Brayden (Wild Men Book 6)

by Melissa Belle

  Leleila

  After I’m done speaking, I stand at the edge of the stage with the sign-up sheet next to me. Dolores corrals people into line as one by one they come up to glance at the literature on sale and sign up for our free e-newsletter.

  As Dolores takes payment from attendees who want to become annual members, I catch a glimpse of Brayden chatting with Sophia and Slammer. Sophia throws her head back and laughs, obviously enjoying being able to flirt with two men at once.

  “Leleila?” Patsy appears at my elbow. “If you need to leave, I can take over from here.”

  I thank her and grab my purse from the back of the stage. As I walk toward Sophia, I pray someone will look up and notice me before I have to awkwardly insert myself into their conversation.

  Of all the options, it’s Slammer who calls out to me. “Hey! Leleila’s here!” He throws his arm around my back as soon as I reach them.

  “Hi…Slammer,” I get out.

  I turn and say hi to Brayden, hoping no one will mention my talk and how much I screwed up.

  “Let’s get out of here.” Sophia grabs Slammer’s hand and pushes me so that I end up ahead of them and next to Brayden. “Save the Soil creeps me out when I’m around it too long.”

  We end up at CeeGee Cakes. I love the cupcakes at CeeGee’s, and Sophia and I come here at least once a month for a treat.

  The four of us take our time picking out what flavors we want to try. I wind up with a lemon strawberry mix, and Brayden goes with the all chocolate one. Sophia and Slammer can’t stop making out with each other in line, so I eventually order for the both of them.

  “Yum,” Sophia says as she takes a big bite of hers on the way to a table. “Key lime with raspberry filling. Good choice, Lei.”

  I would like to paint a still of these cupcakes. The key lime one is the most beautiful shade of green, and the raspberry is in at least three different tints of red.

  We take seats at the back, and within seconds, Sophia and Slammer are mouth to mouth again.

  I roll my eyes at Brayden, who reaches over and, taking hold of the back of my chair, gently turns me so I’m facing him instead of Sophia’s back.

  “Good idea,” I say.

  We chat for a few minutes about the bike race. “My parents showing up was a surprise,” I say. “My mom promised she’d be back before…” I don’t want to bring up my wedding. “Before too long.”

  “Your parents seem cool,” he says.

  I nod quickly. Explaining Nina and Fred Wills to anyone is difficult to do.

  “So you speak for your parents and you write for your sister,” Brayden says. “What do you do for you?”

  “I’m a cheerleader, I suppose. For pretty much everyone.”

  “Your speech was great, by the way.”

  I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “It was horrible.” I laugh. “Probably my worst ever.”

  “I thought it was great,” he insists. “I can’t imagine public speaking like that.”

  “Speaking of Save the Soil,” I say to him in a low voice. “I took a quick look at the sample under a lens. It looks off.”

  Brayden’s eyes narrow. “How off?”

  “Enough that I asked someone to send it out for analysis.”

  “Shit.” He runs a hand through his hair. “That’s not good.”

  “No. But the analysis will go into a lot more detail. I’ll let you know as soon as I find out the results.”

  Brayden offers me a bite of his cupcake, and the chocolate blends nicely with the strawberry taste I already have in my mouth. I wonder if CeeGee Cakes could make a dessert for my wedding reception. I know Phillip won’t like the idea.

  But I’m in too good of a mood to care.

  I walk up to the counter. “Could I schedule a tasting for my fiancé and me?”

  “Of course. And we make cupcake-tiered cakes if you’d like that,” she says.

  “That sounds amazing.”

  “How’s the night after tomorrow?”

  “I’ll take it.”

  I return to the table as Sophia peels her face away from Slammer’s long enough to ask Brayden when his team’s next home game is.

  “This weekend we have one in Wilcox,” he says. “But our big home game of the season is the next weekend against the Tigers, our long-time rival. The coaches have a bonfire party after for all the ‘adults’—” He chuckles. “And our friends. This year, I’m throwing it at Big River Ranch.”

