by BJ Harvey
She giggles, shaking her head. “No, the lion tamer was already living with the male hippo curator.”
We both crack up laughing.
“So, Mr. Giraffe Keeper. What happened?”
She shrugs. “He wanted to take things to the next level and I—”
I arch a brow, trying to ignore the tight feeling in my chest. “The next level?”
“He asked me to move in with him, and I couldn’t do it.”
“Can I ask why?” My throat goes dry, my fingers gripping my glass. I take a gulp of water and lower it back to the table.
A small smile appears, and her muscles relax, her shoulders losing their tension. “Because—news flash, Bryant Cook—I’ve only ever lived with one man in my life who wasn’t a family member and I always held out hope he’d be the only one.”
“I…” I dip my chin, unable to stop my own wry grin. “I don’t know why that makes me feel better. But it does.”
She shrugs. “It is what it is. I never said I stopped loving you. Some habits are hard to break.”
“Okay,” I say, leaning forward. “Did you date to try and move on?”
“No. I just didn’t stop living my life when I was never sure I’d get another chance with you.” She reaches across the table and covers my free hand with hers. “I know I totally screwed this all up, and this isn’t a great lunch conversation, but I don’t want to hide anything from you. I was always going to come back for you. I never expected to end up married two days after seeing you again, but I’m stubborn and pig-headed enough to see this through, whatever the outcome may be.”
My head jerks back. “So even though you said ‘’til death do us part,’ you did it with the thought this may not end well?”
Her eyes widen, and she slides her hand back. “You proposed to me within ten minutes of seeing me again. If that was the only way to get a chance at being with you again—at finding out whether I was right in thinking I made the biggest mistake of my life in leaving you—then you can bet your ass I wasn’t going to turn you down.”
“I just can’t… I mean…” I’m lost for words, and that never happens. She quirks a brow, an unspoken challenge to express my thoughts on what she just said. I open my mouth to say something—anything—when I see Cohen and his EMT partner, Skye, walking toward us.
I meet his bright eyes, his smile turning to a confused frown as he obviously reads my mood. Never have I been happier to see one of my brothers.
“Hey,” he says, reaching the table and coming to stand beside me. “Hi, Faith.”
She smiles up at him. “Hey, Co,” she says softly. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” he replies, clapping me on the shoulder. “You guys here for the double cheeseburger too?”
I chuckle and spot the waitress heading toward us. “Yep. Thought I’d treat Faith to the best burger in Chicago.”
“I dunno. There are a few places that give it a good run for its money,” my brother says.
“You’d know.”
Faith turns to Skye, holding out her arm. “Hi. We haven’t met. I’m Faith, Bryant’s…” She bites her lip, her eyes sliding my way.
“Wife,” I say, enjoying the ownership of the word and Faith’s soft expression when I say it.
Skye shakes Faith’s hand, her gaze switching between us. “I’m Skye, Cohen’s work wife.”
“We’re on our lunch break and were in the area, so thought we’d swing by and grab something before we get another call out,” Cohen says. He moves to the other side of the table, looking over at his partner. “Should we sit down for a bit?” he asks Skye, just as the waitress reaches us.
She nods and once the waitress has put our plates down, takes the chair next to Faith.
“Damn, that smells so good,” Skye says, eyeing our food.
Co looks at Skye. “I’ll put our order in. What would you like, brat?”
She purses her lips before a grin appears. “Just the usual. Thanks, Cass.”
“Waffle fries?”
She shoots him a ‘duh’ look. “It’s like you don’t know me at all.”
“And a chocolate milkshake?” he asks.
“Is the Pope a Catholic?”
“You’d know,” he muses, earning a smirk, before walking away to order.
I stare at the back of him wondering where my brother has gone and who is the imposter left in his place with a nickname I haven’t heard before.
“Cass?” I ask, arching a brow at Skye.
She giggles and shakes her head. “Short for Casanova. He’s earned himself a bit of a rep at the firehouse.” My head jerks back and my eyes dart to my wife.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t wait.” Faith grabs the burger and lifts it to her mouth, taking a huge bite. Her eyes close as a quiet moan escapes her. Totally going to ignore what that sound does to me.
