Chapter 3
Peyton
“I’m not marrying you.” The words splurt out of my mouth with a weird bitter taste to them.
“You need help and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for a friend. Look, I just recently took out a friend on a fake date to help her out.”
“This is nothing like a fake date.” All the same, a shudder ripples up my spine at the idea of Wendell on a date—fake or not. I don’t like it because he’s my friend.
“Peyton—”
“Wendell. That’s just ridiculous. I’m not looking to get married again.” Not after what Mike did to me. “I don’t need you…” to what? Help me? Protect me? Get me out of this shithole that I didn’t make for myself? Maybe I don’t need him, but it’d be a whole lot easier with his help.
A rough breath tumbles out of his chest. “You might not need me, Peyton, but you need my money and my protection.”
“We’re not living in the eighteen hundreds, Wendell. I’m fine. I just need more time.”
“More time? You think I’m willing to take that risk?” Disbelief in my abilities laces his words. It still bothers me that his first impression of me was that I was incompetent. I know it was eight years ago, but it’s a wound that never healed. Apparently, he holds the same opinion of me.
I could use his help but instead, I’ll prove that I can do this on my own. Like I said, I just need a little bit more time. And maybe it’s the blood rushing through my veins at inordinate temperatures and extraneous speeds, but I resent his intervention because it undermines me as a person.
"What protection, Wendell? You’re a professional hockey player. A farm kid. What are you going to do?"
At my acerbic words, he rears back and the pang in my heart has never felt sharper. Like it’s slicing through me.
He leans in close, pressing me against the sink counter with his presence. Not even touching me.
“Listen.” Deep sigh. “No one really knows this, but I’ve got a cousin in an MC.
He’ll track the guy that’s bothering you and keep tabs on him.
For me. If I ask.” Wendell’s eyes bore into me, and I’ve never seen this level of intensity from him.
Ever the nice guy, doing everyone favors, kind words, kinder actions.
That’s Wendell. Oh ya, and frugal as fuck. “He can cause trouble if needed.”
It’s impossible to gauge the force per square inch at which my heart hammers in my chest. The proximity. The topic. The gravity of it all. It’s pulling me down.
“I’m not going to marry you, Wendell. I’ve got this.
” My hands anchor me on the counter, both to hide their tremble and to resist the urge to touch him.
He’s been my friend for years, and it could have been different between us…
maybe it should have been. But it doesn’t matter.
It wasn’t—and isn’t—in the cards. Here he is, offering me the least romantic marriage proposal ever to be uttered, without even the teensiest amount of affection for me as a woman. Just friends.
Ya. Being married to him as a friend while resisting the temptation of his body, and feeling indebted to him? Hell to the no.
“I gotta go home and sort this out.”
“I’ll drive you.”
“No. I’m good—”
“It wasn’t an offer. Grab your things and let’s go.”
I’m getting a small glimpse into a completely different side of Wendell tonight and my head doesn’t know what to do about it. But it’s late now, so I take him up on the offer—non-offer—after saying my goodbyes to everyone.
Silence fills the SUV except for when I give my instructions. Thankfully, I’m almost home. “Take a right here. And then it’s just down this road.”
Darkness coats the street with only one light shining a few meters from my house. And that’s when I see it.
“Um…sorry. Just keep driving. It’s a bit further.” It’s not. It’s right there. I duck my head as we pass a vehicle I had hoped never to see again. He’s here. He said he’d give me a day, so why is he here?
Mantras. Breathing. Meditation. I grasp at anything to calm my breathing.
“Which one is it?”
“Um…just keep going.”
Something in my voice gives me away and he makes an abrupt turn off this street. “We’re going back to my place.” His voice brooks no argument, but I try anyway.
“No. I’m good. It’s just…you can drop me off right here.” What the hell am I saying? I’m not going back to my place tonight. I should take Wendell’s help.
“What happened just now? Did you see something? Did you see him?”
Shit. I can’t lie to him. Anymore than I already have.
“You’re nodding, but I have to hear you say it. Was that fucker at your house?”
I can’t risk Wendell confronting the guy. “Just take me back to your place.”
He grunts back. “Fine. I’ve always been your friend but I’m going to be your best friend right now and force you to do something you don’t want to do even though it’s best for you. You’re marrying me. Tomorrow.”
This was not how tonight was supposed to go.
I was on my way to getting the money I needed.
From good people too. I really like Willow and Lacy.
Planning their weddings will be the highlight of my year.
Instead, I’ll be racing to my own wedding tomorrow with a man that has confused the hell out of me for eight years, even though he’s been one of my closest friends.
I blink hard so that tears don’t roll down my cheeks. He’s right. Or maybe he’s not. But shit, seeing that car there scared me senseless. Wendell’s offer is the best I’m going to get right now.
“Fine.” I cross my arms in some ridiculous attempt at self-preservation.
“Good.”