If I Could I'd Wish It All Away (I Wish Book 1)

by Lisa Helen Gray

  His lips spread into a wide grin, his expression amused and knowing, like he can read my thoughts.

  God, when he smiles like that, it makes his dimples pop out. My breath hitches, finding his grin panty dropping.

  Shit! I’m so going to hell thinking like this, especially when I just managed to escape the last man I was with.

  “Buff, huh?” He’s still grinning, an amused glint in his eyes, and I blush.

  Holy crap! I’m totally going to hell.

  “Yes, buff. So… food… That hungry, huh?” I ramble, trying to hide the fact I feel like I’m dying with embarrassment right now.

  “Nah, I don’t feel comfortable with you not eating, especially when I know you haven’t eaten since you arrived, so I ordered food for you too. I wasn’t sure what you liked so I ordered a bunch of shit.”

  He chuckles, eyeing the plates of food.

  Wow!

  My throat tightens, a lump forming at the incredibly sweet gesture.

  “Oh, okay.”

  He stares at me, still grinning, before snapping out of it and ordering me to eat something. Not needing to be told twice, I dig in and find myself enjoying a hot meal for the first time in over a week.

  After a few minutes of eating in silence, we start chatting, mostly about his parents and the cabin. He stays clear of asking me anything personal, for which I’m thankful. Once I know for sure he isn’t going to surprise me again, I begin to relax, enjoying his company.

  *** *** ***

  We’ve been walking through the little town for five minutes. As we round the next corner, we come to a narrow street filled with cobbled stones.

  Staring down at the cobbles, I don’t notice that Dean has stopped walking until I bump into him.

  “Sorry.” I chuckle, turning to take in my surroundings. The shop we’ve stopped outside brightens the whole street. Most of the buildings surrounding it are vacant, except for a cancer research charity shop and a music shop across the road.

  Looking back at the beautiful store, I smile and find myself falling in love with it, even though I haven’t even stepped inside.

  The panels on the building are a light purple, the door a slightly darker shade. It helps the shop stand out. Above the door is a huge sign in bold cursive, spelling out ‘Brooke’s Books’ in different-coloured letters.

  Giddy, I take a step inside, giggling when the wind chime echoes around the shop. The melody is relaxing.

  My fingers run along the shelves, and I smile at how unique they are. They’re all painted in brightly lit colours.

  I find myself breathing in the scent of lavender as I walk farther into the bookshop. I can honestly say I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s out of this world. If libraries or bookshops were to all look like this, then I’m willing to bet more people would start reading.

  The shelves aren’t the only bright-coloured fixtures in the shop. My favourites so far are the massive beanbags in every colour under the rainbow. There is no way I’ll be able to leave here until I know where she ordered them from. I want one so bad. They look really comfy, and that’s not the only thing that does. In the far corner is a green sofa, big enough to use as a double bed and has cushions piled on top in every colour I can run off my tongue.

  The place is incredible, and I can’t stop myself from taking in every little detail.

  “Wow! This is mind-blowing,” I whisper in awe.

  “Thanks. I designed it myself,” a sweet voice says, and I turn to the sound. “Hi, I’m Brooke.”

  A petite woman steps down into the room. She’s so tiny and looks to be in her early thirties. She’s dressed in bright, radiant colours, just like her shop, and is naturally pretty with her mid-length, brown wavy hair, and big brown eyes. No wonder the place lights up your mood when you walk in; it reflects its owner.

  I already feel drawn to the woman, not only because of her shop but the aura that surrounds her. You can instantly tell from being with her for the shortest amount of time that she’s a good person, that she’s kind and would do anything for anyone. For that, I already like her and have a feeling we’ll become fast friends.

  “You designed this?” I ask, stunned. But looking at the strong, independent woman, I wonder why I’m so surprised.

  “Yes. I designed everything from the beanbags to the hanging butterflies in the children’s section back there.” She smiles proudly, pointing to where she had just walked out from.

