I’d been a wild one.
Those days were gone.
I finally knew what I wanted to do, and every part of my plan involved convincing Wren that we belonged together.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
WREN
The week went by in a blur. I sent out résumés during the day, did some phone interviews, and visited my parents daily. This time it wasn’t because I was worried about them but because seeing them calmed me.
Surprisingly enough, so did talking to Mauricio every night. When he’d called the evening of our walk, I’d thought he was going to suggest meeting up before Sunday. He didn’t. Instead he asked me how my job hunt was going and had seemed genuinely interested as I described each position I was considering applying for.
He’d even offered to look over my résumé and give me feedback on it. With his encouragement, I added more information about awards I had won in college. I’d almost forgotten about them until he’d asked me what achievement had brought me the most pride.
Sad that I’d had to reach back to college for one, but remembering that time in my life convinced me to cross off several of the jobs I’d considered on my list. I hadn’t quit one unchallenging, safe job to exchange it for another.
Talking on the phone removed the physical distraction of our attraction. I discovered that Mauricio was pretty sharp when it came to business. He saw trends, understood how to build a customer base, and wasn’t afraid to take a risk.
By midweek we had also discussed the crossroads he found himself at. He and his brothers had built Romano Superstores. He knew the business inside and out. Staying made sense, but now it was time for him to step down and let Sebastian take the lead for good.
A warmth filled his voice every time he spoke about his family. My impression of him as cocky and self-absorbed was replaced by the revelation that he had a different side to him—one that was all about his family and his commitment to them.
In Paris we’d spent a lot of time joking around and flirting. This was different, a deeper level of understanding each other. He said he wanted to be with me, not just in my bed, and slowly, with each conversation, I was beginning to want the same thing.
By the end of the week, I was texting him photos of sketches I’d done over the years of inventions I thought the world needed. Some were silly. A lot of people walked into their houses and placed their shoes on mats or tossed them in a pile because they didn’t want to track dirt into their homes. I had an idea for a floor mat shoe sanitizer that stopped the need for people to ask their friends to remove their shoes.
He’d said he was impressed, that it should have been already on the market. I’d accepted the compliment, because I’d always been proud of that design.
I’d clarified, though, that shoe sanitizing wasn’t what I’d call a passion. What I’d enjoyed was the creative side of designing something people might actually use.
When Sunday finally came, I was excited to see Mauricio again. Yet I was nervous that the day included meeting his family, especially after the scene some of them had witnessed between us. Without the phone calls, I might have found a reason not to go. I would have been too uncomfortable.
As I waited for Mauricio to arrive at my apartment, I was looking forward to meeting the people he’d told me so much about. I wanted to talk to the accountant his brother had married. I loved that her daughter was so much a part of their family now.
Mauricio had told me about Gian’s attachment issues that stemmed from his mother wanting nothing to do with him. I loved that his family rallied around each other when one of them needed support. That was how my family was.
That was the kind of family I wanted to have for myself.
Was it possible that Mauricio could be the fantasy and the reality?
When he texted that he was downstairs, I took one last look at myself in the mirror. I’d chosen a simple dress with sandals. My hair was tied back. Almost no makeup. I could have done more, but Mauricio said I was about to meet the real him . . . and I wanted to do that as the real me. I’d almost chosen slacks, but the dress was for Mauricio.
And for me—I wanted to see his eyes light up when he saw it.
They did.
On the sidewalk beside his car, he took my hands in his and spun me around. “You look stunning.”
He did as well. Simple tan trousers and a white shirt, but somehow on him they looked like they belonged in a clothing catalog. His smile was just for me; it lit his eyes, filled me with a giddy flutter.
I went up onto my tiptoes and gave him a bold kiss.
His arms slid around me.
I melted into him.
There was fire in his touch, promise in his hunger, but there was also more. After a week of talking, being with him again felt—right.
We were both breathing raggedly when we separated.
“You ready?” he asked in a strangled tone.
I nodded.
He opened the door.
I slid in.
He was in the driver’s seat a second later, buckling in and smiling. “My family is crazy,” he warned.
“Now you tell me,” I joked. I wasn’t worried. So was mine. “I hope your mother likes me.”
After pulling out into traffic, he took my hand in his and brought it to his lips for a kiss. “She will. She already adores your mother.”
I tensed. “My mother?”
“They talk every day. You didn’t know that?”
“Hang on. Our parents talk every day?”
“Our mothers do. My father thinks I should meet your father before he does. He’s old-fashioned like that.”
Like a fish out of water, my mouth opened and shut a few times. “You’re pulling my leg, right?”
His smile was easy. “Did I not preface this conversation with notice that my family is nuts?”
“I can’t believe my mother never said anything.” That was the part I was having trouble with.
“She probably didn’t want to influence you—wanted you to realize how wonderful I am on your own.”
I couldn’t let that one slide. I turned toward him. “What’s it like to have such a . . . healthy ego?”
