Don't You Wanna Stay

by Kait Nolan

  Levi gave him a friendly thump on the arm. “Wish I could, little bro. I’ve got an out-of-town job interview.”

  “Way to bury the lead on that one, dude. You haven’t even told us about the one you left.” At Levi’s bland stare, Simon rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. If you told us, you’d have to kill us.”

  It was the reason Simon had settled on for why Levi was so closed mouthed. After working with the guy for a few months, Wyatt wasn’t sure it was entirely off base.

  “What about you, Wyatt?”

  “I mean, technically, we’re supposed to be working on the house, but Deanna’s been busting her ass for two months, on top of her normal job. She could use a bit of a break, even if it’s just an overnight. And who doesn’t like cake? There will be cake, right?”

  “Not just any cake. Joan’s four-layer caramel cake. Pru learned how to make it just like her.”

  Wyatt’s stomach growled in memory. Before he could reply, Casper shot from his spot in the corner with a volley of barking, bulleting straight to the front door. When it opened a minute later, his telltale happy whine told Wyatt Deanna was home. Early today. His heart did a jig. Because he wanted to leap up and go kiss her, he settled the next board in place and nailed it. He could play it cool in front of their audience.

  “Did you know the camera was there?” Deanna’s carefully controlled tone had Wyatt’s automatic smile fading, his instincts blaring an alarm, even before she stepped into the room.

  Danger. Danger, Will Robinson.

  “What?”

  “In here, the night you showed me the island.”

  The night he’d kissed her.

  Oh shit.

  Setting aside the flooring nailer, he steered her out of the room, away from his brothers and the camera he did remember. “You’re saying we were filmed?”

  Without a word, she handed over her phone. There was no sound, but the two of them were clearly visible in the frame. Her tears. His attempt to comfort her. The kiss. It was a raw an unfiltered encounter. One they’d both thought was private. But just the existence of the footage wouldn’t have her this upset. And she was upset, no matter how controlled she appeared to be. Which meant that somehow the footage had gone beyond her control.

  “What was done with this?”

  She crossed her arms, her mouth set in a grim line. “It’s all over social media as part of the teaser for the next episode.”

  He hadn’t made the teaser. Bennet had. Most of the production editing had shifted to her. But why the hell would she have used this? “Why? Who’s going to care?”

  Deanna snorted without an ounce of humor. “A lot of people, apparently.”

  Taking the phone back, she swiped to something else and held it out again.

  Wyatt blinked at the screen, his brain refusing to process. “What am I looking at?”

  “The latest subscriber count on your YouTube channel.”

  His mouth fell open. It had quadrupled in the last two days. “You’re saying this is because of this video?”

  Jaw tight, she nodded, finally giving in to Casper’s insistent head-butting against her leg and scrubbing behind his ears. “It’s the thing that changed.”

  And suddenly Wyatt understood. This wasn’t about the violation of their privacy. At least, not entirely. If he didn’t handle this properly, their nascent relationship would go up in smoke.

  “I did move the camera earlier because we were going to be starting on the kitchen and needed the time lapse footage. But I didn’t set you up. I didn’t even remember it was there, let alone that it was on.” He chanced a step toward her, relieved when she didn’t move back. “I wouldn’t do that to you. To us. We’re too new, and even if we weren’t, I’m not out to profit off this thing between us. That’s not who I am.” And if she couldn’t believe that, then it was better he find out now than get in any deeper.

  The ice melted from her eyes, along with the carefully blank mask from her face. “It’s not. I know it’s not. I’m just not used to that.”

  Yet again, he wished he could plow a fist into Blake Lucas’s face. Instead, he pulled Deanna in. “I get it. You needed to ask. To be sure. But I’m not him.”

  “No. You definitely aren’t.” She burrowed in and leaned for a moment, her head pressed against his chest. It felt like a victory. This woman didn’t share the load, didn’t show weakness or vulnerability.

  Pressing a kiss to her brow, he tucked her close, loving how she fit just beneath his chin, even in heels. “I’m sorry our private moment is out there for public consumption. I suppose that’s a danger of filming where we live. Forgetting the cameras are there or that we might be mic’d.”

  “Our carelessness isn’t the problem. There’s only one other person who’d have access to post this, and I need to go murder her now.”

  Wyatt didn’t let her get far when she pulled away. “In the name of keeping you out of jail, maybe call instead of showing up in person?”

  “Fair enough.”

  She made the call from the lounge, one hand curled in his, the other sunk into Casper’s fur.

  Bennet answered after two rings, her cheerful voice ringing out over speakerphone. “Deanna, girl, y’all have gone viral!”

  The hand in his tightened reflexively as Deanna sucked in a slow breath. “Exactly what gave you the right to post a very private, very personal moment as part of the show?”

  Bennet didn’t even hesitate. “You recruited me to help elevate the production value of the show. That calls for story. Anybody with eyes this season can see that you two are the story.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s all over the footage the way y’all look at each other, especially when you think the other isn’t looking. Fans have been asking will you or won’t you for weeks.”

  Deanna’s tone went sharp. “What? Where?”

