A Model Romance (True Love Book 3)

by Anne, Betsy

  We pull up outside the station right before lunchtime. The small downtown is buzzing with visitors and shoppers, Thanksgiving being tomorrow. When we walk in the front doors, I’m hit with an incredible smell. It’s either chili or soup of some kind simmering on a stove. A female officer greets us warmly, seeing the food, and invites us in.

  “Hi! Can I help you?” she says as she eyeballs our dessert-laden arms.

  “Yes, thank you,” Mel says, as she passes two of the pies over to her. “These are for the whole station, but we’re really here to see Wickham. Is he free?”

  “Goodness, thank you. Whatever he did to deserve all this must have been pretty special. Hey, Wick! You have visitors!” She motions for us to follow her into the kitchen.

  We put down our goodies, and she invites us to sit. I look up, and I see him walking toward us. I recognize his body, but I never got a chance to really see his face. He was wearing sunglasses the first time we met, and I don’t remember the second encounter at all. Wow, is he gorgeous. He looks like he should be in one of those firemen pin-up calendars. Broad shoulders, dark wavy hair and a chiseled face. He could model in a second. He gets closer and I have a flash of recognition when I see his eyes. They’re a beautiful bright green, and I sense that I remember this from talking to him on the train. Something just feels familiar and comforting about them.

  He smiles when he sees Melanie, and then he looks over at me and his face seems to light up when we connect. He has deep dimples, and I remember those, too. He must have made quite an impression on me for these memories to be coming back from my blackout. God, my blackout: I feel my cheeks flush with shame thinking about how I must have looked that morning. That was the last time he saw me.

  “’Ello, Melanie,” he says with his chopped accent, “it’s so nice to see you. How’s the wee one?”

  Dear God, I’m melting in my seat. I see what Melanie was talking about with his accent. It’s definitely there, but he’s trying to hide it. If there’s anything in the world more appealing that a hot man with a Scottish accent, it doesn’t come to mind right now.

  “She’s just fine, Wickham, thank you for asking. Don’t you worry, we know just where she is!” Mel laughs at our painful history of losing her child and him finding her not once, but twice.

  “She’s a beauty, she is. I can see that good looks run in the family,” he says, staring into my eyes. I feel sweat begin to bead up on my neck and chest. The crappiest part of being a redhead: emotions show on your skin pretty quickly. My face has to be redder than it was before. It’s burning, so I try to cool it off by jutting out my bottom lip and giving a quick blow. It musses my bangs, but I don’t care. I must look like I’m sitting in a sauna.

  “You remember my sister, Rebecca, don’t you?” Mel asks with a bit of a giggle. Neither time that we met would I consider myself at my best.

  “Of course. ‘Ello Rebecca.” He clears his throat like he’s attempting to erase the words. “I mean, Becca. You introduced yourself to me on the train with that name, then you said you hated it. Asked me to call you Becca.”

  He offers his hand for me to shake. I place mine in his, and it’s warm and rough. Just the way a man’s hands should feel.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Wickham. Well, I mean, for real this time.” I sound like a bumbling idiot. I feel so many emotions right now, not the least of which is pure lust. I’m embarrassed, and ashamed as well. “I’m sorry if I was a little out of it when we met on the train. I had been out with friends the night before. That’s not something I do on a regular basis.”

  Mel chimes in.

  “Yeah, she’s only an amateur alcoholic. We came here today to say thank you for all you’ve done for us. You were kind not to rat out my sister that she had lost Lou that day. I guess I can’t say much on that subject myself, but we felt like we owed you a family apology and a thank you. I am a much more responsible parent than it would appear. My husband, Brian, also sends his thanks and he has invited you to come to the Bears next home game if you’re free.”

  I never heard Brian say any such thing. I know what she’s doing, and I don’t mind in the least. In fact, I’ll hug and kiss her when we leave.

  “I’m generally off on Sundays, and I’d love to do that. I’m a big fan of the Bears and your husband. Do you go to the games?” he asks, looking at me again.

  “I do. Usually I go to help with the kids so Melanie can focus on watching the game, but I do love football.”

