Chapter 5
A Gift from the Universe
Wyatt
The moment I entered the restaurant I recognized Caroline’s back. She was sitting at the bar, her honey hair pulled up in a high ponytail. She wore a white halter-top dress with a drapey silk bow at her neck, leaving most of her back and shoulders exposed. The view was all too familiar.
How many summers had I gazed at Caroline’s muscled back as she sunbathed on the dock?
From the moment she executed that breathtaking dive at Emerald Pools, I had been trying not to think of Caroline Bingham and failing miserably.
Last week was no exception. I didn’t regret saying no to the insane plan of having her make me over.
I didn’t need her fashion assistance to grow my business.
But I regretted not having a built-in excuse to see her.
Finding her sitting at the bar at The Grange felt like a gift from the universe.
I glanced around, no sign of Emma. Not really a surprise. Emma normally ran at least thirty minutes late. I didn’t know why I ever showed up on time to meet her for anything.
I crossed over to Caroline, who was trying to get the bartender’s attention. Oh, Caroline, competent at so many things, but seriously lacking people skills. Her mouth was set into a straight, angry line. She was about to lose her temper.
“Caroline . . .”
“Wyatt Knox! Thank goodness!” This was a change. She looked pleased to see me. “Maybe you can help? You can charm anyone.” She said the last line a bit disparagingly, but I didn’t mind. I’d heard much worse from her.
“Certainly, let me buy you a drink.”
“No, um . . . that’s not . . .”
I interrupted her protest. “Not as a date,” I clarified. “You made it perfectly clear you will never date me.”
“I wish you wouldn’t bring that up.”
“Ah! But it’s one of my favorite memories.”
“And you wonder why I’m not interested in you.”
“I don’t wonder. I know it’s because I’m a mechanic who doesn’t wear suits and needs a haircut.” I smiled to show I was teasing and sat down on the stool beside her.
“Don’t forget a beard trim.” She added playfully.
“I wouldn’t mention the beard, if I were you.”
“You’re the worst!” She fake scowled.
“Let me make it up to you by buying you a drink.”
“Fine. I should say no because my date should be here any minute.” She glanced at the dainty gold watch on her wrist. “But he’s late. I’m afraid I’m being stood up.”
“Is that so?” I cocked an eyebrow. “Did you meet on an app?”
“Yes, and before you get all judgy on me...”
“Judgy? Why would you say that?”
“You’re always judging me. I can see it in your eyes.”
“I promise I’m not judging you, Your Majesty.”
“That!” She pointed at my chest. “You’re mocking me right now.”
“I swear I’m not. The nickname suits you. I agree you deserve to be adored.”
“More mocking!”
“No, I’m serious. Now, who’s this rascal who dared to stand up royalty?”
Caroline rolled her eyes. “Ron.” Her shoulders slumped.
She slid over her phone so I could see a picture of Ron Walburton on her dating app.
He looked like a banker who golfs. I hated the sight of him.
With his graying sideburns, he also looked too old for her.
At twenty-seven, I was three years younger than Caroline.
The perfect age gap, if anyone asked me.
“I’m also waiting for a friend. Let me buy you a drink, and we can wait together. I promise it won’t be anything like a date.”
“I shouldn’t have said that stuff outside of Grateful Threads about you and me...” She blushed. “Wyatt, I’m a total brat to you: you couldn’t possibly be interested in me.”
“The heart wants what the heart wants,” I said lightly.
“You’re the worst flirt.”
“Most women find me charming.”
“I find you annoying.”
“Then you should be glad I said no to the My Fair Wyatt plan. ”
“I find that even more annoying. You’re underestimating what I could do for you.”
“Am I? Let me buy you a Diet Coke, and you can give me the hard sell.”
“You remembered!” She broke out in a dazzling smile. That was the thing about Caroline. She could be all storm clouds and stand-offish and then in a flash, you’d get a glimpse of her bright inner sunshine.
“Of course, I remembered. The only thing more constant than your pearls was the Diet Coke you always carried around.” She had no idea how much I remembered.
“Still, I’m impressed,” she said.
