All the Wild Ways: A Friends to Lovers Romance

by Caroline Tate

  “No, I mean he sold it. Someone made him an offer.”

  The news piques a dark side of my curiosity and immediately lifts a weight from my shoulders I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying. “That’s… wow. That’s great.” My heart sputters a little thinking about how much dad had wanted one of us to take it for him, but at least the pressure of trying to sell would be off of him. For that fact alone, I know he’s relieved. “I’m really happy for him. Do you know why he sold?”

  “Gee, sis.” Franklin’s voice is bordering annoyed now with all of my questions. “I suppose it’s because neither one of us would take over for him.”

  “Oh. Yeah, I guess that’d do it.” My thoughts immediately rush toward Garrett, the fact that he won’t have to listen to me guilt trip him about not taking the brewery any longer.

  “Anyway, good chat. Come to dinner tonight at the house. For dad,” he clarifies. “It’s celebratory and all.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there.”

  Franklin hangs up on me without so much as a goodbye.

  “Dick,” I grumble, as I settle back in and begin drying Beatle. She looks up at me, her left eye bigger than her right in some sort of a canine scowl. “No, not you,” I tell her.

  I have one appointment left on Oak Island for the day, so I park beneath the shade of a live oak tree and pull my phone from the center console to call Garrett and share the news. The phone rings several times before he answers a bit short of breath. He shouts something away from the phone which means he’s probably out prowling the course. Then he’s breathing hard again, and I can hear him smile.

  “How’s my Gator Girl?” he says. “You calling for an afternoon ride?”

  I scoff into the phone. Hoping to God no one is around to hear him ask me that on his end of the line, I can’t help but blush. “It sold, Garrett.”

  “Huh? What sold?”

  “The Shoreline,” I say, grinning at his facade. “You’re finally off the hook.”

  The phone goes so quiet I wonder if the call hasn’t been completely dropped between us.

  “Garrett?”

  “Yeah, sorry. Pretty busy over here today.” He pulls the phone away and yells something again, this time more muffled than before. “Hey, can you meet me after work, Rach?”

  “I can’t,” I say, starting up the van. I turn on the air conditioner full blast, the sun having beaten down too harsh on me the past few minutes. “I have to be at my dad’s for supper by six. I could meet you at the riverfront after though, if you want.”

  “No. No, come over to my place before you go. I need to see you.”

  Something about his urgency turns my heart sideways, and I can’t imagine not obliging him. Who am I to deny him what he so badly wants? “Okay, I’ll be there.”

  “Good. Hey, I gotta run, okay?” he says after clearing his throat. “See ya.”

  I drop the phone back into the center console and sigh. A part of me is happy for his urgency, how much he must be craving me to want me to steal time away with him like that. But another piece of me feels hardened by the fact that I can’t tease him about not taking the brewery any longer. Throughout our friendship, it’d become something of an excuse for me to see him. And if I hadn’t seen Garrett in months? It didn’t matter because there was always another offer in the works.

  No matter how I’m feeling over our brief conversation, of two things I am sure: One, I won’t have to badger Garrett anymore about the Shoreline. And two, my dad won’t have the burden of running the place any longer. All in all, the afternoon seems to be shaping up into a satisfying wall of relief.

  When I reach Garrett’s house, his truck is already in the driveway, the tire marks in the gravel a little more pronounced than usual.

  The front door swings open before I even reach it, and Garrett comes barreling out with a smile so wide, for a split second, I think he might be faking it.

  “Hey, what—” The wrap of Garrett’s arms around me rakes me into him and he pulls me through the door to the living room, silencing me. With a series of rapid-fire kisses, he smothers me in an excited type of love, a constant stream of warm and hectic smooches to my lips and cheeks. Face to face, he’s like some repetitive machine that can’t stop, kiss after stimulating kiss. And while I love seeing him so incredibly happy, I find myself teetering on worry as to why he might be so joyous.

  “Garrett!”

  His lips catch mine several more times. But the last kiss is heated and lingers long enough to set fire to the ember that lies in wait down low in my belly.

