Chapter 35
Bryn
“I need a favor,” Savanna murmurs to me while I set out the lemon and lime wedges on the bar top.
Glancing in her direction, I nod. “Yeah, whatever you need.”
Behind us, Nate has just opened the doors for the sold-out auction, every firefighter in attendance escorting ladies to their respective tables. The crowd was mass chaos the first year, and since then Savanna has learned a lot about planning.
Her blonde hair shifts over her shoulder when she glances over it to ensure no one is close enough to overhear. “If anyone tries to order me a drink tonight, or you happen to be bringing drinks around for everyone, could you make sure mine is just water?”
“Pardon?” I hiss at her, my eyes widening as I grab her arm. “Are you pregnant?”
“No,” she shakes her head, and when she looks towards the door this time, I know she’s finding Nate.
I’m not even sure she realizes how often she seeks him out when they’re both here.
A second later, she’s turning back to me, a smile I’ve never seen her wearing pulling at her lips.
“No, but we’ve been trying for a couple months. ”
The confused look on my face must say it all.
Blowing out a breath, she puts a hand into her hair and shakes it out a little. “Nate had the same look, but I’m just nervous. My mom didn’t survive having me, and I’m a little freaked out about it, so…”
Understanding washes over me, and I give her a reassuring smile. “So, you want to do everything you can to make sure things go as smoothly as possible.”
“Is that stupid?” she wonders, hands coming together in front of her to pick at a cuticle. “Overcautious, probably, but—”
“No buts,” I shake my head. “It’s not stupid at all. If it helps you feel better, I think it’s the right move.”
When she smiles, I throw my arms around her and give her a tight squeeze, thrilled at this news that the two of them are taking the leap into parenthood. There’s no two people I know who deserve to be parents more than them.
My eyes catch on Wyatt, who is now standing at the door, looking far too delicious for his own good.
Or maybe it’s my own good. Dressed in his bunker pants, suspenders hanging at his sides, and a Santa Rosé Fire t-shirt, plus his black cowboy hat, he perfectly marries his firefighter side with his cowboy side, and I’ve never seen anything look so tempting.
With a majority of women filing into the bar, I’d guess I’m not the only one who thinks that.
Wyatt’s arms lift out to his sides in offering, and I know someone is about to walk through the doors to take them. It has jealousy searing through my veins like acid, and I quickly let go of Savanna to turn back to the bar, so I don’t see it.
Over the last few days, it’s become harder to think about tonight. Someone else going on a date with Wyatt. Even if it doesn’t mean anything, and even if it’s for charity, I’ve realized I really hate it. And it’s my own damn fault.
“I’m going to go start taking orders,” I tell Savanna, nodding towards the room where a bunch of tables have already been sat. Getting ahead of things early will make the rest of the night go more smoothly, even though we’ve got extra hands helping out.
It’s not long before the entire place is filled to capacity, drinks are flowing, and I’m running my ass off between tables and the bar.
Liam, who has hosted every auction, starts the show by introducing each of the firefighters up for bid tonight.
Full of charm and charisma, he has the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand, warming them all up to hopefully spend a decent amount to help a local business.
Once that’s over, the real show begins, and one by one, each of the firefighters comes up and does something for the crowd prior to bidding for their date.
A magic trick by one, modelling of a finely built body by another.
Tyson even uses Quinn to show off the ease in which he can bench press, squat, and arm curl a woman.
The crowd goes wild for him.
With each “Sold!” that Liam shouts, the auction inches one step closer to Wyatt, and me one step closer to throwing up. I know he’s the last one, right after Brody, and when the big, broody surfer steps on stage, I give myself a moment of grace by heading to the bathroom.
In the stall, I lean back against the door for a moment, closing my eyes to take a deep breath and calm my racing heart.
Jealousy pricks at every nerve ending in my body, and the breath I release feels shaky at best. This feels wrong on every level, just like it did when I broke things off with him, and yet, what am I supposed to do?
I have no stake or claim on the man, nor did I want one.
I mean, I did, but I also know Gran had to be my priority.
Has to be.
Will be.
It’s the same pep talk I’ve given myself a hundred times the last few days. Maybe it’ll work for longer than the five minutes it usually does. Maybe I won’t need it after someone wins the date with him.
This is just me wanting something I can’t have, especially when someone else has it. That’s all.
After using the bathroom, I walk back out, only to run into a familiar face. Gran. Who is clearly on her way into the bathroom, but stops when she sees me, her face lighting up.
“Oh good, I was coming to find you,” she says, wrapping her arms around mine. Turning us away from the bathroom, she drags me back towards the bar. “Wyatt is next. You can’t miss that.”
“Gran, I’m working,” I tell her. “I have tables I need to get back to.”
My arm is yanked back when she stops and I don’t, nearly tripping me up as I twist around to her. The smile has left, her lips forming a thin line of agitation, wrinkles forming around her mouth.
“When are you going to wake up?” she demands, taking me by surprise. This isn’t her normal sass. She’s angry. “For months I’ve watched the two of you dance around each other. For days I’ve seen you grow more anxious by the second, and I know it’s because of tonight. You don’t fool me, Brynleigh.”
“We’re just friends, Gran,” I counter, looking over my shoulder towards the bar where I really do need to get back to work. Brody’s bidding is already well on its way, Liam and the audience calling out numbers.
“Rubbish.” Gran squeezes my wrist, and when I turn back to her, she’s shaking her head, the purple scarf I gave her for Christmas one year around her neck falling open. “You two were never just friends. That man is crazy about you.”
“Even if that were true, I have—”
“Priorities! Yes, I’m well aware of what you always tell me,” she says, and for how harsh her tone sounds, to anyone looking at her from a distance, they’d never suspect how upset she is.
