“Give me one good reason why you won’t have sex with Wyatt, Gia.”
I try to ignore her, but then she asks the question again, only this time, much louder. As a few heads turn in our direction, she beams while I scowl. She’s fucking killing me today.
“Fine. He’s a player. That’s why.”
“Are you looking for a husband?”
“No!”
“That man is sexy as hell. There is no logical reason for any woman to say no to him. You should just do it, girl. Do it and then tell me all about it.”
“I don’t care how sexy he is. I’m not having sex with Wyatt, Serena. That’s final.”
“Whoa, Princess. If you were trying to make a guy blush this early in the morning, mission accomplished.”
As his voice washes over me, all of the hair on my body stands on end, and time stands still. I’m sure that the look of shock mixed with humiliation is written all over my face. If I let myself think that I’m imagining him standing right next to me, all I have to do to know that this is in fact, real fucking life, is to look across the table at Serena.
The bitch who is currently smiling like a Cheshire cat.
“Wyatt.” His name comes out in a groan. A completely humiliated groan at that. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to know that you have one hell of a filthy mind.” The corners of his lips curve into a smirk, as he looks me up and down. I’ve always thought that people who got dressed up for breakfast were crazy. Unless you were heading to church or to work, messy buns and leggings seem the most appropriate breakfast attire. But as his gorgeous blue eyes take all of me in, I curse myself for only brushing my teeth before leaving the house. A shower and some mascara would have done wonders.
“Dude, this is getting creepy.” I cast a cool glance over him, but even I can’t hide my surprise over the mop in his hands. It’s as out of place as a whore in church. “My stalker theory is picking up some serious momentum. There’s no way that I keep running into you out of coincidence. This is some next level stalking madness.”
“Words hurt, sunshine.” He clutches his chest which results in yet another eyeroll. If my mother could see me now, she’d tell me to knock it off before my eyes stayed that way. Trust me, if anyone runs the risk of that, it’s me. On a daily basis.
“What are you doing here? And why do you have a mop in your hands?”
“Gia seems to have lost her manners.” He completely ignores me, shifting his attention to Serena. “I’m Wyatt Anderson, an old friend of Gia’s.” At the mention of friend, I snort. Both of them ignore me.
“Wyatt. What a coincidence.” Serena smiles wide. “We were just talking about you.”
“Only good, I hope.” He opens his mouth but is interrupted quickly by an elderly man behind the counter.
“Listen up, pretty boy.” The feeble old man smacks his hand on the bar counter just a few feet away from us. “There’s a time for flapping your jaw, and a time for working. This here is a time for working. Now leave those pretty ladies alone.”
“Oh, pipe down old geezer,” Wyatt shoots back at him, a playful grin on his face. “These ladies just so happened to be talking about me. Who am I to ignore that?”
“Is that the truth?” The old man stares between Serena and me. “Were you talking about the pics of him in his undies? They were disturbing, am I right?”
As Wyatt’s shoulders sag, I instantly fall in love with the old man. He knows him well enough to realize that somebody has to put him in his place. Otherwise, his head would get so big that he wouldn’t be able to fit through any doors.
“Finally get cut from the football team, huh?” I nod towards the mop. “I figured that was bound to happen sooner or later.”
“Real cute, Princess.” Wyatt rolls his eyes. “That was a real knee slapper.”
“I like you.” The old man moves from behind the counter, taking careful steps across the wet floor towards us. Wyatt reaches out and steadies him, placing his hand underneath his elbow, the same way that he did for me last night. “What’s your name, dear?”
“Gia.” I extend my hand to his. “Gia Richards.”
“Well, Gia Richards, you sure are a beauty. Both of you ladies are real lookers. Consider your breakfast on me today, girls. The cost of your meal is well worth keeping this guy in line. Glad to see I’m not the only one.”
“How about if I pay with a kiss?” Serena shoves her phone back into her purse and hops to her feet. She presses her lips against the old man’s cheek, making him immediately blush.