  When he finally pulls away from me, he’s grinning like a bobcat. “Yes?”

  “Hi,” I say, as he grabs both of my hands, linking his fingers through mine. I take a step backward so I can see him more fully. A part of me wonders if he’s not had some whiskey before I arrived even though I hadn’t tasted a single drop on him. “You’re awfully happy today.”

  He chuckles in defense and pulls me back into his chest. “What? A guy can’t ask a girl over just to kiss her?”

  “That’s not why you wanted me here.”

  “Maybe not, but it’s a nice addition.”

  I’m nearly in disbelief. I haven’t seen this side of Garrett— the happy, satisfied side— since we were kids. And even then, it was over winning the state championship for football his Senior year of high school. Not really comparable to whatever could have him acting so lively right now.

  “Okay, fine,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss the top of my head. “I’d already heard about your dad’s decision before you called.”

  “You did?” My brow arches in question. “Who told you?”

  “That part doesn’t matter.” He nuzzles his head down on top of my hair, and I’m not sure I hear him correctly. “What matters is that he won’t sell once he knows I’m ready.”

  Confusion immediately sets in, and pulling away, I look up at him. “What’d you say?”

  He laughs. “Well, damn. You could show a little more enthusiasm.” His voice grows a notch impatient. “I said your dad won’t sell once he knows I’m interested. I’ll sign his papers. Anything he gives me, I’ll sign.”

  All the heat that had built up within me fizzles out, dampening the very ember he’d set fire to just a few minutes prior. Now the only thing I feel is doubt. “Why? Why would you sign?”

  “I want to take over the Shoreline like he’s wanted me to for years. For you.”

  I know Garrett is expecting some immediate, elated response out of me, but he won’t be getting one. Instead, I stand in silence. Stunned.

  And yet, I’m terrified to tell him the truth, that there’s no going back. It’s sold. The Shoreline is gone. There’s no getting it back.

  “Rachel? You could look a little happier.”

  My lips barely move as a sharp thread of anger starts to swim through me. “After all this time, Garrett,” I say, my voice threatening to crack wide open. “Why would you want it now?”

  “Because it’s a good idea. You wanted me to do it for so long.”

  “But you,” I say, sputtering. “You’re the reason he wanted to sell. You didn’t want it. Why now?”

  “I’ve changed my mind. I’m allowed to do that.”

  “But the golf course. You love working out on the course,” I say, trying to convince him to forget the brewery. That he would ever give up something he loves just because someone else wants it for him astounds me. Glancing over at the coffee table, I spot the stuffed animal I gave him with his red tail still tucked underneath a Garden & Gun magazine. I imagine if Dudley were still alive and could talk, he’d have told Garrett he is being an idiot.

  “It’s too late for that,” I tell him, crossing my arms in front of my chest. I’m not sure, but my jaw may still be dragging the floor. “It’s definitely too late.”

  “No such thing,” he says, smiling, kissing my unenthused mouth. “If there’s one thing I can teach you, Rachel, it’s that it’s never too late.”

  I scof
f at the thought as Garrett rushes into the dining room to grab his wallet and keys from the table.

  “Seriously,” I say, my voice solid as concrete. My tone makes him take pause. “Why would you do this? You don’t want the Shoreline. You love the course far too much.”

  “Come on, Rachel. Of all people, you wanted me to think about this more than anyone. Now that I’ve made up my mind, you want me to change it again?”

  “No, it’s not that, it’s just—”

  “Then stop. Stop trying to change my mind. I want to run the brewery, okay?”

  “No, but-”

  He points a finger right at me. “No buts.”

  “Garrett, really—”

  “Stop.”

  His insistence has me ready to blow a gasket. Rising up on my tiptoes, I desperately shout out into his space so he’ll quit walking all over me. “It’s already sold! The check has been cut!”

  This causes him to halt by the door frame, rigid as a statue. “No.” He sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself than me. Reaching for his phone, he clears his throat. “5:45. What time is dinner?”