I push my basket of fries towards Skye. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks,” she replies cheerfully, plopping one in her mouth. “God, I love these. They’re even better with liquid cheese on them. And bacon bits… oooh and guac.”
“I take it you come here a lot?” I say with a chuckle.
“Just a bit,” she replies around a mouthful of fries. Her cheeriness is refreshing and a little infectious. It’s also the complete opposite of Cohen, which is probably why I’m finding their work partnership so amusing.
“This burger is so good,” Faith says. I nod as I chew my own mouthful.
“How’s work going, Skye? I hope my brother isn’t riding you too hard.”
The woman chokes, her eyes watering as she splutters and tries to recover. I’m starting to think young Skye has a dirty mind.
My gaze meets Faith’s amused one. “Oops,” she mouths. To Skye’s credit, she recovers quickly.
“He wishes. Cohen is a pushover when it comes to a woman who doesn’t swoon when he brings out the dimple.” I sense there’s a bit of a story there that I’ll need to question Co about later. What I do know is that my brother lives with our parents—which means no sleepovers—and he works as many hours as he can. So his work/life/love life balance is severely skewed, but it’s not like I’m in a position to judge.
“How about you guys? What have you been up to?” She turns to Faith. “You haven’t been back in town long, right? Cohen said something about you coming back for Jamie’s wedding and ending up getting married yourself?” Her eyes dart between the two of us. “Do I have that right?”
My lips twitch. Skye is a rambler, which is hilarious, considering Co isn’t a man of many words. I imagine she talks his ear off whenever they’re between call-outs.
“Yeah. I moved back a few days before the wedding and this guy,” she says, nodding my way, “decided to sweep me off my feet and take me off the market the first chance he got.”
I snort at her explanation. That’s definitely one way to describe it. I suppose it sounds better than me challenging my ex-girlfriend to put her money where her mouth is and marry me.
“Wow. That’s so romantic,” she says softly, her eyes going dreamy.
Faith laughs. “I definitely didn’t see it coming. How about you, hubby?”
I can’t help but grin; I like her calling me that. “Let’s just say it was a spur-of-the-moment decision.” One I’ve been thinking about my entire adult life.
“Still,” Skye says, grabbing another fry, “it’s pretty cool. Seeing someone after so long and knowing right then that you want to marry them.”
Well, when you put it like that…
“I don’t even know if I want to ever get married, let alone anytime soon. I can’t sort out my sex life, let alone my ‘forever’ life.”
It’s almost as if Skye’s thinking out loud. She definitely strikes me as a handful, and part of me wonders if that’s the kind of woman Cohen should go for. Not that he’d ever talk to any of us guys about his love life. She actually reminds me of my sister, and I wonder if that’s why Cohen kept Skye away from Abi at the end-of-flip
celebration we had for Jax’s Barbie Dreamhouse.
“Hey,” Cohen says, taking a seat. Speak of the devil. He reaches over and nabs some fries for himself before turning to Faith. “How did the car shopping go?”
She sighs. “I can’t decide. Every time I thought I’d found what I wanted, the salesman would suggest something else and confuse the hell out of me.”
Co bumps me with his elbow. “Remember when Jamie got his first truck, and you two and Jax ‘borrowed’ it to go to the lakefront?”
Faith gasps, covering her mouth, her shoulders shaking with laughter. “He was so mad. I swear he almost blew a gasket.”
“His face was so red I thought for sure he was gonna cause us real physical pain,” I say.
“Isn’t that when he ratted you out to the moms, and you were all on cleaning duty for both houses for weeks?” Co asks.
I grunt. “He was so no fun back then.”
Cohen snorts, shaking his head. “You say that like he’s fun now. He still doesn’t share his damn truck.”
“Says the only one of us without one.” My wide smirk earns me the bird.
“You guys have known each other for a while then?” Skye asks, wiping her mouth with a napkin.