“Gia, you can pay for yours with a kiss on his cheek.” She nods towards Wyatt, and then quickly apologizes. “My client just showed up at my office, almost an hour early. I’ve got to scoot. Call you later, babe.”
She’s gone before I can even argue.
“Don’t kiss this guy.” The old man jerks his thumb in Wyatt’s direction and leans in. “But if you’re offering, I’ll take one for sure.”
“Hold up, Benji.” Wyatt extends an arm, blocking me from him. “This one’s lips are off limits to you.”
“Off limits?” I lean forward and kiss the old man’s cheek, watching Wyatt the entire time. His eyes narrow until I take a step back.
“Those are some good lips.” The old man winks at me. “Just make sure you keep ‘em away from this guy. He’s a turd.”
That might be the most accurate representation that I’ve ever heard of Wyatt.
“You done forcing beautiful women to kiss you, old perv?” The man says something back, but I can’t hear him. His back is already turned to me as Wyatt once again helps him across the slick linoleum. I gather my things from the booth and am just about to make my way out of the restaurant, when Wyatt catches up to me.
“I’m assuming that since you’re here, you were able to get your car ok.”
“I was,” I assure him. “Thanks again for the ride last night.”
“Anytime.”
I’m just about to turn and walk away, when all of a sudden, I feel his skin on mine. His hand cups my elbow, tugging me backwards. I glance back towards him, noticing the dark look that’s taken over his eyes. I stare at him for just a moment, my head tilting in question, when finally, a smile spreads across his face.
“Your friend gives good advice, Princess. You should take it.”
My face flames and my mouth drops open.
“You heard all of that?”
He beams.
“Hell yeah, I did. And if you ever change your mind, just know the answer is always yes.”
17
Gia
The next evening, I’m standing outside of Wyatt’s fortress, ringing the doorbell. I had no intentions of being here today. I picked Delilah up from school, and now she’s mine for the next five days. I never work when I have her with me. That’s an old habit that died hard after Cole and I split, and it’s one that I will never let become a habit again. But when Willow called me frantic, something in my gut told me not to ignore her.
She answers before I even have the chance to knock.
“Gia. Thank God you’re here.” Her eyes are rimmed in red, as if she’s been crying. She looks like she’s barely hanging on by a thread. Luckily, Delilah doesn’t notice. She greets my daughter immediately with a high five.
“Hey, Delilah. Nice to see you, kiddo.”
“Miss Willow?” Delilah looks up at her. “Does a king live here?”
“Technically, no.” She shakes her head. “But my brother would argue that all day. He thinks that he’s royalty.”
We follow Willow down a long hallway towards the back of the house. This is the first time that I’ve set foot inside of Wyatt’s home, and to be honest, it’s everything that I thought that it would be.
I follow a few of his teammates on social media, and I’ve seen how some of the others live. Jude Masters, for example, lives in the suburbs, in a normal house in a middle-class neighborhood. Declan Sanders lives in a two-bedroom
condo near the downtown area, again, fairly middle class. But Wyatt is definitely not as down to earth as they are. If I didn’t already know this, his house would be a definite give away.
It may not actually be a castle, but it could give any royal home a run for its money. Sprawling across fifty acres of land that butts up to a private lake, the house is enormous. One that I could have never afforded the down payment on, even at the height of my career.
Everything inside of it is massive and expensive. Thick gold frames flank the walls, crystal lamps sit on the small tables that line the long hall. Everything that my eyes land on looks expensive. I smile to myself. Back in high school, Wyatt always told me that when he went pro, he was going to live in the biggest house that he could find. I suppose that he’s done exactly that.
We end up in a large sitting room that overlooks the massive backyard. Delilah tugs at my hand as she points towards the floor to ceiling windows.
