Wingmen (Modern Love Story #2, 4, & bonus)

by Daisy Prescott

  “Nothing to worry about, then.”

  “It’s the same way you look at me, you know.”

  I loved the confidence in her voice. “I know.”

  Maggie called from the ferry to tell us she’d run into Dave on her way down the beach. His brother and family canceled their summer rental, leaving him with an empty place about four houses down the beach from mine—a perfect location for Diane.

  Monday after work we walked down the road to see the house. After counting the steps between our houses, Diane made her mind up before we entered she’d take it. For a beach rental it was decently furnished, but she insisted Dave take away the mounted deer head above the brick fireplace. He offered to replace it with a ram’s head, missing the point all taxidermy was a no for her.

  A summer rental would give her enough time to find a permanent place. With her divorce settlement, she said she could afford to buy a place. We hadn’t talked about how much money she was getting from the asshole, but she’d hinted it was a lot. She deserved every penny.

  Now she had a place for the summer, Diane told me she’d be going back to New York for a week. At first I hated the idea. I worried the charm of hikes and fishing couldn’t hold up to the lifestyle of the city.

  The insecurities I wouldn’t admit to out loud stirred again. She’d return home and decide she’d rather be there than stuck on an island with me.

  “Why do you have to go back? Don’t you have friends who can ship your stuff?” My voice whined and I cringed. I sounded like a girl.

  We sat on the couch in my house again, fully clothed this time. At least for now. Depended how this conversation went.

  “Are you pouting? Big, bad boy John Day?” She poked me in the ribs.

  “I’m not pouting.” I crossed my arms to protect my chest from her poking fingers.

  “You are. It’s adorable. And annoying. As only you can be.”

  “I’m not annoying. I don’t want you to leave. I’m greedy.”

  “Is that all it is?” She ducked her head down to see my eyes.

  “What else would it be?” I grumbled at her.

  “Maybe something to do with your bad mood all week. You haven’t been this shut down since the camping trip.”

  “I’m not shut down.”

  “Sure. I promise I’m coming back.”

  “You can’t promise that.”

  “My return ticket would say different.”

  “Tickets can be changed.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “John.” Her voice softened and she tucked herself against my side.

  “Fine.” I exhaled through my mouth, then reached my arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. “I don’t want you to go back and decide you belong there.”

  Her hand picked up mine and played with my fingers before she laced our hands together.

  “When I arrived here in January, I didn’t know I’d stay. I planned to be here for a few months. Everything I own, all my clothes and stuff, is in storage back there. I need to look through it and decide what comes back with me. I won’t even see Kip.”

  I grumbled some more, but inside felt better knowing she wouldn’t see the asshole. “At least you’ll be spared.”

  “Lauren’s letting me stay with her. I’ll be spending my days at the storage facility sorting boxes. Not glamorous or exciting.”

  “Can’t Lauren do it for you?”

  “No. This is everything from college and after. An entire life squeezed into boxes and bags. Depressing, isn’t it?”

  “I could come with you,” I said.

  “You could, but you’d hate it. You know that.”

  “I’d do it for you.”

  “I know you would. Do you want to examine the excesses of my former life? All the silly shoes, last year’s must have fashions, and old pictures?”

  “Sounds like hell.”

  “Thought so.” She reached up and turned my face to hers. “We’re solid, right? You and me?”

  I nodded and bent to brush my nose against hers.

  “Let me try to understand your man brain. You think I’m going and never coming back?” Her lips touched mine, but when I tried to deepen the kiss, she retreated.

  I shrugged at her observation, and willed her not to analyze it.

  Studying my eyes, she furrowed her brows. “Oh,” she said. “Oh.”

  I closed my eyes and leaned my head back on the couch. No grown man should be this messed up about something that happened over a decade ago. My breath quickened along with my pulse. I fought the instinct to run, to escape, to make it all fade away.

  Her hand stroked across my brow and smoothed out the line between my eyes before moving down my face and over my jaw. A finger outlined my nose and the line of my lips.

  I steadied my breathing, then opened my eyes. Diane stared at me. No, more than stared. Her gaze penetrated me as if she could see all the darkness inside.

  “I’m not going to leave you. Not unless you tell me to.” She repeated the words I said after her accident.

  “You can’t keep those promises. Things happen. People leave.”

  “John.” Her legs straddled me and she wrapped her body around mine.

  Slowly, I returned the embrace, burying my head in her shoulder. Breathing in her scent, I counted to fifty and willed the panic to leave me. She’d fly to New York and be back in a week. A week. Seven days. Six including travel.

  Her voice sounded soft and soothing. “If you want, you can come with me. It might be fun. During the day while I work you could explore the city, then at night we’d be together.”

  It was a nice offer, but the minute the words left her mouth, I knew I wouldn’t take her up on it. This wasn’t about trusting her. This moment, this point in my life, was about trusting myself. If I went, the demons and ghosts from my mother’s death would win. I had to let her go.

  SIX DAYS. ONE hundred sixty-eight hours. Ten thousand and eight minutes. More seconds than I knew.

  It felt like forever.

  Diane left the next Monday for New York.