  “Six.”

  “Come on, let’s go.” He pulls my arm to follow him through the front door, leaving me scrambling in turmoil.

  “What? Where are we going? Garrett, I can’t do this right now, I have to go meet my family for supper.” I can barely believe how he’s acting as we reach his truck.

  Before opening the passenger side door, he takes hold of my head, cradles it firmly in his hands, and plasters another solid kiss on me. I’m completely disoriented by how happy he looks. Despite everything, I wish I could feel the same.

  “Come on, I’m taking you to your dad’s,” he says, giving me a boost up into the truck and closing the door behind me.

  “For what?” I say through the open window.

  “So we can make this right.” He jumps up into the truck and cranks the engine before I can even refuse. The rattling power of the truck makes my fingers vibrate as I grasp the handle tighter wishing I’d never even told him about the brewery.

  “Garrett,” I say softer this time, “I really think it’s too late.” The truck lurches into reverse causing my stomach to turn. I hope he believes me, that he understands the brewery has already sold, that it’s too late to do anything about it. God forbid Garrett do something rash that he’ll later regret. That’s what years of built up pressure can do to a person though, I suppose.

  “It’ll be fine. We’ll fix it,” he says in reassurance. “We can fix this.”

  A lump forms in my throat from his desperate insistence, and I try one more time to wake him from his momentary craze. Surely he’ll look back on this moment and wonder what the fuck he was doing, right? “You really don’t think you’ll miss the golf course?” I ask.

  Garrett steps on the gas, hurtling us quicker down the road. He shakes his head in response but has nothing else to say about it. That’s enough concern to leave me worried that not only is he about to make a mistake, he’s about to make a mistake that he won’t be able to undo.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I say, more to myself than to him.

  “You think I don’t know that? How many times did I refuse you before?”

  I scoff. “And now you suddenly change your mind.”

  “It’s not that sudden. I had all those times before to think about it.”

  His comment leaves me wondering. That wasn’t something I’d ever considered, and it was enough of a jolt to my argument that it silences my effort to convince him otherwise. Besides, once Garrett’s mind is set on something, that’s all it takes. He’s a force to be messed with, and he knows it.

  In record time, we reach my dad’s house, and though I’d earlier been excited about the celebratory dinner, now I feel sick with worry.

  Garrett rushes out of the truck and opens my door. Grasping my hand, he squeezes my fingers, my hot hand getting lost in his huge grip.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask with a single glance up at the house.

  “Sure. It’ll be fine, I promise.” He wraps his hand tighter around mine, the warmth anything but comforting as he pulls me up the front pathway to climb the porch stairs. The moment his finger hits the doorbell, my stomach falls out from beneath me.

  Chapter Eleven

  When the door opens, my dad is standing there with an initial look of bewilderment.

  Grinning as sheepishly as I can at Garrett’s side, I reach up to hug him. “Congratulations, Dad.”

  Shoving his hands in his pockets and furrowing his brow at the presence of Garrett next to me, I can sense his confusion. The distressed look on his face is followed by one full of panic. His look is tell that whatever is about to happen with Garrett Anderson standing in front of him, he won’t be happy about it. He stifles his startled expression, I assume out of not wanting to appear rude that I’d shown up to dinner with unannounced company.

  “Hey, sweetie,” he murmurs, the joy from his earlier news now absent. Gaining control of his expression, he plants a heavy kiss against my cheek. “Haven’t seen you since the River Roast. How have you been?”

  “I’m good.”

  In his post-surprise daze, he grabs something off of the table in the foyer and shoves it in my hand— the key to his lake house. “This is for the party. For Kate,” my dad says nodding at me. “And Garrett,” he continues, reaching out to shake his hand in a manly vie for dominance. “Wasn’t expecting you for dinner.” His eyebrows jump upward in a sharp disbelief. “But welcome.”

  “Thanks,” Garrett says, a faint smirk settling on his lips. “Actually, I’m here to speak with you, Mr. Easton. It’s pretty urgent.”