I stood up. To save my place, she set her clutch on the stool where I had been sitting, and perched one black heel on the rung of my barstool.
“Nice shoes!” I commented. “I like the red sole.”
“They’re my lucky shoes. I always wear them on blind dates.”
“Looks like they worked,” I quipped as I walked away, not bothering to see if she caught my meaning. I jostled my way through the knot of customers to get the bartender’s attention.
Caroline looked a bit put out when I returned with her Diet Coke and a lime.
“So did you get her number?” she asked.
“Are you jealous?”
“No, just thirsty.” She took a sip. “Ah, better. What in the world were you and the bartender talking about for so long?”
“I was being friendly. I haven’t been here before. I asked her for drink recommendations.”
“ Please tell me more about every single drink on the menu ,” Caroline said in a sing-songy voice, apparently pretending to be me. “ And which ones you like best, and what time you get off work? ” She batted her eyelashes. She looked ridiculous.
“That’s not what I sound like. And just because you prefer to be abrupt and direct to the waitstaff doesn’t mean I have to be.”
“What’s wrong with being direct?”
“What’s wrong with being friendly?”
“It can be misleading.”
I nodded and sipped my drink. “I can see how that can be a hazard for an attractive woman like you.” Her cheeks flushed slightly.
“There you go again. Don’t you ever stop flirting?”
“Caroline, it’s not flirting to call you attractive. That’s an inarguable fact and one I’m certain you’re well aware of.”
“Perhaps, but don’t smile when you say stuff like that. It’s confusing.”
“I smile to compensate for your scowl.”
Her scowl deepened. But her eyes told a different story; they were laughing. And her lips twitched like she was holding back a smile.
“Stop it, Wyatt. Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“All flirtatious and like you like me.”
“Maybe I do like you, Caroline.”
She bit her lip. “You... you shouldn’t because this...” She pointed at me and then herself. “Is never going to happen.”
Caroline was full of it. There was some real attraction between us. But if she didn’t want to go there, so be it. All I could do was bow out gracefully. “Well then, I had better make myself scarce.” I stood up, taking my drink with me.
“Wait! No, stay.” I shrugged and reclaimed my seat. “What are you drinking?” she asked, pointing to my pink umbrella drink.
“I don’t know... some dragon fruit cocktail Sadie recommended.”
“Oh, so, we’re on a first-name basis with the cute bartender?”
“She’s wearing a name tag.” I decided not to tell Caroline that Sadie had, in fact, given me her number. That would definitely play into whatever ill-conceived backstory she had drummed up for me.
“And is it good?” she asked.
“I like it.” I nudged my drink toward her. “Have a sip.”
“No thanks . . . I . . . just didn’t expect you to order that.”
“Let me guess. You expected me to order some ultra-manly drink.” I lowered my voice. “A tumbler of straight gasoline with a shot of motor oil.”
“Yes, that.” She laughed a full belly laugh. It felt like a victory, making Caroline laugh. “I thought you’d get something like that or at least whiskey.”
“I do like whiskey. But I’m comfortable enough in my manhood to order a fun pink drink.”
“Greg would never.”
“Caroline, when are you going to get it through your pretty little head that I’m not Greg?”
“I know. Other than looking alike, you two don’t have much in common. But then again, sometimes you seemed close. Almost like brothers.”
I took a sip of my pink drink. It was a little sweet, but not bad.
“Greg and I don’t see eye to eye on much. But...” I closed my eyes. “There’s something about the people you grow up with. They become a part of your history. I still love Greg, no matter what stupid things he does. Or how rude he is about me.”
Caroline nodded as if absorbing my words. “That’s something we have in common. We love Greg against our better senses.”
“You still love him?” I asked.
“Love is probably not the word. But I have a soft spot for him.” This does not surprise me.
Caroline was a devoted girlfriend. It was sickening.
She baked Greg’s favorite brownies, packed his backpack for hikes, picked up his dirty socks, and did his laundry at the reunion.
All of this adoring servitude made her so happy, while it made me angry—especially when Greg would be so dismissive of her.
