Wrapped in Love - Lexi Ryan

by Ryan, Lexi

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m in love with someone else.” My feet stop moving, but he continues. “This woman, the one I love? I’m not sure how she feels about me, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t turn off what I feel. I might be a stubborn ass, but I know what I want.” He pulls back to look at me. “That’s never been the problem.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I don’t know what you want, Molly.” His thumb is rough across my cheek as he sweeps away a tear I didn’t realize I’d shed.

  “I’m scared.”

  He nods. “Me too.”

  “Sara hurt you,” I whisper.

  He nods again. “She did.”

  “What if I hurt you too?”

  “That’s a risk I’m willing to take. Which is new for me, and completely unique to how I feel about you. I didn’t think I wanted to risk that again, but for you it’s not even a choice. It just is.”

  I swallow hard. “So what does this mean?”

  “I guess that depends. Will you go out with me, Molly McKinley?”

  “Like, go steady?” My words are as wobbly as my knees beneath my dress.

  “Oh, yeah. With the dates and the kissing and . . . anything else you want.”

  “What if it doesn’t work? What if I . . .” I’m not even sure what I’m afraid of, aside from this frazzled skittering of don’t fuck this up running through my blood, not sure what question I can ask, aside from my secret whisper of what if you realize you deserve better?

  “What if it does?” he asks. Then he lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me. His lips are warm, his kiss tender, his arms tightening around me.

  When he breaks away, I’m breathless and shaking. “We should go back in. I need to say goodbye before I head to the banquet center and make sure everything’s ready to go for tomorrow.”

  Smiling, he takes my hand and leads me inside, not releasing me until we reach the kitchen.

  “You look smug, Brayden Jackson.”

  “I’m really your first boyfriend?”

  My lips twitch. “Don’t let it go to your head.” Grinning, he turns away to leave me, but I grab his face in both hands. “You really love me?”

  He doesn’t try to hide the warmth in his smile, and lowers his mouth to my ear when he whispers, “Don’t let it go to your head.”

  Molly

  By the time I’ve finished checking everything for Nic and Ethan’s reception, I’m exhausted, but I know my mind is buzzing too much to let me go right to bed when I get to Brayden’s. I’m happy with how the banquet hall turned out with all the tables set for Nic and Ethan’s reception and the decorations in place.

  And then there’s Brayden. Brayden, with his dark eyes and searching gazes. Brayden, who wants to be . . . who is my boyfriend.

  The word fills me with schoolgirl giddiness as I lock my office door and head out to lock up the kitchen. I’ve never cared that I missed out on that. Sure, now that I’m older, I wish I’d handled things differently when I was a teenager, but though I could see the appeal of someone to call my own, I never actively longed for it outside of a practical standpoint. So many nights I’d pick up Noah from daycare, and we’d get home and my other job was waiting for me. Not the caring for him—no, that never felt like work—but the household stuff. Making dinner, doing dishes, keeping up on laundry, paying bills. There were many nights I wished I had someone to share the burden of running a household. But until Brayden, I never dared wish for more.

  I lock the walk-in coolers and freezers, and when I turn to hit the kitchen lights, there’s Brayden, waiting for me in the hall with his arms crossed, that endlessly patient smirk on his face. My chest warms at his presence. He came here for me.

  “I thought you were heading home from the bar.” I approach slowly, suddenly feeling shy.

  “I played DD for Levi and Ellie, but I thought I’d come for you next.”

  “I haven’t been drinking,” I say, smiling. I had a beer with Shay at dinner, but hardly enough to call for a designated driver.

  His mouth splits into a grin. Damn. That smile. “I figured.” He leans down and grabs the bottle of champagne and two glasses I hadn’t noticed by his feet. “Shall we remedy that?” Before I can react, he pops the cork and fills the champagne flutes. The bubbles climb toward the rim of the glasses as he hands one to me and takes the other for himself.

  “What are we toasting?” I ask quietly.