My question didn’t rock him at all. He flashed me another smile and winked. “Bigger is better, or so the ladies have always told me.”
“Too bad they weren’t referring to your brain,” I tossed back.
I knew by the slant of his smile where his mind was going before he spoke. “Is that what had you calling out my name and begging me not to stop? My brain?”
I couldn’t help it; I was flushing and smiling back. I tried to think of a really good comeback, then gave up and just laughed. After a moment, I asked, “I still don’t believe our mothers have been talking. Did you make that happen?”
“That was all Mom. The good news? If you decide to be with me, my family will welcome you as one of their own. The bad news? They’ll treat you as one of their own. Expect a phone call every day, and Sunday dinners are kind of mandatory.”
That didn’t sound so bad to me. “I like spending time with family. I’m pretty sure my father will threaten your life, but he hasn’t actually killed any of the men I’ve dated.” For fun, I added, “Maimed a few, but not in a way they were able to prove in court.”
He barked out a laugh. “I look forward to meeting him.”
Fingers laced with his, I said aloud, “We’re doing this. You’re introducing me to your parents.”
He kissed my hand again, “Seemed like the right thing to do considering I’m in love with you.”
Love.
Holy shit.
He loves me.
I hadn’t allowed myself to analyze how he made me feel. Everything about him, from the first moment we’d met, had felt like a dream. I was still free-falling, waiting to wake up.
The past week had been so good, but could anything that good be true?
In the silence that followed, I realized I hadn’t said I loved him back.
<
br /> I hadn’t said anything.
Did I love him? I didn’t know. I felt giddy and nauseated. Scared and euphoric as I thought about a future with him.
Was that love?
I wanted what he’d said to be true so bad my stomach was churning.
I covered my mouth with one hand. If I threw up in his lap, he might take that as a sign I didn’t love him back, and that wasn’t the case.
My head was spinning with the realization that I did love him.
My heart burst with joy.
And me? I started hyperventilating again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
MAURICIO
After I pulled into my parents’ driveway, I checked out Wren’s face. She had the wild-eyed, panicky look similar to the expression she’d had on the top of the Eiffel Tower. I gave her a reassuring smile. “My parents are going to love you. Nothing to worry about.”
“Yeah,” she said breathlessly.
“Ready?”
Her throat bobbed; then she grabbed my arm. “I love you too. I should have said it right away. I meant to. I started thinking about it, and then it was too late. But I do. I love you.”
“I know.” How could I not fall even deeper in love with her? She was adorable.
Her forehead furrowed. “You do?”
I hadn’t until she’d said it. I’d hoped. But what mattered in that moment was that she was shaken, and it was tangling her up on the inside. That wasn’t how I wanted her to meet my parents. So I gave her my smoothest playboy smile and struck a model pose. “How could you not?”
Her eyes narrowed, then lit with humor, and she relaxed. “I can never tell if you’re kidding.”
“Play your cards right today, and you’ll have all the time in the world to figure it out.” That one she had to know was a joke.
“So that’s how it is, is it?” Her grin held a challenge.
I grinned right back. “That’s how it is.”
“What would you do if your parents didn’t like me?” she asked, suddenly serious.
It was an important question that deserved an honest answer. “They’re not allowed that option.”
She searched my face, then said, “You mean that, don’t you?”
I kissed her. I couldn’t not. Then I murmured, “I do, Kitten.”
She shoved me back. “Do not call me that in front of your parents.”
I chuckled and rubbed my chest. She was stronger than she looked. “So how do you want me to say we met?”
Her eyes rounded again. “I hadn’t thought of that. What did you tell them so far?”
“That we met through a friend.”
“That’s it?”
“I wasn’t sure they could handle your near threesome with Felix.”
She raised a finger as she clarified, “I never even considered it.”
“Not even when you thought I was him? I saw the way you looked at me.”
Her mouth dropped open; then she smiled and conceded. “Okay, just for a second when I saw you. But I don’t share.”
I grinned back at her. “Good, because I don’t either.”
She leaned toward the windshield. “Your family is watching us through the windows.”
It was difficult to look away from her, but I did. “Yep. My parents are the ones at the door. Sebastian, Heather, and Ava are in the bay window. I think that’s Christof behind them. It has to be, because Gian’s in the window of the bathroom. I hope he remembers to wash his hands.”
“Doesn’t he always?”
I shrugged. “I think so. I don’t know. He wants to be a doctor, so his hygiene is probably above average. Yeah, I’m going with ‘It’s not a problem.’”
She gave me a long look, then burst out laughing. “What are you even talking about?” Then she touched my cheek. “Are you nervous?”
I hadn’t realized until then that I was. A man only did this once—introduced his future wife to his family. I wanted it to go well. “They’re wonderful people, Wren. All the best of me is because of them.”
She gave my hand a squeeze. “Then I already love them, because I’m pretty attached to the best of you.”
My smile turned wicked. A man can’t help where his mind goes.
