10. Wes
Chapter ten
Wes
“Here we are,” I tell Hadley as the car I arranged to drive us home from the airport pulls up in front of my building.
“Hmmm …” Hadley mumbles, half asleep next to me.
“I said we’re here. Wake up, sleepy head.”
“I’m awake.” She sits up, yawning and stretching her arms above her head as best as she can in the back of the SUV. Her shirt rides up, and I can’t help staring at the skin that’s exposed, wondering if it’s as soft as it appears, if she’d break out in goosebumps if I ran my finger over it.
Get a grip.
Giving myself a mental shake, I open the passenger door and climb out.
I meet our driver around the back, where he’s unloading our suitcases and my hockey bag.
Eventually, Hadley joins us, the fuzzy blanket she insisted she needed, even though it’s a million degrees out, thrown over her shoulder, her camera bag and tote bag hanging off her other arm.
I tip our driver, and he says goodbye before climbing back into the car and leaving.
Hadley reaches for her suitcase, but I bat her hand away.
“I got it.”
“Weston William. Oooh, I like that one. Tell me that’s your middle name?”
“It’s not, Hadley Jane.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “There’s no way you’re going to be able to handle all the suitcases plus your equipment bag. Let me help. I’m quite capable since two of the bags are mine.”
She’s right.
I know she is.
Even between the two of us, I don’t know how we’re going to manage because, for some reason, she packed two large suitcases even though, according to Holt, she still has clothes at his house.
I chose the path of least resistance and didn’t ask her if she needed both bags.
The last thing I want to do is piss off my fake fiancée.
“How about you stay here, and I’ll bring up a few of the bags and come back for the rest of them.”
“We can do this, Weston Reynolds. You do have an elevator, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, let’s go, because I’ve got to pee, and I’m starving.”
I chuckle, grabbing a couple of bags. Somehow, we manage to make it into the building with all our stuff. Thank goodness the front door has an RFID reader, and I don’t have to dig for a key; waving my wallet with my key card in it is enough to unlock it.
“I’m shocked there’s no doorman,” she says when we’re standing in front of the elevator surrounded by our stuff.
I push the Up button. “The doors are always locked. I’ll show you how to let someone in if they use the call box. The guys have a code they enter. I have a spare key card and key upstairs that I’ll give you.”
The elevator dings, and we cram everything inside, but Hadley and I end up in the corner, smushed together.
I manage to push the button for the tenth floor, but when I drop my arm, I accidentally graze her boob.
Shit. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to notice.
As the elevator takes its time ascending, I realize just how cramped it is.
I say a prayer that no one else wants to get on. She shifts closer, brushing against me.
Is it hot in here?
Because suddenly my body feels as though it’s on fire.
“Weston, are you okay?”
I swallow a few times, my throat feeling like sandpaper. “I think I’m a little claustrophobic crammed in like this.”
“Oh.” She shuffles backward, pushing one of her suitcases out of the way. “That better?”
“Yep,” I say, but it comes out as more of a squeak.
Fuck me.
Finally, the elevator stops, and the doors open slowly. Hadley gets out, pulling her bags with her. We make it down the short hallway to my apartment, and it only takes a few seconds for me to find the key and let us in.
She takes in the row of shoes by the door as she steps inside.
I incline my chin, hoping she understands that it’s the signal for Yes, please, leave your shoes at the door, and don’t traipse through my clean apartment with nasty outdoor footwear.
She gets the message, because she toes off her sneakers before wheeling her bags further into the apartment.
“Do you want a tour first? Or …” I ask.
“Bathroom, please.”
“Down the hall. Door on the left. Guest bedroom is on the right.”
She all but sprints in the direction I pointed.
I can’t help but chuckle as I slip off my sneakers and grab her tote and camera bag from where she dumped them by the door.
I carry them into the kitchen and set them on the island.
I flip through the mail my housekeeper collected while I was gone, noting it’s mostly garbage, before going to the fridge to see what our options are for dinner.
Not much. I’m sure there’s something in the freezer I could thaw out quickly and make, but who wants to cook after a day of flying? I most certainly don’t.
“Phew, thank you,” Hadley says from behind me, and I turn to face her, resting a hip against the counter.
“Want to order takeout or go pick something up?”
She tilts her head, studying me. “Can we go to the taco place Hunter introduced Holt to?”
I grin. “Can do. How about I show you your room, and we can put your suitcases in there so they’re out of the way.
I’ll run you over to Holt’s tomorrow so you can pick up his SUV.
” He insisted Hadley drive his G-Wagon while he’s out of town.
I would have bought her a car to drive for the summer, but he beat me to it, offering her his SUV.
“Okay.” She yawns, then grabs her tote bag and camera case.
A few minutes later, after our suitcases have been put in our bedrooms out of the way, I grab the keys to my Jeep so we can go get tacos.
I would have preferred to unpack and shower before we went to get food, but the way Hadley keeps yawning, I’m afraid she’ll fall asleep if given the chance, so I figure we should probably eat first.
I sneak a few peeks at Hadley on the short drive to Locos Tacos. Each time I look over, she’s staring intently out her window, and I can’t get a read on her.
“You alright?” I finally ask. “Regretting your decision to agree to this?”
“No, not at all. Just tired. Traveling always makes me so sleepy.”
“Same. And I can never sleep on a flight. No matter how long it is.”
“I fall asleep for maybe five minutes before I startle myself awake. Even in the first-class seats, which were super nice by the way, I couldn’t get comfortable.”
“Me too.”