  “Can we come?” Sophia asks.

  I frown at her. “Soph. It’s for his friends.”

  “Which you are,” Brayden says firmly, his eyes on me. “You’re all welcome.”

  That’s two weeks before my wedding.

  And Sophia knows it. “That timing sounds perfect, Brayden.” She elbows me. “Lei and I would love to come.”

  “No, we wouldn’t,” I say firmly. “I don’t go to parties. Or football games.”

  “I promise I’ll keep you safe,” he says.

  His tone is casual, but his eyes lock onto mine. He’s saying that because he knows. He knows I’m scared shitless from twelve years ago. And he wants me to heal.

  Part of the wall around my heart cracks open at the pureness of his offer. Part of me lets him in even more.

  Sophia reaches over and squeezes my hand underneath the table. “Thank you, Brayden. It sounds like a lot of fun.”

  “We can sit on the back of my truck together,” he says. “I won’t let anyone bother you.”

  Oh, God. This sounds like the kind of thing where rational thinking goes straight out the window. “I thought it was a bonfire party,” I say.

  “Tailgating, bonfire, dancing—all of that. It’s just the kind of party I grew up with.”

  I don’t want to know what kind of growing up he’s referring to, so I don’t say anything.

  I’m getting a sugar high. I start giggling. “My kind of parties were AP all-nighters.”

  “So you always liked to study?” he asks me as Sophia and Slammer start kissing again.

  “Yeah.” I flick my hand in frustration. “I don’t know if I liked it, to be honest. Academics were what was expected, and getting good grades was supposed to set me up for the future. Doesn’t seem to be getting me very far right now. But I’m meeting with my advisor this week, so hopefully he’ll have good news.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I don’t get a chance to talk to Phillip until the next night when I stay up and wait for him to get home. I’m determined to reconnect with him and hopefully break through the distance that’s between us.

  But he’s bleary-eyed from his work, and he’s in a dark mood.

  “Honey?” I say from where I’m sitting on the couch. “I have an idea that may cheer you up.”

  He looks at me expectantly.

  “Wedding cupcakes.” I smile. “Instead of a cake, we order custom cupcakes. Just enough for each guest to have one. Or maybe two. We won’t have any waste. CeeGee Cakes uses recyclable wrappers, and their frosting is natural with no artificial dyes. They also have gluten-free and sugar-free alternatives for you.”

  “I don’t think so, Lei.”

  “I set up a tasting for us night after next,” I say, putting my arms around his waist. “Your colleagues come over tomorrow evening, but early next week, you have nothing on your calendar, not until you leave for the conference. What do you say? It’s free; no strings attached. If we don’t like the cupcakes, we don’t use the company.”

  He rubs his eyes wearily. “Sounds fine. If it means that much to you, sure. Just text me the time, okay?”

  If it’s not within his subject area, Phillip doesn’t usually have much to say. Versatility is not his strength. He’s a good man, and I know he’d sooner die than hurt me on purpose.

  He just doesn’t consider being married to his work as a sting.

  He says he’s going upstairs, and I don’t know why, but I go for the one thing I know will get his attention.

  “Do you, um
…ever wish you’d ended up with a science professor?” I say abruptly. “You know, a colleague. Because even if I pass my dissertation, I’ll never be a professor like Mindy Cox.”

  His back stiffens and he pauses a few feet up the stairs. “I don’t know what you mean, Lei.” He turns around, and his eyes find mine. “What are you saying?”

  I shrug. “I know you have that fantasy…”

  “Leleila.” He sighs and comes over to the couch and sits down. “I told you pretending wouldn’t be the same as the real thing. It’s fine. It really is.”

  I narrow my eyes. “It’s just…I know you told me that sex with an academic is on your bucket list, and now that I failed my thesis, it makes me wonder if you’re…”

  “If I’m what?” His tired eyes flash with panic that he tries to cover. “Finish your sentence, Lei.”

  I keep my gaze on his. “It makes me wonder, if I don’t actually become a professor, you’ll feel like you’re settling.”