  The time difference sucked. She tried calling during the day when I was in the woods with no cell service. I’d call her at night and she’d be out with Lauren, or Quinn and Ryan, or other friends, shouting over the noise of a restaurant or bar because she couldn’t hear me.

  We finally connected on Saturday, five days after she left and one before she’d be back.

  Home.

  One very long day before she returned home to me.

  “Damn it’s early,” I mumbled into the phone, trying to find the alarm clock. “Why are you calling me at five on a Saturday?”

  “Sorry. I missed your voice. Texting isn’t the same.”

  “Are you calling for phone sex?” I rolled over onto my back and my morning wood tented against my boxers.

  “I hadn’t thought about it.”

  “You should have. Thought about it.” I yawned.

  “I’ll let you go back to sleep.”

  “I’m awake. And there’s a saying about wasting wood.”

  “Wasting wood? Is that a timber saying?”

  “No, wrong kind of wood.” I stroked myself.

  “Oh,” she said and fell silent.

  “Are you blushing?”

  I pictured her cheeks heating and reddening.

  “Maybe.”

  “Have you ever had phone sex before?” I asked.

  “No. Have you?”

  “I have.”

  “I see. Well, unless you want Lauren to join in cause she’s sitting here next to me in the car, we might need a raincheck.”

  I groaned and rolled to my stomach before immediately rolling back over. Her muffled voice carried out of the speaker.

  “John? Hello? Damn island cell service.”

  “You’re still there. Why are you laughing?”

  I smiled. “I’m laughing because you sound like an island girl cursing at the bad cell recepti
on.”

  “I do?” she asked, her smile coming through her voice.

  “Yep.”

  “Well, that’s why I’m calling. I’ve changed my flight. I finished up early and I’ll be home tonight. That’s the reason I called.”

  I sat up in bed. “You are?”

  “I am.”

  “You said home, you know.”

  “I know. It is home. It’s been great to see Lauren and everyone, but like you said, I’m an island girl now. I miss the fresh air and the green.” She lowered her voice. “I miss the smell of wet pine, earth and sea air.”

  “You do?”

  “I do. I miss you.” Her voice was low and sultry, barely above a whisper.

  I groaned. “Fuck. You’re killing me. I miss you, too. I love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I would never tire of hearing her say those words. Before we got off the phone I scribbled down the information for her flight with a promise to meet her at the airport tonight.

  My girl was coming home.

  Babe hung his head out the window the whole way down to Seattle. We arrived at SeaTac and spotted Diane at the curb, surrounded by more bags than she left with.

  When she saw the truck and Babe’s head sticking out, tongue lolling and tail wagging, a huge grin spread across her face. I stopped and opened the door, not bothering to turn off the engine. In five long strides, she was in my arms. Citrus, dark waves, and soft curves. I gripped her waist tighter and crashed my mouth into hers. We lost ourselves in the kiss, forgetting time and place while we said hello.

  A loud cough behind me startled me out of the haze of lust enveloping us. I turned us both around in the direction of the sound, unwilling to part from her body. My eyes met the stare of a cranky looking officer.

  “No parking. Loading and unloading only. Sir, your vehicle is unattended.”

  I pointed at Babe still sitting in the passenger seat with his tongue hanging out. “No, it’s not. The dog’s still in it.”

  Diane giggled and hid her face in my chest.

  “I’ll give you two minutes to load up and be on your way,” the officer said without a hint of humor.

  I tipped an invisible hat in his direction and grabbed two of Diane’s suitcases. She picked up the small duffel she had left with and another bag, and threw them in the back of the cab. Babe licked her face while she attempted to reclaim the passenger seat.

  “What’s in the suitcases?” I organized the bags behind my seat.

  “Summer clothes, pictures, treasures.”

  “Got any bikinis in there?” I winked at her.

  “Will the weather be warm enough for a bikini?”

  “Come July and August it will be. At least I can hope.”

  Before we buckled ourselves with the seat belts, I kissed her again, losing track of time. Plastic tapping on glass and the gruff voice of the cop saying, “Move it along,” finally forced us to move.

  Diane’s laughter filled the truck’s cab, causing Babe to bark and bounce around with excitement.

  She came back to me. I had my girl, my dog, and life was good. Better than good. Perfect.

  Until we hit traffic downtown. Accident over the UW bridge backed everything up, including the express lanes. We crawled along and I grumbled about the city.

  Diane pointed at the Space Needle with a tourist’s glee. I told her the story of my parents taking me there when I was a kid, even having dinner in the spinning restaurant at the top. Somehow she convinced me to take her there this summer. It didn’t take much convincing. Five torturous days apart meant I’d agree to anything to make her smile and hear her laughter.

  Despite being stuck in traffic forever, we caught the ferry at Mulkiteo without having to wait. Perfect timing meant we drove down the hill from the toll both and straight on the boat. I’d had enough waiting already, so when Diane asked if I wanted to head upstairs, I answered her by pulling her across the bench seat and into my arms. Making out on the ferry made me think of high school. As horny as I felt, I could have been back in school. I wondered what she was like as a teenager. I pictured a teenage Diane in white tennis shoes and a too short to be decent skirt. That direction of thinking needed to stop because of our current location.

