Kissing The Hero (The Dangers of Dating a Diva Book 2)

by Christina Benjamin

  I could do this. Just tell him you’re not interested in him that way.

  Except that I was!

  Before I knew it, the next sentence was out of my mouth. “I think that’s best, at least until after the competition’s over. It’s only one more week. After that we can reevaluate things.”

  I laughed nervously even though I wanted to crawl under the seat. Wyatt would have to be blind not to see how easily his sexiness flustered me. Why had I just humiliated myself? There was no way he’d want a girl like me.

  His slow smirk slid back into place and he stretched his arm across the seatback like he hadn’t a care in the world. He rolled to a stop at the next stop sign and turned toward me, hitting me with the full power of his gorgeous green eyes.

  My breath caught.

  “You’re right. It’s only a week, Penny Layne. If you’re asking me to wait, I can wait.” And then he winked, driving again like he hadn’t just left my heart on the side of the road back there with his astonishing declaration.

  I melted into my seat, warmth spreading through me from head to toe.

  He could wait?

  I didn’t even have words for how that made me feel.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Wyatt

  We pulled up to Silver Acres retirement home and Layne’s eyes widened.

  “Wyatt!” she whisper-hissed. “You’re not planning on making me sing here, are you?”

  I stifled a laugh. “I wasn’t planning on it, but now that you mentioned it . . .”

  She thwapped her hand against my chest. “Not funny.”

  “Speaking of singing . . . You’re not getting cold feet on me, are you?”

  Layne twisted her hands in her lap. “No,” she said softly, but I could see the confidence she’d earned on stage last night already slipping away.

  That’s why I’d brought her here with me today. Well, one of the reasons.

  “I guess it’s a good thing I have a plan B,” I said, parking my car.

  “Plan B?”

  I winked. “I always have a plan B, Penny Layne.”

  I dashed around to her side and opened the door. She got out reluctantly and I handed her the donut boxes.

  “Wyatt, seriously,” she whispered. “What are we doing here?”

  “You’ll see,” I said, ushering her to the door. I held it open and she walked in, waiting for me to lead the way. Which I did, happily.

  “Good morning, Tabitha,” I said brightly to the woman at the reception desk.

  “Good morning, Wyatt. What did you bring for us this week?”

  “Something new, and I think you’re going to like it,” I said, depositing all but one box of donuts on the counter. “Have you ever heard of Sweet Pea’s?”

  Tabitha shook her head. “Can’t say I have.”

  I grinned. “Do yourself a favor and grab an angel cream before they’re gone. They’re the best, right, Penny Layne?”

  Layne looked at me like I’d grown an extra head, but she nodded slowly. I knew bringing her here was a risk. It would mean showing her a side of me that she hadn’t yet seen. Heck it was a side I didn’t let anyone see. But if this was what it took to get Layne to understand why she had to stop being so scared and chase her dreams while she could, it would be worth it.

  Tabitha opened the box on top and took a big whiff the of the sugary goodness. “Oh Lordy, if these taste half as good as they smell I’m gonna be in trouble.”

  “You can thank Layne here for your new sugar addiction. By the way, could you get her a visitor pass for me?”

  “Sure thing, sugar,” Tabitha grinned and handed Layne a clipboard from behind the counter. “Just sign here, sweetie.”

  Layne handed me the remaining box of donuts and did as instructed. Then we headed down the hall toward a room that had become as familiar to me as my own home since moving to Northwood.

  I waved to a few of the residents I was now acquainted with as we made our way through the rec room and media room, stopping a few times in the hall to introduce Layne to the people I knew.

  She was engaging and polite to everyone we met, but I hadn’t been worried about that. Layne was kindhearted by nature. But I was a bit worried about what she’d think of me once we walked into the last room on the right. Would it be too much for her? Would she not want anything to do with me once she saw what my future might look like?

  It was ridiculous I was even thinking that far ahead when Layne had expressly reminded me we were strictly partners again this morning. But I couldn’t help myself when it came to her. She made me foolishly hopeful. And she had hinted that our partnership arrangement was only for one more week. That meant there might be room for us to be more in the future.

