2. Wilson
two
wilson
I watched her every move.
Through the living room to her backyard. There wasn’t a place in her home where I didn’t have eyes on her. It was illegal and fucking crazy, as my cousin Lark liked to remind me, but I still had eyes on her.
Whether it was from the small almost nondetectable security cameras I’d hired to be installed one night when she had been out, or from tapping her devices. I loved it when she worked. I watched her from the camera on her laptop as she typed away and designed shit for her clients.
Jesus. Those moments are almost my favorite.
To see her eyes almost on mine, the hint of happiness as her creative juices flowed and she got shit done. She was fucking magnificent. If I had a creative bone in my body, without a doubt she would have been my muse.
I called her. The need to hear her voice once again was too much. I watched as she picked up her phone. Why the hell am I sending a driver? No, I needed her to know it would be me who picked her up. Forever , if I had anything to say about it. She stared at her phone like a snake was about to bite her. I saw the resolve in her gaze, knew exactly what she was going to do before she did it.
My sassy thing sent me to voicemail. I felt my lips tilt upward into a smile. One that I wasn’t used to. Her gaze rose as she looked around her bedroom, and even though I knew for certain there was no way she could see me, I froze. It felt like her eyes connected with mine as her head tilted to the side, then the other.
Lana bit down on her bottom lip and stepped forward before frowning at herself and running her fingers through her silky dark hair.
“I look like a mess,” she muttered to herself.
Everything inside me was dying to pull her onto my lap and tell her just how fucking perfect she was. I crossed my arms over my chest and tipped my head back before closing my eyes.
Sitting across the street from her place when I should have been in the office was stupid.
If you’re not early, you’re late. The old man’s voice repeated in my head. Since we put him to rest, my grandfather’s words kept popping up in my mind. More and more. If I believed in that kind of thing, I would have sworn the old grumpy man who had raised me was haunting me from the beyond.
I opened my eyes and glanced at the screen on the iPad next to me. There she was, trying to decide between two dresses. A black one with a white collar and cuffed at the wrist with pearl buttons down the front that probably ended just above her knees. It was cute, but when she pulled out the other, my tongue was suddenly too big for my mouth.
“Pick the red one, my sweet little temptation,” I murmured, knowing she wouldn’t hear a thing. “Please, pick the red one,” I pleaded.
I had a feeling that dress would not only fit her like a glove, but it would give me a great view of her spectacular breasts. It reminded me of a milkmaid dress… but in that color, she would be my naughty milkmaid.
I still couldn’t believe how tangled up she had me. From the inside out. I was doing things I would have been horrified if anyone did them to my girl cousins. But I couldn’t get myself to stop.
Setting up the cameras had come from the fact that any time I called her, she would simply send me to voicemail. It was why I got my attorneys involved. But had I known all those dumbasses did was stress my girl out, I wouldn’t have done that.
Not only that, but I’d crossed so many other boundaries. Trespassing into her home and property when she went for walks. How many times has she almost caught me? Shit, just two days ago, I’d had to hide in her guest room until she fell asleep.
If I breathed in deeply enough, I could still smell the perfume that clung to the air of her place. I ran my fingers through my short hair and tried to call her again.
And again, she sent me to voicemail.
It was my fault. I deserved it.
She’d been doing this little song and dance since the day after the accident. I’d called her that night, and nerves got the best of me, so I’d ended up sounding more like a bully than a man who had fallen in love at first sight.
I called again and watched her through the security camera. This time, she looked at it and chewed on that pretty, puffy bottom lip.
“Answer, baby girl. Come on,” I quietly urged.
“Hello?” Her voice made me freeze. She’d actually answered.
“Miss Pruitt.”
“Mr. Harding.” Fuck, I would have preferred her calling me Wils or Wilson, but there was something about her calling me Mr. Harding that made me harder.