  “Wow! It’s all beautiful. Well done, you did a good job. It’s left me speechless,” I admit, smiling.

  The place is truly amazing. I’m dying to go check out the children’s section she just mentioned. It’s like a world of magic, and definitely every kid’s dream come true in here. Hell, this is my childhood dream come true. I was, and still am, proud to say that I am the biggest book geek ever known.

  My father’s passion was law, my mother’s her music and reading. She chose to teach underprivileged children how to play the piano as a career.

  Ever since I can remember, I’ve always wanted to become an editor. I loved the placement I was given from the university. I even had a good job after uni at an editing firm, but because of Rick and his old-fashioned ways, I had to leave so he could look after me. It wasn’t until later on in our relationship that I figured out it was all just another way to get me where he wanted. Until now, I never realised it was his way of controlling me, a way of taking full power of our relationship, and over me.

  Shaking the unwanted thoughts away, I remind myself that not all men are the same as Rick. My dad and grandpa are proof of that.

  “Make yourself at home…?”

  “Lola,” I finish.

  She smiles back at me. “Lola, please make yourself at home,” she tells me before turning to Dean. “Dean, you didn’t tell me that you finally met a beautiful girl. You’ve been in and out of this joint for years, listening to me prattle on, and you didn’t think to return the favour?” She tuts at him before turning back to me with a huge smile. “His last girlfriend was a B.I.T.C.H. Honestly, if there was money involved she was there, but if there wasn’t, well, you wouldn’t be worth her time. I disliked her from the moment that spunk of a man brought her here. You know what the first thing she said when she walked in was?” she asks, never taking a breath. “She said, and I quote, ‘Dean baby, I think we’re lost. What is this place? I mean, seriously, ‘What is this place?’ C’mon,” Brooke scoffs, laughing as she gestures to the books around her. “It’s a bookshop. What else could this place possibly be?” She takes a deep breath, rolling her eyes. I giggle, loving her little outburst. She really gets going once she’s started. Poor Dean looks seconds away from turning around and walking out of the shop, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He’s so cute at the moment that I can’t resist teasing him.

  “Peroxide Barbie? You date those, really?” I raise my eyebrow, and I can’t help the snort that escapes. I remember a time when he used to hate girls like that; girls that would wear next to nothing, act fake and full on flirt. He’d always tell me I was the only girl that he could stand to be around; that all those girls made him sick. The memory makes me laugh harder, and Dean narrows his eyes, playfully.

  “Sweetheart, I think you should go look in the mirror. ‘Peroxide Barbie’ was what you said, wasn’t it?” He winks, eyeing my hair, and my stomach flutters. He turns his attention back to Brooke. “And no, she isn’t my girlfriend. Lola is a friend of the family who we haven’t seen in years. We’ve known each other since we were babies.”

  I chuckle at his obvious discomfort, but then what he said clicks and I turn around, narrowing my eyes at him.

  “Did you really just call me a peroxide Barbie?” I snap.

  “Err, yes?” It comes out as a question, his bravado fading.

  “One, Mister ‘I don’t know the difference between real and fake,’ my hair has never and will never be near hair dye, bleach or any other hair chemical known to woman or man. The only time I even go near
the hairdresser is if I want to get my hair cut.

  “Two, my hair was blonder than this as a kid. You should know that since you said it shined brighter than the sun.

  “And three, I didn’t need to go to university to know what this store is. I knew before I even took a step inside. It’s on the pissing sign above the door. So never, ever, get me confused with those bimbos.” I finish my rant, taking a deep breath. God, it feels good to let off some steam. When I finally look up, Brooke and Dean are both staring at me, their mouths hanging wide open, catching flies.

  “Okay, sweetheart, say what you really mean.” Dean chuckles, teasing me, and I growl. “Grab your book so I can get you another coffee, preferably before you turn green. I want to get home safely.” Leaning closer, his breath tickles my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “I really want to say I’m sorry for upsetting you, but then I wouldn’t have seen you all mad and riled up. It makes you look sexier, by the way. Welcome home, Lola.”

