Chapter 17
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
Bow
“Babe, are you sure everything is okay? You normally love going to taco night at the Ambroses.”
I glanced up at my mom. She was staring at me from the front seat of my dad’s Escalade, and my dad had also stopped the car. Apparently, we’d arrived at our destination in the time I’d been spacing off.
Crap.
I unstrapped myself. Dad was staring at me too, but he wasn’t saying anything.
I bit my lip. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Mom reached back and put her hand on my forehead.
She was small like me, but she was blond and had way more confidence than I had.
My dad was a big guy. He was literally like three of her, but he became a puppy dog when it came to my mom.
She was confident and beautiful, wonderful.
Mom’s head tilted. “You don’t feel warm. ”
That was because I wasn’t sick. At least when it came to a cold or the flu or something.
Mom pulled her hand back. “We can take you back home if you’re not feeling up for tonight.”
Mom had been asking me about the state of my health since before we left the house.
She was right. I normally loved taco night at the Ambroses.
Jaxen and Cleo Ambrose were my parents’ best friends.
My parents had a lot of good friends but my family saw a lot of the Ambroses due to Thatcher and Wells.
Thatcher and Wells were really close, and Jaxen and Cleo Ambrose happened to be Wells’s parents.
Which was why my mother thought I was sick.
Wells never went to our family’s taco nights. Not since he and Thatcher went off to college, anyway. I guess the boys never felt like making the two-hour trek back to Maywood Heights, but I always came.
“I’m sure Jax and Cleo will understand,” my dad said. He frowned. “You don’t have to put on a brave face if you’re not feeling well.”
My dad was even more protective of me than Thatcher and his friends. Let’s just say that, if guys actually paid attention to me, they wouldn’t because of him. My dad could be very intimidating, but he was just as much of a puppy dog when it came to me. I was his little girl.
I shook my head. I wore a long braid and nice blouse for dinner tonight, and I played with the braid on my shoulder for a second before I realized how nervous that probably looked. I smiled. “I’m okay.”
Dad didn’t look like he believed me. Neither did Mom, but, in the end, Mom grabbed her dish of taco meat, and Dad grabbed the Crock-Pot of refried beans. Mom liked to make her own beans for taco night.
He’s not going to be here. You’ll be fine.
I would be fine because Wells Ambrose never came to taco nights with our parents.
Wells was here for taco night with our parents. I saw him after I toed off my heeled Mary Jane shoes and my sock-covered feet had taken me into the Ambroses’ lavish dining room. I had a bowl of premixed salad in my hands.
I nearly dropped the salad.
That would have sucked because I would have had salad all over my feet in front of Wells, who currently sat at his parents’ dining room table.
It was a large, oak table with several place settings, and Wells stood the moment I entered the room.
He wore a sweater and slacks and a tie, like he ever wore a sweater, slacks, and a tie.
Wells never wore anything that wasn’t the epitome of comfort.
He even moussed his hair.
His platinum-blond locks were slicked back, exposing his dark roots.
The dramatic clash in tones gave his formal look an edge that probably wasn’t intentional, but what was had to be the ice in his eyes the moment he saw me.
A frosty set of emerald irises hit me, his eyes narrowing briefly before he smiled up at my parents.
He shook my dad’s hand and hugged my mom.
My parents were like second parents to him and his were the same to Thatcher and me.
Oh, God.
Wells’s eyes were on me as he shook my dad’s hand that evening, and they were also there when he’d let go to hug my mom. It was like he had something reserved for me, and whatever it was, it was dark.
It was bad.
It was as terrible as what he and Bru caught me doing the other night. I came out of my bedroom knowing what I’d see that night.
I had even hoped for it.
I hadn’t heard from Wells after what happened, but Bru texted me this morning.
Bru: We should talk when you get a chance.
Of course, I didn’t want to talk. I got caught doing something really invasive. The guys were having a private moment and I…
“Bow,” Wells said, striding over to me. The chill in his tone matched his body language. He was rigid, something he let slip only briefly before smiling at me. “Good to see you.”
My mouth parted but all four adults in the room smiled, even my dad, who never smiled.
Wells’s parents were gorgeous. His mom, Cleo, was a lovely brunette who could easily pass for a basketball player since she was so tall.