  That thought had my nerves gnawing at my stomach. I wasn’t used to all these new emotions. Normally, I didn’t let people close enough to have an affect on me. But all the time I’d been spending with Layne somehow flipped a switch in my heart that was now impossible to turn off.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d thought past the current moment, but Layne made me want to. She made me look forward to things—mostly kissing her—but still, she also made me want to be the kind of guy she might want to see herself with.

  As we reached the door I paused and pulled in a deep breath. This was a gamble, but as I looked into Layne’s big brown eyes, I knew the risk was worth it. I just hoped it paid off or I might just send her running for the hills.

  “Are you ready?” I asked.

  She blinked up at me with utter wonder, the gold flecks in her eyes flickering in the fluorescent light. “I still have no idea what we’re doing.”

  I grinned and swept her dark curtain of hair back, tucking it gently behind her ear. “I want you to meet someone.”

  “Okay,” she said, tentatively.

  “Okay,” I replied, offering her my hand.

  When she took it, relief followed by courage swelled through me.

  This would work—it had to.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Layne

  Wyatt knocked on the door and pushed it open when a voice beckoned us in. I was surprised to see Mrs. Nash sitting in a chair by the window, a tablet on her lap. She seemed just as shocked to see us.

  “Wyatt? What are you doing here?” she asked.

  He nodded to the clock on the wall. “It’s ten o’clock.”

  She looked up, even more shocked by the time, apparently. “So it is.” She stood up slowly. “I guess I wasn’t sure you were coming today.”

  “I come every Sunday, Mum.”

  “I know, but didn’t you say something about finishing your recordings for the competition today?”

  “We still plan to, but that’s no reason to break tradition, is it?” he replied, grinning as he looked at the two frail figures in their therapeutic beds. Wyatt raised his voice. “I have a surprise for you, Gramps,” he said, holding up the box of donuts to the old man who was transfixed by the television.

  I wasn’t sure if he could even hear Wyatt above the volume. Either way, he didn’t move.

  “Your grandfather can’t have too much sugar,” Mrs. Nash said, rushing over.

  “I know,” Wyatt replied, opening the box to show a dozen plain cake donuts. He touched his mother’s shoulder. “I’ve got this. Take a break, Mum.”

  She sighed and finally gave in. “Okay. I’ll be back in an hour,” she assured us.

  “Take your time,” Wyatt called as she hurried out the door.

  When his mother was gone, he crossed the room to the simple kitchenette and put the box of donuts down on the counter. Taking one out, he cut it into quarters, splitting the pieces between two plates. He walked back over to me, handed me a plate and took my hand again. “Come on, I want to introduce you to my grandparents.”

  A warm stab of sympathy jolted my heart as I watched how kind Wyatt was when he approached his grandmother. “Hey, Gram-cracker. I want you to meet someone very special. This is Layne,” he said,
putting my hand in hers. “Layne, this is my grandmother, Rose McAllister.”

  His grandmother’s face lit up. “Hello, puppet. Aren’t you darling?” she said, taking me in.

  I smiled at her adorable phrasing. “Thank you. It’s very nice to meet you.”

  The sweet old woman patted my hand and then looked at Wyatt. “And you’re very handsome, too, young man. What’s your name?”

  Understanding crackled through me as Wyatt patiently took my plate and set it down on the nightstand with his. Then he took his grandmother’s hand. “I’m Wyatt.”

  She smiled serenely. “I have a grandson named Wyatt.”

  “I know,” he said, returning her smile.

  “Oh, do you know him?”

  “I do,” Wyatt said.

  His grandmother clasped her hands together, overjoyed. “He’s a good boy. He’s starting fifth grade,” she replied. “I would so love to see him again. Please give him my love, won’t you?”

  I watched Wyatt’s throat bob with emotion. “I will, Gram-cracker.” He picked up one of the plates he’d set on the nightstand. “We brought you something,” he said, gently setting the plate on the soft blanket covering her lap. “It’s from my new favorite bakery.”

