“No one has ever been so kind, so considerate to me before.” I swallow down the fist in my throat. “No one has ever believed in me the way you do, Wyatt.”
“Yeah, well.” He traces my shearling lapel with the back of his hand, a forlorn sadness taking over his features. “You’re pretty incredible—smart, beautiful, and you happen to have an eye for a fashion trend that might just be the next big thing. What’s not to love?” He gives a full blooming grin, and my entire body seizes at the sight of this gorgeous man.
What’s not to love? A prickle of joy runs through me, and I wish it didn’t. I wish I wasn’t so easily seduced by that word. I shake my head in an effort to break our gaze. Love isn’t anything real. It’s just another four-letter word that’s overused and poorly defined in our society.
“What’s not to love?” I hold out my hands exuberated by the prospect. “I’ll do it!” I jump, and Wyatt catches me in his arms spinning me right there under the canopy of snow-covered pines, in a white glistening wonderland that sparkles under the sun.
If I had to guess, this is exactly what falling in love feels like.
But it’s just a guess.
“One more stop,” Wyatt says, peeling away from the sweatshop we’ve just employed to do our first big run of designer up-cycled clothing. Baya and I will come by Monday with our fabric and designs to help the girls get an idea of what we’re looking for. I feel exhilarated, and thankful because, for one, no matter what he says, I don’t think I could have done half of this without Wyatt’s good business sense.
“Anywhere anytime. I’m game.” I run my tongue over my lips as I watch him grip the wheel with his big, strong hands—the exact same strong hands that will be gripping me in less than twenty-four hours. “And that goes for tomorrow, too.” Especially tomorrow. God, it’s like we’re going to have our own twisted little honeymoon—at his place, of course, to be continued in various locales of our choosing, naked calisthenics aside.
“So tell me, Marley, apart from scouting for bedmates, what makes you tick. Any specific interests I should be made aware of?”
“I like to hike.” It’s true. Growing up in a fort of fences, rabid dogs and far more rabid people, hitting the trails was my favorite escape. “I know it’s not the girliest thing in the world, but there’s something about being one with nature that makes my heart sing.”
“Really?” His head ticks back as if he were genuinely stunned by this. “I love to hike, too.” His hand rounds over the wheel as we make a left, and now it’s me who’s stunned. Wyatt has inadvertently driven into the heart of downtown Walleye. Any minute now I expect to see someone I know walking down the street. “Maybe next week we can take our work outside. There are some trails on the south-facing side that aren’t socked in snow. We can do a day trip. The views are stunning up there.”
“I’d like that.” Right now. I would very much like that right this very minute. Wyatt pulls in an all too familiar shopping center and slides into the first parking spot available. The sign on the establishment before us reads Chicken Fried Filet with the picture of a fat ornery bird voluntarily jumping into a bucket.
“You have got to try this place,” Wyatt gushes. “Sevilla used to pick up a bucket for me every Saturday. I still get those late night cravings if you know what I mean.”
Oh, I know what he means. I used to get them myself, only, in my case, it wasn’t my housekeeper playing delivery boy—it was my mother.
He gets out, and I hesitate to follow. I could make up an excuse—tell him that I need to write a paper, that I’m dying of menstrual cramps, that I have a severe allergy to poultry or, I could woman up and stomach the entire situation. What are the odds that my mother is working a shift right now anyway? She doesn’t usually start until four, and it’s still early afternoon. What the hell. I hop out and join him.
“Everything okay?” He presses his hand in the small of my back as he holds the door open for me.
“I’m with you—everything is great.” No lie there. Wyatt has been the bright spot of my day ever since we’ve met.
The familiar thick scent of deep-fried goodness hits me, and just as I’m about to take in a lungful, a familiar, abnormally tall bleached blonde gets my attention from behind the counter.
“Cat Alice,” I whisper mostly to myself.
“The one from the bar?”
“The one and only.”
