Wrapped in Love - Lexi Ryan

by Ryan, Lexi

  Molly

  “Do I want to know where we are?” Nic whispers.

  I climb out of the limo Veronica rented for her twin sister’s bachelorette party and cringe at the club in front of us. The marquee flashes promises in neon lights.

  MALE DANCERS!

  LIVE OUT YOUR WILDEST FANTASIES!

  HALF-PRICE WELL DRINKS!

  Veronica giggles, and Shay and I exchange a look. We all would have preferred a night in a big booth at Jackson Brews to a night with some stranger trying to rub his junk in our faces.

  Nic’s still blindfolded, at Veronica’s insistence. I take her hand as we follow Veronica into the club. The guy on stage shakes his ass in nothing more than a G-string, a Santa hat, and a fluffy white beard. I cringe.

  “Dear Lord,” Shay whispers beside me. “I just threw up in my mouth a little.”

  “What?” Nic asks, reaching for her blindfold. “What is it?”

  Veronica spins around and tugs off Nic’s blindfold. “Surprise!”

  Nic blinks as she surveys the club, her jaw dropping when she spots stripper Santa grinding his hips against a pole on the stage.

  “The hottest Santa I’ve ever seen,” Veronica says.

  Teagan wrinkles her nose. “I can’t disagree. And yet . . .”

  Nic sends a pleading glance in my direction, and I shrug. She knows Veronica better than any of us. Surely she saw this coming.

  A man in nothing but a pair of very tight leather shorts greets us with a grin. “Is this the bride-to-be?” He looks Nic up and down and then . . . licks his lips.

  Nic’s eyes widen, and she backs away a few feet.

  “She is!” Veronica says. “We should have a table at the front reserved.”

  He grins and tilts his head toward the stage. “Right this way, ladies.”

  We follow him to our table in front of the stage. Our seats line one side of the table and face the stage—all the better to see stripper Santa, I suppose.

  “What can I get you beauties?” our host asks as we sit.

  “Booze,” I say.

  Teagan nods. “We’re going to need a lot of booze.”

  Next to me, Shay whispers, “Amen.”

  “Shots of tequila,” Veronica says. “For everyone but her.” She points to Ava, who’s still standing and looking at her chair like she might disinfect it before sitting.

  “Oh, I like you already.” The man flexes his pecs, making them dance up and down. Teagan snorts.

  “I can’t believe you’re getting married this weekend,” Veronica squeals, wrapping one arm around her twin sister. “I swear I’m not going to ruin this one.”

  “You’d better not,” Teagan says. “Ethan would kill you.”

  Nic smiles softly. “I’m glad she ruined my first wedding. I’m loving the crazy turn my life took.”

  I reach down the table and squeeze her hand. “Are you nervous at all?”

  Nic shakes her head. The woman is glowing with happiness, despite our surroundings. “I mean, maybe a little nervous about people staring at me, but not about the marriage part.”

  “Because my brother’s a saint, blah-di-blah-blah,” Shay says, but she’s grinning. She can’t hide how happy she is to see Nic marry her brother.

  Our conversation is cut short when the G-string Santa spots us and walks to our side of the stage. Veronica screams and waves singles in the air, and the dancer pulls his beard off as he drops down and air-humps the floor.

  I cut myself off after the second shot, but I have to admit that place was more entertaining with the tequila in my bloodstream. I didn’t want a hangover tomorrow or to lose my wits when our server kept looking at me like he wanted me to be his midnight snack, so by the time we return to the little rental house Veronica got us for the night, I’m sober and wide awake while the bride and her twin are giggling drunk in their beds.

  I pick up my phone to text Brayden.

  Me: We’re back at the house.

  Brayden: Dare I ask?

  Me: Santa in a G-string. Need I say more?

  Brayden: Please don’t.

  Me: Everyone’s drunk and passing out. I’m wide awake and jealous that they can sleep and I can’t.

  Brayden: Wish you were here.

  His words send my heart racing, and I bite my bottom lip.

  Me: Me too.