  She smiled. “My Henry loves sweets. I wish he were here to enjoy this.” A sadness swept into her eyes so suddenly that I felt my heart constrict. She closed her eyes. “I miss him,” she gasped. “I miss him so much.”

  “It’s okay,” Wyatt said, taking the plate away and pulling a small handheld recorder out of the top draw of the nightstand. “He’s still here,” Wyatt said, placing the recorder in his grandmother’s shaking hands.

  He pressed play and a deep male voice filled the room. A peaceful look fell over his grandmother’s face as she sank back against her pillows, closing her eyes as the man in the recording spoke to her.

  “My dearest, Rose. You’re as beautiful as ever. I still remember the day we met. You were sitting on your front steps, wearing that brown dress with the white polka dots.” He paused to give a raspy laugh. “I was up to no good, but you still gave me the time of day. I couldn’t believe it. Never in my life had I expected to catch your eye. I asked you out right on the spot.” He laughed again. “You were only thirteen and I was fifteen, but hey, I didn’t want to miss my chance. And do you remember what we did? Boy, I sure do. It was the best day of my life, Rosy. I wish we could go back there right now and dance the night away at the Coconut Club again.”

  The deep baritone voice on the recording started singing a Dean Martin song and my eyes filled with tears, but Wyatt’s grandmother looked supremely at peace as she held onto the recorder.

  I jumped when I felt Wyatt’s hand slip into mine. He nodded away from his grandmother, signaling it was time we leave her be.

  Next he led me a short distance away to the other bed in the room. It was situated by the window. The view of the garden outside was beautiful. So was the warmth from the sunlight filtering in. I clung to it, wanting to soak up as much comfort as possible after the heart wrenching experience with Wyatt’s grandmother.

  “Gramps,” Wyatt said, touching the old man’s shoulder. “I snuck you some donuts.”

  I watched the old man’s eyes move from the television to Wyatt. His eyes were startlingly similar to his grandson’s. Wyatt’s were a deeper green, more of an emerald compared to his grandfather’s bottle green, but still the family resemblance was there. And for some reason, that made this that much harder.

  I found myself wondering if Wyatt saw himself when he looked at the sad old man lying in the bed. I tried not to, but the image had already cemented itself in my brain. Suddenly my chest tightened with anxiety, realizing just how precious each moment of youth truly was.

  “How’d you sneak that past the warden?” Gramps asked, in a raspy voice I recognized from the recording.

  “Don’t get too excited,” Wyatt replied. “Mum made sure there weren’t any sprinkles or frosting.”

  “Of course, she did.” Gramps gave a husky laugh. “Oh, well. I’ll take what I can get.”

  Wyatt winked and handed the plate to his grandfather, who I noticed seemed to only be able to move the right side of his body, and with tremendous effort.

  “So, have you come to get schooled in chess again?” Gramps asked.

  “No, actually I wanted you to meet someone special,” Wyatt said, taking my hand again and pulling me to stand next to him so his grandfather could see me better. “This is Layne Hall. Layne, this is my grandfather, Henry McAllister.”

  “Well, hello, young lady,” Gramps said. “It’s an honor to finally meet you.”

  My eyes darted to Wyatt. Finally? Had Wyatt been talking about me?

  Wyatt rubbed the back of his neck nervously, confirming my suspicions, and my heart sparked in my chest, despite the lecture I’d had with it this morning.

  I was not supposed to have feelings for Wyatt. We were supposed to keep things professional. But standing here watching him laugh and dote on his grandparents was making that impossible.

  “So, do I get to hear this legendary voice?” Gramps asked, his green eyes sparkling as they settled on me.

  “Oh, no,” Wyatt said, jumping in to save me. “We just wanted to stop by and say hello. We’re heading to record those tracks I was telling you about after we leave here.”

  “Ah, gotta save the pipes for the real deal, huh?”

  I nodded.

  “Smart thinking,” Gramps replied, his eyes now studying his grandson. “But you know, a little warmup might not hurt.” Then he burst into song, belting out Moon River at the top of his lungs.

