Chapter Fifteen
Victory
“I’m not sure we can be friends anymore,” I joke after Wells orders a saltless soft pretzel and cheese dip from a sidewalk pushcart vendor.
It’s Wednesday evening, and it’s been a busy week and a half since we went to Baltimore.
We play WordLink every day and talk every night, but nothing compares to spending time together.
Last Wednesday’s walkabout turned into an overnight at the hotel where Wells was staying, and I was pleasantly surprised that I didn’t feel guilty when I woke up the next morning.
There is something to be said about not waking up in my own bed after spending the night with him.
Last Friday’s flitabout led to another steamy night at the hotel and a lazy Saturday morning in bed.
I haven’t spent a lazy morning in forever, and I loved every second of it with Wells.
We spent the rest of the day knocking around the city together until he had to go back to the island, and as I’ve come to look forward to, when I got home, I found more secret memories tucked into my bag.
Wells hooks his arm around my neck, pulling me against his chest as the vendor fills our order. “You’re stuck with me, Braden.”
“At least until tomorrow morning,” I say playfully, and he presses his smiling lips to mine.
We collect our pretzels, and as we step away from the cart, I hold up my cinnamon-sugar pretzel and say, “ This is the bomb.”
He scoffs. “What’s wrong with keeping it classic?”
“More like boring . How can you even pretend to be living your best life if you’re missing out on cinnamon and sugar?”
A wolfish grin slides into place on his handsome face. “You’re all the sweetness I need,” he says, and leans in to kiss me again.
“Well, well, isn’t this cozy?”
We turn at the sound of Leni’s voice and find her and Raz watching us curiously. Leni’s eyes glitter with a look that says, Just friends, huh?
“ Leni …Hi. Hey, Raz,” I say, futilely hoping I don’t sound as caught as I feel.
“How’s it going, guys?” Wells asks casually. “Raz, I haven’t seen you in a while. Everything good?”
“Things are great,” Raz says, his gaze moving between us. “Looks like things are going well for you, too.”
“No complaints here,” Wells says as he settles a hand on my back.
“What are you guys up to tonight, besides kissing?” Leni smirks.
“Really?” I ask sarcastically.
“Come on, Leni. Can you blame her? I mean, look at me.” Wells motions to himself.
Leni rolls her eyes.
“He’s got a point, babe,” Raz says. “He’s a good-looking guy.” He and Wells high-five.
“Seriously,” Leni says. “What are you guys up to tonight?”
“Just hanging out,” I say at the same time Wells says, “We’re on a Wednesday Walkabout.”
“Hanging out and walking about. Got it,” Leni says with amusement.
“Are you getting excited about your wedding?” Wells asks. “It’s what? A little more than a month away?”
“Excited and nervous,” Leni says. “I wish we could just elope. We’ll have security to keep paparazzi off the island, and our moms have been having fun planning everything, but it’s a lot.”
“My beautiful bride-to-be doesn’t like to be the center of attention.” Raz slides his arm around her and says, “I cannot wait to see you walk down that aisle in your wedding gown and become mine forever.” He kisses her.
My heart squeezes. “I’m really happy for you guys.”
“Thanks.” Leni looks between us and arches a brow. “Should we seat you two together at the wedding?”
“Definitely. Right, Vic?” Wells asks.
“Yeah.” I don’t know why that makes my stomach feel funny, when I know damn well I’ll want to sit with him at the wedding.
It just seems like a big step. Like we’re coming out to everyone he knows as a couple, which is silly.
Especially if what Leni says is true about gossip spreading faster than colds on the island.
If Sutton mentioned the video call with my family to anyone, or if Wells has told friends or family that we’ve been spending time together, then that grapevine is probably already buzzing.
“You guys want to hang out with us tonight?” Wells offers, and I’m glad he does.
I have no idea why being together on the island seems like a bigger deal than hanging out with Leni and Raz here in the city. Maybe I’m just losing my mind.
“No, thanks,” Leni says. “We just picked up dinner.”