“Do you think I’m pathetic?” she asked as if she could read my thoughts.
“No, my cousin’s pathetic. He didn’t value what he had.” I took another drink. I wished it was whiskey for this conversation. “There’s something to be said for devotion,” I said. “It can be powerful when it’s not misplaced.”
“But you told him to break up with me?” Her voice was calm, but her eyes were fiery. I had no reply to this. Technically, she was right. When Greg asked me if he should marry Caroline, I said no. Because she deserved better.
“That’s not exactly what happened.”
“So what did happen—exactly?” She tilted her head toward me. “I’m listening...”
“I’m not sure how to tell you this without hurting you...”
“Wyatt, nothing you could say could hurt me anymore,” she said with confidence. But I wasn’t so sure. I knew she was aware of some of Greg’s cheating. But hardly all of it. I doubted she knew he cheated on her the week of the wedding.
“Caroline,” a man with silver hair crooned as he placed a hand on her shoulder.
“So rad to see you!” He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.
For a confused moment, I mistook him for a family friend, but then I noticed Caroline’s panicked eyes.
That was when I realized how much this man resembled Ron from the dating app, except much older.
His profile pic was at least a decade old.
“You’re prettier than your photo.” He observed.
He kept his meaty age-spotted hand on her bare shoulder.
Caroline kicked my shin with her pointy heels. I caught her wide eyes signaling SOS. I gave the slightest nod before I hopped off my stool and sprang into action.
I tapped Ron’s shoulder. “Excuse me, sir.” He stepped back and turned around to face me. “That’s my girlfriend you’re harassing.”
“No, she’s not. Caroline’s my date.” He pulled out his phone to show me her profile pic. I could smell alcohol on his breath.
“Let’s go, honey.” I reached for Caroline’s hand. She gave me the briefest squeeze before climbing off her barstool.
“What are you doing with my date?” asked an irate Ron as I wrapped an arm around Caroline. I could feel her tense. Was it because of my touch or the situation?
“I’m not your date,” Caroline replied through clenched teeth.
It was satisfying to watch someone else receive her death stare.
“I’m his girlfriend.” Whoa! We went from “This is never happening” to “girlfriend” in under five minutes.
I knew she said that to escape this moron. But I still liked the sound of it.
“But you’re Caroline.” He held up his phone with her photo. “My date.”
“I don’t know who Caroline is, but this is my girlfriend—Queenie.” I slipped my arm around her waist and walked out of the restaurant. A determined Ron stomped after us.
“Are you sure you’re not Caroline?” For being a little drunk, this man was hard to gaslight.
“Yes,” said Caroline. “My name’s Queenie and this is my boyfriend, Dingus.”
“Let’s go, sweetie,” I said. Then I whispered in her ear, “Dingus?”
“Queenie?” she hissed back.
“Wait! Caroline!” Ron kept following us. Good thing I had parked nearby. For a faster escape, I unwound my arm from her waist and clasped her hand in mine as we hurried down the uneven sidewalk. Her heels click-clacked as fast as my heart.
“I think Ron lied about his age,” she whispered. We were now a good bus length away.
“You think?” I stopped in front of my pick up. “That man isn’t a day under fifty.”
“I bet he’s older than my dad,” Caroline said with disgust.
“This is me.” I opened the passenger door of my retrofitted 1974 Ford pick up truck.
It was not the vehicle I would usually take a date in.
It was a work truck. I had raised the body, and the seats were high off the ground.
Then again, I hadn’t expected this night to turn into a date.
Not that it was, but it sort of felt like one. Caroline hesitated.
“Sorry, it’s a bit of a climb,” I said.
“That’s not it.” She looked back. Ron staggered toward us in the twilight. “What about your friend?” she asked.
“Oh yeah!” I had totally forgotten about Emma. “She can meet us somewhere else. I’ll have you text her as we drive.”
“If you’re certain it’s okay.” She must not have been too worried because she was already climbing in. “Can we get pizza?” she asked as she buckled her seatbelt. I gave her a sweeping (perhaps slightly mocking) bow before I closed her door.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”