Advice from a Jilted Bride

by Rayne, Piper

  “You don’t have feelings when you have sex?” I quirk an eyebrow.

  “I have a lot of feelings, but none of them involve my heart.” He chuckles.

  “Why can’t I be you?” I say with a sigh.

  “Because you’re my Brookie.” He drops the crowbar and wipes his forehead with his arm. “There’s no shame in not wanting to screw someone just for fun. I love that about you. You’ve saved me a lot of bleeding knuckles, but you just have to know what you’re getting into.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He blows out a breath and he’s wearing that look that says, ‘I probably shouldn’t tell you this because the other Bailey boys might kick my ass.’ “You’re like a few months off Jeff, so have you thought that maybe Wyatt is just your rebound?”

  “But we’re friends, too.”

  He shakes his head like he can’t believe he’s the one stuck in this position. “Even so, it doesn’t mean he can’t be the guy who gets you over the first guy and acts as a bridge to the new guy. Not that I want to tell you what to do, but a guy like Wyatt isn’t Lake Starlight material. Why not have fun with a guy you won’t have to see for years after?”

  “Because it makes me a slut.”

  He rolls his eyes. “When will women realize that having desires and needs does not make you a slut? I hate that fucking word.”

  I refrain from pointing out that he sleeps with a lot of women without getting their name and that he doesn’t know whether he left a woman with a broken heart or not.

  “The key is to get your mind straight.” He taps his temple. “So you can keep this straight.” He taps his chest.

  I consider Rome’s words then think about the way my stomach fluttered with butterflies when Wyatt cornered me in the hallway before we realized Jeff was in my apartment. How every time he walks into a room, a smile splays on my face. How when he leaves at night, I wish he was slipping into my bed instead of one across the hallway.

  “I don’t know. I think I’m better to keep him in the box.”

  “What box?”

  “The ‘Do Not Touch’ box.”

  He shrugs in a good luck gesture. “I hope he stays in there for you then.”

  I jump off the counter. “And you won’t tell anyone who he is, right?”

  “Nah, but I’m wondering if he wants to invest in a restaurant.”

  “Rome!”

  He laughs, raising his hands. “I’m kidding.” He grabs his phone off the counter and hops down. “Come on, I’m driving you home.”

  “Thanks, bro.”

  “Anytime.” He takes a few steps toward the front entrance. “Oh, and I was thinking maybe you could create a scent to make people hungry?”

  I chuckle. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “There’s my little potion maker.” He swings his arm around my shoulders, and we leave the restaurant I know will be a success once he has it open.

  * * *

  The next morning, I feel like I can’t begin my day until I talk to Wyatt. Since he’s in the manager’s office, it’s easy for me to slide in without being noticed so we’ll have the privacy we need.

  I knock.

  “Come in.”

  I step in and shut the door behind me. Wyatt slides his chair away from the computer. He’s in a suit today. A very professional suit that upon closer inspection I can now tell costs more than my entire wardrobe. The way it lays on his shoulders and nips in at his waist says it’s custom tailored to his body.

  “I’m glad you’re here.” He stands and rounds the desk, coming toward me.

  If he touches me, I’ll never get out what I decided late last night while I lay in bed. I hold up my hands and he stops mid-stride.

  “You’re still angry?”

  I shake my head. “No. I understand why you couldn’t tell me, but this thing between us…” His clear blue eyes look at me and I think somewhere deep down I know I’ll never hold the willpower to stay away from him, but I have to try. “I can’t. I’ll still go to the wedding with you, but I need this to stay platonic. Okay?”

  He nods, sliding over to the front of the desk.

  Now that I see him standing in front of me like this, I know I was stupid not to see how much better this version of himself suits him. He’s in his clothes, doing what he’s supposed to be doing, managing a hotel. The bellhop, housekeeping, and front desk version of Wyatt wasn’t him. Not really.

  “Okay.” He shrugs.

