Chapter 11
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
WES
“Dude, you look like a million bucks. A million grunge bucks.” Beck clapped a hand on my shoulder as Violet smoothed down the back of the black French designer suit jacket I’d put on.
Beck had surprised us all and landed in town late last night. They’d insisted I come over today and hang out with them for lunch before they had to get back on a plane for L.A.
“What do you think?” Violet peeked over my shoulder, checking out my reflection in the big mirror in their bedroom at their beautiful house, Whisperwind.
“I…I don’t know what to think.” I stared back at the sleek Euro dude in the mirror.
“He’s at a loss for words, babe. We have a winner,” Violet shouted out to her husband.
“It’s cut so perfectly like it was made for you.” Beck grinned.
“I don’t know about the belt…” I loosened it and began taking it off.
“Leave the belt!” They both snapped at me, and Violet fastened it up again.
“Guys, when am I ever going to wear this?” I glanced at Beck. “Your wedding was the only truly formal occasion I’ve been to in my adult life.”
“Wes—” Beck packed his small suitcase. “You need to have a basic black suit in your closet.”
Smirking, I let out a dramatic groan. “You are your mother’s son, aren’t you?”
“She taught me everything I know, and now I get to style you, bro.”
Violet poked me in the ribs. “My man has a great eye and good instincts. Has he ever let you down?”
I smoothed a hand down the seductive fabric of the jacket. “Never.”
Beck had given me tons of clothes over the years. Clothing that he’d gotten as gifts from designers, or stuff he’d bought me on his travels all over the world on his many concert tours. Stuff he knew I’d like—amazing leather jackets, crazy expensive jeans and cargo pants that were incredible quality, top of the line athletic shoes, designer leather backpacks and messenger bags and man bags, one of a kind graphic tees. Cashmere scarves and hats, even a thick, mohair black coat last winter that I had to admit was a godsend in the polar wind we enjoyed in the Black Hills in winter.
“You can always wear the jacket with jeans too,” said Violet. “But oh, these trousers…this slim cut looks so good on your long legs. The fabric falls beautifully, and that cuff…”
“I don’t think I’ve ever used the word ‘trousers’ before.”
Beck laughed. “There’s a first time for everything.”
Violet locked her small suitcase and rolled it to the door. “I’m going to order us lunch so we have plenty of time to eat before our driver gets here. Burritos or barbecue?”
“Burritos,” Beck and I shouted out.
“Got it.” Violet gave Beck a quick kiss and left the room.
“Thanks, man, I really like it.” I took off the jacket.
“I’m glad.” Beck hung it back on the plush hanger. “You sure about the boots?” He gestured at the row of Italian handmade boots that were his favorite. After all, he was a model for the brand.
“No way, glam boy, but I love that you keep trying.” We both laughed. “I’ll stick to my biker boots and the western boots I’ve had since high school.” I took off the trousers and got my own clothes back on, a casual T-shirt and faded jeans. The Wes I knew stared at me from the mirror once again.
Beck carefully arranged the suit in its fancy garment bag. “What’s with the haircut? I thought I’d never see the day that you’d chop off your locks.” He zipped up the garment bag.
“You don’t like it?” I got up close to the mirror and smoothed back my hair.
“I love it, looks great on you, already told you that. But I’m impressed. What made you do it? Or is the better question who made you do it?” He eyed me, a grin curling his lips. “Violet updated me about Lindy being in Meager.” Beck and Violet knew all about my and Lindy’s history.
“When I first saw her in town she made a comment that I hadn’t changed since she saw me last, which was when I was seventeen.”
“Ouch.”
“She was right.”
“Maybe you want to try the boots after all?”
“No.”
“You got it bad, huh?” Laughing, he grabbed a couple pairs of the boots and brought them to his massive walk-in closet and stashed them on a shelf.
I brought him the other two pairs. “And it’s rapidly getting worse.”
Choosing a thin cotton sweater from another shelf, Beck pulled it over his head. “I’d bet it only feels bad because it’s intense and you’re not sure what to do about it. That should tell you something.”
“Like what?”
Beck pushed his hair back from his face. “Like you give a damn about what she thinks of you.”
“I do give a damn. I give a lot of damns. Plenty of damns.”
How many times had I replayed touching her bare tattooed leg from the other day? Countless. Being so close to her in a small dark space had taken my breath away. Seeing that nasty tat she’d gotten by her pussy? That had made my pulse hammer in my chest. I’d done a number on her, and I wanted to fix that. Not only fix it…I wanted another chance with her, didn’t I?
Well, working on her tattoo over the next few weeks would certainly keep us in ultra-close proximity. The memory of her beachy perfume, the feel of her silky skin, the slight jump of her body when I’d touched her. My dick had been pounding in my jeans like a starving maniac.
Beck opened a drawer and picked out a heavy stainless steel watch. “Flirting, fooling around, that’s easy, but the other…”
“We’ve got history between us, and she’s not making it easy. But I deserve what she dishes out.”
“She matters to you.”
I gently swatted at the necklaces that hung on a jewelry stand on the dresser island. “She does.” Following Beck back into the bedroom, my gaze darted out the massive window to the grand backyard and its sapphire blue tiled swimming pool, the fancy loungers, Beck’s recording studio shed, and all the trees and flowers they’d planted which had made the property positively lush.
Beck had bought this old Queen Anne style house for Violet which, in fact, one of her ancestors had built in the nineteenth century. Whisperwind was one of the first and only grand mansions of Meager from the town’s early days. Together they had restored and transformed this vintage house into their family home. Fresh and vibrant and all their own.
Earlier, over coffee, they’d told me that they wanted to get pregnant. The two of them had been on a wild rollercoaster ride to get to this solid bright place they were at today. Violet and I had been close friends since kindergarten and from the moment Beck and I had met in our early teens when his mother had moved to Meager, we’d been good buds. I liked to think I had played a role in the two of them getting together.
Seeing my two best friends so content, so in sync, settled on their own terms, was satisfying, yet, I had to admit, gnawed at me. Could it be possible for me too? None of this had ever appealed to me, or maybe, more to the point, I hadn’t allowed it to appeal to me.
I blew out a breath. “Beck, I don’t want to fuck this up.”
“You won’t. You’re a good person, Wes, with the biggest heart.” He handed me the garment bag. “Go easy, but along with that, make yourself clear so there’s no bullshit, no time wasted or missed opportunities. Make it clear that you genuinely like her, that you care. Get that on the table early.”
“And then what?”
“Keep proving it to her.” He grabbed his suitcase and a leather tote bag, and I took Violet’s suitcase, and we headed down the stairs. “There’s nothing like genuine truth in action. Melts hearts and sets souls on fire.”
“What a wise poet you’ve become, Lanier.”
Beck’s gleaming eyes met mine. “I’m a man in wild crazy love.”