I’m able to find parking in the dirt lot behind the restaurant, and shockingly, the line is short. Must be my lucky day. Maybe I should go buy a lotto ticket.
When we reach the door, I grab two paper menus from the holder and hand one to Hadley.
“What are you getting?” she asks.
I skim the menu before saying, “Three tacos. One beef, one steak, and one chicken. With the works. You?”
“Chicken tacos.”
“Wanna share chips and guacamole?”
“Share? With you? Do you even know how to do that?” she asks with a laugh.
Before I can answer her, it’s our turn, and I step up to the counter and put in our order.
“Chips and guac?” I ask her again.
“Only if you think you can share with me,” she sasses.
I shake my head as I move down to the cashier and order chips and guacamole. Hadley comes up behind me and pulls out her wallet.
“Your money is no good here,” I tell her.
“Weston, I can pay for my own food,” she hisses.
“Stop protesting, Hadley Jane, and just say thank you,” I retort, handing my card to the cashier, who glances between the two of us before completing the transaction. I grab our food bags, and we head out the door of the restaurant in silence.
“Thank you,” Hadley finally says.
“Was that so hard?”
“No, Weston Adam, but I wasn’t expecting you to pay for my dinner.”
“Adam? That’s not my middle name.”
“So what is it? It’s only fair that I know yours if you know mine, especially since we’re engaged.”
I say nothing, unlocking my Jeep and opening her door. I wait for her to be safely inside before getting in and handing her the bags of food.
“What’s your middle name?” she repeats as I buckle my seat belt and push the start button.
“None of your business,” I say as I back out of the parking spot.
“Fine. Be that way, Weston Theodore.”
I snort. “That’s not it either.”
“Well, I’ll figure it out.”
“If you say so.”
I swear I can hear her eye roll, but I ignore it.
“What do you enjoy photographing?” I ask after a few minutes.
“Depends. Wildlife photography is my favorite. But I like other types too—sports, events, and even street photography. Why?”
“Just curious. Trying to get to know my fake fiancée better.”
“Well, your fake fiancée is failing at being a photographer,” she mutters.
“What do you mean?” I ask as I pull into the parking lot of my apartment complex.
She doesn’t say anything, and I wonder if she’s going to answer my question. It’s none of my business, and I won’t push her, but I am curious. Inside my apartment, we make our way to the kitchen, and she takes a seat at the counter and starts pulling our food out of the bags.
“Water?” I ask, grabbing two glasses out of the cabinet.
I make a mental note to find out what things she likes to eat and drink so I can add them to my weekly grocery order.
“Please.”
I fill up the cups, pass her one, then sit next to her.
We eat in silence for a few minutes before she says, “Do you really want to know?”
I pause, my taco halfway to my mouth. “Hadley, if there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that if I ask you a question, of course I want to hear your answer.”
She studies me for a couple of seconds before setting her half-eaten taco down on the wrapper and saying, “I’ve been doing this whole photography thing for a few years now, except for when I was here helping Holt last season with Hazel, and still haven’t established myself.”
I start to ask her what she means, but she shakes her head at me, so I keep my mouth shut.
“I’ve done some weddings and family photographs.
Regularly, if I’m being honest. But they’re not what I want to do.
They’re …” She trails off as if trying to come up with the right word.
“Boring. I mean, they paid the bills, but that’s it.
I quit the studio I was working at right before Holt found out he was a dad.
Timing on that one worked out perfectly.
” She huffs, her shoulders slumping. “I know what I want to do, but it’s not an easy field to break into.
I’ve applied for a few jobs around Ontario for athletic events, but either never heard anything or got rejected.
I’ve even applied to a few venues that were advertising for photographers for concerts and festivals, and nothing. ”
“That’s tough,” I say after a few seconds.
“I don’t want to do weddings and family portraits my whole career.
I thought about selling photographs through stock image sites, but there’s only so much of it I can do.
Plus, the pay isn’t great. I haven’t figured out what my calling is, I guess.
Maybe I never will. Especially because every time I’ve picked up my camera lately, the photographs haven’t come out right.
” She frowns, staring down at her plate.
With a resigned sigh, she picks up her taco and resumes eating, as if she didn’t just tell me she might never figure out what she wants to do with her life.
“They look fine, technically speaking, but they’re not right,” she adds.
How did I not know all this before?
I think back to our conversations over the years and internally cringe at myself when I realize most of them were either about hockey, about Hazel or Holt, or us giving each other shit.
I make a mental note to do better when it comes to Hadley.
To get to know her better. Especially now that we’re in this fake engagement.
My mind whirls at how I can help her. Madison owns a custom cake shop; maybe she has connections with an event organizer who needs a new photographer. I can ask Aubrey if she knows of anything. There’s got to be someone I know who can connect her with someone else who could help her land a job.
“Well, I think I’m going to unpack, shower, and get ready for bed,” Hadley says, balling up her taco wrappers a few minutes later.
“I’m not far behind you. There are towels in the linen closet, and the sheets on the bed are fresh. My housekeeper put them on when she cleaned yesterday.”
“Thanks, Weston. Night.”
“Night,” I tell her, watching her walk down the hall toward the bedroom.
I spend the next few minutes pottering around the kitchen, washing up our cups and wiping down the table before heading to my room to get ready for bed, trying not to think about the fact that Hadley Jane Abbott is literally steps away from me in the shower.
Naked. The girl of my fucking dreams is in my apartment naked. Knock it off, Weston.
She’s not yours.
Not really.
Even though I really want her to be.