Cat Alice lets out an exasperated breath as we head over. Her eyes slit to mine in a moment of both embarrassment and surprise.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she smirks. “Oh, wait, you didn’t come to see me, did you? Debbie!” She shouts to the back, and I freeze.
My mother is here? Gah! This just gets worse.
Mom comes out from the back with her wiry hair poking out in every direction. She has it in a bun, but it’s too wild to tame and likes to make its escape on a regular basis, giving her the appeal of a psychotic bag lady. She’s lost a tooth on either side of her canines which also adds a special touch of homeless, but my mother is kind and tenderhearted, even if she does have a slight addiction to reefer.
“Mommy.” I lean over the counter and pull her in. There isn’t one hint of anything illegal on her today. Most days the scent clings to her hair, her clothes. Honestly, it’s the little things. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
“Told you she had a boyfriend.” Cat Alice scoots into my mother as if they had some united front against me.
“Um, he’s just a friend, actually. He’s my boss and newly minted business partner.” I dip a little when I say it. “Wyatt James.”
Wyatt’s face looks pale for a brief second before that warm smile of his takes over, and he extends his hand to both my mother and Cat Alice.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Cat. Last I heard she was working as a secretary at a car dealership downtown.
“Lost my job. The economy is a real bitch, so Aunt Deb took me under her wing.”
Her chicken wing. Normally I’d say that, but I’d hate for Wyatt to think I was insulting my mother. My mom and I can say anything to each other. We have that kind of a relationship. I doubt I could even make her a little bit angry with me and vise versa.
“You’re a saint, Mom,” I say, pulling her cold hands to mine. She’s so thin, you can number the bones in her fingers. “Oh, by the way, did you know that Cat Alice is dating the dildo that left me?”
Mom’s mouth drops open.
“We’re not dating.” Cat is quick to correct. “Trust me, I wouldn’t want your sloppy seconds.” She slides over to Wyatt. “Now your business partner slash boss is another story altogether. Anything you want, sweetheart—I’ll even give you my employee discount.”
Wyatt’s smile opens to a silent laugh. “That’s okay. I would never want to get you fired.”
“Don’t be silly.” Mom pulls out her manager key. “This meal is on me.”
We put in our orders and take a seat in the booth furthest from the cash registers. It doesn’t matter, I can still feel Cat Alice’s radiating beams of hatred penetrating my back.
“So, surprise,” I say without the proper enthusiasm. “I guess you’ve accidently met my mother.”
“You didn’t say anything when we drove up.” He looks slightly disappointed.
“I didn’t have a chance. But you’re right. The chicken can’t be beat. I wasn’t about to stop you. Believe me, I’m the last woman on the planet who’d keep a good bucket away from a man.” I bite my lower lip with nervous intent. “Um, I grew up in this neighborhood. Things weren’t always champagne and ramen for me. I sort of made it my mission to escape as soon as I had the chance, and school seemed like the only way out.”
His brows dip with a genuine sadness. “You’re doing great, kid.”
“Thank you, Professor James. I’m hoping to ace that private exam you’ll be holding for me tomorrow night. In fact, I plan on pulling out all the scholastic stops to impress you with my carnal k
nowledge.” Which isn’t much, nary a scholastic stop will be made, but that’s beside the point.
“I’m already impressed.”
“Here we are!” Mom slides in next to me. “You mind if I join the two of you for a moment?”
“Not at all.” I scoot a bit to accommodate her. Now that the bandage has been ripped off unceremoniously, I’m all for her meeting the man I plan on violating in less than twenty-four hours.
“So what’s the deal with you two?” She looks from me to Wyatt, and suddenly I’m regretting the fact I’ve pinned myself into the booth. “You really just friends, or is something more going on?” She gets that I’m-about-to-rat-you-out look on her face. “Cat Alice says—”
“Cat Alice lies about her own name.” I cut a quick glance behind me in time to see said liar give me the finger. It’s true. She fell in love with a calico when she was four and made everyone call her Cat Alice ever since. And, for some unknown reason, it stuck. “Wyatt and I are—” God, I hate lying to my mother. I completely blame Cat for putting me in this ridiculous position to begin with.