  “In the fan forums.”

  “We have fan forums?” That was news to him.

  Deanna nodded. “Yeah. I set them up early on, but I’ve been so busy I haven’t checked in with them. They were a later phase project for when I had a little extra bandwidth.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got you, boo. And hey, Wyatt! Way to finally make a move!”

  “Uh…” What could he say to that? “Thanks?”

  Deanna pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly struggling with what to say. “Bennet—”

  “Listen, I know you’re pissed that I pulled that whole asking forgiveness rather than permission, but sorry, not sorry. It’s raising the profile of the show and adding what was missing. People love a good romance. Especially in home improvement. If you play your cards right, you could be the next Fixer Upper or Home Town.”

  “That isn’t the show we’re selling,” Deanna bit out.

  The idea struck Wyatt. He’d been doing this on his own for a long time, and it hadn’t been quite enough. The producer at CMT had said there was no hook, no interest in the premise of him alone. But the thought of continuing to do this sort of work with Deanna by his side as a partner held more than a little appeal. He’d had more fun on this renovation than any other he’d ever tackled, and that was predominantly thanks to her.

  “Maybe it should be.”

  Deanna stared at him as if he’d sprouted a second head. “What?”

  “I mean… maybe Bennet has a point.”

  The woman in question took advantage of her friend’s distraction. “Sounds like you two have stuff to talk about. Ta!”

  The line went dead, and Wyatt was left staring at the woman who might be the answer to the future he’d always wanted.

  In the silence, Deanna’s heart sank. He’d literally just reassured her he wasn’t out to profit off the thing between them. Was the prospect of how much impact it could have really enough to change his mind that fast? Had she let herself be fooled by a pretty face and pretty words? Again?

  Needing to move, she shoved up from the sofa and began to pace.

 
; “I can see your brain going to a not great place. Just hear me out.” Wyatt lifted his hands in that expressive way he had, clearly intending to soothe. “Whether we like it or not, this is out there. People are into it. This is the growth and exposure we wanted. Maybe not the way we wanted, but it’s still information about the prospective audience. They aren’t interested enough in just me. Even before this, the posts and segments getting the most engagement since we started on the Hall are the ones with you. Bennet will say that’s because people are hoping for a romance, and maybe that’s true of some of them. But I have a different theory.”

  “Enlighten me.” Deanna knew her tone was dry enough to border on bitchy, but she couldn’t seem to stop it.

  “I think people want more about the design. The inspiration. I don’t completely ignore it, but that’s not my thing. I’ve been more focused on the doing of things and showing people the how it’s done. It’s not balanced. They want the how behind the design, too. You give that missing piece. The vision. And viewers are responding to it. You should use that momentum to really take on the design work as a job.”

  Wait… what? “I should what now?”

  “You love design, and you’re great at it. This is your chance to really see if you can make a go of it.”

  Deanna stared at him, taking in his earnest face. “You want me to take advantage of all this for me?”

  He vibrated with excitement again, as he had the night he’d presented her with the island. “Yeah. It takes time to start this kind of thing from scratch, but if you can piggyback on what I’ve already established, it could take literal years off the process.”

  A cynical part of her, the part of her that Blake had burned, pointed out that the corollary to all this was that Wyatt enjoyed more success for himself. But she didn’t think that had entered his mind. Nothing he’d said was about what he could get out of this. He hadn’t even said “we.” From the get-go, he’d been supportive of the idea of her pursuing design, pushing her to have faith in her own abilities because he believed in her.

  “C’mon,” he prodded. “You’ve been in PR for a lot of years. Haven’t you at least considered how you’d launch something like this? Haven’t you let yourself dream?”

  There’d been so little room for her dreams in all the years with Blake. All that time she’d let herself believe that his dreams, his goals, were the most important thing. But even then, there’d been a kernel.

  “I mean… yes. Never in this format. A blog. Instagram. Pinterest. But I never really believed I’d have an opportunity to do it. It was just hypothetical.”

  Wyatt crossed over, curling his hands around hers. “Believe it. This is your shot. If you want it.”

  The prospect of that filled her with a mix of excitement and terror as all those hard taught lessons of caution warred with want. “You’ve been working toward this for years. Why would you be willing to share that?”

  The question seemed to baffle him. “Why wouldn’t I? You getting something out of this takes nothing away from me.”

  God, was he really that selfless? Maybe he didn’t truly understand what he was offering.

  “Going in this direction, making us a package deal, means that’s what producers would be expecting. They might not be willing to look at you on your own.”

  “I think that’s already been proven.”

  “No, I mean… If we did this together, and you made me a part of the show, then something happened down the line where we went our separate ways, you might not get another shot.”

  “As in, we have some awful break up and decide we hate each other? I don’t see that happening.”

  His casual confidence was terrifying. How could he be thinking long term? Was he thinking long term?

  “We… this… thing between us is new. We don’t know where it will lead or if it will lead anywhere. You shouldn’t risk your future on someone you can’t be sure of.” She’d done that and look where it had gotten her.

