8. Oakley
EIGHT
OAKLEY
Hardest thing I’ve ever done? Pretending I’m not absolutely gone over the gorgeous man at the table opposite me. He’s going on about how much he hates the fakeness of his former life even though he was an expert at it himself. Pretty sure that life is what led to him being so guarded now.
Except when he’s on his knees.
What a fucking revelation. I’m shocked that a guy like Lowen likes to submit. He’s always so composed and in charge of every little thing, but maybe that’s the allure. Giving up all that control for a little while.
I saw the fear in his eyes though, the vulnerability in letting me in like that, so as hard as it was, I did my best to rein in my own desires to wrap him up in my arms and never let anyone else hurt him. I know he can take care of himself, but I don’t want him to have to. I want to be the guy he comes to when he’s happy, sad, angry, hurt. Any emotion of his, I want. For now, I’ll keep being his friend, because I suspect that’s all he can handle.
He did set the vase of flowers I brought on the table though.
He pauses to take a sip of wine and I jump in. “Question. Will people ask normal engagement questions like how we met, how I proposed, et cetera?”
Lowen’s expression dips as he scrunches his nose. “Probably, yes.”
“Want to knock that out then?”
“We can tell the truth about how we met.”
“Okay. How long have we been engaged?”
Lowen taps his fork against his plate slowly, mirroring his thought process. “Five months. It was a whirlwind romance.”
I nod. “We just knew. The attraction was undeniable, but the surprise was how compatible we are and how much we have in common.”
Lowen’s cheeks pink slightly as he directs his pretty gaze to his lasagna. “Like?”
“Obviously we both love design, and you captivated me with your vision. You can take something so mundane and make it luxurious.”
His gaze flickers to me briefly, a smile tugging at his lips. “For my part, I appreciated your work ethic and integrity. I saw how well you treat your team, and how collaborative you are with me on our shared projects.”
“Beauty and the brawn, huh?”
He laughs softly. “I suppose so. You also indulge me in my penchant for obscure foreign films.”
Chuckling, I nod. “And you’ve discovered a love for seventies rock.”
He glances up at me. “I can’t name a single band.”
“Fleetwood Mac is a great one, but Aerosmith and the Eagles are my faves.”
“Got it. And of course, you adore my favorite movie, the 1955 classic, Les Diaboliques .”
“Of course. Maybe we should watch it together. I’ll play you a few songs too. You especially like it when I bust out my guitar and play ‘Hotel California’ for you.”
“You play guitar?”
I shrug. “I’m rusty, but I played in a band in high school. We sucked.”
Lowen grins. “Did you have long hair?”
“You bet. Along with a baby face without an ounce of hair on it.”
“I need to see a picture of that.”
“I’ll find you one. What about your style? How has it changed over the years?”
“It hasn’t much, honestly, except that I’ve become more comfortable expressing my feminine side. In France, I was applauded for my daring outfits, a blend of masculine and feminine aesthetics. Clothes to me aren’t gendered. It’s how you feel in them that matters.”
“Do you hate the t-shirts and jeans for Moby’s?”
He nods. “Yes, but it makes sense.” Pausing, he twists his lips for a second. “I’ll need to make an impression next week.”
“I can’t wait to see you express yourself with fashion.”
He flashes a soft smile as he cuts into another piece of pasta. I don’t know how to bring up my insecurity about meeting his former crowd, but I guess just diving in is the way.
“Is there anything you want me to change? A haircut? Where I went to school? Anything?”
He cocks his head. “What?”
“I’m a blue-collar dude, Low. Obviously, you’re fine with it, but I don’t know if you want me to have gone to some fancy school or something to impress them.”
His face falls as a crease mars his forehead. “Absolutely not.”
“It’s just that you said they’re critical and they’ll want dirt. Maybe they’ll write that I’m a downgrade from your ex.”
Lowen puts his fork down, his gaze turning steely the way it does when a vendor doesn’t live up to his high expectations.
“You are not a downgrade, Oakley. You can run laps around Alain, and you’re a thousand times the man he is. Will they gossip and say unkind things? I don’t know, but fuck them all if they do.” He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I wish I was over it. I do. I wish Alain and whatever he’s doing in his life didn’t matter, and when I’m here in my own Willow Bay world, it doesn’t. I don’t think about him every day anymore. I wish I could show up on my own with my head high, but I can’t. Sadly, this is about Alain, not the stupid media. You have my promise that if anyone even tries to degrade you, they’ll have to deal with me, and no one wants that.”