Raz holds up a to-go bag from the Thai restaurant down the street. “Rain check?”
“That would be great,” Wells says.
“Yeah, let’s plan something,” I suggest.
“Okay. I’ll text you,” Leni says. “Good to see you guys.”
“You, too,” we say as they walk away.
Wells turns to me with a playful grin. “You’re now officially my date for their wedding.”
“Don’t count your chickens, Silver. I still haven’t decided whether I can hang out with a guy who slathers cheese on his unsalted pretzel.”
He cocks a grin as we head down the sidewalk. “Is that so?”
“Yes, sir.”
“ Sir? I like that,” he says seductively, and I laugh. “You can’t knock the taste of perfection until you try it.” He breaks off a piece of pretzel, dips it in the cheese, and tries to feed it to me.
“Ew . ” I turn my face away.
“Don’t be a baby.”
“I’m not. I just know it’s not going to be as good as mine.”
“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll taste yours if you taste mine.” He waggles his brows.
“My pretzel is good. Yours is probably gross.”
“Have you ever had a pretzel with cheese?”
“No, but look at it. It doesn’t look nearly as yummy as mine with all this sugary goodness.”
“Yours does look good,” he admits as we cross the street. “I’ll tell you what. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to be my date for the wedding.”
“Even though I don’t want to be the topic of island gossip, I’m not giving up my seat next to you.”
“That’s my girl.” He steals a kiss. “Besides, the gossip mill is already churning. Sutton must have said something, because Jules asked Bellamy about us, and my sisters cornered me last week. And then Brant asked about us on Monday.”
I blow out a breath. “Okay. I guess the cat’s out of the bag.”
“Does that freak you out?”
“Only mildly. That’s silly, right?”
“Nothing you feel is ever silly. You told me at Cage’s party that you didn’t want to have to answer questions from your colleagues, but I think you’re safe from that. It’s just island gossip, so how about we don’t think about it today?”
“There you go, making me like you even more,” I tease. “That sounds like a good plan. I’ll even reward you by tasting your pretzel.”
I tear off a piece of my pretzel, and we feed the pieces to each other. His dark eyes never leave mine, as the cheese and pretzel melt together in my mouth. “Well?” he asks.
“ Mm . That’s not bad,” I say with surprise.
“Stick with me, Braden. I know my stuff.”
“What did you think of my pretzel?”
He leans closer and lowers his voice. “That cinnamon and sugar would taste better sprinkled on you.”
He steals another kiss. After we finish our pretzels, he drags me into a small market and buys cinnamon and sugar.
“You’re a nut,” I say as we walk out.
“And you’re going to be one tasty treat later.”
He kisses me again, and anticipation simmers inside me as we continue meandering down the sidewalk, window-shopping and chatting.
“You should come to the island next weekend. I’ll show you around.”
My nerves tingle. “I don’t know,” I say, trying to tamp down that flutter of anxiety.
“How about the weekend after? Give yourself time to get used to the idea.”
“I have to go back to LA a week from Sunday.”
“Date with your West Coast boyfriend?” His brows slant. “Whose ass do I have to kick?”
I smile. “All of the directors in the LA office. We have our annual meetings on Monday and Tuesday.”
“Uh-huh. A likely story,” he teases, and we head into a gift shop.
We make our way through the shop, showing each other postcards, magnets, and more touristy gifts.
“This is exactly what I’ve been looking for,” Wells says excitedly, and picks up a small black wooden box with a metal clasp that has New York Is For Lovers painted in neon pink across the top. “You need this.”
“I do? For what?”
“For our memories.” He opens the top and shows me the inside. “It’s perfect.”
“I don’t know about you, but my memories live in my head.”
“I mean the trinkets I’ve been putting in your purse.” He steps closer, and his eyes turn seductive. “The napkin from the first night we were together, and the other memories I’ve been sneaking in there.”
I was wondering if he was ever going to bring them up. I’m collecting them on my dresser, and every time I see them it makes me happy. But I can’t help teasing him. “What makes you think I didn’t throw them away?”
