She sits back in her chair. “So he knows what happened to you.”
“Yes.”
“This is a lot to take in,” she admits. “Did you start dating Phillip right after?”
“Pretty much,” I say. “He was stable. He was consistent and safe, and he never made me go to parties or push me out of my comfort zone.”
Her face relaxes. “I get it.”
“Phillip was my partner. He was there for me when Mom and Dad were always traveling. He was all I had for years.” I fidget with my hands in my lap.
June says nothing. She just sits and looks at me.
I play with the zipper on my purse. “But he’s been acting…distant. It’s been going on for a while, but I was in denial until recently. I’m afraid we’re growing so far apart that we won’t be able to stitch things back together in time.”
“Do you want to stitch things back together with Phillip?”
I chew on my lip. “I’m not sure.”
“I know I give you a lot of flack over it, but I’m not the best person to talk to about this.” June shrugs. “I haven’t been in a serious relationship since I broke up with Sammy senior year of high school.”
“I admire that you don’t need a relationship to define you.”
“No, I just need random sex once a month,” she jokes.
I smile. “You sound like Sophia. You guys are too hard on yourselves.” I stand up. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Lei.”
I turn back to her.
“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Her face is drawn. “I wish I could have been there for you. But I’m glad somebody was.”
“Thanks, June. I’ll meet you out front.”
I head down Aisle 8 and grab two bottles of Phillip’s favorite red wine.
When I reach the register, June’s there too, and she starts to ring me up. “Do you have Brayden’s number on your phone?” she says in far too casual a tone.
“Yes,” I say suspiciously.
“Good. I need you to call him for me.”
“Call him yourself.”
“I can’t call him. I’m very busy cashing.”
I shoot her a death stare. “June, come on. I have to get home.” Even though I know what these parties are like. They won’t even notice I’m gone. “What do you need to talk to him about?”
She reaches underneath the counter and hands me a large cloth bag.
“This is all the unsold produce from Big River Ranch for today. Brayden usually takes a portion home with him to feed his livestock or to compost anything that’s spoiled. He had to hurry out today for practice, and he got caught up helping one of the players afterward, so he never stopped back. I hate for him to not have it for the feeding tomorrow morning, so I texted him earlier and said I’d bring it by shortly. Then, Kim left without telling me. If I wait until we close, he’ll be stuck staying up later than I’m sure he’d like. ”
I blow out a breath and grab the bag from her. “You so owe me for this,” I say. “And you call him first to make sure he’s actually still up.”
When I pull into Brayden’s driveway, a strange sensation washes over me.
I feel at peace, more so than I do when I pull into my own driveway sometimes.
Brayden opens his front door as soon as I step out of the car. I wave, fully aware of him watching me walk toward him. He’s standing there in a fitted red t-shirt, worn blue jeans, and bare feet, and I have to catch my breath as I reach him. I hand him the bag of produce, and he invites me inside.
As I step forward, I almost think he’s going to hug me, but instead he puts his hand briefly on my lower back and guides me toward the living room.
“So what are you up to?” I ask him.
The lights are dimmed, and the curtains are drawn. The television’s on, and a dinner plate with chicken and pasta sits on the arm of the couch. The whole room feels very cozy.
Brayden chuckles. “Watching two things. One’s very manly and would get a stamp of approval from the outside world, and the other’s more…culinary.”
I take a seat on the couch. “What are they?”
“I’ve got a Wilcox football game on film that the head coach sent me to determine a few play formations for this week’s game,” he says. “And I’ve also got on a cooking show because I’m thinking about stealing one of the recipes for dinner sometime.”
“That’s awesome.”
I lean back against the cushions and look up at the ceiling.
“I see a pine tree,” I say.
Brayden settles on his back with his head at the other end of the couch. Our legs cross the same stretch of cushion, but they’re not touching. Not quite.
“I see it,” he says. “It looks like a pine tree on steroids, though.”
I kick his leg with my foot. “No, it doesn’t!”
“It’s huge,” he says.
“You’ve been watching too much football. You’ve got steroids on the brain.”
“Speaking of football…” He hesitates, and I sense he’s worried about something important.
“Yeah?” I say.
“I’ve got a kid on my team—he’s a great kid and really has a shot to go all the way to the top.”
“But…” I prompt him.
“But his dad’s a drunk.”
My eyes fly to his. “I’m sorry. That’s tough.”
“Yeah. And I’m trying to help him out as best I can, but I can’t always get someone to watch his father during games.”
“For my practicum, I worked at an assisted living facility in Mountainview,” I say. “The program accepts people suffering from addictions. They also deal with mental illnesses of all kinds.”
“Is it a private facility?”
“It is. And I know that makes it out of range financially for a lot of people.”
“Pretty much anything that’s not free will be out of range for this guy,” Brayden murmurs.
“The thing is,” I say. “Maybe we can get creative somehow.”
“What do you mean?” His blue eyes zero in on mine.
“Well, for example, if one of your cousins runs any kind of a charity, they could potentially sponsor him through a scholarship or some type of aid.”
“Are you serious? The facility accepts patients that way?”