  “Sexting someone?” Teagan asks. She strolls into the kitchen and turns on the tap to fill a glass with water. “I saw the server give you his number.”

  I snort. “I might have accidentally thrown it away.”

  She grins, then chugs her water. “Everyone else is in bed. Grab your coat and come on.” She waves me toward a set of stairs.

  I follow her up past the second floor and to a narrower set of stairs and a little balcony off the attic. The bitterly cold air hits my face, and I pull up my hood and shove my hands into my pockets.

  “Spill,” she says, pulling the door shut behind me.

  I frown. “What?”

  “You’ve been walking around with this goofy smile on your face for the last week. You’re keeping secrets, and I think you’ve forgotten I adopted you as my BFF, so you don’t get to keep secrets from me.” She folds her arms, but there’s no anger or disapproval on her face, just curiosity.

  Swallowing, I slide down the wall and stare out into the frigid night. I can feel the smile tugging at my lips, and I realize I want to talk about it. I want to talk about him. “I’m seeing someone.”

  “I knew it!” she screeches, then smacks a hand over her mouth and says more softly, “I thought so. Tell me about him.”

  “He’s . . .” Everything in me seems to vibrate at the thought of him. “I’ve never dated anyone who’s so kind to me, and I don’t mean that as a knock against the guys I’ve dated. I just . . .” I stare at my friend and wonder how vulnerable I’m willing to make myself. “He treats me like I’m something truly special. He’s not a big talker, and he keeps his emotions close to the vest, but sometimes when we make love, I catch him smiling.”

  Teagan snorts. “A guy smiling during sex. I’m sure.”

  “No, not like that—like he can’t help himself. Like he’s trying to process the wonder of being with me. It would be easy to think I am special. With him, I could believe it.”

  Teagan squeezes my arm. “You are special, Molly. And I’m glad you found someone who can make you believe it.”

  My eyes flick to my lap and away from the stars. Do you think someone like me could have something real? I don’t ask. Because she’s my friend, and I know what her answer will be. It doesn’t matter how much my friends believe in me; hearing them say it won’t change how screwed up I am.

  “Noah seems to really like him,” she says.

  I snap my eyes to hers. “What?”

  Her expression is tender, and she adds, “I don’t think anyone else knows. They suspect. Especially Shay. But . . .”

  “Who . . . How?”

  “We all see how you look at him. How he looks at you. I just thought it was a crush, though. I didn’t realize the two of you were . . .”

  “It’s not a relationship. He knows I can’t do that. I can’t offer that.” I attempt to smile. “So don’t kick me out of your hot-singles club just yet.”

  Sadness pulls on her features. “Why can’t you offer that? Because he’s your boss?”

  I sigh. “No, I don’t really care about that. Not anymore, at least.” I take a breath, searching for the words to explain something that’s been less and less clear to me by the day. “I don’t want anything serious. I just want to focus on Noah and work. Brayden knows all this, so stop looking at me like I’m kicking a puppy.”

  “Is that really what you want, Molly? I mean, when you think of your future, you truly want nothing more than a series of meaningless hookups? You don’t want . . . more?”

  “Girls like me don’t get more.”

  Teagan bumps her shoulder against mine. “I didn’t ask for your predictions, or
acle. I asked what you wanted.”

  I wrap my arms around myself and tip my head up to study the cloudy night sky. “I want not to be so damn afraid.”

  “What’s there to be afraid of? Falling for him?” She’s staring at me and waits until I meet her eyes before adding, “Isn’t it too late for that?”

  Brayden

  “Uncle Levi said Molly can’t keep her eyes off you, and you should be a man and stop ignoring her.” My niece just grins up at me, as if she’s completely oblivious to the pot she’s stirring by delivering Levi’s message.

  I know better. That little pest is about to star in her second wedding in three months, and she’s made it her personal mission to marry off all her uncles and her aunt Shay so she can wear more “princess dresses.” Poor Levi and Ellie haven’t even been back together a full week, and Lilly is already asking when they’ll get married. A seven-year-old playing matchmaker is pretty hilarious when it’s not you, but the last thing I need is her scaring away Molly.