  He continues to stare at me, and his eyes pierce into my soul. He looks thoughtful as he takes in my face. It almost feels out of place to have such an intimate connection in such a public setting. I know Mel is taking it all in as well. She doesn’t miss a thing.

  He walks us out to the parking lot to say goodbye. Melanie hops in the car quickly, and he and I are standing alone on the sidewalk. I’ve regained some of my composure, so I feel a bit more at ease.

  “Thank you, again, for everything you’ve done. I’m really embarrassed for my behavior on the train. Even though I don’t recall it, my friend tells me you were very kind. I wish I could remember our conversation,” I say quietly, I don’t want anyone walking past to overhear that humiliating story.

  “Trust me, Becca, it was my pleasure. I have to admit, when I ran into your sister, I was grateful to find out that you weren’t Lou’s mother. You talked about her endlessly, and after seeing the two of you together the first time we met, and then in the ad on the train, I just assumed you were married.” His eyes sparkle as he speaks.

  “No, just the aunt. Not married, no kids, just me.” I couldn’t be throwing innuendo at him any harder if I tried.

  “Well, given that bit of good news, may I take you to dinner sometime?”

  Yes!

  “I’d like that.” I pull one of my business cards out of my purse, and hand it to him. “My cell and email are there. Give me a call.”

  “I will. Thank you for the sweets, and for coming by. I was really hoping we’d run into each other again. I’ll speak to you soon, Becca.”

  “OK, Wickham. It was very nice to finally meet you properly.”

  “You can call me Wick,” he says, and leans in to formally kiss my cheek, very formally. His breath is warm, and he smells so manly. My pheromones are flowing like Niagara Falls.

  I leave him with a smile, and get in the car. He stays in place and watches as we drive away. Whoa.

  Melanie can’t help herself, she begins to babble almost the second we depart.

  “Jesus, Becca! He is even more gorgeous than I remembered! He is very smitten with you, I can tell. What did he say? Did you like that I asked him to a game?” Her stream of verbal consciousness continues the entire way home. I’m in a dream state, barely registering anything she’s saying. I don’t care, I want to sit quietly and ponder the memory of his gorgeous face.

  Chapter 7

  Wickham and I have been texting and talking on the phone a lot over the last week. The Bears have a home game on Sunday, so we’re making plans to go. We haven’t been able to have a one-on-one date yet due to his work schedule. All the public safety officers are trained as police, firefighters and paramedics, but most of his background in is firefighting, and that seems to be where his allegiance lies.

  I’ve always been more attracted to powerful business men type, rather than the stereotypical, “I’m at your rescue” knight-in-shining-armor kind of guys. But, now I get it. Boy, do I ever get it. I’d climb headfirst into a burning building to have an excuse to be in his muscled arms.

  We agree to meet up at the stadium, and then Wick and I will go for dinner, just the two of us, after the game. Brian was happy that Melanie decided to invite him. He wants to get to know any man who can woo his daughter so easily. Lou must have good instincts. Let’s just hope she keeps that keen sense when she starts to date.

  Wick is very easy to talk to, and our conversations have been nice. He comes across as intelligent, soft-spoken and polite, not always the imag
e of most Scottish men. I could listen to him speak all day and night. His accent, which he so cutely tries to hide, is extremely sexy. If he had any clue what effect it has on women, I don’t think he’d be so quick to conceal it.

  I’m really looking forward to getting to know him on a personal level. He’s spoken of his family in general terms-one brother and his parents, all still living in the area-but that’s all I’ve gotten. I’ve blabbed and blabbed about my life, my family and, of course, Baby Lou. The only thing he would disclose about our conversation on the train was how much I went on and on about her. That’s why he was convinced she was my daughter. He won’t divulge any more than that, though. He laughs it off, and says he’ll tell me another time. I’ve wracked my brain trying to remember that morning in general, to no avail.