“Absolutely. They take several people a year who qualify through scholarships. I don’t know if that’s feasible, of course, but it’s one idea. And if that doesn’t work, I’m sure we can figure out another solution.”
Brayden moves his foot so that it’s touching my thigh. “Thank you. I would never have thought of that.”
Where he’s touching me is burning up, and my nipples tighten. This is not good. Not good at all.
“How late can you stay?” he asks me in a soft tone.
I glance at the time on my phone. I can’t believe I’m having so much fun with this man that I nearly forgot about my fiancé and his wine.
“I should have left ten minutes ago.”
Brayden nods, and his sapphire eyes lose their sparkle. I want to say more, but I don’t know how.
He sits up and gestures to the red string around my finger. “How long has this been on?”
I inhale. “Six months. You know… it’s one of those knots that stick.”
He nods. “Must be some strong string.”
“I don’t know where he got it, but the red is supposed to be for love.”
Brayden’s lips part as his eyes fix on mine, and my heart beats faster.
I fight the urge to lean forward and throw my body passionately against his. God, that sounds like such a ridiculous soap opera moment.
I’ve always admired those soap opera characters in a way. They really seem to live life to the fullest, not caring if they make fools of themselves or whether or not they’re going to piss somebody off. They just do what they do in the moment and live with the consequences. I’m not certain I’m courageous enough to live with the consequenc
es of what I’ve set into motion, and I don’t know that I have the necessary tools to come out of it gracefully. I don’t want to lose Brayden at the end of the month, but I don’t see any other way around it, because once a gold band replaces this piece of red string, everything will change.
It’s hard to believe that in a little over two weeks, Phillip and I will be married and on our way to the Galapagos. He and I have never felt farther apart, and my gut twinges uncomfortably.
It’s almost like Phillip thinks we’ll just show up at the courthouse and exchange vows ASAP so he can get back to his research.
“Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh.” I flash a quick smile before blurting out, “Phillip and I had a talk. I was concerned that he’s unhappy in our relationship. He didn’t say as much, but the implication was there.”
Brayden’s expression is blank. “Did you tell him how that made you feel?”
I feel my face go hot. “Sort of. I asked him what he likes.”
Maybe I’m imagining it, but the pulse on Brayden’s neck seems to pick up, and his breathing quickens. “What do you mean?”
“He has a bucket list to sleep with a professor. And because I failed my thesis, well…”
A strangled sound escapes Brayden’s throat, but his expression remains blank.
I hit the heel of my hand against my forehead. “TMI. So sorry.”
A long silence ensues. Brayden leans his head back and gazes up at the ceiling for over a minute as if there’s an answer up there for him. When he finally makes eye contact with me again, his lip quirks up. “You know you look like you’re holding your breath?”
I let out a heavy exhale. “Sorry.”
“Please don’t be sorry. I like spending time with you.”
And I like spending time with you.
“And Leleila.” Brayden locks eyes with me as I stand to leave. “You deserve to be treated like the incredible, brilliant, beautiful, funny woman you are. No matter who you’re with, I don’t want you to ever forget that.”
My throat constricts, and I can’t answer him.
“One other thing? I don’t think anybody else can understand or analyze this.” He doesn’t expound on what he means by “this,” but I assume it’s us—him and me. “And to be perfectly honest, I really don’t care what anybody else thinks about it. When you really look closely at this world, there are a lot of things that don’t make sense, but that doesn’t always matter, you know?”
I nod. Yes, this friendship I’m in with Brayden while being engaged doesn’t make much sense. But our friendship works, and that’s the most complicated part of all.
Brayden
My house feels empty as soon as Leleila leaves. I didn’t realize it was missing anything until she came by. The silence left by her absence is nearly painful.
A sense of frustration comes over me as I clean the dishes from dinner. I haven’t been looking for a relationship. Quite the opposite—I’ve been enjoying being single and coming home alone. Until Leleila walked into Big Sky Grocer, and now I feel pathetically lonely when she’s not around. Outside of my cousins’ significant others, she’s the first woman I’ve really been friends with—just friends with—ever. And the fact that I also want to take her clothes off and make love to her? That just makes me want her more.
I like hanging out with her. I like hearing about her life and telling her about mine. She and I are opposites, and yet somehow, we fit.
My phone rings, and I groan when I see who it is. Dylan Wild is the number one quarterback in the league for a reason—he fights for what he wants until he gets it. And I have no doubt that right now, he’s going to want to know who Leleila is. He hasn’t called since Jasalie was here visiting, and by now, I’m sure she’s told him the story.
I swipe the screen. “Hey, Dyl.”
“Bray. What’s up?”
“Nothing. Congrats on Sunday’s win. You guys looked awesome out there.”
“Thanks. Hey, can you do me a favor for the wedding reception?”
I chuckle. “A wedding favor. Jasalie’s really got you good, doesn’t she?”
He laughs. “She does. And I love her, but I have no clue what she’s talking about half the time, between the flower arrangements and the food…anyway, don’t kill me, but…”
I groan. “What does Jasalie need done in person?”
