Chapter 18
Cathedral Bells
Caroline
I couldn’t explain what came over me when I threw my arms around Wyatt in the suit shop.
The relief of ending things with Ed left me giddy and buoyant so that I’d been walking on air all afternoon.
The thought of spending time with Wyatt had me fizzing with anticipation.
So much so that his grumpy scowl when I entered the suit shop couldn’t dampen my spirits.
And when he said he wanted to buy three suits, my happiness went from brim to overflowing.
I had never expected him to cave so soon.
Wyatt looked so miserable and handsome as he modeled different suits, I could hardly keep my hands off him. To be honest, I didn’t.
I touched him every possible chance I could.
I ran my hands over his shoulders and across his chest, straightening out invisible wrinkles.
I think he might have suspected that I was touching him more than necessary.
His scowl faded the longer we were there, and the old familiar light returned to his eye.
I was pretty sure he wasn’t laughing at me.
I was beginning to suspect that the spark that lit Wyatt’s eye every time he looked at me was not a mocking glint, but a flash of appreciation.
He saw me; he found me entertaining, amusing—worthy of his attention.
To be seen like that was incredibly seductive.
Afterwards, we decided on Frank Fat’s. Or rather, when I found out Wyatt had never been there I chose the restaurant.
One of my fondest memories was dressing up in my best and going to Frank Fat’s with my grandma, the rooms filled with men and women in business attire.
Once my grandma pointed out that the movie star governor was eating at the table in the corner.
“I once saw Arnold Schwarznegger here,” I told Wyatt after we ordered.
“Wow! You saw The Terminator in real life? Is that when you decided to major in poli-sci?”
“It definitely left an impression.” I laughed. “I was in awe of all those well-dressed grown-ups.”
“It was the suits,” Wyatt said with a knowing smile.
“You know how much I like them.”
“I do. First hand.” He raised his brows. “Please tell me you are not that handsy with all your clients.” My cheeks flamed.
“Sorry! You just look really good in a suit.”
After we ordered he asked, “So how did you go from a poli-sci major to being a stylist?”
“Working as an intern at the capitol, I found out I hated politics. But when my legislator needed help finding a dress for a gala, I jumped right in. Soon, word spread. My specialty seems to be helping staid politicians find their personal style.”
“And now a fancy mechanic,” Wyatt added.
“I still wish you would agree to a formal suit.”
“Caroline, I bought three suits. Take your victory lap. You won.”
“I know. But what if you’re invited to a wedding?”
“I never go to weddings,” he said as the server brought out our sweet and sour soup.
“But you’re the right age.” I persisted. “You’ll probably have lots of friends getting married.”
“I hardly have friends. I work all the time. Currently, you and your brother are my best friends, and he’s already married.”
“What about Liam?” Charlie had told me that Liam had tagged along with him a couple times when he lifted at Wyatt’s.
“Liam’s cool, but I hardly expect an invitation to his wedding.”
“What if you came with me?” I ventured.
Wyatt flinched as if he’d been splashed with cold water. “What are you saying?”
“You could come as my plus one.”
“How would Ed feel about that?” He sounded wary.
“He wouldn’t care.”
“If I were your boyfriend, I would absolutely care.”
“Yeah, well, that’s the thing... ” I twisted my pearls. “I had lunch with Ed today.”
“I know. I saw you two.”
“You did? Why didn’t you mention it?”
Wyatt ran his fingers through his hair.
“I don’t know... I felt dumb.” He looked down at his bowl of soup. “You two looked like you were getting along.” He mumbled.
“We were. It was probably the most fun I’ve had with Ed.”
“Spare me, Caroline!” Wyatt said sharply. “I don’t need to hear how much fun you had with your boyfriend.”
“But... he’s not my boyfriend. We broke up.”
Wyatt went perfectly still. I don’t know what I expected.
Maybe for him to jump up with joy, shout hallelujah or spontaneously kiss me?
At the very least, I hoped for a smile. But he didn’t smile.
His face was carved marble. No emotion, no movement, except his eyes.
Wyatt blinked rapidly. Not comfortable with the silence, I started talking again.
“I’d never broken up with anyone before, so I was nervous. But it ended up being no big deal. We were both so relieved. Can you believe Ed actually wanted to end things on our last date?”
“Hold on?” The stone face came to life. “Ed dumped you?” he asked with flattering disbelief.
“Yes! He met someone else. She sounds lovely.”
“I’m so confused. I thought you said you wanted to break up with him?”
“I did.”
“But, I thought he was your ideal.”
“Me too. I guess I was wrong.” My eyes sought Wyatt’s. “Turns out he’s not really my type.”
“Is that so?” Wyatt asked, and there it was, the smile I’d been waiting for. Slow and sexy and confident. “Tell me, Caroline, what is your type?”
I took a spoonful of soup before answering.