“There’s a change in plans,” I informed her, trying to keep my tone calm and collected. I watched my girl stop buttoning the dark dress she’d chosen, and she frowned towards the mirror.
“Let me guess, you have somewhere important to be?” She rolled her eyes.
“No. I will be the one picking you up.”
“You?” she squeaked and cleared her throat. “Why you? I mean, I could take the bus or?—“
“I’ll be there at five. Wear something nice,” I instructed, again sounding like a dick. Why couldn’t I keep my size eleven shoes out of my fucking mouth when it came to her?
“Nice?”
“There’s a dress code. Nothing black,” I lied, hoping it would help her decide. Then, because I couldn’t help myself, like an even bigger dick than I’d already been, I hung up.
I watched her stare at the screen and then scream with frustration. And even then, she was fucking gorgeous. All fire and grit. And mine.
This didn’t bode well for me, and I knew it. Liking everything about Lana Pruitt was going to end me. Part of me hoped that when I picked her up, seeing her in person one more time would somehow change my mind. That my sanity would return because I’d lost my ever-loving mind since the fender bender.
Time went by too slowly. Especially since I set my phone to the side and didn’t watch her finish getting ready. I wanted to be surprised. When it was finally time, I was at her door five minutes early because I couldn’t wait another moment.
I knocked and waited.
Then I waited some more.
Part of me was tempted to bring up the cameras in her house to see what she was doing but I didn’t want to get caught red-handed, so I knocked again. This time, she answered, and time stopped again. I had no idea how the hell I could have thought that seeing her again would have helped me feel less than I had been.
If anything, it doubled.
“You look beautiful,” I rasped as my eyes roamed her body from head to toe and then back again.
She’d changed out of that depressing dress and right into the red one.
Her dark hair was blown out straight and sleek, falling over her shoulders. Her makeup was minimal except for her lips. They were a deep red that not only complimented her skin tone but made me want to kiss her and have the tint smeared all over my lips. That alone was a deadly combination, but combined with the milkmaid dress that hit below her knees with a slit on one side, I was shocked I’d been able to string a sentence together. The ribbon on the front was pulled perfectly and tied into the prettiest little bow. One I wanted to undo.
And just like that, I knew I fucked up.
My tongue was too big for my mouth.
“Thank you,” she said, obviously cautious of me. “Would you like to come in? You’re a little early, and I still need to put my hair up.”
“Leave it down,” I clipped and then softened my tone. “Please.”
“Excuse me?” Lines formed on her forehead, and I didn’t miss the way she took a step away from me.
“I mean, it looks really pretty.” And my hands ant to run through it. She opened and then shut her mouth, rolling her eyes just a bit.
“Would you like something to drink? Coffee or, umm, water? Tea?” she offered politely, ignoring my request. I was almost positive she didn’t like me. Or, at the very least, didn’t know what to make of me.
“Coffee? At this time?” I asked. Her lips twitched at my question.
“If my mom were here, she would tell you there is never a wrong time for coffee,” she shared, giving me a slight glimpse of herself.
“Really?”
“Yeah.” She smiled and shrugged. “But if you’re not interested?—“
“I’d love a cup, I mean mug.” I sounded like an idiot, but when she giggled, I felt like a weight had been taken off my shoulders.
“Come one in.” She waved, and I did as she asked. Shit, I would follow her straight through the gates of hell if she wanted me to.
“Take a seat. I’ll get the coffee going.” I stood on the threshold of her kitchen and looked around the small space. It was cozy and tidy with a pop of color. Very Lana.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked, and when she glanced over her shoulder from where she stood in front of the coffee machine, something in her eyes changed.
“Maybe get the cookies from the pantry?” She pointed at the door next to the fridge that was so old it didn’t even have a water or ice dispenser. I walked over and opened it, surprised by how organized it was inside.
“Is everything in here alphabetized?” I asked. The sound of her giggle made me smile.
“Maybe,” she muttered.