She wasn’t much into sports though, but I knew she liked to garden.
Wells got his softer features from her but his joking nature from his dad, Jax.
Mr. Ambrose was also classically handsome like an old Hollywood movie star, and Wells got that from him.
Wells wasn’t joking tonight when he stopped in front of me. I was thrown for a loop when he wrapped one of his lengthy arms around me.
I froze, nothing but a salad bowl between me, this guy, and the obvious heat that rolled off him.
Immediately, I was surrounded by his cool scent and it reminded me of the last time I’d seen him.
The common room of my dorm had been filled with it.
It was ocean breeze, sex, and the deep, crisp smell of Bruno Sloane-Mallick combined with it.
Wells and Bru smelled great together and my mouth watered just thinking about it.
“You’re going to regret coming tonight, you little Peeping-fucking-Tom,” Wells ground out in my ear. The words sliced me from my thoughts, and, heart racing, I gripped the salad bowl between us. Wells squeezed my arm. “Let me help you with that salad.”
He was taking it in the next breath, and I could breathe when he finally let go. I wavered in my knee-highs, my breaths anxious, rapid, but I was the only one who’d been privy to Wells’s threats.
I knew by the state of the room.
The parents, all of them, were staring at Wells and me after the hug and Wells’s seemingly kind gesture. My parents looked happy, but Wells’s were ecstatic. His dad was nodding to mine, and Cleo had her hand to her mouth. Like what her son did pleased her.
Oh…
It pleased all our parents, and my dad had nothing but a praiseful look for Wells when he passed my parents to put the bowl on the table. He pleased my dad, and that wasn’t easy to do.
Wells sat down at the table, even taking the time to place his napkin on his lap before facing our parents. He grinned. “I’m ready to eat when everyone else is.”
Wells sat incredibly close to me that evening. I attempted to sit across from him, but he got up and manufactured an excuse to do it. He claimed he could help me with his long reach to get food from across the table.
And our parents ate it up.
Both the Reeds and the Ambroses went without knowledge of whatever it was Wells was doing. He was incredibly accommodating as he got anything I needed while I sat next to him.
He even served me refried beans.
The parents had loved that, and Wells showed up with his humor tonight.
He took any opportunity he could to joke with our parents, and when he wasn’t doing that, he was laughing at funny things that I said.
He was overly pleasant to me when he little more than acknowledged me before our study sessions together.
He was playing some kind of game for our parents.
He even thanked me for tutoring him at one point.
“I’m actually starting to get things in my classes now,” Wells said, sitting back. He draped his long arm behind my chair, and I sat forward. He smirked. “I can’t thank Bow enough for helping me. I think I’ll actually do well this semester thanks to her and Bru.”
He mentioned Bru’s help too but only briefly. Wells had been keeping the focus on me mostly.
Wells grinned wide. “She’s even letting me take her to Dorian’s draft celebration in thanks.”
He was referring to his friend Dorian Prinze.
My brother and most of his friends played football for Pembroke, but only Dorian was pursuing going professional.
I think he was more passionate about the game than the other guys.
He was good and definitely could be one of the greats.
He would be one of the greats. He worked so hard.
I think we all knew it wasn’t if Dorian would play for the NFL.
He had scouts out for him since high school.
It was a matter of which team he’d play for at this point and his parents were already proactively planning a party for him.
It was more like a gala, with formal wear and media attention.
I planned to be there, but I didn’t have an escort.
Apparently, Wells was making himself my escort.
I tried not to shrink in my chair. I tried not to shake when Wells’s arm brushed my neck. The contact shot a sharp chill through me and I felt like my world was tilting on its axis.
I feel like I’m going to faint.
I held it in, and when I looked at Wells, he was still grinning at our parents.
He did with that well-oiled smile, but behind me he had his arm hugging my chair tighter and tighter.
He was actually tilting it with the strength of his bicep.
His hand squeezed into a white-knuckled fist, but I think I was the only one who noticed it.
My stomach soured. I didn’t know what Wells was doing, but whatever he had planned wasn’t good for me. He took a drink after his declaration and his mom, Cleo, squeezed his shoulder.
“Oh, honey. That’s so nice, and I’m so proud of you,” she said.