  Despite that, my gaze drifts to the woman in question, who’s sitting in a booth at the back of Jackson Brews and having a beer with my sister. They’re laughing and carrying on about something, and the sight of her here—laughing with Shay, hanging with my family, one of us—makes my chest ache. She worked all day, but tonight, for Ethan and Nic’s rehearsal dinner, she gets to celebrate with us. I want to enjoy it, enjoy her, and pull her into my arms and kiss her until she knows just how much I love having her here, to let everyone else know she’s mine. But those damn rules of hers keep my feet planted a good distance away, like they have been all night. I’m close enough to watch her but not so close that she’s within reach. Because that might be too much temptation.

  “Hey, stranger. A little birdie told me I might find you here tonight.”

  I pull my gaze off Molly and meet Sara’s hazel eyes. I wait for that old hurt to hit. The feeling of my world being ripped out from under my feet when I never thought it was possible. That feeling lingered long after she left me. Every time I heard her name or smelled her perfume on my sheets. Every time I saw the professor she fucked.

  That ache of betrayal and loneliness lasted too long. Until eventually I didn’t trust the world beneath my feet. Until I let go of the idea of happily-ever-after for myself. For too long I thought that losing that with Sara meant losing it forever.

  But the hurt doesn’t come. The earth is steady beneath my feet, the air still filling my lungs, and I can only stare at her and marvel at how much I’ve changed. I guess time heals after all. But maybe I shouldn’t give time all the credit. “What are you doing here, Sara?” Jackson Brews is open to the public tonight, but it’s the last place I thought I’d run into her—she likely came here to seek me out.

  “Not drinking, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Her voice is thick, like she’s talking around tears. “I was just hoping we might talk.”

  I search her face, see the sincerity in her eyes. “I thought we already did that.”

  “We did, and I should give you time to process everything, but . . .” She drops her gaze to her hands, twisted in front of her. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive me?”

  I take them in mine. “It’s been years. I’ve let go.”

  She cocks her head to the side, studying my face. “Let go, or moved on?”

  Before I realize what I’m doing, I catch my gaze drifting back to Molly—her long blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. “I think the two may have gone hand in hand for me,” I admit, to myself as much as her.

  “I’ve missed you.” She squeezes my shoulder. “I’ve never forgiven myself for losing you. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I didn’t realize how lucky I was.” She steps closer and tilts her head back to hold my gaze. I can’t help but compare it to how it feels to have Molly this close. How different this is. How right it feels to close the distance and pull Molly into my arms.

  “Sara . . .” I’m not sure what to say, or if I should even say anything at all when I’m in such limbo with Molly. A year ago I’d have jumped on the chance to have Sara back. And ironically, a year ago I hadn’t forgiven her. Maybe I needed to understand what she did in order to move on.

  Sara takes advantage of my contemplative silence and lifts onto her toes to press her mouth to mine. I step away from the kiss, but not before her lips brush over mine.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t . . .” I don’t get a chance to put my thoughts into words, because I spot Molly, standing ten feet away and staring at me like I’ve just torn out her heart.

  When I meet her eyes, she turns on her heel and rushes through the kitchen door.

  Sara grabs my arm before I even realize I’m chasing after Molly. “Brayden?”

  I shake my head. “I can’t do this right now, Sara.” I look over my shoulder to where Molly disappeared into the kitchen. Shit.

  Molly

  The night is clear, and stars twinkle down from a cloudless winter sky as I push out into the lot behind Jackson Brews. I didn’t take time to grab my coat, and the icy wind bites into my bare skin. I welcome the sting against my cheeks as I tilt my face to the stars. I won’t cry. I have no right to cry.

  They kissed.

  I wish I could be angry about that, angry with Brayden for leading me on or for making me want so much more than I ever let myself believe I could have, but I’m cursed with enough rational thought that anger eludes me. This is my fault. Brayden is giving me what I asked for—no strings. No commitments. No future. None of the things I know he’ll be so good at giving the right woman.

  “Are you trying to catch pneumonia?”