Faith reaches out and roughs up Cohen’s hair. “Since this one was three years old.”
Skye’s brows go sky high. “Wow.”
“And yet, Faith Baker still can’t make up her mind about anything,” my brother says, rolling his eyes.
Faith freezes and I realize Cohen just hit a raw nerve. I wade in to divert the conversation back into safer waters.
“That’s why I decided burgers were needed—to clear the mind so she can make a decision,” I add.
“Am I that indecisive?” Faith asks.
Co and I look at each other before turning back to her. “Yes,” we say in unison.
“God, were you guys always this hot?” Skye says, gaining everyone’s attention. A side-glance at Cohen catches him rolling his eyes, while Faith giggles and I just shake my head.
“I grew up with all four Cook brothers, and let me tell you, the answer is yes, and my sister would agree with me.”
“Damn. How did you ever leave town with that around?” Skye asks with a giggle.
Faith’s gaze lazily slides across the table, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. She first does a quick up-and-down of Cohen, then of me. “I actually don’t know.” Her eyes flash with the intense determination I used to see all the time when we were young. “But I’m definitely not making that mistake again.”
Skye may not catch the meaning of Faith’s statement, but I do.
Obviously, so does Cohen. “Ah, so we better grab our order and get back on the road. I’ll call around to the house on Monday to help out,” my brother says.
I wave him off but can’t look away from my wife.
“What’s wrong? I thought they—” Skye starts to say.
“It’s a long story. I’ll explain in the rig.”
“But we didn’t say goodbye,” she says.
“I doubt they’d even hear you right now,” Cohen says with a chuckle before—I assume—they walk away.
“Do you mean it?” I ask Faith, my eyes locked with hers.
She doesn’t hesitate. “Every damn word. I’m not going anywhere.”
An hour and a half later, we’re walking out of the Ford dealership we visited earlier, my wallet a lot lighter, a dazed and slightly confused Faith by my side, and the keys to the brand-new white Mustang I just bought her clutched in her hand.
Stopping in front of the car, she looks down at it, her eyes wide with wonder. She turns toward me and closes the distance between us. Flattening her palms to my chest, she leans in, staring at me. She looks at her dream car then back again. “I can’t believe you did that,” she whispers, her voice thick. “I just…” A lone tear slides down her cheek, and I lose hold of any resistance I had. I cup her face, my thumb swiping the tear away as my eyes roam her face. Fuck, she’s beautiful.
“You’ve always wanted this car, ever since you drove Ezra’s when we came back from college that first summer.”
Her lips part, her breath catching. “I swear you have the memory of an elephant.”
“I remember everything about you,” I say, my voice rough. “But most importantly, now you’re my wife, I’m not going to let you go without because you don’t feel you should have your dream car.”
“It’s just not practical.”
“Fuck being practical. Life is too damn short.”
“Thank you, Bry.” She lifts up and brushes her mouth against mine. My hand on her hip grows a mind of its own and dips lower to cup her ass and hold her close. My lips part and her tongue slides against mine with purpose and promise. I lose any semblance of control—like I ever had any around her—and tangle my fingers in her hair and deepen the kiss, taking everything I can from her and groaning as she meets me stroke for stroke. When she whimpers into my mouth, it takes everything I have not to take her on the hood of her brand-new car.
A clearing throat breaks the moment, bringing me back to reality. We break apart, Faith’s hooded eyes, flushed cheeks and swollen lips my sole focus until George, the car salesman, interrupts us.
“Uh… sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Cook, I was wondering whether you needed anything else?”
Faith giggles and steps back, turning around to face the man who has miserable timing. I run a hand through my hair, my other arm dropping to discreetly adjust a somewhat disappointed body part of mine.
“We’re fine but thank you for all of your help. I can’t wait to drive Betsy home,” Faith says.
I freeze, my eyes bugging out at her. “Betsy?” I splutter. “You’re naming a car like this Betsy?” I wave a hand toward the vehicle with the new offensive name. “You need a better name than that.”