  “Nic and Ethan, of course.”

  Clinking my glass to his, I nod. “Of course.”

  “He risked getting hurt again for that love.”

  I meet his eyes, and my heart aches a little as I see there what so many miss—the tenderness, the desperate need to be enough, the scarred pieces of a man who gave everything to the woman he loved and only got a broken heart in return. “Yes, he did.”

  “Here’s to courage,” he says softly, and I know he’s not talking about Ethan and Nic anymore. He’s talking about us. I say a silent prayer that, for him, I can be brave.

  I clink my glass against his. “To courage.”

  He takes a sip and lowers his glass. “May I see it?”

  I know what he means, and a swell of pride fills my chest and makes me smile. I turn toward the banquet hall and crook a finger over my shoulder for him to follow. I hold my breath as I open the door and turn on the lights.

  This space has never looked so beautiful, and I couldn’t be happier about how it turned out. The white chair covers are wrapped in red cloth bows, and the crystal centerpieces sit nestled in a nest of red and white roses, sprigs of holly, and pinecones. The artificial arrangements look fresh, and I know I’ll get a ton of use out of them.

  My staff spent the afternoon draping tulle across the exposed beams on the ceiling and carefully framing the dancefloor with pots of red poinsettias and stark white hydrangeas. Tomorrow, we’ll light the candles in the centerpieces and turn off the overhead lights for the dimmer, softer light of the wall sconces, but it looks romantic even now, with the moonlight flooding in through the wall of windows at the far end of the space.

  “Wow,” Brayden says softly behind me. I hear the awe in his tone before I turn to see it on his face. “I knew your ideas would come together, but this is . . . magnificent.”

  I smile. “Nic and Ethan deserve the best.”

  He nods, his throat bobbing as he swallows and scans the room again. Is he thinking of the long journey his brother had to take to get here? Of the man’s grief after losing his wife? Of the joy I’m told Nic brought back to his eyes? “They really do.”

  “The band will be on the stage,” I say, motioning toward the elevated platform on the dance floor. “And we have bars set up on either side of the room. We have high-top cocktail tables set up around them so people will move toward the dance floor after the meal is over.”

  He shakes his head, taking it all in. “No one will ever know this is your first wedding.”

  “I wouldn’t be happy with my work if they did.” I scan the space, looking for missed details and finding none. “Thank you.” I turn to him. “For giving me this opportunity.”

  He looks into my eyes, but I’m not sure what he’s looking for. “You’re welcome. It’s a shame you did all this work and you’ll be too busy managing the staff to enjoy the party with us.”

  I shrug. “I don’t mind.”

  “There’s no chance I can talk you into letting someone else take the reins tomorrow, is there?”

  I snort and press my hand to his chest. “Hi, Pot, I’m Kettle.”

  He grins and grabs my hand before I can pull it away. “If I don’t get to dance with you tomorrow, I’ll just have to do it tonight.”

  Before I can protest, he takes my champagne glass and puts it on the floor with his.

  He taps the screen of his phone until the opening chords of Prince’s “I Would Die 4 U” fill the room. I laugh, a sound that’s half joy and half disbelief. He remembered.

  Grinning, I
let him pull me into his arms. I drape my arms around his neck. “You’re crazy. No one slow-dances to this song.”

  “Says who?” His gaze drops to my mouth and his smile falls away. “You’ve really never had a boyfriend?”

  I shake my head and swallow. “I’m the girl guys take home for some fun, not the one they take home to Mom.”

  Something dark passes over his face, but he exhales and it’s gone. “Strange, because my mom thinks you’re the best thing ever.”

  My heart squeezes. “Your mom is awesome.”

  “Next time one of my siblings gets married, let’s make sure you have a reliable number two who can run things so I can keep you in my arms all night.”

  The next time . . . “Who else is engaged?” Levi and Ellie are barely back together, and last I knew, they weren’t rushing things.

  He shrugs. “Nobody at the moment, but I’m sure someone will be hitting us up for the family discount in the next year or two.”

