Quiet, with a pinch in his brow, he holds me at my waist and leads the way once the elevator doors part. The click of my heels against the carpeted floor fall in line with his long strides until we’re out in the hotel courtyard where there are a half a dozen private tents surrounding the edges of the squared-off space. Green turf covers the cemented surface and imported potted pine trees are spread throughout the space, providing an authentic outdoor feel in the middle of our urban surroundings.
“What’s this?” I breathe in awe, taking in the twinkle lights, sitting logs, and luxurious tents situated in the center of tall brick and stone buildings.
He takes my hand in his. “This way.”
Passing a few couples who are enjoying a quiet campfire, he leads me to a tent in the back where there is a waiter wearing a flannel shirt, jeans, and an apron cinched around his waist, standing at the opening of the tent.
“Mr. Scott. We’re so happy you could join us this evening. Your tent as you ordered it is set up and everything you need is inside. Is there anything else you’d like?”
Smoothly, Bram reaches into his pocket, pulls out a few bills, and slips them into the man’s hand as he says, “Privacy.”
“Very well, sir. There is a phone on the side table if you need anything. Would you like me to close off the tent?”
“Yes.”
And with that, Bram takes us into the tall white tent as the front flaps are closed, giving us a great deal of privacy.
Closed off form the world, I take in the smooth turf beneath my heels, the wood-slated love seat with flannel-covered cushions, the string lights surrounding the tent, and the gas fire pit stocked full of s’mores fixings. There is a small vent above the fire pit and a photographic mural on the back tent wall of a wooded forest. This is so romantic.
“This is amazing, Bram. How did you know about this?”
He leads me to the seat where he sits us both down, keeping me close to him. “A lot of Googling.” He reaches over and starts the fire, leaving it at a low setting, and then leans back on the sofa, bringing me into his side. “Do you like it?”
“I love it.” I curl into him, amazed at his ability to be romantic.
We sit there, letting the flames dance in front of us, both of us fixed on the orange and blue heat sparking off the glass rocks. In the background, I hear crickets chirping, rippling water flowing and bouncing off rocks, and the light laughter of campers around us. It’s peaceful, calm, the perfect end to our dinner, and something I rarely experience: tranquility.
Moving my hand to his chest, I make tiny circles across his sweater with my fingers, feeling the strength of his chest beneath me. “You’re quiet. Did I say something wrong at dinner?”
“No.” He kisses the top of my head, bringing me in closer. “You said exactly the right thing.”
“Then why are you so quiet?” This isn’t like Bram to be this silent this long. He’s always talking, trying to engage me in small talk that I hate so much. Honestly, I think this is the quietest I’ve ever seen the man.
“Because I’m fucking happy. I’ve liked you for so goddamn long, Julia, and I finally get to hold you in my arms, knowing you’re not going to run away.”
I take that in, the desire he’s harbored for such a long time, wondering what it would have been like if we’d started dating earlier. Would we still be together now? A part of me thinks we would and another part of me thinks we wouldn’t. We’re different now than we were in college. Yes, we have some of the same attributes and morals, but we also have morphed into adults.
“Do you think if we’d gotten together in college we would still be together now?”
“Absolutely,” he answers with no doubt in his voice. “Why do you think we wouldn’t?”
I shrug, hating to be the Debbie Downer especially after everything he’s done tonight to make this date special. “I don’t know. I think we’ve changed a lot, and I wonder if our relationship would have changed as well.”
“Are you doubting our ability for longevity, Jules?”
“No, not at all. Just curious.”
“Well, your curiosity is starting to spike my competitiveness.” He kisses the side of my head. “Face it, Westin, you’re stuck with me now.”
“I think I’ve been stuck with you no matter what.” I smile to myself, leaning in closer.
Chapter Twenty-Five
BRAM
“I was the s’mores champion back in college, so follow my lead.”
“How on earth does someone become the s’mores champion?” Julia asks while twisting a skewer for her marshmallow in her hand.
“Easy.” I lay out the ingredients, a graham cracker, chocolate on top, and another graham cracker ready to collapse on top of the marshmallow. “You perfect the roasting of the marshmallow and the timing of the sandwich making. It’s all about temperature and timing.”
“That sounds ridiculous and something the students in college rallied behind just to blow more steam up your ass.”
I give her the side-eye. “I’ll have you know, the first two years in college, I didn’t make s’mores properly. It wasn’t until I did research my sophomore to junior year that I really mastered the craft and excelled at my skill, and that’s when I was a nobody at the time, just another dick in the frat house. So you can take your steam-up-the-ass theory and stick it up your own perfectly sized, squeezable ass.” I hand her a marshmallow, which she accepts with a grin.
“That’s a lot of passion you have about s’mores.”
“Well, don’t question my abilities.”
“You just act like you’re the best at everything.”
I lean close to her and whisper into her ear, “It’s because I am.”
With my hand to hers, I lower our skewers over the small flames and begin the roasting process. Talking gently, her body pressed against mine, I teach her the most important part about making the perfect s’mores. “It’s all about the roast.”