“Working on getting to know each other.” Wyatt finishes the sentence for me, and I can’t help but give a shy smile. That’s exactly what we’re doing, and that’s no lie.
“Do me a favor.” Mom leans into the table, her eyes pleading as she sheds a pained smile. “Be careful with my baby girl. She’s tough stuff up front, but, deep down inside, she has a heart of liquid gold.” She brushes my hair with her fingers as if I were a newborn. “She’s been through the ringer these last few months.”
Wyatt meets my gaze and holds it. “You’re right, she does have a heart of gold, and I don’t have any intention of breaking it.”
Something in me loosens as if I had secretly been waiting to hear that very thing.
We start in on lunch and enjoy every second of my mother’s company, but, all the while, my mind drifts to Wyatt’s powerful words.
He would never break my heart.
I believe him.
Wyatt
Happy birthday, big bro.
I stare down at the text a moment. I just paid a visit to the administrative office at Whitney Briggs, making sure Blake’s account is paid up for the semester. It wouldn’t surprise me if he were in need and didn’t bother to tell me. He’s just that kind of guy. But I offered to help him get through school and meant it. It’s the least I can do after he took on the baby. And now that I’m all done loading his university ID with cash for books, I’m on high alert for my favorite coed, Marley.
It’s Saturday, the day our infamous contract kicks in. It also happens to be my birthday. But I haven’t filled Marley in on that little detail, not sure why—most likely because I don’t want to turn this into a “me” event. This is about Marley. It always has been. Revenge sex, reclaiming her sanity sex, horizontal research, call it what you want, but it most definitely feels like a rite of passage. I’m not sure why she chose me to inaugurate the process, but I’m damn glad she did.
“Wyatt?” A cheery, yet ominously familiar, voice calls from behind, and I turn to find Monica drudging over. “Well, if it isn’t the birthday boy.”
“They keep you caged in on weekends?” I tease as she swings into a full embrace. Her lips brush over mine for a moment, and I freeze, giving a quick glance around.
“Sorry, I was aiming for your cheek.” She rubs her thumb over the supposed spot she missed. “Come, let me buy you coffee and a birthday scone. It’s the least I can do.” And before I can answer, she pulls me into Hallowed Grounds by the elbow. “I have a couple windows open if you want to discuss dates for our trip to Vale.”
Our trip to Vale. It sounds official. Like something a well-grounded couple might do. Romantic in nature. Everything it’s not.
“Great.” Crap. Not great. “I was just clearing everything with the administration department, making sure my brother has his ducks in a row. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to make it out of town with all the things I’m juggling, but we’ll see.” We’ll see? Is that code for I don’t happen to have my balls with me today?
Her eyes grow heavy a moment. Monica’s no fool. She can clearly read between the dismissal-shaped lines.
“That’s fine.” She blinks up a storm, a nervous habit that always signified her discomfort. “And I love seeing you on campus, but you’d better watch your step around here, cowboy.” She gives a hard wink. For some reason I prefer the moniker when it comes from Marley. “I’d stay away from the coeds if you know what I mean. They’re just after one thing.” She leans in and whispers, “Talk about your power sluts. They’re so desperate to get laid, they’ve turned it into a little game. You’d think the university were fresh out of frat boys the way they pursue older men.” She averts her eyes at the idea.
A private smile curves my lips.
“Don’t look so smug, James, there’s a very nefarious reason for this.” She seems playful and light, but there’s something bubbling under that cracked lid of hers, I can tell.
We put in our orders and shift to the far end of the counter while waiting for our coffee.
“And what nefarious reason is this?”
Monica chortles out a laugh. “Oh, don’t you worry. You’re too smart to get ensnared in some sorority girl trap—or, I suppose technically it’s just a harmless game.” She leans in and wrinkles her nose. “They bag old coots for the hell of it,” she hisses it out in a hard whisper, and my ego jolts from the bullet. “You know—rack up the points at the end of the semester, and the one with the most ‘ancient hookups’ under her belt gets the prize.”
