by A. J. Pine
He pivoted to face his friend who had his hands crossed over his chest. Jeremy gave him an I give zero fucks grin.
“I’ll shut whatever the hell I want, Hartley, and you’re going to tell me about this well-kept secret of yours.”
Wes pushed past him, grabbing his helmet and jacket from the spot where he’d stashed them behind the bar.
“I’ll fill you in if anything comes of it,” he said. “But it’s still too early to tell.”
Because he didn’t want to put himself on the auction block for other women. Despite his and Annie’s arrangement, it just felt wrong. He wasn’t ready to fuck things up between them. It had been so easy to walk away from the others, and though he and Annie held each other at a distance in public, there was an invisible tether between them, one he wouldn’t sever with something as ridiculous as a bachelor auction.
Then he was out the door and on his bike.
Wes had an hour to kill before he had to make good on his promise for his dinner date, and the only place he felt even remotely sane these days was in the writing. He was a dick for not stopping by the shop today—or the two days before that. It was, after all, on his way. But he couldn’t shake the intensity of what happened between him and Annie Thursday night. So instead, he sat down at his laptop and hammered at the keys.
It was Jack and Evie’s first time, too, but he was going to do for his hero what he wasn’t able to do for himself. Jack would keep it casual, stay detached. Wes wouldn’t burden him with the confusion of wanting someone so much he physically ached when he wasn’t with her. He wasn’t going to put Jack in a position of letting Evie demolish him.
Annie said the book had hope, unlike Down This Road. In the early pages, she’d said Jack was opening himself up to the possibility of something more with Evie, something she hadn’t seen in the first book. But Wes suddenly felt his hope spring was tapped. Tonight would prove that, when he came face-to-face with the one person who’d had the power to restore that hope for years yet never had.
He set his alarm on his phone since he knew he’d get lost in the words, so when a knock sounded on the door, he startled and thought he’d missed the warning bell.
“Christ,” he whispered, then laughed softly to himself. He checked his phone. He’d been writing straight for the past forty-five minutes, but he wasn’t late.
“Just a sec,” he called to whoever was on the other side of the door, expecting to find a parcel delivery or some other benign visitor. But Annie stood on the other side of the door in her leather jacket and a green cardigan over a black T-shirt that said when i think about books, i touch my shelf in white lettering. He wanted to chuckle at the shirt, but she was going to kill him with the green, reminding him of that emerald bra and panty set, the material soaked against her body as she stepped into the shower with him.
He cleared his throat.
“Annie. Hey. I was just on my way out.”
She brushed past him and into the apartment, so he closed the door and followed her in. Apparently she was on a mission.
“I could have used my key, you know,” she said.
Right. This was her brother’s apartment.
“Okay…” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
She tugged at the bill of her knit cap but didn’t take it off.
“I’m just here to grab this apple cider mix Jeremy got for me when he was in Wisconsin this weekend. Don’t let me keep you.”
She slipped into the kitchen and came out a few seconds later with a small shopping bag in her hand.
“Tabitha’s closing tonight,” she said. “So, I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”
As quickly as she’d breezed in, she was practically out the door. The words left his mouth before he could think them through.
“I’m having dinner with my father,” he said. “That’s where I’m going.”
She spun from where she stood in the already open doorway.
“Oh,” she said, her expression softening. She was clearly upset about something, but she wasn’t about to say it.
“It’s a lot to get into right now,” he said.
“It’s fine,” she blurted. “Not my business. Have a nice dinner.”
She turned to the open door again, but Wes grabbed her hand.
“Come with me,” he said.
She stopped and let him pull her toward him. Fuck. It had only been a few days, but he missed having her this close—close enough to touch. To smell that sweet vanilla.
“That sounds kind of like a date,” she said, her expression unreadable.
He let out a bitter laugh. “If it is, it’s the worst date imaginable. I’d turn me down right now. Robert Hartley can cook spaghetti as well as anyone else, but I promise he’ll probably burn the garlic bread and serve it with a side of bitter resentment.”
The ghost of a smile tugged at her lips.
“And you want me there for spaghetti and resentment?”
He nodded. He really did. It wasn’t just because he wanted a buffer. Being next to her calmed him. He’d been dreading walking out that door yet knew he had to man up already. It wasn’t a battle of Hartley wills if one party didn’t even know the game was being played.
“Yeah,” he said. “If you can’t think of another way to spend your Monday night.”
She shrugged and took a step closer. He could dip his head and kiss the top of hers if he wanted. And he fucking wanted. But he hadn’t seen her since she left him in her bed to go to work late Friday morning. Like an asshole, he’d feigned sleep until she left.
“Annie—” he added, but she slapped a hand over his mouth.
“You don’t owe me an explanation, Wes. Our arrangement doesn’t require explanations.”
Except it did. Especially after that night—after telling her about the book. He owed her so much more than disappearing for three days, but he was a chickenshit when it came to her—to what he knew he felt but couldn’t say. She was letting him off too easily. And because he liked easy, he was going to let her.