“Because I know you. You’re a keeper of special things, and I’m buying this for you.”
As the evening wears on and the sun sets, our conversations are as breezy as the warm summer night.
He drags me into a music store. “What are we doing here?”
“I figured I’d get myself a guitar. Up my street cred.” He heads for a display of guitars and grabs one off the rack.
“You didn’t tell me you know how to play.”
“I don’t. I’m hoping you can show me a thing or two.”
A tall, tan guy with longish light brown hair saunters over from the register. “Wells, my man. What are you doing here?”
“ Carey? ” Wells says with surprise. “Hey. It’s good to see you.” Holding the guitar with one hand, he and Carey share an embrace. “I didn’t know you were living in the city.”
“It’s only temporary. I’m helping out my buddy Drake Savage again. He opened this place a few months ago.”
“Awesome.” Wells puts a hand on my back again. “Carey Osten, this is Victory Braden. Carey grew up on the island. His father is the mayor, and his sister, Tara, is engaged to Levi.”
“Hi, Carey, it’s nice to meet you. I met Tara. She’s a sweetheart, and her girls are adorable.” She and Levi have an adorable baby girl named Toni and a beautiful little girl named Joey.
“Yeah, they sure are,” Carey says. “Are you the same Victory Braden who owns Blank Space Entertainment?”
“I am. You keep up with the entertainment industry?”
“Music is my life.” He rakes a hand through his hair and lifts his chin toward the guitar Wells is holding. “She sounds beautiful. I didn’t know you played.”
“I don’t, but Vic does. Mind if she shows me a thing or two?” Wells asks.
“Not at all. There’s a bench over there.” He points to the other side of the store. “Make yourselves comfortable, and let me know if you need anything.”
“Will do. Thanks, man.” Wells guides me toward the bench.
“Wells, what are we doing?”
“Having fun.” He sits on the bench and holds the guitar across his lap. “Now what?”
I can’t stop grinning, which is par for the course with him. “You can’t learn to play the guitar in five minutes.”
“I just want to see if I like it.”
“Okay, well, first you have to hold it right.” I move behind him and reach around him to adjust how it rests on his leg.
“I like this ,” he says in a low, sexy voice, and turns to kiss my cheek.
“Mm-hm. I’m starting to understand why you wanted to do this.”
“I’m no dummy. What do I do with my hands?”
“I can think of a few things,” I whisper. “But they don’t require a guitar.”
He grins. “I should’ve thought of this weeks ago. Show me something, sweets. Anything. How to play a single chord.”
“Okay. I’ll teach you to play an E.” Still leaning over his back, I adjust his fingers. “Press on the fretboard like this, but do it firmly when you strum the strings.”
He strums a few times. “Like this?”
“Mm-hm. Good.” I walk around the bench so I can see him play. God, he looks good holding a guitar.
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re infuriatingly hotter holding the damn thing. How does it feel?”
“Not as good as you do.” He motions to the bench. “Sit with me.”
I sit beside him, and he stops strumming.
“Will you play something for me?”
“I haven’t played in years,” I remind him.
“I’m sure it’s like riding a bike.” He offers the guitar. “Please?”
What is it about him that makes me want to do things I haven’t done in forever?
I take the guitar, and as I settle it on my lap, the peaceful sensation playing used to bring washes over me, as does that old spark of excitement.
I start strumming, and it doesn’t take long for it to come back to me and for me to get comfortable.
I fall back into playing an old favorite, “I’ll Be There for You. ”
Wells starts singing the lyrics. I swear when we’re together it’s impossible not to grin like a fool, which I must be, because he gets up, singing into an invisible microphone, and Carey calls out, “Sing it, Wells!”
We both laugh, and I get into it, too, playing louder.
Wells struts and sings into that imaginary microphone, and when he gets to the line about swearing things to me, he drops to his knees, places one hand on his chest, his eyes pleading, belting out the song with so much emotion, it’s like he means every word.
And I’m surprised by how much I hope he does.