  The Bears have a large suite available for the players’ wives and families at the stadium for home games. Reserved seats in the section in front of the suite are also available for those family members to sit in the elements, too. Mel and her kids, Katie and her kids, and I arrive at the stadium like a giant entourage. I keep Lou in my arms so she doesn’t wiggle away from us in the crowd. She has given up on the stroller, so it means one of us is holding or chasing her whenever we go out. The boys are excited about the game. The Bears are doing well, and they’re proud to watch Brian do his thing.

  I see Wick before he sees us, and my mouth starts to water. He’s leaning against the concrete wall, one foot up resting against it, and looking down at his phone. He’s wearing tight Levi’s 501 jeans, a vintage Bears sweatshirt and a nice pair of black leather work boots. He looks up as we approach, hearing the kids voices I’m sure, and he throws us a huge smile. His eyes are masked by a pair of dark aviator sunglasses that complete the panty-melting look. I see other women gawking at him as they walk by, and I would too, but he doesn’t seem to notice. If they had any idea he was a fireman with an accent they’d be throwing themselves at him like a pack of wolves.

  “What a fine looking group you have there. Thanks for the invitation, Melanie, I can’t think of a better way to spend a Sunday,” he says, as he approaches our chaos.

  Lou sees him and squeals. She wrestles to be free, so I let her down and she toddles over to him. Melanie stands in awe, especially because these days Lou won’t go near anyone except me, her and Brian. He picks her up and tickles her belly.

  “Hi, little lass. Staying out of trouble?” he says to her as she giggles.

  Melanie greets him first, and tries to take Lou out of his arms.

  “I’m sorry, Wick. She clearly has a thing for you,” she says as she removes an unhappy Lou from his arms. He seems embarrassed.

  “Well, I do for her as well. I guess I have a soft spot for the beautiful ladies,” he says, looking right at me with a closed-mouth grin.

  I think I’m blushing again, and he notices. He lowers his face and smiles. I hope that means he’s pleased with my reaction to him. Mel, Katie and the kids are already walking ahead to give us some space. He guides me ahead, his hand resting gently on my lower back.

  “I’ve been looking forward to this all week. I’ve enjoyed our phone conversations, but I couldn’t wait to see you again. You’re even more lovely than memory does justice,” he says, warmly in my ear.

  All I can do is smile; he renders me speechless.

  We get to the suite, and it’s packed with people. Mel finds us a good spot to make camp, and gets the kids situated with food and drinks. Wick and I go to the bar and grab beers for the rest of us.

  Mel has struggled to bond with most of the other wives. They’re a mixed bag of snobs, gold diggers and real women. Most of the “real” women want to watch the game instead of schmooze so we grab some seats next to them. The others are decked out in six-inch stilettos and sporting diamonds bigger than my head. Two teenage girls, along with Katie’s daughter, Grace, offer to watch Lou. She’s not happy about the shadowing, but they do a good job of keeping their eyes on her so Mel can relax.

  “Cheers! Let’s kick some ass today!” Mel shouts, and we lift our beers in agreement.

  Wick and I take the seats on the end so we can have as much privacy as the venue will allow. At least with the noise, we can talk without Melanie and Katie hearing every word.

  The game is a nail biter, but the Bears pull it out for the win. Brian has a good game, so Mel and the boys are happy. I had fun, but I’m ready for some one-on-one time with Wick. As soon as the clock ticks to zero, I pop out of my seat.

  “That was fun! We’ll see you guys later, Wick and I are going to dinner,” I say, and I notice that he’s still drinking his beer and looks surprised at my abruptness.

  “Oh, OK. I thought I was going to meet the guys.” I know he’s referring to seeing Brian and Jason, but there’s plenty of time for that another day. I want him alone, now, it’s been slow torture sitting next to him all day.

  He downs the rest of his beer, makes his rounds to thank everyone he’s met. He’s nothing if not polite. He’s very social as well, and seems to able to communicate seamlessly with all kinds of people.

  “I’m sorry to drag you out of here so quickly, but if we don’t leave now we could be here for hours. You never know how long interviews and post-game stuff will take,” I say, hoping he’ll understand why I seem so rude.

  “No apology necessary. I’m ready to have you to myself for the evening. I’ll just have to remember to thank Brian the next time I see him. Since we’re on this side of town, I had an idea for dinner. Are you game?”