He pressed his lips to her open palm. When she didn’t flinch, he laid his hand on top of hers, kissing her warm skin again.
“Is that a yes?” he asked, lowering her hand.
She nodded.
“You got yourself a date,” she said, her lips parting into a soft smile.
“The worst date ever.”
She laid her hands on his cheeks.
“Silly, silly boy,” she said. “How can it possibly be bad if it’s with me?”
He blew out a long breath and let his shoulders relax, not realizing how tense he was until that moment.
“Gimme two seconds. I just have to save this file.”
He turned back toward his laptop on the coffee table. He did a quick save and closed the computer.
“Getting close?” she asked, following him over and resting on the chair.
He nodded as he stepped past her in the other direction, grabbing his jacket from his room. When he was in front of her again, he did what he’d been wanting to do since she walked in. He kissed her, and she didn’t hesitate to kiss back, opening her mouth and inviting him in. He let himself have these few moments of peace before he walked into the lion’s den.
God, she tasted good, like cinnamon, vanilla, and warmth—and Annie. She had a flavor all her own; one that even though she was here, in his arms, giving him exactly what he needed, he craved more of.
“I really don’t want to leave this apartment,” he said, groaning at the thought.
“If I didn’t think it was beyond important that you did,” she said, her breathless voice driving him fucking mad, “then I’d be talking you out of it so quickly you wouldn’t know what hit you.”
He laughed, forcing himself to take a step back.
“I know exactly what hit me,” he said. “A fucking tornado called Annie Denning.”
Her cheeks were flushed and her lip gloss smeared just outside the line of her plump lips. She grinned at him, a
nd it struck him that he put that smile there, that he had the power to make someone else happy. That he wanted that responsibility—of making Annie Denning happy.
“Maybe you’re not in Kansas anymore,” she said.
She was teasing him. He knew she was. But her gaze held something more than the playful glint he was used to. Or maybe that was him—feeling more than he expected.
Because ever since she blew into his life—or, he guessed he kind of blew into hers—he’d been knocked so far off his axis he wasn’t sure he could right himself.
And now he wasn’t sure he even wanted to anymore.
“No, Emerald City,” he said. “Kansas is long gone.”
Chapter Twenty
Annie had thought of every excuse in the book to avoid riding the bike.
Not in a cocktail dress.
She preferred walking.
She liked to ride the L.
Taxis were fun!
The helmet wouldn’t fit over her hat.
She only rode motorcycles every other Monday but never twice in the same month.
Also, Wes needed to stop referring to it as a bike. A bike had pedals for your feet. Colorful tassels that hung from the handles. And possibly a cute little basket up front to carry your books. Who cared if her perfect version of a bike sounded like something off a five-year-old’s Christmas list? At least it was a legitimate definition.
But what she stood before now had only one similarity to her Huffy. A kickstand.
Sure, she showed up at the apartment to pick up her cider from Jeremy, but she chose a time when she knew Jeremy wouldn’t be there and hoped Wes would. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but dinner with his father was definitely not on the list.
Yeah. She had nothing at the moment. No witty comeback or madcap excuse that might work.
“How much does it weigh?” she asked.
Wes grinned. “Five hundred sixty-five pounds of pure, sleek, leather-topped beauty.”
Five hundred sixty-five pounds of metal beneath said leather that would crush her when they crashed. If they crashed. No, she was pretty sure it was when.
He handed her a helmet, but before she could argue, he snagged the knit cap from her head and stuffed it in a case that was strapped next to the seat.
Guess his bike does have a basket.
“You don’t have to ride,” he said. “I’ll take a cab if it makes you more comfortable, but there’s no way I’m getting in your passenger seat again.”
She grabbed on to the helmet and stared at it for several seconds. He was teasing her about their drive home from Bliss, but there was a slight edge to his tone, one she could tell he was trying to mask. She remembered how freaked out he was when she pulled into the Starbucks lot. Whatever was going on that morning, he sucked it up for her. She’d do the same, now, and suck it up for him.
Their eyes met again.
“But, Annie,” he added, “you’re safe with me. I would never let anything happen to you.”
Her stomach plummeted. It was as if she was on the Giant Drop at Six Flags, freefalling from hundreds of feet in the air. Yet the last time she checked, she was on solid ground. Something about Wes Hartley, though, pulled the rug out from under her.
She believed him, that he’d keep her safe—on the bike. She just wasn’t so sure about her heart.
“Okay, then,” she said. “I trust you.”
He helped her fasten her helmet before putting on his own. He showed her how to position her legs so they stayed clear of the muffler. And then he climbed in front of her and reached behind to grab her arms and wrap them around his waist.
“Don’t let go, okay?”
She squeezed him tight and pressed her helmet to his back. No way in hell she was letting go.
Whenever they hit a red light or stop sign—which felt like every thirty seconds—Annie sucked in a breath and gripped Wes tighter. At least the weather was cooperating, a balmy fifty degrees even as the sun set. At the light just before Lake Shore Drive, he did a quick check-in, making sure she was okay. She lied and nodded, though she was sure he knew it. Annie just had to remind herself that once they got on the drive, it was only about five miles north to Edgewater. And to Wes’s childhood home.