  “Easy as that?” A small part of me is disappointed he didn’t fight me on my decision which yes, I realize makes me very difficult to please.

  He crosses his arms. “I can’t say I don’t want more from you. I’d love nothing more than to spend my months here with you in my bed but hurting you would kill me.”

  Okay, so I’m not disappointed anymore. Just kind of hot and bothered with a warm, mushy feeling in my chest.

  “So, platonic it is. And you don’t have to go to my sister’s wedding.”

  “A deal is a deal, Wyatt. You’ve helped me so much with the business.”

  “It’s okay. Honestly, I’m fine with it. My mom will get over it.”

  “Well.” My hand latches onto the doorknob behind me in fear that I’ll turn my back on the words I just said. “I won’t. I’m going.”

  He smiles. The one that I love the most. Like I made his day. “Okay, then. I’m booking the airline tickets today and if you’re okay with it, we’ll stay at my condo. If not, I can line up a hotel for you, but I have two bedrooms so…”

  “Your condo is fine. Thank you.”

  “I suppose we can’t hug it out, huh?”

  I shake my head, my palm hurting from the pressure I’m exerting on the doorknob.

  “Glad we’re straight.”

  “Yep. Okay, heading to work now.” I open the door.

  “One more thing, Brooklyn.”

  I turn back to him.

  “Reagan? She’s missing again.”

  I blow out a breath. Ugh. With everything going on, I’ve yet to check in with her. “I’ll call her.”

  “I did. This is her third time in two weeks.”

  I shut the door and step forward. “It’s her mom. She’s sick.”

  Wyatt rounds the desk to sit back down. “I’m not asking for her excuse. I’m just telling you that you’re alone on your shift today. I’ll deal with her.”

  “What do you mean you’ll deal with her?” I tilt my head.

  His eyes widen. “It’s not for you to worry about. This is my job.”

  “You can’t fire her. You don’t understand.” I sit in the chair in front of him.

  “She’s missed too much time. I’m sorry Brooklyn, but this is where management has to step in. A hotel can’t function with a housekeeper who misses work almost once a week.”

  “Just listen to me.”

  He stares at me and from his expression it’s clear, I’m overstepping. “You need to clock in before you’re late.”

  Both our gazes move to the clock on the wall.

  I leave his office and once the door is shut behind me, I’m thinking the whole platonic thing will be easy if he keeps being such a dick.

  Twenty-Nine

  Wyatt

  It’s been three weeks of trying to keep my hands in my pockets when I’m around Brooklyn. To stop any flirtatious comments. But that doesn’t mean my body isn’t drawn to her. When we’re watching television, we both kind of lean in toward one another. Hell, I went against my better judgment and gave Reagan a warning instead of writing her up or firing her. She asked for part-time until her mom was settled, and I agreed only because it would make Brooklyn happy.

  “First class?” Brooklyn looks at me when I hand her the ticket.

  “Will that give me some mile-high perks?” I ask, guiding her to the security area by placing my hand on the small of her back.

  She glances over her shoulder and I retract my hand. Why three weeks after our talk about being platonic can I still not co
ntrol my hands or my tongue around this woman?

  We get through security where Brooklyn chats with one of the security guys she knows from Lake Starlight.

  “It was nice seeing you, Duke.” She grabs her bag after he’s done wanding her. Was that really necessary?

  “You too, Brook. Call me when you return and maybe we can meet up at Lucky’s.”

  I scowl at the guy, picking up my own bag and slipping back into my shoes.

  “Do you want something to eat or drink?” I ask as we pass a few restaurants and stores.

  “Do we have time?”

  I glance at my watch. “We have an hour before boarding since you like to adhere to the whole two-hour rule.”

  “There’s a reason for the rules,” she sing-songs.

  “Yeah, and it’s for major airports, not this one.”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “What are you trying to say?’ She pokes me in the stomach.

  Maybe she feels like I do now that we’re out of all the eyes and ears of Lake Starlight. Like we can actually enjoy each other’s company without worrying about what it does or doesn’t mean.