  There. I’ve said it.

  “You’re going to pass that dissertation and get hired at the university,” he says firmly as he takes my hand in his. “I know you are. And in the meanwhile…I was waiting to tell you this, but…”

  “But what?” I say, a sense of doom filling my chest.

  “You can work for me.” He beams. “As my assistant at the college. You can start as soon as we’re married.”

  I tighten my fingers around his subconsciously. “I’ll be your assistant?”

  He furrows his brow in that way he gets when he’s truly confused. “Don’t you want to get back to work?”

  “Yes. I do.” I pull my hand away and sigh. “But not as your assistant. Honey, I think we both know that won’t end well.”

  His mouth turns down into nearly a scowl. “I don’t know how to get you to realize that I don’t need you to be a professor to make me happy. I just want you to be by my side.”

  I fiddle with the string on my ring finger. It’s getting awfully frayed, and I’m not sure it’s going to make it to the wedding after all. “Phillip, sometimes I wonder if this—us—isn’t working as well as it used to. I feel like we’re growing apart, and I even wonder if maybe you have a specific woman in mind for your professor fantasy, and maybe you have for a while.”

  Phillip rubs his temple. “Lei. Don’t. There is no specific woman.”

  I fiddle some more with the string. Now I’m pulling so tightly that my finger is turning white from lack of blood flow. “I’ve suggested we try professor role-play in bed. Why won’t you consider it?”

  “Because. You’re not…” He trails off.

  “I’m not a hot professor who you can have illicit sex with in your office or at a conference. Right?” My voice sounds surprisingly calm to my own ears, considering my insides are shaking. I take off my glasses and keep talking. “You were waiting—hoping—for the day when I’d pass my dissertation and maybe then, even though we both know you don’t consider psychology to be on the same level as biology and ecology—you thought maybe then we could do all those dirty things you dream about.”

  Phillip pats my knee. “You’re the woman I want to marry. That’s why you have the ring around your finger, Lei.” He points to the string I’m busy tugging at. “It’s not about getting a degree. You’re stressed out, honey,” he says, and I don’t miss how he, as usual, manages to turn the focus onto me like I’m the problem. “This wedding isn’t supposed to be a source of anxiety. That’s why we’re making it as low-key as possible. Until our wedding, will you promise to have as much fun as possible? Go out, have a few drinks, and hang out with some friends. Okay?”

  My response comes out in a pained, yet clear, tone. “Sure.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The following evening, I sit by myself on our couch and look up at Phillip and Matt Lucas schmoozing together by the fireplace. Two glasses of sherry in and Phillip’s eyes have that glassy look they get when I know he’s going to pass out as soon as his head hits the pillow. I look down at my ring finger, and I’m still looking at it when Elsa Lucas takes a seat next to me, uninvited. I turn to smile at her, wondering what Matt’s perfect scholarly wife is doing sitting next to little old me, but I don’t have to wait long to find out.

  “Leleila,” she begins. “Don’t you look lovely tonight.”

  “Thank you,” I say stiffly, knowing that line has to be just her lead-in to something more sinister.

  Her badly-colored hair doesn’t hide the fact that she’s twenty years older than me, and I know she’s had to attend these parties for far longer than I can imagine doing myself, so I try to cut her some slack.

  “You know,” she says. “Now that your marital status is about to change, Phillip’s going to need you more than ever in order to stay on track.”

  When I don’t answer her, she keeps going. “I teach a class at my home that’s vital for someone like you,” she says. “Someone who’s a bit resistant to accepting all the pressures that come with becoming a professor’s wife. This department is the most prestigious one at the university. Your fiancé will need a lot of support the further along his career he gets.”

  I clench my jaw and make a non-verbal sound that she must take as consent because she smiles at me.

  “I host a quarterly dinner party,” she says. “Hors d’oeuvres, organic wine, and a full-course meal, of course. I bake my desserts, but you could always do store-bought as long as it’s decent.”

  “I’m not sure that Phillip wants to host a party every quarter…” I begin.