  “God, you’re such a pig,” I lie, my face heating. As I look away, my gaze meets Brooke’s and she grins, sending me a wink.

  “Find a book, Lola.” He smirks, shaking his head.

  I stomp off, looking for the book in mind as a small smile plays on my lips, his earlier words playing in my head.

  Sexier. He thinks I’m sexy.

  Hopefully when we get back, I can persuade Dean to take me out in the wooden rowboat I saw on the stones down by the docks this morning.

  I don’t know why but after experiencing this morning’s ride on the boat, I want more.

  Maybe I can take my book with me and read while he rows us far out onto the lake. I have to admit, the thought of watching Dean’s biceps straining and bulging while he rows excites me. It also sickens me to feel something so soon after Rick.

  Any feelings Dean may or may not return seems like a trick, an illusion. It’s like Rick is still punishing me. His cruel words play over and over and remind me that no one will want me. Plus, even if I did have a chance, I lost it the minute Rick violated me.

  Nobody wants something tainted and ugly.

  Chapter 3

  Dean stops rowing under some willow trees, and I can’t help but glance around my surroundings, admiring how beautiful it is out here. The water is still, the sun is shining brightly, reflecting off the water, and the sound of the birds chirping in the sky is blissful. It’s the most relaxing sound in the world.

  “Why are we stopping?” I ask curiously. I thought we would be heading towards the south side of the lake where it’s more open.

  “This is my favourite spot to read. It’s the scenery, the sound of the birds. Everything about being out on the water helps me relax,” he admits, looking embarrassed.

  “Yeah. It’s really beautiful here.”

  With nothing left to do, I grab the third instalment of Fifty Shades out of my bag. Dean is right; the scenery, the sounds of the water lapping against the boat and the sound of the birds chirping makes this place the perfect spot for reading.

  Opening the book, I chuckle to myself remembering how Brooke and I got into a heated conversation back at the store over it. We talked about how Ana gave herself so easily to Christian and how willing she was to play a part in his desires, desires that weren’t even hers. All to make him happy.

  That’s when the conversation turned heated for other reasons, although I didn’t really add much when she started talking about how hot the sex scenes were and her own sexual experiences. I’ve only ever slept with one person and haven’t even experienced an orgasm, so I had no opinion over whether the book was realistic or not. I did read somewhere that it’s common for women not to have an orgasm during sex, but after listening to Brooke go on about her conquests, I began to wonder if something is actually wrong with me. Don’t get me wrong, reading the first two books had me so hot and bothered that I started to feel twinges in places I never knew I existed, but that’s as far as I’ve ever gotten to feeling pleasure.

  I was glad when Brooke changed the subject over to the topic of their relationship, but even talking about their relationship still had me feeling uncomfortable. The thought of giving myself―not just my body, but my trust―over to a man who wants the power over me sexually and emotionally too reminds me too much of what Rick happily took without permission. I couldn’t do it, not again. But then, I do hope that one day I’ll meet someone where giving him my mind, my body, and my soul, is done freely and willingly.

  We left Brooke dealing with another customer and headed out, but not before I went and looked at the children’s reading area.

  It was exactly how I imagined it to be, and I’m willing to bet the kids have a blast when they visit. The same beanbags were there, only they were smaller. She even had a mini version of the sofa that she had out front with ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’ written above it in italics, and there were star-shaped twinkle lights everywhere on the ceiling.

  It was breathtaking, and the only change I would make if it were mine to do so would be to add a play gym with small ball pits. Maybe even add some fun picture slides or a baby sensory machine.

  I think the reason I thought of all of that was because it’s something I hope to give my children one day. I wanted to give them a place where they can lose themselves. I love kids, always have, and hope that one day I’ll have some of my own.

  Returning my attention back to the book, I turn the page and start to lose myself in the world of Christian Grey.