She snuggles in, leaning her head against my shoulder, the feel of her close and secure sending a jolt of pride through my chest. She’s mine. This brilliant, kindhearted woman is mine. No other accomplishment really compares to having this woman’s heart. “The roast, really? It’s not about the ingredients?”
“Standard Hershey’s chocolate, Jet Puffed marshmallows and Honey Maid graham crackers are all that is needed, none of that fancy shit. But when you’re roasting, you have to have patience. You have to hold the stick high and constantly rotate, like this.” With my hand over hers, I show her the technique, which she quickly gets. “You’re roasting from the inside out, with the aim to make the center gooey, so when you squeeze it between the grahams, you get that oozing of marshmallow over the sides.”
“And you needed to do research to figure that out?” she teases.
“If anything, I’m thorough.”
She laughs and shakes her head. Focusing on the fire in front of her and the rotation of her skewer, she says, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Anything.”
“What made you want to ask me out now? Why not after college? Why not a few years ago? Why now?”
“Honestly?” She nods. “Besides the fact that I had to lick and heal my wounds from your last rejection”—she rolls her eyes dramatically—“I wanted to make sure you were ready.”
“How would you even be able to tell I was ready?”
“Well, for one, I wasn’t going to ask you when you were still in college. The rejection was too fresh and you needed time to focus on your studies. And once you graduated and were pursuing your doctorate, I knew you didn’t have time to date, even though you had some shitty relationships here and there. I figured nothing would last long, and I didn’t want to end up in the graveyard of Julia’s past relationships. So I waited. I waited until you earned your doctorate and established your business, until you were ready to make time for yourself.”
“How did you know to wait?”
“Because I know your pers
onality, Jules. You’re determined, and nothing can or should stand in your way of getting what you want. Now that you have it all, I felt it was a perfect time to swoop in with my charm.” I wiggle my eyebrows. “When I saw you at Rath’s fundraiser, the light air about you, the breeziness in your step, I knew you were ready. So I devised a plan, and it just so happened to work out in my favor.”
“Just like everything does.”
“Is that sarcasm I hear?” I reach over and continue to rotate her skewer, reminding her of the magic touch.
“Maybe a little.” She bumps her shoulder with mine.
“Be honest, you like it.”
“Like what? That you’re not only good at everything but right about everything as well?”
“I’m not good at everything,” I drag out.
There is a skeptical look in her eyes when she looks me up and down. “Puh-lease, tell me one thing you don’t excel at? Hell, you’re even good at losing when you want to be.”
I wink at her. “It’s all about being strategic.”
“Come on.” She nudges me, causing my marshmallow to fall dangerously into the flames. I quickly adjust and give her a condemning look. She merely laughs. “Give me a glimpse into your faults.”
“You know, there really aren’t many.”
She gives me a pointed glare. “Humor me.”
“Even though I hate to admit what I least excel at, contrary to disbelief, I do have some areas in my life where I need improving . . .” She rolls her eyes but leans in, searching out information as if she’s a rabid dog looking for a feast. “In all honesty, I could be a better dresser.”
Her face falls flat, her lips parting. “You’re kidding, right?”
I shake my head and scan my outfit. “This is far too simple for someone of my status.”
“You’re absurd.” She shakes her head and tries to scoot away from me, but I quickly secure her by the waist and pull her in closer. “That is not a fault.”
I chuckle into her ear right before I place a soft kiss across her earlobe. “I like when you get all prickly with me.”
“Don’t test me, Bram. I can get a hell of a lot more prickly.”
“I can’t wait to see that.”
Once again she rolls her eyes at me and turns back to the fire, letting a silence fall between us.
I gnaw on the side of my cheek, trying to come up with a good answer to her question, one that would truly satisfy her appetite, because that is what Julia deserves. She doesn’t ask questions simply for the sake of information. She asks because she is genuinely interested, and that is one of the things I adore most about her.
And without another thought, it comes to me.
“I can’t grill.”
Julia turns toward me, and confusion mars her face. “You can’t . . . grill?”
“No.” Solemnly, I shake my head. “No matter how hard I try, I burn the fuck out of my meat. Want a little char on that burger? I’m the man for you.”
“That’s hard to believe. You were always hovering over the grill at the frat house.”
I grip her leg and give it a squeeze. “It’s all about perception, Jules. I did nothing at that grill and the guys knew it. I’m notorious for ruining a good piece of steak.”
“I don’t know. I think you’re going to have to prove it to me.”
I lift a quizzical brow in her direction. “Are you,” I pause for dramatics, “asking me out on a second date?”
Mirth lacing her features, she shakes her head. “I knew you wouldn’t make this whole dating thing easy on me.”
“What do you mean?” I bring our marshmallows to the prepared grahams.
She studiously watches my every move, the swipe of the marshmallow off the stick, the press of the graham into a sandwich. “You, Bram Scott, are going to tease me relentlessly, aren’t you?”
I offer her the perfect s’more and hold it before my mouth. “Teasing is just another form of foreplay. Expect a lot of it.”