  “I am certain of one thing—there is no certainty in life. There are no guarantees. Living—really living—is about taking risks. Sometimes they pan out, sometimes they don’t. What matters to me is making the effort because the things most people regret at the end of their lives are the things they didn’t do.” He stepped into her, lacing his hands at the small of her back and stroking her spine with his thumbs. “The way I see it is that regardless of what happens between us personally, we stand a better shot together professionally than we do apart. It’s a calculated risk that I’m more than willing to take because I believe in you and in what we can do together. Do you?”

  What would it be like to do this with him so wholly on her side? Did she want what he was offering? A part in his show? A springboard into the possibility of a career doing the thing she was passionate about?

  The answer was yes. It would be so easy to give in and take the leap with him. His gift was making things seem not only possible but doable. But saying yes meant she had to trust him, and that was a whole other thing.

  “Do you have any idea how much it scares me to say yes to this?”

  “I’d wager a lot. That means you’re still being sensible. Nothing wrong with that. But, consider this—you are amazing at your job in PR. If you quit and tried this and it didn’t work, you could find another job in PR. But when will you ever have the boost of all this social proof to elevate your efforts toward what you really want to do?”

  Probably never again.

  If she waited for a more ideal time, she might wait forever. If she put it off until she was somehow, miraculously free of Blake, wasn’t that the same as continuing to put him first, as she had for all those years of their marriage? She’d vowed never to do that again. Never to give him any more control over her life than she’d been forced into by the divorce decree. Didn’t she deserve to take a chance on herself for once?

  “Okay.”

  “Okay? Really? You’ll do it?”

  She felt the need to qualify. “I mean, I’m not just going to quit, but I’m willing to try this. To put myself out there with the design thing. Because you’re right. I’m never going to get another chance like this.”

  Wyatt beamed, scooping her off her feet to whirl in a circle. “Hot damn! You won’t regret it.”

  She hoped like hell he was right.

  “Now that that’s settled, how would you feel about a quick trip to the mountains?”

  Chapter 11

  The Misfit Inn. Tongue-in-cheek name for the former foster home that had, over twenty-five years, seen countless kids brought to better circumstances under the love and care of Joan Reynolds. Now an actual inn and spa run by Joan’s daughters, the three-story Victorian still had the same welcoming feel to Wyatt as he climbed the steps. A lot of that had to do with the woman beaming at him from the open front door.

  “You made it!” Pru Reynolds Bohannon opened her arms wide, pulling him in for a hug.

  She’d done the same thing when he’d shown up as a scared kid all those years ago, a self-appointed one-girl welcoming committee, making him feel wanted. She’d been a chip off of Joan’s block, even then.

  Wyatt folded her in, feeling something restless in him settle at the embrace of his found family. “Hey, sis.”

  “So glad you’re both here. The birthday boy beat you by a couple of hours. He’s been telling us all about the house!” Pru stepped back and turned an impish smile on Deanna that suggested she’d been hearing about more than Blackborne Hall. “So good to see you again.”

  Again?

  Deanna gestured to the renovated barn adjacent to the inn. “The spa has come a long way since I was here last.”

  Oh right. She’d said she’d stayed here shortly after the inn actually opened.

  “You have no idea. Full staff and menu of services now. We’ve still got a few open slots on the roster, if you want to book a massage while you’re here.”

  Deanna pressed a hand to her heart. “Dear God, I might weep with gratitude.
With all the renovations, I’ve basically just gotten used to something being sore all the time.”

  I could help with that. The words hung at the tip of Wyatt’s tongue. He’d do a lot to get his hands on Deanna. But he’d promised himself he’d go at her pace, no matter what. She had the bigger trust issues.

  “We’ll be sure to get you booked in. Flynn, you want to carry their luggage on up?”

  “Dude, we could’ve gotten our own bags,” Wyatt protested.

  Pru’s husband laughed. “Part of the service.”

  As he strode past them into the house, Wyatt noticed Deanna’s cheeks flushing deep red. What was that about? Filing it away to ask about later, he followed them inside.

  Pru led the way upstairs. “I put you in your old room. I thought you might appreciate the nostalgia. But that was before I knew Deanna was coming. You can totally push the twin beds together, and we can get some king-size bedding.”

  Because, of course, they assumed he and Deanna were sleeping together. He heard her step falter. Right. He needed to find a way to make this situation less awkward.

  Deanna spoke up from behind him. “The twins are fine. We don’t want to put you out. As I recall from my last visit, they’re incredibly comfortable.”

  Up on the third floor, they walked down a short hall that was considerably brighter than it had been twenty-odd years ago. Pru opened the last door on the right. “Here we go.”

  Flynn preceded her inside, setting the bags he carried at the foot of one of the beds. “Bath’s through that door. Extra towels in the cupboard there.”

  Wyatt cast his gaze over the room, which was done up in a coordinated color scheme of misty greens with crisp, white accents. “It’s a lot different than it was when I was a kid.”

  His sister laughed. “You will not find an ongoing poker game hiding under the bed.”

  “More’s the pity. I feel like I could totally take on the birthday boy for an extra slice of that caramel cake.”