Suddenly she wasn’t so afraid of the journey. The destination, though. That sure as hell freaked her out.
The light turned green, and Wes rubbed her thigh before grabbing the handles of the bike and opening it up onto the expressway.
The force of the movement threw Annie back against the tiny seat rest and she gasped. She’d lost her grip and had to scramble to gain purchase, but she did in seconds.
You’re safe with me.
She repeated the words inside her helmet like a mantra. Wes knew what he was doing. He’d stop the bike if anything was wrong…right?
She pressed her cheek to his back. Well, as much as she could while wearing the cumbersome helmet. When she realized she’d been squeezing her eyes shut, she forced them open and understood what her fear was doing. It was making her miss out.
Come to think of it, she’d been missing out on a lot. Like feeling the way she felt about the man in front of her. And admitting it to herself.
Lake Michigan rolled out before her eyes, a blue blanket spread as far as she could see. It was early October, which meant daylight saving time hadn’t yet stolen their sunlight. So she breathed out a long sigh and took it all in. The beach where she’d spent her summers for as long as she could remember. The path where people took advantage of the lingering autumn warmth to jog along the water or walk their dogs. She wondered if she and Wes had ever been on that same sand at the same time, clueless that a decade later he’d be spending nights in her bed. Or that she’d be here, on the back of his motorcycle, on their way to a family reunion he had clearly been avoiding.
But he wanted her there. And she wanted to be there. And she certainly didn’t want to miss out on anything anymore.
She relaxed against him for the rest of the ride. When they finally pulled up in front of a narrow, yellow brick building on a quiet tree-lined street, Annie had forgotten she was on the bike. She also forgot that once the vehicle stopped, she was supposed to let go.
Or maybe it was just that she didn’t want to.
Wes took off his helmet and ran a hand through his hair. Then he rested that free hand on top of the two that were still clasped around his waist and squeezed.
And that’s all it took, one tiny gesture to make her see that as much as she’d thought him the one with the walls to break down, she’d constructed barriers of her own. Annie loved the books she read—the happily ever afters and the hope that love could conquer all. But in the back of her mind, no man could live up to her expectations. She saw that now—the reason why she seemed to play it safe, always ending up with men she wasn’t sad to see leave. Did Brett hurt her? Yes. Did she miss him? No. It was like a tiny part of her always knew he wasn’t the one, but wasn’t it safer to know she’d survive the fallout of however their relationship ended?
Her eyes widened under the helmet, and she was grateful for the privacy, grateful for a private moment to have her revelation.
She’d never let anyone in who was real. What a hypocrite she was for giving Wes shit about a book that didn’t end in a happily ever after when Annie preferred the fictional heroes to reality. What did it matter that she’d dated men, that she’d lost them, when she didn’t care for them like she should have in the first place?
Like she cared for Wes.
Shit, she was in trouble.
She unsnaked her arms from his torso and removed her own helmet. He hopped off and grabbed it from her, fastening both to hooks on the back of the bike, while she just sat there wondering what her next move should be.
Did she tell him she loved him before they headed into the building? He’d just avoided her for three days, and now she was going to barge in on important family business and drop this kind of news? Probably not the best idea.
It’s not like he was saying anything, either. So the moment hung in the air, ignorant of time, until he or she released them from this suspended animation.
Annie reached for his face and pulled it to her own, kissing him hard and deep, his stubble scratching her jaw. She slipped her tongue between his lips, and he clasped his hands behind her neck, fingers tangling in her hair.
This. This was the moment she’d like to infinitely suspend. She felt his kiss from her lips all the way to the tips of her toes and back again. She let him fill all the spaces she’d kept locked away, hoping that maybe he was letting her do the same. A kiss like this couldn’t be one-sided, so she crossed her fingers that everything they were leaving unsaid was being spoken without words.
You’re brilliant and talented, she said as her tongue tangled with his.
You’re broken, and that’s okay. I won’t try to fix you, but I’ll be here for you when you’re ready. She brushed her lips along his jaw.
You’re sexy and delicious, and I want to kiss you every time I see you. She laughed softly as she did just that.
And finally, because she knew they’d have to part and face what they came here to face, I’m in love with you. That’s what her lips spoke with the last kiss.
“Are you ready?” she said aloud, and Wes backed up enough so she could see his blue eyes blazing into hers.
“I am now,” he said, his voice rough and at the same time full of something she hoped was recognition.
I just gave you my heart, Wes. Please be careful with it.
He helped her off the bike and onto the sidewalk in front of the building.
“You’re my parking good luck charm,” he said. “This is it.”
He nodded toward the yellow brick.
She laughed again.
“What?” he asked.
She shook her head, trying to talk herself out of connecting dots that might not be there.
“A yellow brick building,” she said. “Are we following the yellow brick road?”