  “Did you break your finger?” I ask with a grin.

  It takes her a minute to figure out my joke.

  “Such an ego on you.” She shakes her head and walks into a small restaurant.

  She asks if we can be seated by the window to watch the planes take off. I allow her to take charge for us, and a slow stirring begins in my stomach that this trip could change things.

  I slide into the seat across from her.

  “The burgers look good, but so does the wrap.” Her mouth twists while she tries to decide. I don’t know if she’s always like this or what. We haven’t been to a ton of restaurants together because she’s still freaked out about that damn Buzz Wheel thing. For a gossip blog, they can’t be that good since they haven’t been able to figure out I’m not Wyatt Moore.

  She drops her menu on the table.

  “What are you getting?” I ask.

  “I’m deciding when she comes.”

  “Interesting.” I lay my menu on the edge.

  “What are you getting?”

  “The bacon cheeseburger. Having to see my father makes me want to stress eat.”

  She tilts her head. “Tell me about him.”

  I lean back in my chair, watching a plane speed down the runway. One good thing about being in Lake Starlight is being away from him. “We don’t get along.”

  Her lips scrunch. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine. It’s been our relationship my entire life. If it wasn’t for my mom, I would’ve never gone into the business, but my sister wasn’t going to do it and if I didn’t, it dies with my dad.”

  Am I going to tell her everything before she has to meet them? Hell no. There’s some of my family past that just needs to stay there.

  “But surely if you don’t love it—”

  Luckily, the waitress comes over and takes our order, distracting me from having to answer. I’d love more control, but that makes me sound like an egotistical control freak. That’s not what it’s about though. It’s about having something for myself, being responsible for the outcome solely on my own.

  “I always wonder what my relationship with my parents would’ve been like,” she says, sipping the water the waitress brought over. “We didn’t have the best one when they passed, but I was sixteen. I wasn’t like Rome and Denver who tested each and every boundary, but still I thought I was smarter than them.”

  I laugh, glad she changed the topic to her. Then again, she’s always willing to share her past and talk about memories that might be painful.

  “Would my dad have tried to get me into the business? Or calm Rome or Denver down? There’s so much that might have changed if they hadn’t died.”

  I reach across the table and clutch her hand in mine. “You’ll never know unfortunately. I’m sorry.”

  She shakes her head but squeezes my hand.

  “You need to have a relationship with your dad though. Speaking as someone who lost her parents, when they die, you don’t want unresolved feelings.”

  I slide my hand from hers. “You’ll understand when you meet him. And please don’t think we share the same thoughts on things when you do.”

  She sips her water again, her eyes finding the runway. We both know she’s letting me skate away from telling her the real problem between my father and me.

  “Tell me about your mom or your sister.” She sits up straighter in her chair.

  “Well, we’ll start with my sister. She’s marrying my friend from college. They met when she came to see me my senior year. Her biggest ambition is to be on Real Housewives of New York.”

  “Not a bad ambition.” She winks.

  “Well, she’s got the dramatic flair to fit in perfectly.” I sip my drink. “We’re not close like you and your siblings. We tolerate one another, but that’s about it. Bradley, her fiancé, is going to run for Congress.” I try to not roll my eyes, but it doesn’t work.

  She laughs. “You’re not in agreement?”

  “My worst fear is that he’ll publicly cheat on my sister and I’ll end up in the newspapers for having to beat the shit out of him. Bradley wasn’t exactly faithful to anyone back in college.”

  “If you only tolerate your sister, why would you care enough to beat up Bradley?”

  I shrug. “She’s still my sister. I’m not on board with the whole wedding thing, but I promised my mom to keep my mouth shut.”

  “Which brings us to your mother.”

  I smile.

  “I see the soft spot in your family,” she points, and I nod.

  “My mom is worried I’ll die alone, so prepare for a heavy push about us being a couple.”

