“That would be a good pick—great song.”
Wiley almost asked, Really? As if you know it and like it too? But he remembered they should know that about each other.
“Yeah?” Wiley angled his body so Holt obscured him from the camera. “What am I supposed to pick?” He burned with lingering resentment and humiliation from earlier.
Holt ran a hand up and down Wiley’s arm. “Anything you like.”
Wiley tilted his head. “Are you saying the song’s not already in Kit’s planner pack?”
“Yes. This was definitely not prearranged. I wouldn’t have let Kit get away with it otherwise.”
“You make a fair point. Dancing with me is probably the worst thing ever.” Wiley nudged into Holt and smiled, moving so the camera could pick him up. “So yeah, I agree if you agree. But.”
“But?”
“It’s romantic but not a guaranteed happy ending. Maybe it isn’t right for a wedding.”
“It’s right for our wedding.” Holt smiled confidently. “That’s our song.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Wiley didn’t try to decipher it further and handed the phone to Sarah. “That was simple. It’s nice how often we agree like that. You heard him. That’s the one. It’s on rotation at my house, so we’ve hummed our way through it a few times together. Which means we’re not starting totally from scratch with it. And Holt’s right: it’s a great song we both like a lot.”
That felt stupid and scripted, but it didn’t seem to clang in the studio like it did in his head.
Sarah connected her phone to speakers and the slow, dreamy piano opening to “You Go To My Head” wafted through the studio. Wiley was pleased it was Billie Holiday, not Frank Sinatra’s version, and he wondered what Holt thought about it.
“Billie’s is always better,” Holt whispered as Sarah maneuvered them into a standard dance frame.
“Also agreed,” Wiley whispered back.
Holt’s hand spread across his back and Wiley tried to relax, so he wound up standing even more awkwardly.
“I think you know one another quite well, so don’t be so afraid of getting close.” Sarah cupped one of her hands on each of their shoulders. “Closer,” she urged and moved them a step, then two, then three inward.
Wiley’s head fit under Holt’s chin, and he heard Holt swallow.
Sarah patted Wiley’s back and stepped away. “We’ll work on choreography starting tomorrow. For now don’t plan your steps, just move together and get a feeling for the music—for your song.”
Wiley made an agreeing noise, or thought he did, but he couldn’t tell. Muddled exhaustion swamped him. He’d barely slept last night, kept awake with his brain hard at it on the hamster wheel of overthinking everything the day might bring. Today had proved easier than he feared, but zipping place to place, and Kit’s continuous stream of chatter, and trying not to mess up or give the pretense away was a lot. It wasn’t like he was used to pretending anything on camera, much less being a besotted almost-married guy.
He forced that back and concentrated on the song and doing what Sarah suggested, and wound up doing a shuffle-sway. They continued the shuffle-sway, Holt adding a very slow turn, and Wiley stopped thinking about the ideal reaction and gave in to it.
“Yes, very good. I think that’s enough for today.”
Sarah’s voice penetrated Wiley’s awareness. She sounded distant and muffled. He huffed because he was warm and comfortable, and a second later his eyes shot open and he tensed.
Holt held Wiley incredibly close, Wiley basically napping against his chest, and their shuffle-sway had become a stand-in-place-and-barely-move sway. His belly quivered, and he caught a sigh before it could escape.
Wiley let out a long breath and leaned away. Holt shifted to hold his shoulders and stared down at him, jaw working and bright blue eyes dark with something that made Wiley want to burrow back in or bolt.
“Uhm.” Wiley levered from Holt and summoned a grin. He didn’t notice Holt’s one-handed reach for him as he sighted the water cooler across the room and made for it as if he was dying of thirst.
He better not be.
Wiley gulped three paper cups of water and went in for another.
“Tomorrow, you said? What time?” Holt’s voice carried to him, almost normal instead of thick and rumbly.
But traces of thick and rumbly remained. Wiley decided it was probably from talking all day and then not talking for the hours they danced. He checked the wall clock. Not even an hour.