I grabbed the Oreos and took them to the table, where I stood and waited. When the coffee was done, she walked over, and I took the mugs to set them on the table before pulling out her chair for her.
“Oh,” she gasped, and I realized just how close I was to her. So close I could see the swirls of gold in her eyes and smell the soft feminine notes of her perfume.
“Thank you,” she whispered. I swallowed as I nodded. She sat, and I pushed her chair in for her before taking the seat next to her.
“Oh, right next to me, huh?” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Umm, would you like milk or sugar?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Black is good, thank you.”
“Thank you for agreeing to meet me. Umm… maybe we can talk about a payment plan here and get something?—“
“Wow!” I said after taking my first sip of coffee. “That’s really good,” I complimented, hoping I could put off talking about the cars.
“Thank you,” she said, but I could tell she wanted to keep things all business. I sipped my coffee as she kept talking, “But like I was saying––“
“Is that cinnamon? In the coffee?”
“Yeah.” Her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled. Not the tight fake one but a real one. One I felt right in the center of my chest. “My mom always puts half a stick in the coffee machine with the grinds, and I kinda kept that up.”
“It’s good.”
“Thank you. Would you like an Oreo?”
“Did you poison them?” I asked in a teasing tone. After the surprise faded from her eyes, her pretty lips quirked upward and sassy mischief sparkled in her eyes.
“Maybe if I had known you were going to stop by, I would have thought about it,” she teased back, and I chuckled.
“I’ll take one,” I agreed, and when she handed me a cookie, our fingers brushed against one another. The soft heat of her skin started a wildfire of desire through me.
“Thanks.” I took a bite and groaned. Her breath hitched, and when our eyes connected, all I wanted to do was reach for her and set her down on my lap. “It’s been a while since I had an Oreo. I forgot how good they are.”
“They’re my favorite.” She grinned. “Want another?
“Sure,” I agreed, up for taking anything from her if it meant there was a chance of gaining her touch again. She handed me two more, and as I munched on them, I realized why.
“So, like I was saying, I really don’t want to put a claim through my insurance. If we could set up a payment plan, that would be better for me. And I know that there is nothing for you in this, since your attorneys said that your car was totaled but—“ As she kept talking, all I could do was stare at her.
All I could think about was how the hell I could get to make her to see me as a man and not the financial pain in her ass I’d become thanks to my attorneys. Though I couldn’t be that mad at them, since it was thanks to their persuasive letters that she had wanted to talk to me.
A payment plan wasn’t going to work for me. Not when all I wanted out of this was her. I was going to use this precarious situation to my advantage.
“What do you think?” she asked after explaining her proposal. “I have a spreadsheet I can print for you and?—"
“I have a better idea,” I said, and her little brow rose. I sat back, feigning getting comfortable. My eyes never wavered from hers.
“I’m listening,” she said politely even though I could see she was more than prepared to hate whatever I was going to say. Inwardly, I grinned, feeling like a wolf about to pounce on its prey.
“How about we talk about it over dinner?” I suggested just as she licked Oreo crumbs off her lips. Lips I want to taste.
“Dinner?” she repeated. I couldn’t take my eyes off her lips. “Mr. Harding—“ she started to say, and I just reacted. My hand reached and covered the one that rested on top of the table.
“Wilson or Wils, please? It’s bad enough I feel way too old for you but—“ I blurted out, and she interrupted.
“For me?” she asked, looking at me like she was seeing me for the first time.
“Around you,” I corrected, or tried to, not that I was sure she caught on. “Please?”
“Wilson, I think dinner is unnecessary for us to find a solution to this situation.” Yup. She was determined to hate anything I suggested.
“Fine,” I sighed, stroking the top of her hand. If dinner was off the table, I had to come up with something else. Take her! Kidnap her and do whatever you need to do to convince her to be yours, that voice in my head suggested darkly.
“What if I counter with a deal of my own? One that will not only clear out your debt to fix my car but pad your own bank account with enough for you to buy yourself a new one?” I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going with it.