  I close my eyes at Brayden’s voice. The deep rumble of it. The way it scrapes over my skin like a highly anticipated caress.

  When I turn to him, he’s pulling off his jacket and handing it to me. I shake my head. “Take it,” he says, his voice hard enough that I decide it’s not worth arguing.

  I slip into it. It’s still warm, and it smells like him—clean and spicy. The scent makes my head spin with memories that almost knock me off my feet.

  He folds his arms and stares at me, his face hard. I expect a lecture or a speech about why my jealousy is unfair.

  “Say it,” I spit out when he says nothing.

  He arches a brow. “What do you want me to say?” His eyes scan my face, snagging on my mouth for a beat before returning to meet my eyes. “Do you want me to apologize for what you saw in there?”

  “No. You don’t owe me an apology.”

  An emotion that I can’t name passes across his face. “Then why are you looking at me like I just broke your heart?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You kissed her.”

  “She kissed me,” he says.

  “I’m sure it was a hardship,” I mutter, hating the bitchy edge that laces every word. I shrug. “Relax. I don’t have any claim to you, and I know it.”

  Those intense, dark eyes search my face. “You could, you know.” His voice hitches, as if it’s catching on something, stumbling over an emotion he’s tried to hide and tripped on instead.

  I scoff. I’m an idiot. This is stupid. But try as I might, I can’t ignore this want clawing at me. This wish that I could be someone else. This craving for more than a girl like me should expect. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  “What do you want, Molly?”

  I frown at my feet. “Just fresh air. A minute alone.”

  He steps forward and takes my chin in his hand, tilting my face up until my eyes meet his. “Liar,” he whispers.

  “We’re all liars,” I whisper back.

  “So tell me something true. Something real.”

  I open my mouth to say something snide and then close it again.

  “Do you want me to go first?” he asks softly. When I don’t answer, he goes on. “I like having you at the house.” His hand slides into my hair, and his thumb traces the edge of my jaw. “I didn’t realize how lonely it was there until I knew what it was like to have it fi
lled with your laughter. I like sitting across from you with coffee in the mornings, and watching TV with you when we should both be in bed.” He lowers his face to mine, but when I think he’s going to kiss me, he simply brushes his nose against mine. “I like touching you, and I hate thinking about you leaving. Ever. Whether that’s in January or February or in a year. I want you there. I want you with me.”

  I close my eyes, relishing his closeness, the heat of his breath on my lips, the rough strength of his hand along my jaw. And despite the harsh chill in the night air, I feel warm.

  He pulls back. “Your turn.”

  I hesitate, unsure which of the thousand confessions swimming through my mind I should offer him, weighing the implications of each before finally circling back to what brought me out here to begin with. “I was jealous. Of her.”

  “Because she kissed me?”

  “Yes.” I shake my head. It’s not that simple. “Because . . . despite everything, she’s better for you than I am.” I meet his eyes, my need to protect my heart at war with my need to offer myself to him. “Because she wanted—wants—the same things you do, and you could have a life with her. A family. A chance at happiness. And I . . .” I can’t find the words, and draw in a ragged breath against the pain of the truth.

  “You don’t want to give me those things.”

  “It’s not about what I want, Brayden. It’s about who I am. I can’t . . . I’ve never . . .” I tear my gaze away from those knowing eyes, from the tenderness and sympathy in them. I don’t want sympathy. “I don’t even know how to have a real relationship. A boyfriend. I’ve never had one.” He’s so silent that I don’t have a choice but to meet his eyes again, to try to piece together his hidden thoughts from the shadows passing over his features. “Say something, you stubborn, silent ass.”

  He huffs out a laugh. “Do you want to be my girlfriend, Molly?”

  My cheeks heat. “Don’t mock me.”

  “Trust me, I wouldn’t. Not about this.” He wraps his arms around my back and draws me against his chest, leading me into a quiet dance to the music of the cars on the street and the icy breeze in the trees. He props his chin on the top of my head and rubs slow, lazy circles on my back. “She kissed me, but I didn’t want her to. This time last year, I’d have given up everything to have her back—for better or worse—but I don’t feel that way anymore.”