“It’s weirdly specific. I like guys with mullets and pirate shirts.”
“Sorry, some lady made me chop off my mullet. But I still have the pirate shirt.”
“That will work.” I smiled.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He reached across the table and took my hand.
“I don’t know.” I twisted my pearls. “I was a little scared.”
“Of what?” he asked.
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Wyatt Knox. You bought me a pig nose. And then you bought yourself one and you wore it. And you were sweet when I freaked out at my family dinner. And you bought me those dresses, and you always buy me Diet Coke, and you’re incredibly hot in a suit and.
.. I just like you so much. Maybe too much. ”
“Caroline.” Wyatt broke into a huge grin. “I like you more. I promise.”
“You do?” I asked, my voice tentative.
“Yes—the Closet of Horror, the mullet, sweating in a suit at the state fair—I did it all to win you over.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. What did you think?”
“But I thought that you didn’t want a long-term relationship?” I didn’t know how to refer to the things Greg had told me about Wyatt and all his one-night stands. “I thought that was why you didn’t date Emma?”
“I wasn’t interested in Emma because I wanted to date you.”
“You want to date me?”
He nodded, the spark in his eyes flamed hot and intense. “Caroline, let me be perfectly clear. Right now, I’m exiting the friend zone.” He ran his callused thumb across my palm. His touch was electrifying. “And I am never going back. You okay with that?”
Never. I nodded. “More than okay.”
At that propitious moment, the server appeared to clear our soup bowls and place fragrant dishes on our table.
We both happily sampled the food, exclaiming over the tenderness of the walnut shrimp or the perfectly cooked broccoli in the Szechuan beef.
With the arrival of the main dishes, we moved on to lighter topics, but a blissful undercurrent permeated the meal, making every bite delicious, every joke hilarious, every look meaningful.
When we left the restaurant, the sky was the soft gold of sunset. I felt a mix of fluttery, happy feelings as we navigated the sidewalk crowded with people. The streets buzzed with friendly energy on that warm August night. Wyatt walked me to my car, holding my hand and my heart.
“Thanks for dinner,” I said nervously when we reached my Mercedes parked near the Cathedral. “Tonight was...” I was lost for words. Or rather I knew the words but they felt too dangerous to speak out loud. It felt like we were at the beginning of something lasting and good.
“Yeah, I know,” he smiled at me with such sympathetic affection. He seemed to be answering all the things I didn’t dare ask. He opened his arms for a hug, and I stepped in.
Wyatt gave the absolute best hugs. But a hug was not all I had been hoping for.
I was confused. Had I only imagined our conversation in the restaurant?
Let me be perfectly clear. Right now, I’m exiting the friend zone—And I’m never going back.
This hug felt too much like the friend zone.
I stepped back to get a better look at him.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
I nodded. “That stuff you said about leaving the friend zone... did you mean it?”
“Yes, absolutely.” We faced each other on the sidewalk.
“Then...” I wasn’t sure what to say. I had expected him to kiss me—it felt like the moment.
“What is it, Caroline?” He asked seriously, but the fetching glint in his eye was working overtime.
“I thought you’d kiss me,” I said with the slightest whine.
“Would you like me to kiss you?”
“Yes!”
He stepped closer, then took my purse out of my hands and set it down on the sidewalk.
He placed one hand on my hip, and with the other, he cradled my cheek.
He leaned down so close I felt the warmth of his breath, which must have been pure pheromones because it went straight to my head, making me the best sort of dizzy.
I put my hand on the back of his neck, my fingers feathering his hair.
“Wyatt . . .”
“Yes?”
“Why aren’t you kissing me?”
His soft chuckle vibrated through my entire being.
“If you recall, Your Majesty, I once said I wouldn’t kiss you again unless you begged.”
“Wyatt,” I hissed. “This is me begging.”
“I know, and it’s fire.” He traced my lips with his finger. “Say pretty please!”
“Pretty please,” I said, my voice shaking.
He moved one hand to the small of my back.
The other returned to my cheek. The way he held me, the way he looked at me, I felt cherished.
But also, it was sweet torture. I couldn’t wait any longer.
I closed the gap. “Wyatt, I’m begging..
.” I whispered, my lips lightly brushing his.
He took a sharp intake of breath, his expression flared from tender to scorching.
His mouth met mine; sweet with the taste of the mango sorbet we’d shared for dessert.
Wyatt kissed like he did everything else.
He was thorough, thoughtful, deliberate, and so sexy.
I gave in to the pleasure of his mouth wholly adoring me and the terrible, brilliant realization that I would never get enough of Wyatt Knox.
My hands swept through his hair, then across his muscled shoulders, and down his back.
He pulled me closer and kissed me deeper.
The cathedral bells began to ring. Their joyful noise reverberating through us as we kissed and kissed until the pink and gold sky burned out to soft shadows.