  Wyatt’s ears turned pink, but when he looked at me, he just shrugged and started singing along with his grandfather. The sight was too adorable not to get caught in their enthusiasm. Before I knew it, I was singing along with them.

  When the song finished, I was giggling so hard, I was almost breathless.

  “Not bad, Gramps,” Wyatt said, giving his grandfather a fist bump, that made my heart squeeze with bittersweet joy. The man’s body might be paralyzed, but his spirit was not.

  “I’ve still got it,” Gramps replied, his eyes shining as they settled on me for a moment. He spoke to Wyatt, but his eyes never left mine. “And boy were you right about her.”

  I couldn’t squash my sudden curiosity. “Has he been spreading rumors about me?” I asked Gramps, grinning at Wyatt.

  “No ma’am. He spoke nothing but the truth. Your voice is just as he described. Sandpaper dipped in honey—gritty and sweet.”

  My stomach tightened, heat engulfing me at the compliment.

  “Did you really say that about my voice?” I asked, watching Wyatt’s reaction.

  His beautiful mouth quirked up into a bashful half-smile as he looked up at me through his dark lashes. Our eyes locked briefly before Wyatt looked away.

  The look had been fleeting, but it had awakened a hunger inside of me. A slumbering giant sprang to life, shaking loose a flood of emotions that crackled through my veins like lightning.

  “I don’t remember saying those words exactly,” Wyatt hedged. But it was too late. I knew the truth. I’d seen it in his eyes.

  Plus, his grandfather wasn’t going to cut him any slack. “No, those were your exact words. You called me up directly and said you’d never heard such a beautifully raw voice in your whole life.”

  “Gramps, your memory’s going again, it must be time for your medicine.”

  “I just took my meds.” Gramps’s bewilderment gave way to a sudden raspy laugh. “Oh, wait. I’m cramping your mac, aren’t I?”

  Wyatt cringed, but couldn’t hold back his smirk. “Something like that, Gramps.”

  “Well, take my advice, you two beautiful young people. Time’s a wasting. Tell each other what’s in your heart. That’s what I did with my Rosy. Seventy years and it still isn’t enough.”

  He sighed, looking off into the distance as sadness filled the room. It was as if even th
e sun could feel his grief, respectfully tucking itself behind the clouds while Henry had his moment of melancholy—missing a woman who was so nearby.

  I couldn’t imagine it—sharing a room with a spouse who didn’t remember you after seventy years of making a life together. The thought was paralyzing; a fact not lost on me regarding Gramps’s health.

  I wasn’t sure, but I imagined he must’ve had some kind of stroke that caused his loss of movement. It seemed horribly ironic considering the monumental effort it must take to face the heartache of being so close, yet so far away from his wife.

  As if reading my thoughts, Henry spoke, his eyes no longer distant. “How is my beautiful bride today?”

  “She’s good,” Wyatt said, softly. “She told me about her grandson who’s in fifth grade.”

  Gramps smiled. “Ah, yes. I remember that year. You came to stay with us over spring break and you two fed the geese until they were tame enough to eat out of your hands.”

  Wyatt laughed. “Oh yeah! And I got scared because they got so bold, they tried to follow me in your house.”

  Gramps laughed. “Rosy loved having you stay with us. She would brag about you to her garden club nonstop.” Gramps directed his voice toward me. “It was completely deserved. The boy’s a genius. He could play six instruments by the time he was eight.”

  Wyatt groaned. “I do remember Gram-cracker making me put on a piano recital at your house that one time.”

  “Oh, I remember that, too. Jane Morley actually told your grandmother she didn’t believe you were as good as she said you were, so she had you play for her whole garden club to prove it. Then Jane had the audacity to say she wasn’t impressed!” Gramps laughed. “I’m pretty sure old Jane was saucing her teacups with whiskey back then. She couldn’t spot talent on the broadside of a barn.”

  “What did Rosy say to Jane?” I asked.

  Gramps gave a very Wyatt-like smirk. “The funniest thing happened. The next morning, we woke up to find that someone had driven a car through the Morley’s front garden. And with no garden, Jane had to withdraw from the club.”