  “Why are you groaning?”

  I admitted where my mind had drifted.

  “Let me get this straight, you’re turned on because you’re fantasizing about the teenage me? Kind of perverted, don’t you think?”

  “No, I’m turned on because the woman I love is home. Finally.”

  She smiled and kissed me again, dragging her hand through my beard. “I try to picture you in high school, but the beard throws me off.”

  “Is that girl code for shave it all off?”

  “No. I like it.” She scrunched up her face and squinted at me. “Although, I’m curious what you’d look like bare.”

  “Speaking of bare …” I moved my hand between her legs.

  “Thought you didn’t care?”

  “I lied. I’ve fantasized about dragging my beard over you to watch you squirm.”

  “Funny, I’ve had the same fantasy.”

  “If this damn ferry ever docks, how ‘bout we make it come true?”

  “Damn ferry.” She kissed me. “Damn island.” She kissed me again.

  Her Jeep sat in the driveway where Steve had dropped it off this morning. Good as new.

  “How?” she asked pointing at the front end.

  “How what?”

  “How is my Jeep fixed?

  “Steve said you were lucky you crashed into the ditch instead of hit the deer.”

  “But with the airbag and everything, I figured the whole front end got crushed.”

  “Nah, only dented. See why I suggested you get the big SUV?”

  “I can’t believe it.” After getting out of the truck, she walked over to her car and stroked her hand along the side.

  “Are you petting your car?”

  “I am. And saying thank you to it for taking care of me.”

  “Did you ever name it?”

  “I did.”

  “Are you going to tell me?”

  “It’s embarrassing.”

  “You gave your car an embarrassing name? This I have to hear.” I crossed my arms over my chest and smiled. “Go on.”

  “I call it the lumberjack.”

  I laughed and raised my eyebrow.

  “It’s big and strong and handsome.”

  “It’s missing the beard.”

  “And flannel shirt.”

  “I don’t always wear flannel shirts. Sometimes I wear T-shirts,” I huffed.

  She moved to my side and tugged on the sleeve of my plaid shirt. “Sometimes you do.”

  “You named your car after me?”

  “I did. I told you it was embarrassing.”

  “Nah, you love me. It’s a compliment. I think.”

  “I do love you, my big lumberjack.”

  I rolled my eyes, but if she wanted me to be a lumberjack, I’d show her. She squealed when I picked her up, slung her over my shoulder, and marched toward my house.

  Two weeks later Diane moved out of Maggie’s house and into Dave’s. The official lease paperwork stated as much. In reality, she spent most nights in my bed and most mornings in the shower with me.

  Funny how easily she merged into my life.

  I surveyed my bedroom and spied half a dozen things belonging to her. A half-full glass of water sat next to a romance novel on the nightstand on her side of the bed. Last night’s jeans hung off the back of the chair and a pair of earrings joined her phone on the dresser.

  None of her girly stuff had invaded my bathroom yet, but it was only a matter of time. Each object threaded her hook deeper into my flesh and I willingly let myself be pulled up to the light by her.

  She stirred beside me and I stroked her hair where it flowed over her pillow. With a turn of her head she faced me and opened her eyes.

  “Morning,”
I said.

  She mumbled something into the pillow, but I couldn’t hear it.

  “What?”

  Lifting her head she repeated herself, “I said, morning already?”

  “Tired?” I smiled at her.

  “You know I’m tired. Someone kept me up late doing unmentionable things.”

  “Unmentionable? You didn’t mind last night when you begged me to—”

  Her hand clamped over my mouth. I nipped at her palm with my teeth, not enough pressure to break the skin, but deep enough she pulled her hand away. I took advantage of her distraction to pounce, holding her hands above her head.

  “Ouch!”

  “Let me kiss it better.” I lifted her hand and placed my lips on the mark. Rather than kiss it, I sucked gently, then trailed my mouth to her wrist. She loved it when I dragged my beard against the sensitive skin there.

  “Mmmm.”

  “What about unmentionable things you loved last night, but don’t want me to talk about in the bright light of day?”

  “Nothing.”

  I nibbled along the flesh inside her elbow, causing her hips to squirm beneath me. “Some of those things you’ve done to me in the daylight before. Last week during our hike, you—”

  Her lips slammed into mine and she silenced me with her tongue. I loved teasing her. And tasting her.

  “You know I get all embarrassed when you do the replay.”

  “Embarrassed? Or hot and bothered?”

  “Less talking, more action.” Her hand wiggled out of my grasp and headed south between our bodies.

  I lifted my hips to accommodate her. “I think I have my answer.”

  She may have acted reluctant to hear or speak dirty talk, but I suspected she protested too much. If her grip on my wood proved anything, she loved it.

  I looked forward to the weekend mornings when there was nowhere we had to be and nothing we had to do. Other than each other.

  Later in the afternoon we drove up to Freeland to the recycling center.

  “Remember our conversation the first time we came here?” she asked while we unloaded the bed of the truck.

  I smiled and nodded over at the pyramid of bowling balls. “Feels like forever ago.”

  “It does.” She sighed, full of happiness.