“There’s a lake, Mommy.” She drops my hand and runs to the glass, pressing her little face against it. “There’s a pool, too. Oh my gosh!” The excitement is practically buzzing off of her. “There’s a basketball court! And the underwear guy is out there!”
Willow snorts, and then leans towards my daughter. “Give me a high five for that one, sweetheart. You can go play with him. Just make sure that you call him the underwear guy to his face.”
“Oh, she already did that.” I shake my head. “And Delilah, I’d rather if you just sat in here where I can see you. I brought your tablet.”
Her face falls and then her lower lip pokes out.
“Please, Mommy? You’re always telling me that I need fresh air and that electronics rot my brain. Now you want me to sit and let my brain melt?”
“I promise you he won’t care.” Willow dips her head towards me, her voice low. “Plus, Damien is out there with him. Wyatt loves kids.”
“Fine.” I throw my hands up. “But use your manners, Delilah Jane. And do not call him the underwear guy. His name is Wyatt.”
She rushes outside, running towards him as fast as her little legs can carry her. I watch her for just a second, keeping my eyes on her until I see Wyatt acknowledge her with a fist bump, before turning my attention to Willow.
“So?” I set my bag down and turn to her. “What’s going on? When you called, it seemed urgent.”
Willow nods her head slowly, and then begins to pace. I watch her for a second, my eyes widening as I watch her fighting her inner demons. My heart aches for her. I know that feeling all too well.
“You probably think that I’m crazy.” Her hands twist wildly at her sides, until finally, she grabs one with the other and begins to tug at her fingers. “In fact, I know that you do. My God, I think that I’m crazy. I’m completely losing my mind, here.”
She’s talking to me, but her voice is low enough that she could also just be talking to herself. Her eyes are filled with tears, and her cheeks stained with the remnants of the batch that fell before I arrived. Even though I can empathize with her, I’m still a bit uncomfortable. Back when Wyatt and I were together, I only met Willow a handful of times. I don’t know her very well at all. But I can recognize a woman in distress, so I do what I would want someone to do for me. I rise to my feet and hold my arms out. She falls right into me as a sob breaks loose.
I’m not sure how much time passes, but by the time that she pulls back, my shirt is soaked from her tears. “Jesus.” She wipes the remaining ones off of her cheeks with the back of her hand. “You must think that I’m insane. How often is it that a complete stranger bawls their eyes out on your shoulder?”
“I plan weddings, Willow.” I give her my best reassuring smile. “I promise you, you’re not the first, and you won’t be the last.”
“So, I’m not the only one?” She stares up at me as though I have the key to life hidden in my pocket. The secret book of answers for brides, the emotional manuscript. Obviously, I have none of those things, but I do have experience in this department. From both myself, and my clients.
We sit down, and I explain to her just how many brides I’ve worked with over the years, who have had absolute breakdowns before their wedding days. I tell her a few stories of things that make her smile, and I even use a few examples of how I felt before my wedding day. It’s at the mention of my own that her face falls.
“So, let me just ask you this.” She leans forward, and inhales slowly, weighing her words before they even leave her. “Did you ever question whether or not your husband was the one? Did you ever have any doubts or…” as her voice trails off, her eyes close. She doesn’t finish her question, but I know what she’s asking. She wants to know how sure I was that I was marrying the right guy. The fact of the matter is, the answer is far too complicated to put into words.
“If you’re asking me if I thought that my marriage would end in divorce, the short answer is no. What happened between my ex and I was complicated, messy, and very unexpected. But that’s the way that marriage goes, sometimes. Not everything is meant to last forever. It’s just part of life.”
Willow falls silent. My heart tugs in my chest for her, and the faraway look in her eyes is one that I know too well. I’m no expert on weddings by any stretch-just because I plan them doesn’t mean that I have a crystal ball handy to predict whether or not the marriage will last. That’s what she’s looking for. She wants someone to tell her what to do.
I don’t know either her or her fiancé well enough to predict whether or not getting married is the right move for them. But the hesitation in her eyes is telling.