With that, I bite into my s’more and carefully watch the intake of Julia’s breath and the lust brimming in her eyes. She might seem aloof or indifferent—and no doubt her role requires it—but when it comes down to it, she’s a bottle of passion ready to explode. And me? I’m the lucky fucking bastard who’s going to make her pop.
* * *
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I ask, playing with her hand in mine.
“Like a cocky man who knows he’s about to walk into my apartment.”
I eye the door and then turn back to Julia. “Well, you are going to invite me in, aren’t you?”
Chin pushed up to the air, a slight tilt to her head, she says, “No. No, I’m not.”
“Lies.” I take the keys from her hand, unlock her door, and guide us both into her apartment. With a swift kick of my foot, I slam the door and then turn back on Julia. “Would you like something to drink?”
“You know this is my apartment, right?”
I walk to the kitchen and open up her fridge. “I can’t offer you much, but what I do have might tickle your fancy.” I lift a bottle of orange juice and present it with an open palm. “This seems to be a twenty eighteen bottle of Florida’s finest.” I reach into the fridge and snag the gallon of milk as well. “Or I have a half-gallon of cow nectar. And I would be remiss not to mention New York City’s best hidden secret—tap water, poured straight from the faucet.” I gesture toward the sink.
No smile. No chuckle.
Not even a slight tug at her lips.
Instead, I get a giant eye-roll as she approaches me and puts the beverages back in the fridge.
“Ah, the lady goes with the tap water.”
“No.” She starts pushing at my back, thrusting me toward the door. “The lady is not having any guests tonight, therefore there will be no drinks served.”
I plant my heels into the ground, halting her pursuit to shun me away. “On the contrary, I heard you were accepting over-night visitors. Snuggle buddies. Cuddle pals. And since we’re dating and all, I figured I would be the one who answered your want ad.”
“There is no want ad.”
“That’s not what your eyes are saying right now.” I drape my arm around her shoulder and bring her to her couch. “Just hang out with me for a little. I’m not ready to say good night yet.”
The couch cushions envelop us as we both take seats together. I place my arm on the back of the couch and turn to face Julia, where I place my hand on her drawn-up leg and start to draw light circles with my thumb.
“See, this isn’t so bad.”
She rests her head against the cushion and stares up at me. “You don’t think this is weird at all?”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “It feels like this is where I was always supposed to be, next to you,” I answer in earnest, trying to show her how serious I am. “Why do you think it’s weird?”
“I don’t know. I can’t quite decide.” She reaches down and entwines my hand with hers. Staring at our connection she continues, “I know you so well, maybe too well, but then it also feels like you’re a stranger. But when we touch, when you’re near me, holding me, caressing me, it feels like we’ve been intimate for years.” She shakes her head. “I’m making no sense.”
I tip her chin up. “It’s a new chapter in our story, that’s all. It’s nothing to be worried about, but something to cherish, something to relish.”
With intrigue, she studies me. “You know, when you say things like that, it doesn’t remind me of the Bram Scott I know.”
“You’ll get to know the genuine Bram quickly, I can guarantee that.”
“Yeah?” She nibbles on her bottom lip. “Okay, tell me something super sensitive about you. Something the boys don’t even know.”
“Something sensitive?” She nods slowly. “What do I get if I tell you something about me? I mean, I am a businessman, so I’m going to need something in return.”
“I guess that’s fair.” She t
hinks about it for a second. “How about a kiss?”
“A kiss?” I rub my hands together. “Okay, where do I begin?”
She chuckles, and the sweet sound rolls up my spine, awakening every last inch of me . . . and I mean every last inch. “Who knows, if you divulge something really good, I might deliver more kisses.”
“Ah, I see where this is going.” I knowingly point at her. “You want to erase the frat-boy image from your mind and replace it with a sensitive piece of man meat, don’t you?”
She shakes her head. “No, I would never want to replace the boy I first met. I just want to add layers to him.”
Well fuck. When she says something like that, it sobers my sarcasm and makes me want to divulge every last secret I have.
I scoot a little closer, and with my hand that’s lined along the back of the couch, I pull on a strand of her hair and start to twirl it around my finger. She leans into my touch.
“You know those videos about animal rescues? The flea-ridden dogs stuck under a bridge?” She nods. “I don’t know why, but for some reason I always wind up watching them, and every time I cry like a little baby. Tears streaking down my eyes.”
“What?” She gives me a soft smile.
“Yeah, I cry and I cry hard. I mean . . . they’re just so hopeless and then this amazing human swoops in and gives them a doggy makeover, puts a Hawaiian shirt on them, and then all of a sudden they’re the happiest dog on the planet. It’s so goddamn inspiring. I end up donating money to the local shelters after every video I watch.”
“Really?”
I nod and then pucker up my lips. “Lay it on me, sweet thing.”
She sits up on her knees and moves in close, pressing her hand to my chest. “I watch those videos on occasion, and they get me too.” She lowers, mere inches from my mouth.
“You’re not human if you’re not affected by a flea-ridden dog who gets a second chance at life.”
“More like a sociopath.” Her nose touches mine. I move my hand down her back to just above her ass.
The Secret to Dating Your Best Friend’s Sister Page 24