All I knew was I needed more time with her.
No way would a dinner be enough.
“Excuse me?” She paled. I had to fight the urge to wince, or worse, take the words back. I knew how I’d made that sound. Like she was up for sale like some kind of prostitute.
“I have an event I have to attend, and honestly…” I sighed and relaxed further on the chair, once again never taking my hand from hers. Not that she tried to take it away. “I don’t want to go alone.” I had no idea how my lies grew, but fuck, I had cameras in her house! How was this any worse?
She blinked and slowly, the color returned to her face. “What kind of event?” she asked quietly, almost like I had piqued her interest. Shit, what kind of event will I need a date to?
“A ball,” I lied. There was no event. But the old man always beat into my head that sometimes you had to go out and make your own opportunities happen. And that’s what I was going to do.
“A ball?” she repeated. “Those still exist?” she teased and made me chuckle.
“You would be surprised,” I added. I could see the wheels in her head turning. I had no idea what I was going to have to do to make this happen, but I would figure it out. Anything to get her to come away with me for a couple of days.
This was a better plan than just dinner.
This would guarantee me more time with her.
Time I never had for this kind of stuff. When was the last time I’d gone on a vacation? I’d been to Hawaii just a month before, but that was for business.
“Why would you want to take me?” she asked, breaking the silence between us.
“You’re beautiful?—“
“Mr.—“
“Please. I mean that respectfully. Look, you’re beautiful, and you call it like it is. Every woman I meet wants more than you could imagine. You could help me out here, and I’ll let go of the claim on my car.”
“Just like that?” she asked suspiciously.
“Yes,” I responded confidently. “And I would make sure you got paid for your time as well,” I added, hoping to sweeten the deal enough to entice her and not have her overthink the situation. I just needed her to agree with me quickly enough so we would be driving to an airfield together in less than an hour.
“Isn’t forgetting the amount for the car enough?” She didn’t trust me, and I didn’t blame her. Smart girl , I thought to myself. It made me fall harder for her.
“Gorgeous, never sell yourself short.” I winked and forced my hand off hers.
“What’s the catch?” she asked. My lips quirked up in a wolfish smile.
“You’d have to act like my girlfriend.” Jesus. All I’d planned was to pick her up and take her to dinner. Charm her over drinks and good food. Talk about throwing myself a curveball!
Instead, I was proposing buying her time. To pretend she was my girlfriend when I’d never had one in my thirty-eight years on earth.
“What?” She laughed. “Who would believe we’d date?” Her question felt like a punch to the gut.
Who would believe she, of all people, of all the angels walking among us, would give a workaholic asshole like me a chance?
“I get that.” I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’re too damn beautiful for an old guy like me.”
“You’re hardly old.” Her hand touched my forearm, and it felt like it seared her brand on me.
“I’m thirteen years older than you, Lana,” I pointed out. She stilled. Her head tilted slightly. It was obvious I’d just given something away. Shit!
“How do you know that?” she asked, and thankfully, I had an excuse at the ready.
“I took a picture of your license, remember?”
“Oh! That’s right. Umm…” She shook her head. “Age is but a number. I just meant you’re you, and you come from a whole other world than mine.”
“We’re not as different as you might think.” I hoped that would settle her mind, but I could tell by the way she was looking at me that she wasn’t convinced.
“I wouldn’t have a dress for a ball.”
“You don’t need one. We could leave like you’re dressed right now, if you’d like, and I’d take care of everything,” I replied without missing a beat.
“I can pack a bag,” she muttered. Good girl . The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t say them. Instead, I smiled and stood.
“Good, then let’s get you packed up.” Her soft gasp made me ache, but the beast between my legs would have to wait.
“Oh, right now?”
“Yes, the plane leaves in less than an hour,” I partially lied. Technically, the plane would leave whenever I told it to leave, but she didn’t need to know that.