  I lean my head against his chest to hide my face and swallow hard. Year or two. He still expects me to be around then.

  “You okay?” he whispers, so soft I can barely hear him over the music.

  I’m afraid to speak, so I just nod. I’m so good.

  Brayden

  Molly fell asleep on my lap, and I can’t stop staring at her. She mumbles incoherent words for the third time since she drifted off, and I smile. She’s a sleep talker. I shouldn’t be surprised. She always has so much to say, so why should it be any different in sleep?

  I turn off the TV—I’ve barely looked at it all night—and brush her blond hair from her face. When we got home, I told her to change into pajamas and meet me out here.

  “Is pajamas code for slinky lingerie?” she asked. “Because all of mine’s in storage.”

  I recommended flannel pants and a T-shirt, and she laughed like I’d lost my mind. Maybe she doesn’t understand what I see when I look at her. That I was never drawn to her because of her cleavage or flirtatious smiles. She’s beautiful, but beautiful is easy to resist. It’s everything beneath the gloss and curves that made me fall in love.

  If we didn’t both have such a big day tomorrow, I probably would have danced with her until sunrise. We’ve danced around what we want for so long, and tonight we both found the courage to say we wanted more. Truthfully, I didn’t want to come home. I’m afraid she’ll wake up tomorrow and panic about our relationship, about what this change means.

  Molly shifts in my lap then opens her eyes, stretching her arms over her head. “Shit. I fell asleep.” She rubs her eyes, leaving a streak of mascara across her cheek. “I guess your masterful efforts at seduction failed.”

  I laugh. “Who said I was trying to seduce you?”

  She pushes up on the couch and shakes her head, yawning. “The champagne, the dancing . . .” She cocks a brow at me. “The snuggling on the couch with your fingers stroking across my stomach?”

  I grin. I’ve never smiled as much as I do around her. “Nope. Not a seduction. Just spending time with you.”

  She stands and stretches her arms over her head. “If you say so. Good night.”

  When she heads toward her bedroom, I follow and catch her before she hits the stairs. I turn her around, trapping her between the wall and my body and putting a hand on either side of her head. “Sleep with me.”

  Her gaze drops to my mouth, and she groans. “You’re so painfully tempting, but I’m dead on my feet. I’m afraid I’d fall asleep in the middle and shatter that fragile male ego of yours.”

  I laugh. She can hardly keep her eyes open, and she thinks I’m asking for sex. “Not sex. Sleep.” I lower my mouth but give her only the faintest brush of my lips against hers. “I want you in my bed.”

  She searches my face for so long that I’m convinced she’s trying to come up with a polite way to refuse me. “Are you real, Brayden Jackson?”

  I chuckle and kiss the tip of her nose before sweeping her into my arms. “I could be a dream. Better sleep next to me to make sure I’m still here when you wake up.”

  Molly

  Brayden Jackson was, indeed, still there when I woke up, as real as the heat in my blood and the flutter in my stomach when he rolled me onto my back and trailed kisses down my body, wishing me good morning in a way I could certainly get used to.

  I had breakfast with Noah and Mom then headed to the banquet center to get my employees started on the setup.

  Within the first hour of arriving there, I found out that Bella’s stomach flu had spread to two other servers. I spent my morning making calls to employees who had the day off, but most had other plans or couldn’t get childcare at the last minute. By the time we’re on break and I’m preparing to run over to the ceremony site, I’m still short a server. That I can manage, but as I change into my dress for the ceremony, I say a prayer that the stomach flu won’t spread to any more of my staff before the night is through.

  I adjust my dress and head to the locker room mirror to check my makeup. I have other staff members taking care of the less labor-intensive reception setup, and I want to be there to see Nic walk down the aisle.

  I’m checking my lipstick when Austin pushes through the door and flips the lock behind him.

  Frowning, I meet his gaze in the mirror. “We keep that door unlocked. The restroom and shower stalls have their own locks.”

