Chapter 3
brIELLE
“Mmm,” I moaned as I bit into what had to be the best grilled chicken slider I’d ever tasted. It was juicy, smoky, and a little tangy. It practically melted on my tongue.
For days, I’d been stubbornly avoiding fair food, sneaking my own lunches from the stash I kept in my room at the inn.
I’d even stopped at an organic grocery store on my way from the airport, stocking up like a prepper.
I did it partly to save money and partly because it was always a gamble finding anything healthy when I was traveling.
“Like it, huh?” Wade’s voice rumbled from beside me.
My eyes flew open. I was curled into the passenger seat of his old pickup. The truck looked like it had lived through a dozen rough winters, rusty at the edges and dusted with streaks of mud, but the inside was spotless. Not a crumb in sight.
I swallowed and nodded. “Amazing. I don’t know if these are free-range chickens or…processed.”
He grinned, the corner of his mouth quirking. “Free-range? I’ve never really understood what that means.”
“It means the chickens aren’t kept cooped up in a…well, coop,” I said, and the tiny pun made me smile like I’d done it on purpose.
“I’m guessing not,” he said. “If they were, those sliders would’ve cost double.”
He wasn’t wrong. I always felt guilty splurging on organic. But after losing both my parents to serious health problems, I tried to make choices that might at least give me a fighting chance at living long enough to raise kids, see graduations, maybe even be around for grandkids.
“It can’t hurt to indulge every now and then,” I murmured, mostly to myself. “I haven’t had a cheeseburger and onion rings since high school, and that was five years ago.”
His eyes widened, and I realized a beat too late that I’d just outed myself as twenty-three.
Five years ago wasn’t long at all. He, on the other hand, was definitely mid-thirties—broad shoulders, rough hands, lines at the corners of his eyes that only made him more attractive.
I wasn’t about to point out our age gap, though. I was pretty sure he’d noticed.
“Were you raised eating healthy?” he asked, tearing into his barbecue pulled pork slider.
The question dug deeper than he probably expected.
“Not exactly. When I was little, my parents were pretty normal about food. But after…” I hesitated, my voice sticking in my throat.
Something about the glow of the carnival lights outside the windshield and the warmth of his truck made me open up.
“My mom was diagnosed with cancer when I was in middle school. She died eight months later. My dad had a heart attack soon after. I went to live with my aunt after that.”
Wade slowed his chewing, his blue eyes locking on me like nothing else in the world mattered.
“My aunt was strict about health,” I continued. “Organic everything, holistic remedies, exercise routines like boot camp. At first, I’d sneak pizza and burgers with friends, but eventually I realized the healthy stuff actually made me feel better. More energy and focus. It stuck.”
“Losing your parents that young,” Wade said softly, “that must’ve been hell.”
I nodded, staring out at the families drifting past, kids clutching cotton candy like torches. “It’s something you never really get over. You just learn to carry it differently.”
His hand came down over mine—warm and grounding. “I’m sorry.”
The simple contact made my throat tight. “Thanks. It kind of derailed everything. I didn’t get the normal middle school or high school experience. I was just trying to survive, trying to become what my aunt needed me to be.”
“That’s a lot for a kid.”
“Yeah. I buried myself in studies, art…anything to keep busy. Social stuff always felt like another world. I was outside looking in, watching everyone else have a normal teenage life that I couldn’t figure out how to join.”
His thumb brushed my knuckles, sending shivers racing up my arm. “What kind of social stuff?”
Heat crept up my neck. Dangerous territory. But his voice was patient, and that encouraged me to keep going.
“Dating and parties,” I said. “All that typical stuff. I just…never did any of it.”
“Never?”
I shook my head, cheeks burning. “I was always too focused on school, on surviving, on not being a burden. I was all about my degree and my future.” My words faltered, but there was no going back. “I’ve never even…kissed anyone.”
Wade went utterly still. His hand tightened, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and something else—something darker and heavier.
“You’re serious?”
I laughed weakly, nerves shoving it out of me. “Pathetic, right? Twenty-three years old and not even a kiss.”
“Not pathetic,” he said, his voice suddenly rough. “Not even close. Just…unexpected.”
We finished eating in silence, but it wasn’t awkward. His hand never left mine, and the truck seemed to hum with something alive, something sparking between us. The heater fogged the windows, cocooning us in our own little world.
When we tossed the wrappers into a bag, Wade turned to me fully. The dashboard glow painted his eyes darker. They almost looked navy blue.
“Brielle,” he said slowly, “about that kissing thing…”
My pulse skittered. “Yeah?”
His gaze dipped to my mouth before coming back to mine. “I could help you with that. If you want.”
The air thickened, became electric. My breath caught.
“Help me how?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, his hand came up, cupping my face, rough palms warm against my skin. His eyes held mine—steady and burning.
“Like this,” he murmured, and then his lips were on mine.
The world fell away. His kiss was soft at first. Warm and patient, his mouth moving over mine like he was savoring every second. His other hand slid into my hair, fingers tangling gently as if he never wanted to let go.
A sound escaped me, low and unguarded, as heat coiled in my stomach. I leaned into him, hungry for more, every nerve in my body lighting up under his touch.
He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, both of us breathing hard, the air between us charged and unsteady.
“How was that for a first kiss?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.
“Perfect,” I whispered, my lips tingling. “Absolutely perfect.”
His thumb traced my cheekbone, his gaze dark with something that made my pulse race. “We should probably get back,” he said, though he didn’t sound all that convinced.
“I don’t want to,” I whispered before I could stop myself.
His eyes searched mine, and whatever he saw there made the corner of his mouth twitch like he was fighting a losing battle.
The air in the truck felt too warm, too close.
I tugged my coat off my shoulders and let it slide down onto the seat beside me.
My Santa hat followed, static making my hair crackle as I tugged it free.
My fingers found the buttons of my cardigan, fumbling for a second before I started working them open, one by one.
Wade’s breath hitched, his eyes locked on me.
That’s when everything shifted, the space between us suddenly sparking with something I couldn’t name. And in that moment, with my first kiss still buzzing through me, I realized maybe some things were worth waiting for, after all.