Her face holds composure, minus the pull around her mouth.
“You always talk about the memories you want to make with me, but what about the memories I want to make with you? Do you not think I want to see you fall in love? To experience my little girl finding a man who treats her like your grandpa treated me? To see her get married and have babies all of her own?”
There’s a bright sheen coating her eyes, and I swallow roughly. She’s talked about it before, but I’ve never heard the desperation like I hear it now. Has it always been there?
“Even before your grandfather died, I hoped you’d allow someone to sweep you off your feet, but afterwards, I realized you wouldn’t.
Too much pain and hurt, and I let that consume me too,” she says, softer now, and I have to work to hear her over the chatter on the speakers.
“But it’s time to let that go. You deserve to be happy. ”
I grab hold of her hand, squeezing it tight. “You make me happy.”
The smile she gives me is all at once heartbreak and joy. “I know. And I love that I do. But you deserve a lifetime of happiness, and we both know I won’t be here for all of that.”
Before a tear can fall from my eyes, I force my gaze away, finding Tyson on stage.
Which I know means Wyatt’s about to be introduced, since Liam is about to take the stage with everyone else for Wyatt’s dance.
This isn’t the time or place for this conversation, and I can’t have my makeup running while also running tables, so I nod my head in acquiescence, looking back to Gran without meeting her eyes.
“I’ll think about it.” Angling my head towards the stage, I add, “Get back to your seat. He’s about to go on.”
“Promise me you’ll watch,” she asks, but she starts to let me go.
“I’ll try, but I’m still working.”
It’s all I give her before heading into the crowd of tables, badly needing a distraction from my thoughts and that conversation.
I have time to take an order from one of my tables before Wyatt takes the stage, and the place erupts in a thunderous chorus of screaming.
It’s been loud in here all night when the guys take the stage, but they’ve hit a new level of frenzy with Wyatt.
The power of social media.
It’s then that I realize there’s no chance I’ll be able to take orders from any of my tables. They’re all zeroed in on the man on stage, and rightfully so. Wyatt is a catch.
I lean against one of the pillars towards the back of the room so I can watch without obstructing anyone’s view, and then I give myself over to the man dancing.
“I’m the party lovin’, horseback ridin’, whiskey drinkin’ son of a gun—”
Wyatt downs a shot that Jordan hands him, and then he’s shaking his butt all over the stage. Seconds later, I burst into laughter when the guys all come out riding hobbyhorses, the speakers blaring the country song overhead.
“Take my horse to the honkytonk—”
Everyone here is either laughing, gasping, or screaming as four firefighters dance around in their jeans and sleeveless plaid button up shirts. I’ve never seen them all in cowboy hats, but I’ll admit they look good. Even Nate.
Wyatt looks the most natural in his, though.
Heck, the most natural on stage. He’s eating up the crowd’s attention, letting the emotion and energy from the room fuel him as he dances to “Ride” by Clayton Jenkins.
We listened to it the night we rode around in his truck, both of us singing along.
The fun-loving cowboy in the song sees a girl he can’t get out of his head, but the girl denies him and won’t take what he’s trying to give.
Oh.
Oh god. I stand up a bit straighter against the pillar, my eyes widening. Did he pick this song because of me? Because of us? Was this some kind of secret message that he was trying to send to me? Did he hope—
The thought cuts off when Wyatt jumps down from the stage.
At the same time, the girls jump on their men’s backs to ride them around.
Wyatt should be going to find Quinn. I know this part because the girls were all talking about it at lunch.
Wyatt jumps from the stage, finds Quinn in the crowd during the bridge, and she rides him back when the girl in the song finally accepts the cowboy.
Except when I look around like a deer in headlights, Quinn is on the opposite side of the bar from Wyatt, and he’s making his way through the tables straight towards…
Me.
He’s coming towards me.
My stomach swoops, and I slide my hands down the front of my black vest shirt that’s reminiscent of the white one I wore to our first date. A very conscious decision on my part, if I’m being honest.
While his eyes don’t linger anywhere specific, they do slide down my body, his grin threatening to split his face wide open, both dimples proudly on display as he gets closer.
Women all around reach out and touch him like this is a different kind of show, but Wyatt takes it in stride.
I, on the other hand, have an overwhelming urge to jump in and rip their arms straight from their sockets and swat them over the head like some kind of cavewoman.
I’m so screwed.
“I was smooth talkin’, Prince Charmin’, but she wasn’t havin’ it,” the song belts out, Wyatt finally reaching me. He reaches a hand to me, touching my chin to tilt it up to him, mischief dancing in the green depths of his eyes.
Prince Charming. Ironic that the song would call him that when the night we met, I felt like I’d be Cinderella the next day, and then ran away like I was.
My breath catches in my throat when Wyatt drops down in front of me for the next line, “Got on my knees, beggin’ her please—” His hands lift, begging me just like the song says, and my mouth parts into a surprised “O” as my feet take an involuntary step towards him.
The beat of my heart is ferocious, threatening to burst from my chest. At my sides, my hands shake, though I don’t know if it’s because of Wyatt or because I know all eyes in this room are on us. On the man at my feet, begging me to be his.
Even if it’s just a performance, we both know the truth.
“That’s where she wanted me, ‘cause she said, ‘I’m gonna get me some, ride cowboy ride.”
Wyatt pops up to his feet, and before I can blink, he’s dropping his cowboy hat onto my head. Then he’s running back towards the stage, jumping onto it with ease, leaving me there with his scent swimming all around me. The mixture of his sweat, citrus, and pine on a cold winter night.
The cowboy hat isn’t lost on me. I explained to Jordan what it would mean if I stole his hat, but not what it meant if he put it on me.
The man just claimed me. In front of everyone. Right before bidding.