“That was super sweet, guys. We’re gonna have some good footage from that.” Elaine pulled Holt to the windows overlooking Main Street. “Rick and I want some silhouetting—Wiley? Can you join us, please?”
Wiley crushed the paper cup and tossed it in the trash as he joined them.
“Sarah?” Elaine motioned, and the song started playing again. She nodded and got out of Rick’s way.
Wiley didn’t close his eyes, too aware of the camera for that. Too aware of Holt. But he dutifully shuffled to the music and let Holt spin them around.
“Okay, great. Thanks, guys.” Rick fiddled with the camera and went to show Elaine the playback.
“You’ll have Holt and Wiley to yourselves for tomorrow’s session, Sarah. We’ll be out with Kit getting some pickups and establishing stuff.” Elaine clapped her binder shut. “And that’s it—at least for you all. Rick and I are off to find Kit and see how the intros and explainers are going. Good job, everybody. Thanks again, Sarah.”
Sarah bowed graciously, and Rick followed Elaine down the stairs.
“Is nine too late?” Sarah looked to Holt and then Wiley. “I’d make it earlier if I could, but I have long-scheduled classes I don’t want to cancel. This is exciting, but that’s not exactly fair to my students.”
“Then see you at nine, Miss Sarah.” Holt turned to Wiley. “Sound okay to you?”
“Not a problem. We agree more than we disagree. Lucky, right?” Wiley smiled at Sarah.
He was smiling more—for, at, fake, in reaction, weak attempts—than he had the entire year until now.
“Very. And a bit of wedding jitters as well.” Sarah gripped their arms and led them to the door. “You’re doing a very good job of hiding it, don’t worry. I’ve just been around a while.”
“Don’t tell anyone you’re onto us,” Holt teased.
“You’re safe with me. See you tomorrow.” Sarah stood on the landing and watched them go. “Your homework for tonight is to get some rest.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Wiley muttered as they stepped onto the sidewalk.
A nondescript car was parked at the curb waiting for them. Holt held open the back door and slid in after Wiley.
“Has this wrung you out already?”
Wiley scooched all the way over until he was against the other door. He pressed two fingers to his forehead and then frowned at them. “I’m in full can’t-wait-to-get-home-scrub-this-makeup-off-and-get-into-bed mode, and I offer no apology for that.” He flopped back in the seat. “And it’s only day one.”
“That makes our third agreement.” Holt’s legs were so long his bent knee grazed Wiley’s thigh. “You’re doing really well, and you’re definitely allowed to be tired.”
“Fourth.” Wiley watched a familiar route go by and didn’t question how the driver knew where he lived. “We agreed about the venue, so that’s four.” He didn’t mask the tartness that crept into his tone.
“I suppose we did.” Holt drummed his fingers and started to get out as they pulled up to Wiley’s house.
“No, don’t. We’re both tired.” Wiley leaned in so he could lower his voice. “I can get inside by myself and, well. I’m ready for that. No offense.”
“None taken. Is quarter of six good? Should I get you at the bakery?” Holt paused. “Are you a morning person?”
The third question seemed out of nowhere, but Wiley readily answered each. “Yes, do, yes, that’s fine, and yes, I am. Although a morning person usually not
in the middle of filming a staged reality show.” Wiley popped the door open. “Thank you,” he said to the driver. “Well. Good night.”
Holt blinked slowly and moved incrementally forward but then sat back. “Good night, Wiley. Get some rest.”
The car remained until he had unlocked the front door, turned on a light, and waved.
Wiley scrubbed clean in the shower, ate an assembly of food that didn’t have to be cooked for dinner, and face-planted in bed.
He lay there telling himself to prepare for tomorrow. Think about camera angles, organic reactions, readiness to keep smiling. Instead he remembered Holt’s spicy, musky cologne and kinda sorta wished he’d let Holt walk him inside.
Chapter Three
OH, I Do!
Well, well, well. Who saw that one coming?
No one! That’s who, and if anyone tries to claim otherwise, call them out as the shameless liar they are (y’all know I live in the comments and y’all know I’ll check you—everybody’s on notice—even I’m not pretending I had even a whiff of this).