  “What Phillip wants and what Phillip needs are two different things,” Elsa says in a sharp tone. “How do you think Matt’s paper got accepted to the Journal so quickly last year? We invited the best over—remember the party you and Phillip attended at our home?”

  Yes, and I remember wanting to run screaming from it. Everyone standing around in suits and holding napkins filled with crab cakes. Nobody dared to sit down for two hours. Phillip stood by the fireplace with Annabeth Franklin for ninety minutes while she rambled on about her latest research. I texted Sophia from the bathroom twice.

  I look away from Elsa and nod quickly.

  “It went perfectly,” she says. “A lovely gathering. You should plan the same, Leleila. It will help take the pressure off Phillip’s shoulders.”

  “With all due respect, Elsa,” I say politely. “Phillip is brilliant. He doesn’t need to host social gatherings to continue his career success. I mean he’s already an author on a number of papers.”

  “But not on a book,” Elsa says. “He would just kill to get a book out there, I imagine. Am I right?”

  I frown and don’t answer her. I know Phillip wants a published book, but I figured that was a few years away.

  “You and I both know every research scientist wants to publish as much as possible, as frequently as possible,” Elsa continues. “Phillip is no different. And he needs your help. The spouse is invaluable, my dear. And since you don’t have a doctorate yourself, there’s really no excuse…”

  She trails off purposely here and leaves for the bathroom, taking with her any trace of happiness I still had with me tonight.

  “Who wants more wine?” I say as I bounce up from the couch.

  I discover we don’t have that third bottle of wine I was sure we had.

  Seeing as I’m the only one here who’s sober, I tell Phillip I’ll be back in thirty, and I jump in the car.

  When I reach June’s store, I exhale.

  June’s working the register again, and I surprise her when I jog over to the counter, hair flying out behind me because I never took the time to pull it back.

  “You look eager,” she says. “But he’s not here. I like your outfit, though.”

  I glance down at my long, white skirt and ribbed blue top. “Thanks. This is my professor party attire, I guess. And I’m not here to see anybody.”

  “Uh-huh. Sure you’re not.”

  I stick my tongue out at her. “I’m grabbing
more wine. Apparently Phillip’s department is filled with lushes.”

  “Not a shock. They’re probably so bored with themselves they need to drink to numb their brains.” She narrows her eyes and cocks her head as she appraises me. “What’s going on?”

  I take her by the arm and hustle her into her office where I shut and lock the door behind us.

  “I have a question. I know you don’t like the women flirting with Phillip, but you hated him long before that. How come? You two seem so alike—both brilliant, anal-retentive, successful.”

  June grumbles something I can’t hear and takes a seat on her desk. I stand before her, not sure why I’m here or what I’m looking for from my younger sister, but wanting to feel better than I’m feeling right now.

  “Somehow I don’t think you’re only here about Phillip,” she says. “What’s happening with Brayden?”

  “Nothing.” I look away from her. “But he’s super nice. We have fun together.”

  “You guys are friends?” she asks me.

  “He’s like the best guy friend I’ve ever had.” I sigh. “It’s just…”

  “You’re engaged.” She puts her elbows on her knees and rests her chin in her hands.

  “Brayden and I are just friends. Nothing’s happened.”

  June narrows her eyes at me. “Why do I have the feeling you’re not telling me everything?”

  I stand up and glance out the office windows to make sure nobody’s right outside. Then I sit back down. “June…something happened to me when we were in high school.”

  Her eyes flash with anger. “Who hurt you?”

  “I fought him off.” My voice sounds far away to my own ears. “He didn’t…even though he tried…” I can’t continue due to the sudden lump in my throat.

  “Lei.” June reaches out her hand, and I take it. “I can’t believe you never told me before.”

  I nod, accepting the tissue she hands me. “I’m okay. But when I escaped, I opened the door and there was…Brayden Wild.”

  Her eyes go huge. “Brayden? Our Brayden?”

  I smile at her affection for him. “Yes. We met twelve years ago. Just that once.”