ass, making me run off and get married and essentially ruin my life, but you totally did the right thing.”
“Stop it.” She groans and tries to wiggle out of my embrace. “You’re making me feel bad.”
“I’m kidding.” I wrap my arm tighter around her, not letting her go. “I’m glad you said no. It gave us time to grow, time to make bad decisions and get all that shit out of the way. Now when you do finally give in to me, at least you’ll have your act together.”
She sticks her tongue out at my teasing and I dive in to kiss her, but she dodges my advances.
“Nope, no kissing tonight. I don’t trust you to not try to get into my pants.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because I know how you think, and you think butt stuff is totally on the table since I’m on my period.”
I gasp. “That’s preposterous! Correct, but preposterous!”
She laughs. “See? I knew it.”
“You knew it, but you want it. Someone was really into the ass play at the club.”
“I will murder you if you bring it up again.”
“Not possible. Your blush is too sexy. It can’t be avoided.”
“You’re never going to get me to fall in love with you at this rate.”
I laugh, because she’s wrong. So very, very wrong.
“You say that like you’re not already in love with me.”
She doesn’t say anything, blushing even harder as she tries to wiggle out of my grasp again.
“Let me up, you horndog. I want torch s’mores.”
“Who said I brought stuff for torch s’mores?”
I did, naturally.
Back when we used to come here all the time, every Wednesday night was s’more night. I’d bring a long candle lighter and supplies and we’d gorge ourselves until we could hardly move.
It just so happens date five has fallen on a Wednesday, and I guess old habits die hard.
She glowers at me. “I swear, Foster, if you didn’t bring graham crackers, marshmallows, at least three different kinds of chocolate, and a cheap lighter, I will move up my plans to castrate you.”
“Castrate me?” I cover my junk just in case this shit is happening right now. “The fuck?”
“Don’t worry,” she says dismissively. “It’s a thing with Drew.”
“Don’t worry, she says. It’s just my balls. Sure, sure—nothing to worry about.”
“Aw, it’s so cute you think you still have your balls at this point when we both clearly know they’re tucked safely in my purse.” Wren pats at my cheek then crawls toward the cooler, ass up in the air.
I swear she gives it an extra shake just to taunt me.
Thwack!
“Foster Marlett!” she hollers, holding her now-stinging cheek.
“What? I was beating cheeks.”
“I’m going to beat you,” she grumbles, but the smile breaks through anyway. She turns away, muttering, “I swear, if he wasn’t so stupidly cute and didn’t make my heart flutter…”
After gathering the s’more supplies I definitely brought because I’m no dumbass, she makes her way back over to me and starts sifting through the bag.
“You got milk chocolate, peanut butter cups, white chocolate, and caramel squares? You really are trying to make me fall in love with you.”
“Is it working?”
I’ve known Wren for a long time, long enough to know her eyes always give away her true emotions.
Right now? Right now, her eyes are screaming YES.
Giving me a mischievous smile, she pinches her thumb and forefinger together, leaving hardly any space between the two. “Just a little bit.”
Uh-huh. A little bit my ass.
Slice Seventeen
Wren
“Come over and I’ll cook dinner for you, I said. We’ll just chill and watch a movie afterward, I said.” I snort. “Puh-lease, we’re totally gonna bang.”
I bustle around the kitchen, talking to myself like I’m an insane person, which I guess makes sense since I feel like I’m about to go insane.
I am well aware we are past the five-date mark.
Foster is well aware we’re past it.
We both know what tonight is, but we’re acting like it’s no big deal.
Which would be so much easier to do if I didn’t want it as badly as I do.
If we sleep together tonight, we both know what it means: I’ve given in to what my heart has been screaming at me since Foster came back to town.
Mine.
And that’s the craziest part about tonight. I don’t just want him physically; I want him to know how I feel. I want him to know I want to give this thing between us a shot.
I want him to understand I finally know what he’s known all these years.
He has a piece of my heart.
A piece that’s always been his.
; A piece I don’t want back.
The doorbell blares through the house and I freeze, panic tingling its way up my spine.
Calm down, idiot. It’s just Foster.
“Exactly!” I yell to myself.
The front door flies open and Foster rushes in, Mike at his heels.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” His eyes scan over me as he charges forward. He cradles my head in his hands, looking me over with a frown. “Are you okay?”
I pinch my brows, swatting him away, not wanting my hair to get messed up by his fingers…yet.
“What? Yes, everything is fine. Go ahead and just come on in, Foster.”
“I heard yelling. I was worried.”
Oops.
“Oh, that. You, uh… The doorbell! It just scared me. I wasn’t expecting the noise. I dropped my spoon in the sauce and it was a whole thing.” I wave him off. “Not important.”
“Right,” he says, obviously not believing me.
I drop to my haunches and run a hand behind Mike’s ears. “Thanks for dropping my date off. We’re gonna have a fantastic time, Mike. I hope you like Alfredo and blueberry cheesecake.” I stand and pat Foster’s chest. “See you later.”
He catches me around the waist as I walk away, shoving his fingers into my sides, tickling me until I’m squirming and screaming for help.
“Are you done being a smartass?”
“Yes!” I concede. “Stop it!”
He stops his assault and buries his face in my neck, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin where neck meets shoulder.
“Mmm…sunscreen and honeysuckle.” He nibbles at me and I giggle, loving the way his stubble brushes over my skin. “I missed you.”
“Missed me? You just saw me at Slice earlier this afternoon.”
“But that was like five whole hours ago.” He shoves me away from him. “No, I lied—I didn’t miss you. I’m still mad at you.”
“Why?”
“For leaving me with Drew. She’s a blubbering mess right now.”
“Pregnancy hormones will do that to ya.” With a laugh, I pad toward the stove, stirring my sauce and turning down the heat on the noodles.
“Right,” Foster says, taking a seat at my small dining table. Mike takes off for his spot on the couch, ignoring us. “But why did she have to start crying over the ‘itty bitty baby salt packets’? She felt bad for them because they didn’t have a place in the salt shaker with the rest of the salt. She probably spent twenty minutes opening packets and dumping them into a giant jar before Winston fired her.”
A Pizza My Heart Page 17