“And what might that be?” I’m only slightly amused. I’m also hoping ancient hookups is a term Monica coined herself.
“Who knows”—she brushes it off with a wave—“something ridiculous like a lifetime pass to the Laundromat, or a gilded key to the boy’s locker room. It’s the spirit of competition that ropes them in.”
Marley comes back to me in a memory, surrounded by snow, a fresh packed ball of ice in her hand. One thing you’d better know about me, I’m fiercely competitive!
“Yes, well, I don’t plan on getting roped in.” I’m not getting roped in, am I?
Our coffee and my birthday scone arrives as we find a seat near the window.
“Don’t discount your good looks too quickly.” Monica leans in, her dark eyes intensely set to mine. “You deserve to be happy, Wyatt. Not taken advantage of by some insolent slut who parades you as some trophy to her dorm sisters. Your life isn’t a joke.”
I’m not a joke? She seemed to think so when she was busy bouncing on another guy’s lap—granted she left me and married him. But, in the mother of all ironies, they’re divorced, and she’s right back here with me.
I take a sip of my coffee and burn my tongue. Damn. I need all members of my body in prime fighting condition for tonight. I squelch a laugh. Marley and I are going to make love, not war—maybe a little of both for the hell of it.
“You should find a nice woman and settle down.” She stretches out the word woman a little longer than necessary.
“And who do you think I should settle down with?” I lean back in my seat, girding myself for the answer because, if she’s honest, I know exactly what she’ll say. I’m not sure why I’ve baited her, but there’s no time like the present to let her down easy. A part of me wants to get it over with. Besides, she’s pissed me off with all this talk of slutty coeds. Marley is anything but, and I know what we have between us is more than some silly sorority game. I’ve got a contract to prove it.
My stomach turns because that’s not a hell of a lot better.
“Who should you settle down with?” She repeats it like a dare. “I guess that’s something you’ll have to answer for yourself.” She takes a bite out of my breakfast uninvited. “But I know who you’ll end up with.” She pushes the scone toward my mouth, and I refuse. “My prediction is that we’ll be back together by spring. We’ve always been destined for one another, W
yatt. Sometimes the best thing for you is right in front of your eyes.”
Monica might be speaking, but it’s Marley’s face I see.
Marley insisted we meet at the Black Bear tonight. I’ve shed the suit for a pair of jeans and a dress shirt in the event she’s more interested in my tie than she is me. I’ll admit that Monica’s soliloquy about the “ancients” the sorority girls are looking to seduce got to me a little. Her theory is ridiculous on many levels, but mainly because Marley isn’t interested in my age. She’s strictly interested in what I posses in my pants, and I’m not talking about my wallet. The only thing she’s gunning for is someone to test out theories of sexual relativity with for that article of hers. It may not be highbrow literature she’s penning, but I’m always up for an educational inquest. I believe “research” is the term she used. I wince at the thought. The more I think about it, the more Monica’s story seems within reach.
I spot Blake toward the back of the bar before he melts into the crowd again.
Izzy comes up, grinning like she’s up to something. “Blake and Annie are waiting for you in the back.”
“The back?”
“Pool room. I’ll show you the way.”
I follow Izzy through the bar and down a corridor, scouring the place for Marley all the way.
“If Marley comes in, you mind telling her where we’re at?” I’m getting anxious just thinking about what tonight holds. I don’t think I’ve been this hopped up for sex since prom.
Izzy turns to me before we hit the back room. “You really care about her, don’t you?”
“I do.” It’s true. I care about Marley. And I plan on showing her exactly how much I care for every inch of her body, tonight.
“Marley is a sweetheart.” The smile drips from Izzy. “Be careful with her, ‘kay?”
Second time hearing that in a week.
“I plan to.”
We step into the pool room just as the lights flick on and off.
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