Our dear Mr. Fix-it is getting hitched! I had no clue he was dating—has he ever dated? remind me if I’m forgetting someone—much less getting this serious. Still waters and dark horses and all, hmmm?
At first I was disappointed it wasn’t Kit’s HEA reveal—gather around me for comfort, Kittens—but now that it’s gotten out what Kit’s slime of an ex was up to (many, many up-tos who were not Kit, and Kit trying to keep a lid on that and their dignity, bless), I’m thrilled he scraped off that slime, emerged tanned and glorious from a deserved Maui refresh, and decided to turn that negativity into a big positive for big brother.
What a sweetie. As we’ve said from the start. Here’s to rising above.
I’ve always been up front that I’m no Holster, but he looked genuinely moved at Wiley Grey’s (whose?!) acceptance and whew, that strong protective arm around Wiley getting back to the bus…. Can you say *fans self*? Holt’s a strapping 6’4” and his boo could fit in his pocket! I’m a sucker for that and not ashamed to admit it.
I also might be a sucker for small-town hometown torches getting rekindled. Especially when they involve adorbs auburn-haired elves who can apparently design, draw, and bake, and swoon-worthy beaus who can swoop in and sweep clear the dark clouds and let the light of l-o-v-e shine.
But I’d never admit that aloud.
What do you all think? Is Wiley deserving of Holt? (Do we know enough yet to say? Of course not, but we’re here to judge, not to be reasonable!) Will Wiley want to get married in a barn or something equally small-town charming as heck? Will Holt have to last-minute throw together centerpieces and construct bench seating from old wine barrels and a trellis from sticks and save his own wedding day?
Tell me your thoughts, Kittens & Holsters. I’m gasping here.
As always: Claws out and drills drawn, let’s get into it in the comments!
WILEY wrapped his hands around the coffee mug Carla set next to him but didn’t lift his head from the counter. The warmth penetrated his fingers and scalp and calmed some of the throbbing from another night of restlessness.
“It’s not too late to back out.” Carla patted his back. “That’s a lie. It’s really super too late to back out, but I’ll help you escape to Canada if you want.”
“Thanks.” Wiley sat up enough to hold his face over the steaming coffee. “You’re a true friend.”
Carla slid a danish to him.
“And you feel guilty for urging me to agree to this.”
Carla slid a plate of mini muffins closer to join the danish.
“I’ll be fine. There’s no reason I shouldn’t be fine.” Wiley took a huge gulp of coffee and sighed as it spread through him. “There’s also even less acting to do than I first thought.”
“How’s that?”
“Almost everything is already planned, chosen, booked—done and done. I just have to pretend like I’m trying to make tough choices and then go with what Kit wanted all along.” Wiley drank the rest of his cup down to chase the bitter, lingering humiliation away.
It wasn’t important.
“Wow. That’s kind of a bummer. I always guessed some of these reality shows had to be set up beforehand or else they couldn’t do what they do. But—everything?”
Wiley shrugged. “Effectively. I think there’s always something preset for all the episodes we’ve watched with couples bickering over crepe paper roses or baby’s breath sprigs, rose trellises or a grotto spring. It makes logistical sense. This one it’s doubly such. Remember, it was supposed to be Kit’s wedding.”
“Hmm, true.” Carla pulled a face. “His and your tastes are nothing alike. You’re going to be forced to marry in clouds of fairy lights and golden fringe and frou-frou, aren’t you?”
“An unexpected bonus to that I’m-not-actually-getting-married part of things.”
Carla ripped Wiley’s danish in half and chewed it thoughtfully. “He better let you choose something. Even if it is make-believe, the groom-to-be should be entitled to some say-so.”
The song from their dance wove through Wiley’s mind, and it was too easy to summon the feeling of being in Holt’s arms.
“Wiley, what is that?”
“What?” Wiley’s eyes snapped open.
“That.”
Wiley tilted his head. “I need more than that, that.”
Carla grinned. “You’re blushing. Whew.” She held the back of her hand to his cheek and then fanned herself. “A scorcher.”
