Chapter Twelve
“How do you feel about going up to Napa this weekend?”
Ryan looked up from where he was checking his email. Wyatt’s head was still mostly in the fridge, as he put together a quick lunch for them.
“I feel good about it,” Ryan said. “No plans here. Did you have something in mind?”
“This weekend is one of Bastian Aquino’s famous invite-only brunches at Terroir. I promised my nana I’d take her, and Tony, my brother, is going too. I could add you to the list, if you wanted.”
“Does this mean I can finally meet the Bastard?”
Wyatt laughed as he began to spread pesto on one side of the bread. “I’m not sure I want you meeting him if you’re going to call him by his infamous nickname. He’s killed people for less. But yes, he does generally make a pass through the dining room to take his allotment of praise.”
“Excellent, I’d love to come and meet your nana. Plus, I have an idea for something else we can do in Napa.” Ryan had a feeling Wyatt wasn’t going to like it as much as he was; Wyatt didn’t have the same craving for adrenaline that Ryan had.
But Wyatt kept piling sliced turkey and cheese on the sandwiches like he wasn’t concerned. Of course Ryan had discovered that when Wyatt was cooking, even if it was as simple as building some paninis, he was usually absorbed in his task.
“Napa Skydive is up there,” Ryan threw out casually, leaning back, and taking a long drink of his iced tea. “I thought we could give it a try.”
The shocked, apprehensive look in Wyatt’s eyes was priceless as he looked up at him.
“Oh, it’ll be fun,” Ryan teased. “You’re gonna love it.”
“I’m not an adrenaline junkie like you,” Wyatt protested.
“Yeah, you play it downright safe when we surf,” Ryan teased. Like just this morning Wyatt hadn’t been attempting tricks that Ryan wouldn’t even try. “I’ll tell that to the gigantic bruise you’re probably going to be sporting tomorrow.”
“I already told you,” Wyatt said as he slid the sandwiches into the pan, and weighed them down with another big heavy skillet, “I did that on purpose. So you’d kiss every inch of it.”
Ryan couldn’t help but laugh. Hanging out with Wyatt was fun and always so unexpected. If he’d known that hanging out with your hookups was like this, he would’ve been tempted to do it before. But then, he had a feeling there weren’t many Wyatt Blakes out there in the world.
If he’d ever run across someone like him before, Ryan wanted to believe that he’d have realized it right away, the exact same way he had this time, and done whatever he could not to lose him.
The adjustment to being together, even if it was fake, had seemed pretty smooth, despite his sudden anxiousness the night of the party, and so much of that had been because of Wyatt.
He was calm and collected, and endlessly supportive.
He made doing this easy, and every hour they spent together further convinced him of the truth he’d known from the first moment they’d met: he could only have this fake relationship if it was with Wyatt.
He couldn’t have done it with anybody else.
“I guess if you come to brunch with my nana and my brother and endure not calling Aquino the Bastard to his face, I could skydive. Besides, isn’t that super safe now? And don’t they hook you up to the instructor?”
“Luckily for you,” Ryan said, “I’ve got enough hours to be considered an instructor. We can get hooked together.”
Wyatt’s response was a smoky, hot look shot from his cool, blue eyes. “How did you guess that’s my favorite position?”
Ryan snorted. “It wasn’t very difficult, considering how often it occurs.”
“Are you complaining?” Wyatt slid the sandwich onto a plate and pushed it in front of Ryan. “Because I sure as hell am not.”
Ryan definitely wasn’t. He’d unapologetically had a lot of sex and lots of it had been good, some of it had been great, and a little had even been extraordinary, which is why he’d expected some of his sexual obsession with Wyatt to wane as the novelty faded.
But there was something addictive about him, and whenever Wyatt offhandedly mentioned how much he enjoyed them together, Ryan couldn’t help but be a tiny bit embarrassed at how much he agreed.
With how much experience he had, Ryan wasn’t the one who was supposed to be so into it, but he’d definitely passed casual bystander by a while ago. It wasn’t that it hadn’t ever happened, but it was definitely unusual.
He took a bite of the sandwich, and nearly moaned. It was perfect—the bread, the meat, the cheese, with the herb notes in the pesto. “I’d ask how you keep doing this,” Ryan said, “but you’d just tell me you’re a professional. Even when you’re only making a sandwich.”
Wyatt smiled, looking very pleased with himself. “It’s never just a sandwich,” he said. And Ryan was pretty sure that the end of the sentence was when it’s for you, and he didn’t know how he felt about that.
Except that wasn’t even true. He knew. He liked it. He loved it. That was probably selfish but Ryan couldn’t help himself.