I flip my hand over so our palms are pressed together. “I want him to realize what he lost.”
“I don’t care about that. I honestly don’t. I’m way past my desire to get revenge or hurt him.” He pinches the bridge of his nose as he briefly closes his eyes. “But I can’t endure the pitying looks again. I can’t ignore the whispers and his smugness that he got the better of me, but that’s about me. It’s not about you.”
“I guess I should trust that if I wasn’t good enough, you wouldn’t have asked me.”
“You should trust that you’ve become a good friend and a trusted confidant. You’re not less than me or any of those superficial asses.”
“I know. I don’t suffer from low self-esteem.”
We both laugh and the tension dissolves.
After a few more bites of food, I jump back in. “What’s your dream proposal? Did you get it with Alain?”
Lowen scoffs. “God no. He approached it as he does everything—practically, like a business deal.”
It irritates me that he was treated like shit before. “What’s your dream then?”
“I don’t have one, Oakley.”
“Then let’s create it. Right now. Because that’s how I did it.”
A smile tugs at his pretty mouth. “I guess since you’re such a romantic at heart, you would’ve done something private but meaningful.”
“Mm-hmm. Definitely. Maybe we were on vacation. A romantic spot away from it all.”
Lowen nods thoughtfully. “The mountains. We rented a cabin so we could spend the weekend away from phones and interruptions.”
“You’d been working so hard with the guys to get Moby’s open, so I whisked you away.”
“We spent the day huddled in our own little private world, and I had no idea what was coming.”
Grinning, I sip my wine while I imagine the scene. “I drew us a bath and we had a nice soak and then we made love.”
His cheeks turn pink again as he brushes hair from his forehead. “Then we ate a dessert you brought with us. It was a decadent chocolate cake with dipped strawberries and champagne.”
“And then, when you least expected it, I slid out of bed and got down on one knee, and I asked you to spend the rest of your life with me.”
“No. Not the one knee thing. Too on the nose.”
I chuckle. “Okay then. I stayed in bed with you and just produced the ring and asked.”
He nods. “That feels more like us. No extra pomp and circumstance.”
“Speaking of a ring…”
He blows a raspberry sound with his lips. “Oh shoot. I didn’t think of that.”
An idea comes to me. “Let me take care of it. You’d want something spectacular with diamonds, right? Something traditionally worn by women?”
He looks momentarily surprised but then nods. “Yes, but how would you?—”
“Trust me. I’ll handle it.”
“But—”
“Kitten.” I use my deep, authoritative voice and his breath catches. “Let me take care of this.”
He nods, taking a sip of water. “You can’t call me that during the day, you know?”
“I know, but we’re alone right now.”
“And really, the romance stuff, the flowers, it’s all very nice, but it isn’t necessary when we’re by ourselves.”
Why do I get the feeling that this stunning creature has never really been romanced? That’s a damn shame if it’s true.
“Just practicing. Besides, friends can give each other flowers, can’t they?”
His lips curl at the corners. “Yes, I suppose they can.”
“And friends can occasionally blow each other.” I stand, noticing how Lowen’s gaze heats as I do, and walk around the table. I settle in the seat beside him, placing my hand on his thigh. “What’s a little cum between friends?”
The war of emotions he’s feeling dances across his features, but he seems to rein them in with a tight smile. “A fringe benefit, I guess.”
I tangle our fingers together and lift his hand to my mouth, pressing soft kisses to the back of it. “If you let me go all in, Low, I will. Every person there will be convinced that I am absolutely insane over you. They’ll be jealous of you. Follow my lead, huh?”
He nods, swaying toward me slightly. “I’ll follow your lead.”
Taking a chance, I lean in and capture his lips in a sweet kiss. I linger, tasting him underneath the wine and pasta sauce. Lowen is addictive and I’m desperate for another hit.
He sinks into me, his fingers twisting the hem of my sweater. I don’t know if I’ll ever tear down the wall that keeps us from trying for a real relationship, but I sure as fuck plan to try. There’s real attraction here, real compatibility too. All I gotta do is prove to Lowen I’m a good enough man for him. Sure, he doesn’t judge me as a friend, but could he really see himself in an equal romantic relationship with me? Is his broken past the only thing keeping him from it or is it deeper than that? I want to find out.
This fake engagement thing might be my ticket to Lowen’s heart. I’m going full balls to the walls with this to win him over. If that doesn’t work, nothing will.