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
As I stepped out of the car, I joked, “Don’t be embarrassed. I’m pretty fond of that part of me as well.”
“Oh my God,” she said with a laugh.
I opened her door and took her hand. “Just go easy on the smut talk in front of my parents.”
“Stop,” she said, smacking my arm lightly.
“Never,” I promised.
My parents waved to us as we approached. As soon as we reached them, my mother enveloped Wren in a hug. My father did the same. When Wren didn’t immediately respond by pulling away and running, I knew she’d survive the rest of the evening.
Sebastian met us in the hallway and introduced her to Heather as well as Ava and her stuffed animal. Wren bent down and greeted the stuffed animal with the same warm smile she gave Ava.
Dinner was absolutely delicious. Conversation flowed with ease. My mother had wisely suggested Wren and I sit across from Sebastian and Heather.
The instant comfort level between Heather and Wren made sense. It was easy to see how much Wren admired Heather for having her own business. Heather seemed equally impressed that Wren had chosen a field that was still male dominated.
“If you could do anything, what would you want to be doing?” Heather asked.
Wren had lowered her eyes for a moment, then admitted, “When I allow myself to imagine everything is possible . . . I dream of inventing something that matters and making that my job. They say when you do something you love, it’s not work. My father and I used to talk about creating something together when I was old enough to, but that never happened.” She lowered her eyes again. “For now, though, it’s more important I find something steady. Not having a job is scary to someone like me, so eventually I have to choose something and go with it.”
“What do your parents do?” Gian asked with the bold innocence of the young.
I put an arm around the back of Wren’s chair. Would she be embarrassed to say it here? My family didn’t judge people by the size of their wallet, but she’d already admitted she found our wealth intimidating.
Wren raised her eyes and smiled at Gian, seeming to get that his question stemmed from genuine interest. “My father owns a gas station. He lost an arm in the Gulf War, but before that he was also an engineer . . . so needing to know how things work is what I inherited from him. My mother cleaned houses to bring in extra money. I got my work ethic from her. Food on the table first, then you can chase your dreams. I never wanted for anything when I was younger. So I do what I can now to help them.”
I caressed Wren’s back. “Wren’s very close to her family, but you know that, right, Mom?”
My mother had the grace to blush. “Wren, I suppose it’s time I fess up. I’ve been talking with your mother. She’s a lovely woman. I hope I haven’t overstepped.”
Christof leaned over and stage-whispered, “We all know it’s too much. All you can do is accept it. There’s no other option.”
My mother sat back, looking unusually defensive. “Of course there’s another option. You make me sound like I’m not open to criticism.”
We all remained carefully quiet.
Wren hadn’t gotten the memo. She said, “I’ll admit that when I heard you’d called her, I thought it was too much.”
All the air left the room, as if in a whoosh. I doubt anyone even took a breath.
Wren continued, “But you raised four boys. I don’t know how the other three were, but I’m sure this one was a handful.” She cocked a thumb at me.
My mother laughed. “He sure was.” Our hearts began beating again.
“You love them, and you want the best for them. I respect that. The world is a harsh place, and ther
e is nothing wrong with doing everything you can to keep your babies safe for as long as you can.” She leaned forward. “I’d like a big family, and if I’m ever lucky enough to have one, you can bet your life I will want to know who my children spend time with.” She turned and smiled up at me. “And I hope my children come out as good as yours have . . .” She pinched the air. “Perhaps a smidge more humble.”
There was general laughter in response.
I kissed her, just above her ear, then joked, “They will if they come out ugly like Christof . . .”
Christof winged a bread roll at my head. I saw it coming and ducked in time.
I laughed and added, “Or slow as Gian.”
Gian balled up a napkin but missed as well.
“Or as grumpy as Sebastian—”
A meatball hit me smack in the middle of my forehead, but not from Sebastian. As I wiped it off, Ava exclaimed, “Score!”
“That’s my girl,” Sebastian said with humor. “She’s got a pitcher’s arm.”
Looking like she was holding back laughter, Heather said, “Ava, we don’t throw food.”
Ava looked around the table and argued, “They do.”
My mother gave each of us a stern look. “Not at my table, they don’t.”
“Sorry, Mom,” my brothers and I said in unison.
My mother’s expression relaxed, and she turned to Wren again. “Take a good look, Wren. This is us on our best behavior. You think you can handle it?”
Wren looked around the table as if giving the question real consideration. I tensed beside her. She wasn’t one to dance around what she thought, and my mother had just put her on the spot.
Love and hope met me when Wren looked into my eyes and said, “I know I can. I prefer a little messiness to anything that’s too perfect.”
My family faded to the background for a moment, and I joked, “Are you calling my family messy?”
With a grin, she wiped a napkin across my forehead and turned it to show me how I had missed a bit of sauce. “I am, what are you going to do about it?”
There wasn’t much I could do with the audience we had. Still, a man had his pride. “Ava, get a meatball ready.”
The Wild One Page 19