  *** *** ***

  I think an hour has passed since I started reading. I’m already a quarter of the way through the book, with no intention of stopping. I’m so completely sucked into the story that I don’t notice Dean has stopped reading his book, not until he knocks my leg off the side of the boat with his, startling me.

  Seriously, how rude? How dare he take me away from my Christian Grey? Doesn’t he care that it could get a man cut?

  “I thought you zoned out again for a minute there,” he says, grinning mischievously. “I see Mr Grey has you all hot and bothered and transfixed into the world of BDSM. You didn’t even hear me call your name, did you? And I called you a few times.”

  He doesn’t even finish his sentence before I feel heat rise in my cheeks. Knowing the fact that my face is glowing bright red only makes this more embarrassing.

  “Sorry. It’s a habit of mine. Whenever I read a good book, I get so lost in the story. It’s like watching a movie inside my mind and everything around me is still. Nothing else exists,” I tell him, flushing.

  His grin grows bigger. “So you picture him doing that naughty stuff to his woman and giving her mind-blowing orgasms?” I know he’s teasing me, but it doesn’t stop my cheeks turning redder.

  I cannot believe he just said that to me.

  I choke on air, not knowing what to say or do. My belly turns like a washing machine, my stomach full of nerves.

  “You’ve read the book?” I ask, stunned. It both surprises and embarrasses me at the same time. I just can’t picture him reading this book, or any other male reading it for that matter. But having him mention anything about it makes me wish the world would swallow me up. I hate that he knows exactly what I’m reading, and what I’m most likely thinking whilst reading it.

  “Um, yes.” He doesn’t even pause to think about it or come across as embarrassed. Oh my God! This isn’t happening to me. “I’m actually shocked I even read it after hearing all the mixed reviews, but I couldn’t help myself. I needed to know what all the fuss was about. Those books are seriously hot. I had to get off after reading each and every one of them. Sometimes during.” He smirks, eyeing me up, and I flush once again. “Speaking of, you’re looking kind of hot and bothered. Do you need me to take you back to the cabin?”

  Seriously, what is he doing?

  His expression is serious, so I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. This is so embarrassing, and if I thought my face couldn't get any hotter, I was wrong. I wish I couldn’t swim so I could drown myself in
the lake. I look anywhere other than at him.

  Only this could happen to me.

  “I am not hot and bothered,” I screech at him. “If I look like I’m hot and bothered then it’s because of how hot it is out here. And the fact you keep talking about orgasms and masturbation―which, by the way, I don’t do, or wish to go and do, thank you very much.” Everything just bursts out of my mouth, and I curse myself for getting so worked up. What is it about this place that brings out the sass in me? I blame Dean. Yeah, I blame him. It’s all his fault I’m not acting like myself.

  After letting him stare at me for over a minute without speaking, I finally snap. “What?”

  “You’ve never touched yourself?” He looks completely shocked, like I’ve just told him I’ve found the cure to world hunger. I shake my head at him, frustrated at the deeper hole I keep digging myself into. I’m also pissed at him for teasing me in the first place. “Never?”

  Ugh, why can’t he just believe me?

  “For fucks sake. It’s none of your business, but if you must know, no, I don’t touch myself. I never have. God! I’ve never even had an orgasm.” I blurt out my most embarrassing secret before my mouth snaps shut, my teeth grinding together. I really need to learn how to keep shut around him. Not that becoming a mute is going to help me become a new and improved, stronger person.

  “Never?”

  I swear if he asks me again I’m pushing him overboard, right after I throttle him. It’s the confusion and heat pooling in his eyes that has me pausing long enough not to harm him.

  I look down at where my feet are crossed, shaking my head. “No,” I whisper, barely audible.

  “You’re not a virgin, are you? I mean, not that being a virgin is a bad thing because it’s not. In fact, it’s kind of hot,” he rushes out.

  My eyes bug out of their sockets, trying to find out how we ended up talking about this. I’m also a little pissed off and shocked at his presumption, my temper rising.