“She’s changed her mind on the wedding cake flavors.”
“Dude…”
“I know. I would ask Colt’s mom or mine to do it, but my mom is away with my dad on business, and you know how Colt’s mom is diabetic and never eats sugar. You want me to call your mom instead?”
“No,” I say quickly. “That’ll just get her revved up about why none of her own sons are married yet.”
Dylan chuckles. “I figured as much. I’ll text you the address and the time—the lady at the shop said she’d fit you in next week.”
“That’s fine. And I’ve got a favor of my own, actually.”
“Shoot.”
“You know Wes Brick, the quarterback for Wilcox?”
“Of course. He’s a great kid. Huge fucking arm.”
“No doubt. The thing is his dad—”
“Calvin,” Dylan says right away. “He’s had problems for years.”
“I know. Things aren’t improving, though. If anything, they’re worse.”
Dylan lets out a frustrated huff. “I’m sorry to hear that. How can I help?”
That’s the thing about Dylan. His first, second, and last question is always, “How can I help?” Doesn’t matter how big he’s gotten or how wealthy—he’s never forgotten where he came from and how blessed he is.
I tell him what Leleila suggested about offering a scholarship through his charity.
“I’ll make a call and see what I can do,” Dylan promises. “It’s a great idea, Bray.”
“It is, but it wasn’t mine,” I say. “A friend suggested it.”
Pause, and I know it’s coming. Sure enough—
“So, who’s this engaged woman you’re into?”
“Fuck, Dylan.”
“Is she the friend who came up with the plan to help Wes?”
I blow out a breath. “Leave it, okay? I’ve already told Cam and Ayd to back the fuck off.”
“I heard.” His tone is amused. “Heard you practically took Cam out. I don’t doubt he deserved it, of course. The little cousin doesn’t know when to shut his mouth.”
“That’s an understatement.” I take a beat. “Look, I’ll fill you in when you come into town. That’s the best I can give you right now.”
“Okay. But on that note, I’m setting you and Cam up at the reception.”
My heart slams against my chest. “No.”
He chuckles. “Why not? Is this woman going to be there? Jasalie told me she said no to her invitation. Although I have to say my wife doesn’t like many people on sight, so if she invited her to our wedding renewal, she must really be something.”
“She is.” I grip the phone tightly. “But she’s not coming. And I’m not being set up. I’ll fucking kill you if you try.”
He laughs again, and I think I get him to agree with me before we hang up.
But do I trust him? Absolutely not. Dylan’s been on a kick to get Cam and me into relationships ever since he married, and I know he won’t give up.
Which means I need to outmaneuver him. And there’s only one way to do that: if I have a date, Dylan can’t set me up. Problem solved.
But I don’t want to go with anyone but Leleila Wills. And she’s not an option.
I pull at my hair with both hands. I’m insane. I’ve totally fucking lost it. I’m hung up on an engaged woman to the point that I’m refusing an offer to be set up with a woman I could actually have sex with?
Yep. That’s exactly what’s going on. Because I don’t want to have sex with anyone if I’m not having sex with Leleila. Which, again, proves how completely screwed I am. In a few short weeks, she’ll
be a married woman, to another man, and I won’t be hanging out with her anymore. The idea of no more time with Leleila is like a sucker punch to the gut, and I push the thought out of my head and go take a shower.
Chapter Nineteen
Leleila
“Awesome.” Sophia claps her hands when she shows up at my house the next night. “A wedding cake. Finally something about these upcoming nuptials of yours that’s not drab.”
“I don’t think Phillip’s going to like a wedding cake much. Even if it’s made of gluten-free cupcakes.”
“Of course, Phillip’s not going to like it much. So what? Do something outside Phillip’s box for once in your life. Start with your wedding planning, because if you wait until after you’re married, there’ll be nothing of you left.”
Phillip said he’ll be coming straight from the university, so Sophia drives us to the bakery.
“So. Phillip’s going away tomorrow night?” she asks as she drives.
I know the darkness she’s headed toward. “Don’t go there. It’s morally wrong.”
“What are morals anyway?” Sophia says as I pick up my purse.
I hate when she waxes on. It’s the worst, because half the time, she’s got a point, and it’s always the opposite kind of point from what I was raised with. So she always ends up confusing me.
“Soph…”
“Morals are simply rules made in the sand by human beings,” Sophia continues. “They’re codes. And everybody has their own. Slammer, for example, has very few moral codes. That bastard hasn’t called me back in two days,” she grumbles. “But that’s another story. Now Phillip—he’s surprising the fuck out of me. The man has screwed-up fantasies and a bucket list? That is not the Phillip Rowe I know. This Phillip is certainly a hell of a lot more interesting. Still selfish to the core but with a level of intrigue to him now. Not that you deserve to have to deal with his bullshit, and I don’t approve of his new ‘I’m too busy for anyone because I have research’ attitude. So, on that note.” She points at me. “What are your plans while Phillip’s away? Because you at least need to spend time doing things for you, Lei, such as painting.”
Brayden (Wild Men Book 6) Page 16