  “Of course! Lead the way.” I’m intrigued.

  He takes me to an intimate, hole-in-the-wall place not far from the stadium. From the outside it’s nothing but a brick building with a crumbling façade, but on the inside it is spectacular: A small dining room, with a couple of dozen tables for two. Two blues musicians are playing softly in the dimly lit corner. This is already my favorite restaurant in Chicago, and I haven’t eaten a thing. It almost feels too intimate for a first date. It seems like someplace for an anniversary or proposal. It might be difficult for us to have the mandatory “getting to know you” conversation in a room this quiet. It does reek of romance, though.

  “This place is beautiful, Wickham, how did you ever find it?” I ask, praying that he doesn’t say he takes all of his first dates here.

  “My parents have been coming here for years for special occasions. They don’t like to venture to the city very much, but this place is special to them. I didn’t realize it would be so, cozy. It’s my first time here, so I didn’t really know what to expect. We can go somewhere else if you’d like.”

  Oh, that accent. It sneaks in every few sentences, and I love it.

  “I’m fine with it if you are. Probably better you can’t see me in harsh lighting after sitting outside at a football game all day!” I say, intended as humor, but he doesn’t take it that way. He places his right hand on my cheek, and strokes it with his thumb.

  “Miss Rebecca, you’re glowing. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you all day. The sun shining on your beautiful hair and face was hypnotic. I was trying my best not to be too obvious, but I know your sister caught me a few times,” he says as he continues to caress my cheek.

  There’s something about him that’s different. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s an inner quiet about him. His honesty is refreshing. I can’t believe he would admit to all that, so early on. Maybe he wanted to beat Mel to the punch. Good call, too, because I know when I’m alone with her next, she’ll most definitely bring it up. As the strong, independent woman that I am, I’m a little embarrassed to admit-even to myself-that I feel safe around him. If I were in danger, I feel as if he would throw me over his shoulder and fight his way to our safety. It’s not just his brawn that makes me feel that way, it’s the way he carries himself: Confident, but not cocky; strong, but not aggressive.

  “You’re very sweet, thank you.” Normally when a guy says something like he just did, you know it’s a li
ne. Usually I would have countered with something sarcastic. With him, I wouldn’t dare. He means every word, and I’m grateful for the compliment.

  He speaks to the maître d’, and we’re led to a table in the corner, away from the music. He seats us, lights the candle on our small table and motions for the waiter to bring over a bottle of wine. Impressive.

  “I made reservations after we made our plans for the game. I hope you like Prosecco. It’s a nice way to start a meal.”

  I didn’t expect him to be quite so nuanced. A small-town public safety officer who knows wine isn’t someone you meet everyday. Another thin layer of his personality is peeled back for me to see.

  “I do like it, very much, actually, thank you.”

  The waiter pours a small sip into Wick’s glass, and Wick hands it over to me.

  “The lady should taste it first. If she doesn’t like it, we won’t keep it,” he says jokingly, but it’s a kind gesture.

  I taste it and it’s delicious, so I nod to the waiter for more. He makes quick work of filling our glasses and pleads his case for us to try the chef’s menu, which is a sampling of the chef’s creations for the day. Each small course takes a while to prepare, so we’re in for a nice long meal.

  Wick dives right in, asking question after question about me and my family. He’s fascinated by my modeling stories. He listens and engages with great interest; he’s so easy to talk to. Trying to get the same information out of him isn’t quite so easy. He confirms what I already knew from our phone calls, that he has one brother, and parents who live in the suburb of Midlothian, south of the city. He seems well-practiced in turning the conversation away from himself and back onto others. It’s a first date, so I don’t want to push into territory he’s not comfortable with.

  With some subtle prodding, I do find out that he went to college on a baseball scholarship, as did his brother. He was a catcher and his brother, Lachlan, was a pitcher. Lachlan is a year older, and Wick speaks of him with a smile, so it seems like they’re close. That’s all I learn before our food begins to arrive in streams. It’s all extremely rich and delicious, and the conversation turns to food appreciation.