“Should we take the Tesla or maybe the Maserati? Or the Ducati?”
Wyatt shrugged, in the middle of his own sandwich.
“I have an even better idea,” Ryan said. Wyatt didn’t like it when he, in his words, “threw his money around,” but he decided he’d be okay taking that risk. “You take care of getting Bastian Aquino to let us into this fancy brunch, and I’ll take care of the transportation and the hotel. Okay?”
Wyatt looked suspicious but nodded in agreement.
It was still worth it four days later when, instead of staying on I-5 to drive up to Napa, Ryan pulled off the freeway, and pulled up to the private terminal at LAX.
“I thought I told you I didn’t like you throwing your money around,” Wyatt said, frustrated edge to his voice, as they embarked onto the small private plane. “We could’ve driven.”
“And wasted six hours on the road, when this way, we can check in to the hotel early, get a massage, spend some time in the sauna, and have sex before we have to meet your brother Tony for dinner.”
“You are incorrigible,” Wyatt said, finally cracking a smile as they settled into their plush leather seats. “I’m not sure whether to encourage or discourage you.”
“I think you should wait until we get to the hotel before deciding,” Ryan teased.
Wyatt rolled his eyes and settled back in for takeoff. “I told you we could stay with the guys. They have some extra room, since both Miles and I moved out.”
“I am not staying with your ex,” Ryan stated.
He’d known that from the first moment Wyatt had confessed that his ex-boyfriend had ended up moving in with his old roommates.
He kept telling himself it wasn’t a jealousy thing, but when he couldn’t come up with an alternative explanation, he’d been forced to conclude it turned out he was the jealous type, at least when it came to Wyatt.
Of course he hadn’t been able to admit that to Wyatt, so he’d used some bullshit privacy excuse that he was pretty sure was horribly transparent. But Wyatt was such a good guy, he’d let it go gracefully and not made it an issue.
But it also meant that Ryan could check them into his favorite hotel and Wyatt couldn’t complain about the price.
“I’m not arguing about staying with Kian, Xander, and Nate, but I recognize that expression,” Wyatt grumbled. “It usually means you’re up to something.”
“I’m totally up to something,” Ryan agreed cheerfully. “But you’re gonna like it.”
“Does this have something to do with the massage, sauna, and sex you mentioned earlier?” Wyatt couldn’t quite hide the eagerness in his voice.
“You’re just gonna have to wait and see.” Ryan mimed zipping his lips shut, and tossing the key over his shoulder.
“Gentlemen,” the stewardess said, entering the main cabin, “we’re just about ready to take off. Would you like something to drink before we do?”
“Mimosas?” Ryan asked. Wyatt rolled his eyes but nodded in agreement.
“Are we celebrating something?” she asked when she returned to the cabin with two crystal flutes.
“Us,” Ryan said, shooting her his most charming smile. “I think that’s something worth celebrating.”
She laughed. “I’d agree. Now please keep your seatbelts fastened. It’s a quick, short flight and the pilot probably won’t turn off the seatbelt sign. But you can press this little button,” she indicated a discreet call button by Ryan’s seat, “if you need anything during the flight.”
“Cheers,” Ryan said, tipping his glass Wyatt’s direction. He rolled his eyes again, but toasted back.
“I’ll admit,” Wyatt said a few minutes after takeoff, “this is better than driving.”
“I’m glad you approve,” Ryan teased.
“I worked at Terroir, which is pretty much synonymous with wealth and excess, but we didn’t get to experience any of it.”
“That doesn’t seem fair,” Ryan said, but he wasn’t very surprised. Wyatt had let slip a few days ago how much money he’d been making before working for him, and it had been appallingly low, considering how many hours Wyatt had worked, and how tough his job had been.
“Bring it up with the Bastard,” Wyatt said with a resigned sigh. “Actually, I shouldn’t say that, because you might.”
“Wyatt,” Ryan asked seriously. “Your nana is coming with us to brunch, right?”
“I told you she was.”
“I’d never do anything to embarrass you in front of her. I promise.”
Wyatt downed the rest of his mimosa. “But we should tell her about our relationship.”
“You don’t want to lie to her,” Ryan guessed.
“I don’t.”
“Then we don’t.” It didn’t matter that Eric had asked him to post some photos of their trip and the brunch. To show their “deepening” relationship, he’d said, because Wyatt wouldn’t introduce him to his grandmother unless Ryan was important.
But then, Ryan had a feeling that Wyatt hadn’t asked him to come with him this weekend to perpetrate their fake-relationship agenda. He’d wanted Ryan to meet his nana because it was important to him.
“Are you sure?”