She grins and puts her hands on her hips in the universal women’s pose that spells trouble. “I’m sorry. Was it not my name on the papers?”
I clench my jaw and give a quick nod. “Then Betsy it is. Now I was going to let you drive her home,” she says, reaching down and running her palm over the hood, “but now I think Betsy and I need to get acquainted.” She turns back to the amused salesman. “Thank you for all of your help, George,” she says, shaking his hand. She spins around to face me. “And thank you, husband, for making my dreams come true.” Fuck that feels good. “But Betsy and I have a date.”
She walks around to the driver’s side door. “See you at home,” she says. Her smile is so huge, it’s almost blinding. Her eyes are bright with excitement, and I love that I was the one to help put it there.
“You’ve got your hands full with that one,” George says with a grin, both of us watching as Faith and Betsy drive down the road.
“The woman or the car?” I ask.
“Both,” he says, turning to me and slapping my back. “Good luck, man. I think you’re gonna need it.”
With the memory of Faith’s lips on mine, her taste on my tongue, and the look of sheer delight in her eyes, somehow, I think he’s right.
10
Faith
It’s ‘move into your husband’s bedroom’ day, and I’m sitting at the dining table, steaming mug of coffee in hand, with a fresh pot ready for Bryant whenever he wakes up. The contractors are ready to strip back the rest of the house, leaving us with a barely-there kitchen, a couch, a TV on the floor, and a master bedroom and flimsy bathroom. It’s pretty much like our first studio apartment back in college.
Twenty minutes later, Bryant walks into the dining room, freezing when he sees me. He does a double-take, looking back out the way he came before turning back to me. “I’m sorry. Have I walked into an alternate dimension where Faith Baker is a morning person?”
I roll my eyes at him. “I’m Faith Cook now remember. It’s even all official at work and everything.”
He opens his mouth and stops. “Already?”
I nod. “Well that is my name now, isn’t
it?” I tilt my head, wondering if I read him completely wrong. “I always said I couldn’t wait to become Mrs. Bryant Cook.”
“Yeah… but then—”
“Then is in the past.” It isn’t, we both know that, but I’m not going to risk starting the day off on the wrong foot. “Present-day Faith Baker distinctly remembers saying I do, and taking your name is something that I know is important to you, which makes it important to me.”
He stares at me, his eyes burning with such intensity, I’m tempted to look down to make sure I haven’t been scorched alive. “You’re lucky then.”
“Why’s that?”
“Mom called and asked if we’d like to go over for a low-key BBQ this afternoon? She apologized for the late notice but said it wasn’t anything too fancy.”
“I’d love to. I mean, if you’re okay with going.”
“Is my name Bryant Cook? I was born to love Mom’s cooking. Besides, she said it was in my health’s best interests to have at least one nutritional meal a week.” His grin widens when my jaw hits the ground.
I narrow my eyes when he seems a bit too pleased with himself. “Did she actually say that?”
“No, but your reaction was priceless,” he says, laughing.
I shake my head with a grin. “I’m totally getting you back for that, you know?”
His eyes shine. “Looking forward to it, babycakes.” He moves into the kitchen, grabbing the mug I left out for him and pouring himself a cup of coffee. After turning back around, he leans against the counter and takes a sip. My eyes drifting down his body, enjoying the way the muscles in his forearms extend and contract.
“You okay there? You look a bit flushed.” My head snaps up and meets an amused and—dare I say—heated gaze.
“Yeah, I’m absolutely fine.” I’m not going to apologize for checking him out. It’s not like I haven’t caught him getting his fill a few times over the past week. Sharing a bed is definitely going to be interesting.
Since I kissed him last week, unfortunately, there hasn’t been any more physical contact. We’ve sat on the couch and watched mindless TV at night, and our legs might have touched, but on that drive home in Betsy, I decided that I need Bry to make the next move, whatever that may be. Call it a need for validation on my part, but sometimes a girl likes to be taken, and sometimes she likes to do the taking. This time, the ball is in my husband’s court.