  Sliding the key in the back pocket of my denim skirt, I shake my head at the thought of Garrett exercising any kind of urgency unless it’s sexual in nature. But whatever he’s about to do or say has me feeling sick to my stomach out here on the front porch.

  “Okay, well,” dad says, pushing the door open further. “I’m sure there’s plenty of food for one more.”

  My nerves twist into a knotted rope as my dad gives me an inquisitive look behind Garrett’s back on our way to the dining room. All I can muster is another shake of my head to let him know that I have nothing to do with whatever is about to happen. I don’t want to be in the middle of the storm that’s brewing, though standing beside Garrett, I really have no choice in the matter.

  The scent of roasted garlic and parmesan wafts in from the kitchen, and the dining room table is already set with three plates and silverware, a wooden bowl of salad, and a basket of rolls. There’s an unopened bottle of red wine, dad’s favorite Cabernet Sauvignon, sitting on the table in the corner of the room. He offers to pour me a glass, but I’m not in the mood for a drink.

  “Made your favorite,” dad says, motioning for us to sit. “My signature alfredo.”

  My mouth is watering the moment Franklin comes around the corner from the kitchen with a bottle of beer in his hand. In what looks like an attempt to threaten Garrett, Frank narrows his eyes at him and is already on the attack. “What’s he doing here?”.

  “Franklin, stop,” I chide.

  My dad stands beside him, arms locked across his chest without a word. Both stare intently at Garrett, and I take a couple of steps backward to shrink into the curtains.

  “Okay, look,” Garrett begins. His hands move wildly with his words, proving to Franklin and my dad just how excited he is. “I’ve decided. You were right all along, Mark.” He bows his head in a feigned sort of disgrace. “I should’ve taken you up on your offer of the brewery years ago.”

  “No shit,” Franklin mutters with a shake of his head. He takes a sip of beer to quell his annoyance and settles back against the wall to enjoy Garrett’s show.

  Garrett seems to not even notice Franklin as he continues. “I know what I need to do now. I’m ready to—”

  “You are a fucking idiot, you know that?” Frank says much too casually. Wi
th a hard shake of his head, he slinks back around the corner into the kitchen, though I know from the drift of his forceful sigh he can still hear every word of the exchange. My father, on the other hand, is eerily quiet and stands still as stone, nostrils flared and jaw set.

  “Garrett,” I say, eying my dad. “We talked about this earlier. Can’t we just go?”

  “No, I already told you,” he says, ignoring my plea. Shifting his weight and attention back toward my dad, he straightens himself. “Sir, I’m ready to move on. I’m ready to give up my simple life for something more. The golf course is a dead end, and I realize that now. I want to be able to support your daughter as best I can which is why this is the ideal move for me. Just because I love working the course doesn’t mean it’s the best thing for Rachel and myself. There’s always something better out there, you know? I finally know what that is now, sir. Thanks to you, and thanks to Rachel.”

  A hard lump forms in my throat even though I want to smack Garrett for reeling me into the issue.

  My dad’s face goes white as a sheet. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. He seems to be as dumbfounded as I am, and I’d already heard the first half of Garrett’s claim when he called me over to his house before supper. I can’t imagine how ridiculous it sounds being blindsided by it in its entirety.

  I can tell Garrett is nervous. He wraps his arm around my lower waist and is fidgeting with the seam on the side of my shirt. “In summary, I’m uh.” He clears his throat. “I’m ready to take on the Shoreline for you, Mark.”

  I hear glass shatter as Frank storms back out of the kitchen with anger blazing in his eyes. Fists balled in fury, his beer bottle is nowhere to be found. “You dumb shit. It’s over. It’s already been sold. The paperwork’s been signed!”

  “Then unsign it,” Garrett says simply.

  “Holy shit. You’re unbelievable. You really are dumb, aren’t you?” Franklin digs his fingers through the thick of his hair as he turns to dad. “Can you believe this guy? You can’t possibly think he was the best person to take over the Shoreline for you. He would’ve run it right into the—”