“Weddings are my jam, Willow. I’m good at planning a beautiful ceremony that wows guests. But that is a very small part in the whole picture. Marriage isn’t easy. It takes work to make them last. Love is great, but if the bones of the relationship aren’t good, it can be tough. So, before I can give you any advice, why don’t you tell me what it is about BJ that makes you want to marry him?”
I’m no psychic, but as she describes BJ to me, I can tell almost instantly that she shouldn’t be marrying the guy. She describes him the way that a woman describes her best male friend. The way that a used car salesman sells a new mom her first pre-owned minivan. She says dependable and reliable interchangeably and seems to be trying to convince even herself that she’s making the right decision.
I feel for her immediately. Despite the fact that I loved Cole dearly, even I had second thoughts before we got married. I had another man that wouldn’t get out of my fucking head, and just the vision of him made it hard to focus on the fact that I was marrying someone else.
I was looking for a reliable used minivan, even though deep down, I wanted that sporty Bugatti. The same one that just so happens to walk into the room and interrupt us, with my child’s hand clutched in his.
“I hope that I’m not interrupting anything.” He glances between his sister and me. Willow’s face transforms almost immediately, as though she hadn’t just been questioning her upcoming wedding and bawling her eyes out a few moments ago.
“Gosh, no. Gia and I just had some wedding business to go over. Leave it to me to get all mushy.”
I glance at her quickly, and when her eyes meet mine, I see the urgency in hers to keep our conversation quiet. I vow to her that I will with a simple nod. She mouths a thank you to me the second that Wyatt turns away, and then vanishes, leaving Wyatt and I all alone. Delilah already took off, hot on Damien’s heels, and with no other distractions, I have no choice but to turn to Wyatt.
“Well well well.” His smug smile takes up most of his face, and of course, causes his adorable dimples to stake their claim on his cheeks. “If I didn’t know any better, Princess, I’d say that you’re the one stalking me now.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, hot shot. I’m here on business.” I glance past him, down the empty hallway. “Any idea where my kid went?”
“To the kitchen.” His thumb jerks in the opposite direction. “Jude just brought pizza. I invited Delilah to s
tay and eat with us. I hope that you don’t mind.”
“Jude Masters is in your kitchen, with pizza?” I wiggle my brows. “Delilah’s a smart girl to high tail it there.”
“There you go again, crushing my ego.” His lips flatten. “I’ll have you know; I look pretty sexy carrying a pizza box, too.”
“On your best day, you can’t top Declan and Jude.” I shrug, even though, I struggle to keep a straight face. Of course, Wyatt could give them both a run for their money. I’d never admit that to him, though. The man already has an ego the size of Texas.
“That’s it.” His arms cross. “I’m going to have to take a poll on social media. It’ll be this,” He points to his abs. “Or that.” His eyes roll as he points toward the kitchen, and likely, to Jude. “This will win all day. And when it does, you’re going to have to eat your words.”
“I’ll never eat my words. I’ll bible that statement all day long.”
Without any warning, he kicks the door shut behind him, steadily caging me in to the room without any means of escape. My eyes flash as they lock on his, and my heart beats so fast that it ricochets in my chest. He closes the distance between us in just a few steps, and as the scent of his cologne invades my nostrils, my entire tough girl demeanor fades, and I find myself slowly getting sucked in to all that is Wyatt Anderson.
His sister asked me earlier how I knew that my husband was the one. That’s the part where my words faltered, because at no point did I ever feel the way about Cole that I did about Wyatt. But like she’s doing, I chose the safe option. I married the minivan instead of taking the sports car for a spin. I did that because I knew that I couldn’t afford the sports car, but once I gave it a test drive, nothing else would ever compare. As if he reads my mind, his eyes darken and the air shifts between us. Tension circles me, and my knees get weak.
Hard Pass (Saints of Love Book 3) Page 10
