Chapter Wendy #2
My mom was more apt to encourage us to chase our dreams, and she was good for countering my dad’s extreme practicality.
But after she passed three years ago, he’s been more rigid than ever with his black-and-white views of the world.
Succeeding at something my mom would’ve encouraged me to do—and something that will help the foundation she started and nurtured after I planted the seed about so many local orphans and foster children needing help—will be my tribute to her memory.
For all those reasons, I’m going to make this the best Love for Littles event this city has ever seen.
“So, you’re an event planner now. That’s great,” Peter says. “Let’s get to the part where you need me.”
I swallow hard. Why does he have to say things in a sex-roughened voice? Or what I imagine his adult sex-roughened voice would sound like. This is insane. It’s like my brain has situational A.D.D. around him and keeps getting distracted by thoughts of— Stop it, Wendy!
In an attempt to walk off my nervous energy and prevent him from seeing all the thoughts running through my wayward mind, I stand and pace the small area in his office as I explain the situation.
“The committee wanted a new idea they haven’t done before, and I proposed that they do a classic car theme with the highlight of the evening being a customized rebuilt classic car that they could auction off at the end of the night.
Lucky for me, they loved the idea, and I got the job. All on my own merit, I might add.”
“I’m sure you did. But why come here, to Neverland? Why not go to one of the more prestigious custom design shops in London like the Toy Shop?”
That stops me in my tracks, but I don’t turn to face him.
Because I’ve been waiting for an excuse to come see you… To make sure you don’t hate me… To remember the girl who threw caution to the wind and lived for the moment whenever she was with you… To see if there’s part of you that still feels for me the way that I feel for you…
I pretend to look out at the shop through the window in front of me, but I’m not focused on anything except his presence behind me.
“I’m a firm believer in bringing business to friends whenever I can.
I know you’re good at what you do, and I think you’d deliver an amazing car.
” I try one of his half-shrugs on for size and hope it doesn’t look as forced as it feels. “Why not come to you?”
“Friends, huh?”
Like all those years ago on the first night we met, he’s suddenly so close I can feel the warmth from his body.
Turning, I come face to chest with him. Normally, I’d look up and meet his gaze, but if I do that, I might melt on the spot.
Not that staring at the ribbed cotton stretched over his tattooed pecs is much better. Come on, Wendy, you can do it. Look up.
I finally do, and my legs stand firm. Brava to me. “Of course, Peter,” I say with a grin and all the nonchalance I can muster. “We’ve always been friends.”
He squints at me, crossing those beefy arms over his chest. I can practically see the smoke coming out of his ears as he thinks everything through. “Okay, fine. I’ll do it, but there’s some conditions.”
“Shoot.”
“We’ll go shopping for the car together. It just so happens that there’s a car show next weekend at the Pitt County Fairgrounds. We’ll start our search there. We should be able to find something, but if not, I have some contacts that might be able to help us out.”
“Sounds good. I’d like to be a part of that process, anyway. Then I can keep the committee up-to-date on what we bought and what your plans are for it. But is there something we can look at sooner? We only have six weeks before the event, which isn’t much time and—”
“Plenty of time,” he says, waving a dismissive hand. “Condition two: you help with design choices. Custom accessories, paint job, etcetera. Anything that will be seen by someone, you’ll pick it out. Unless you pick the wrong thing, in which case, I’ll veto your decision and make the right choice.”
Now it’s my turn to cross my arms. “Then what’s the point of me even choosing?”
“Condition three,” he says, steamrolling over my complaint, “since we’re friends who haven’t seen each other in a decade, you need to come to our place tonight for the weekly Friday festivities.”
“Our place? Do you all live together?”
“Why wouldn’t we? We’re family. Families live together.”
When he puts it like that, it doesn’t sound strange for a group of mid- to late-twenty somethings to be living together like a bunch of frat boys. Wait. “Did you say weekly Friday festivities?”
Again, he ignores my question and asks one of his own. “Are you back for good?”
He stares at me intently, and I can feel the weight of my answer on my chest. “No,” I say softly. “I’m staying with Michael right now. I’ll go home to Charlotte after the job is over.”
Peter gives a stiff nod and grabs a business card off his desk. “My cell is on there. Text me the address. I’ll pick you up at nine.”
I’m a little flustered, what with the deluge of emotions on top of the conditions and plans he’s rattled off as though they’re foregone conclusions.
I’m better when I can plan a presentation and then give that presentation to a quiet audience who later communicates with me via email.
So I deserve a bit of a break when all I get out is an okay as I stare at the card I’m now holding.
“Wendy,” he says, lifting my chin with his finger until I meet his smoldering blue eyes. “I didn’t want you to break the rules because of any Bad Boy Handbook.”
Using his thumb, he gently pulls my lip from my teeth, stealing my breath with the vivid memory from a lifetime ago that feels like only yesterday.
As he holds my gaze, I swear he’s not seeing our past anymore.
This time, it’s as though he’s trying to catch even the slightest glimpse of our future, and it makes my wounded heart ache.
“I did it because those times when I watched your face light up from the thrill of doing something you knew you shouldn’t, however harmless…those were the moments I lived for. Those were the best adventures I ever had.”
Me too, Peter. Me too.
Read Lost and Found to see what happens next with Peter, Wendy, and all the Lost Boys.