“I’m not. I’m tired. You know I run warm when I’m tired.”
“Sure. That seems legit.” She eyed him. “Hotter than you ever blushed mooning over Kit. Just saying.”
Wiley hadn’t thought about Kit to blush over since spying the tacky show tour bus in the park. He was too busy and distracted.
“I’m not gonna let this drop. You better tell me before they get here.”
“Tell you what before we get here?” Kit asked from the kitchen door. He grinned. “Good morning. Almost time to get a move on. Hope you’re ready. But first, yes, yes. Do tell.”
Wiley glared at Carla, who smiled serenely.
Holt stood behind Kit and studied Wiley. He pushed Kit forward and squeezed past, making the wide rustic doorway seem small, and came around the counter to slide onto a stool by Wiley. “Everything okay?”
“Yes. I was only saying I didn’t sleep great last night, so I’ll try not to be in a total brain fog today.” Wiley shouldn’t let his leg relax so it firmly touched Holt’s, but he did. “It’s no big deal, though.”
“Blushing,” Carla mouthed at him as she filled two more mugs.
“Thank you.” Holt had a long drink. “That feels good. You make good coffee, Carla.”
She pushed her hands up and teased, “I know. And help yourself to any goodies you want.”
“Tragically, just black coffee for me, dear. These pants would never forgive me for even a bite of anything.” Kit smoothed his palms down the very slim slim-cut fit of his light blue dress pants.
“No such tragedy here.” Holt waggled his eyebrows and ate a danish in one huge bite. He swallowed it with alarming speed and then leaned on his elbow closer to Wiley. “Let us know when you need a break today. There’s plenty of time for several, it’s going to be a long day, and you have to pace yourself.”
Wiley nodded.
“I mean it. Yeah?” Holt pressed.
“Yeah, sounds good.” Wiley could tell Holt was genuine and smiled over finishing his breakfast.
“Are we ready, then?” Kit asked as he left without waiting for an answer.
Holt started to gather the dishes, but Carla waved him off.
“I’m good, thanks. And about to open so my part-timer should be here by now.” She shooed them along. “Have a great day! Film amazing things! Be the star I know you to be.”
“You have a great day too, Carla. Thank you for the coffee.” Holt somehow got his arm around Wiley and ushered them past
the back of the counter area toward the kitchen.
Carla whispered to Wiley as he walked past, “Blush. Ing.” She poked his side and snickered, and then she hustled the other direction to raise the shades and open the front door.
Wiley couldn’t grumble or catch a quick nap as they got in the car. Elaine and Rick waited for them, Rick in the passenger seat, Elaine on the back bench with her binder open and fingers busy on her phone. He greeted them and everyone got settled, and then Rick motioned he’d started filming.
“Day two! I can’t wait to get started. With our dream of a venue realized, now it’s time to set the mood,” Kit enthused. He eased the car from the back parking area of Carla’s bakery and went around the block to Main Street. “We’re so fortunate the venue is available for us to camp out and be ‘in situ’ while we build the next layer of Holt and Wiley’s wedding fantasy.”
Wiley watched the town stream past and tried to appear interested. When they arrived, Rick stopped filming, and they all got out of the car. Wiley stood and waited for whatever cue, but Elaine, Kit, and Rick went off, deep in discussion about shots and framing and the best light on the best porch for them to finish the setup.
“Want to have a walk around?” Holt glanced at the three gesturing and blocking scenarios on the larger porch where the reception would be. “They’ll be a while.”
“But we are filming today?”
Holt shook his head and looped an arm around Wiley. “I’m not doing great with this, I’m sorry. Normally, couples get production notes and schedules and such so they know what to expect during filming. Not so much that there’s zero spontaneity, but plenty to keep them from feeling out to sea as we put them through the process. We don’t have a write-up for this episode or I’d give you one.”
“Ah.” Wiley was relieved more than anything. Not being filmed or having to be at the ready at every moment was fine by him. “So then tell me. The gist.”
Holt’s thumb brushed his nape and he shivered.
Say Yes to a Mess (Dreamspun Desires Book 103) Page 6