  He folds his arms and heads toward me. “I was hoping we could talk.”

  I slide my lipstick back into my purse and turn to him. “Is everything okay?”

  His face goes serious, and he shakes his head. “I’m really hurting.”

  Oh, no. “Are you sick?” I cross the room and put a hand to his forehead, but before I can even register the temperature of his skin, he grabs my other hand and presses it against his crotch. I yank away and stumble back, and he unzips his pants and prowls toward me. His hand slides into his black briefs.

  “Come on, Molly. I know what kind of slut you are. I know what you like. Everyone does. And I see how you look at me.”

  “Fuck you.” I’m backed into a stall door, my gaze darting between him and the exit as he steps closer.

  “Fuck me? It’s your lucky day. You can. And I know you want to.” He smiles, his eyes bright, as if this is some sort of game. As if we’re having fun here. “Nobody will know.”

  “Don’t come a single step closer.” The old, sick terror claws at me, and I want to close my eyes and pretend this isn’t happening.

  “Or what? You’ll tell my mommy? I think we both know what she thinks of you after she caught you and Gabe together. I’m just an innocent, curious kid. And you’re a slut who can’t get enough dick. Just ask Jason Ralston and Brayden Jackson and all the other guys you’ve fucked in your office.” He closes the distance between us with a final step, and I move fast, driving my knee up into his crotch. He shouts and crumples to the floor.

  I dart around him, unlock the door with shaking hands, and run upstairs.

  His shouts echo in the stairwell behind me. “We all see how easy you are. You aren’t fooling anyone!”

  I have to fight back the sting of tears and this burning ache in my chest. I’m a stupid fool. A stupid fool who thought she could return to Jackson Harbor without consequences. A fool who thought maybe she might be good enough for a man like Brayden Jackson.

  I swing around the corner into my office and stumble into Brayden, already dressed in his suit for the ceremony.

  “Are you okay?” He takes my shoulders in his hands and ducks his head to study my face. “What happened?”

  “Nothing.” The lie feels like a betrayal to my new life, to the woman I spent those long, lonely years in New York becoming. One word, and I’ve taken a thousand steps back toward the girl I used to be. Everything’s fine. It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter. My eyes burn, and my skin feels too tight. “Don’t you need to be at the ceremony site?” I’m shaking, and I know he can see it.

  “Hey, tell me what happened.” His voi
ce is gentle but firm.

  I swallow. “Not now,” I whisper. Because I know if I explain, I’ll lose it, and I need to keep it together until we get through this day.

  “Is that Austin?”

  I follow Brayden’s gaze out my office window and to the parking lot nestled in the trees beyond, where Austin is tearing out of the lot in his fancy red sports car. His mom bought one of those for Gabe, too. I have vivid memories of sitting in the back seat with him and having him shove my head into his lap.

  I swallow hard and lock away that memory. Not now. “We’ll be short two servers,” I say, the words too tight, but my eyes are dry and my head is up. I’m not the girl I used to be. Just ask Austin’s balls.

  Brayden meets my steely gaze and seems to understand that I’m not going to talk about it right now. “Okay,” he says softly. “We’ll make it work. Tell me what I can do.”

  Brayden

  “Has anyone ever told you that you shouldn’t try to do everything yourself?”

  Groaning, Molly opens her eyes. She’s lying on the couch in the break room, her head at one end and her feet stretched to the other. “It’s been mentioned a few times. By bosses before you.”

  “But you do it anyway.” I slide onto the end of the couch, put her feet in my lap, and slip off her shoes. Upstairs, her staff is serving hors d’oeuvres at Ethan and Nic’s cocktail hour, and in less than an hour, the bride and groom will be here. “Let me help.”

  “You’re the best man. There’s no way I’m letting you serve at this dinner,” she whispers. I can hear the anguish in her voice. She wants to make tonight perfect, to make every event perfect. To prove herself to me—as if she needs to. “This is a disaster.”