  The waitress brings over our food, and Brooklyn unwraps her silverware from a paper napkin. I could’ve taken her to the airport lounge, but she doesn’t seem like she’d enjoy it as much as this.

  “Please, you’ve had to endure Grandma Dori for months.”

  I’d never say it, but I don’t mind it. If it wasn’t for Grandma Dori, I never would’ve gotten to know Brooklyn the way I have.

  “Let’s just say if my mom and your grandma got together, we’d be married in a month.”

  She laughs and I shouldn’t enjoy the fact she doesn’t seem put out by my comment, but I do. My mind has made some mental slips the last few weeks, thinking that I could enjoy a life with Brooklyn—picturing it in my head. Coming home from work and watching television with her rather than going to the latest restaurant open or gallery showing. To just walk around town and see where we end up rather than taking a town car everywhere. Falling asleep next to her after making love sounds amazing.

  We finish eating our food and I’m happy that the topic of my family had been put on the back burner. I’m not sure what Brooklyn will think when she meets them. Not just my immediate family, but my extended as well. There’s not many of us Whitmores because there’s been so many falling outs. My dad ends up alienating most of my family members.

  A half hour later I pay the bill and we head to our gate.

  “Are you cool with flying?” I ask her, sitting next to her and letting my arm rest on the chair behind her.

  “Love it.”

  I smile. “Good. Me, too. I usually sleep.”

  She scrunches her eyebrows. “Not this time.” She digs into her bag and pulls out a pack of cards. “We’re playing rummy.”

  “Too bad we can’t play strip poker.” I grin at her.

  She pokes me in the stomach. “You better stop with these comments. We’re just friends, remember?”

  I smile, wishing she was mine to kiss when she’s this cute.

  Thirty

  Brooklyn

  “Brook,” Wyatt’s voice whispers in my ear. “We’re landing.”

  My eyes flutter open and I tilt my head. His baby blues could put me in a trance.

  “I fell asleep?”

  He chuckle
s. “You did.”

  “How did the movie end?”

  I remember us playing rummy, doing the crossword puzzle from the paper he bought, and then the movie.

  “It’s a romantic comedy. They end up together.”

  I sit and pile the blanket over my lap, my ears popping from the descent.

  “Of course, they did, but how?” I stretch my arms and Wyatt’s gaze fixates on my breasts. They perk up from his attention.

  “The typical way—the guy had to do the begging.”

  “Well.” I hand the blanket to the flight attendant as she passes. “That’s the way it usually goes because the men are always wrong.”

  His hands move to my ribs and he tickles me. “Want to try that again?”

  I wiggle in my seat, and the plane takes a big dip. The woman behind me sighs.

  “One day you’re going to run toward a woman instead of away from her.” The words fall from my lips before I can lock them inside. I hope he doesn’t think I’m implying I want him to run after me. To change his life course for me.

  “Don’t go to Vegas with that bet.”

  My smile falls and I slink back in my seat. He stops tickling me and faces forward. Just like that, it’s back to feeling awkward. Before I knew he was leaving town, it was so easy between us and now it’s so hard.

  Because I thought it was headed somewhere, but he was only going in one direction—back to New York.

  “Can I ask you a question?” he whispers.

  Most people around us are busy putting their stuff away and watching the plane dip below the clouds.

  I adjust my seat belt. “Sure, what?”

  “Is this hard for you? The platonic thing.”

  I shrug when in truth, pretending I just see him as a friend goes against everything in my nature. Reaching out to touch him but retracting my hand. The flirtatious banter that almost slides out of my mouth before I swallow it back down.

  “So, I’m alone in this?” he asks.

  I take him in. He’s dressed differently today. Like he’s ready for pictures to be taken the minute we step off the plane. His hair is usually impeccable, and his beard trimmed nicely, so it could be his clothes that’s making me see him in a different light today. It makes no difference to me whether he’s dressed like this or wearing a t-shirt and running shorts, I want him just the same. There’s a craving that heats my blood every time I look at him.