Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Dara
“What are we doing here?” I ask.
The parking area of the Bartholomew Gardens is empty. Lights shine here and there on the other side of the aging stone wall that’s held together by moss and prayers. The estate is stoic and graceful—the type of place where fairy tales are created.
Wade shuts off the ignition.
“Did you leave something here at the wedding?” I ask. “Not that I mind as long as you take me with you if you go inside the gates.”
He gives me a sideways grin. “This is our destination.”
“For our date?”
He nods.
I try to temper the surge of excitement building inside me.
“Wade, you can’t just come to the Gardens for a date,” I tell him. But he must know this. “I think it’s privately owned. Access is limited to the public and—not that a date must include dinner, but there’s no restaurant here. It’s a couple of old meeting halls, a house, and acres of beauty.”
“Are you done talking yet?”
I shrug, unsure if I am or not. This still doesn’t make sense.
“It turns out that Philip Bartholomew is pretty tight with Gramps,” he says.
“Your gramps? Golf cap-wearing Gramps? Yucky Life Saver-wielding Gramps?”
Wade chuckles. “That’s the only Gramps I have. Now come on. We’re wasting time.”
I take quick stock of my outfit as I climb out of the SUV. I didn’t do bad, considering I had no idea where we were going.
Black skinny pants with a silky black tank topped with a garnet-red blazer-style jacket. I accessorized with black heels and gold jewelry. It just so happens to match Wade’s black jeans and black sweater perfectly.
He holds a hand out for me as I round the front of the Mercedes. I take it without a second thought.
“I really do wish you’d allow me to open the door for you,” he says.
“Why? It would just waste more time.”
He grins and leads me to the gate that was open when we arrived here the last time.
We’re ushered in by a sweet woman named Marjorie.
“It’s such a pleasure to meet you both,” she says. “We don’t get to entertain here as often as we used to. The staff misses the excitement of putting together a scene.”
We walk farther into the grounds.
“You know,” she says. “We used to have a full-service eatery here.”
“I had no idea,” I say.
“We did. It was really something. It was on the back corner of the property, and you could access it from Mayweather Drive. The owners used the revenue to fund improvements, maintain the plants and animals, and pay the staff. But Mr. Bartholomew decided to streamline things. I suppose we all have to understand. Things change.” She looks at Wade and smiles. “But that’s not always a bad thing.”
Once we reach the greenhouse from Holt’s wedding, she stops. She extends her arms to each side and smiles proudly.
“The grounds are yours for the evening. Please use the phone just inside the door to call when you’d like dinner,” she says, clasping her hands together in front of her.
“Thank you, Marjorie,” Wade says. “We appreciate your hospitality.”
“The pleasure is all mine.”
With a wink, she plods silently toward the Hardwig house.
I turn, curiosity getting the best of me, and look at Wade. He’s grinning.
“What did she mean by the grounds are ours for the evening?” I ask.
“That would mean that you are free to roam to your heart’s desire.”
I want to thank him. I need to tell him that. But I’m stunned.
In his office the day Holt invited me to his wedding, I mentioned that I’d never been able to see the Gardens because it was always closed and so expensive. And now, here we are.
“You did this for me,” I say, working through my thoughts aloud.
“Of course. But it’s not as though spending some time in nature will kill me either.”
There’s more. I can see it in his eyes.
“What’s going on?” I ask as we stroll through the hedges and note a particularly perfect wall of green vegetation. Graduation photos would be perfect there. “Tell me.”
He roughs his free hand down his jaw. “Well, I had a cup of coffee with Phillip Bartholomew today. He’s an interesting fellow.”
“I bet,” I say warily.
I want to tell him to get on with it, but I don’t. Push Wade, and he might push back.
“It turns out that the Gardens need a bit of … a facelift,” he says, nodding as if he approves his word choice. “Right there—you can vaguely see a walkway beneath those magnolia trees.”
“I see it,” I say, coming to a stop. “It’s so overgrown.”
“It is. It’s one of the problems they’re facing right now with an aging staff and a lack of community interest.”
“That’s so sad.”
He shrugs. “For now. They’re about to undergo an overhaul in preparation for a new marketing effort.”
Makes sense.
“And I told Philip that I know a woman who would probably be more than happy to take some marketing photos in exchange for access to the grounds,” he says.
I stop in my tracks and smack his chest. “You did not.”
“I did.”
Oh. My. Gosh.
My heart leaps with a blast of joy unlike anything I’ve felt in a while.
I drop his hand and bring mine to my mouth. “Why would you do that?”
His brow crinkles. “If you don’t want to—”
“Shut your mouth! Of course, I want to! I just …” The shock starts to wane, and my heartbeat begins to settle. “I … I don’t understand.”
“It’s pretty fucking easy.” His lips twitch as his eyes search mine. “I referred your work to a colleague. What’s so complicated about that?”
I hold my breath and study this man.
Does he remember our conversation at Holt’s wedding? I told him that this type of photography was my dream.
My heart swells so big that I think it might burst.
Why … Why would he do this?
“You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him.
“No. I didn’t. But I did. I respect your hustle. And I can see how passionate you are about photography. It reminds me of how much architecture is a part of who I am. It motivates me. It drives me. It’s … It’s how I communicate in a lot of ways.”
His eyes sparkle under the setting sun.
My mind wonders what he’ll want in return but, for the moment, I put that thought away and just revel in his kindness.
I slide up against his body and wrap my arms around his neck. It takes him aback for a moment before he locks his hands on my backside.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He rolls his eyes. “It was just a referral, Dara.”
“Not for that. Well, for that but not just that.”
We begin to sway easily with the breeze—just Wade and me beneath the magnolias.
“Thank you for believing in me,” I tell him. “I really appreciate that.”
He runs his hands over the globes of my ass. “I appreciate this.”
Even though his redirection takes away from my gratitude, and I’m not sure he understands just how grateful I am for the opportunity he just gave me, I let it go.
I glance around the Gardens and spot a little bench hidden under the trees. The limbs are overgrown and drape around it like a private canopy.
Perfect.
I run a finger over his lips. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“No.”
“Wade!”
He chuckles. “Why would I make any kind of deal with you? I hold all the cards.”
“You just think you do.”
He grins, shaking my ass cheeks with his hands. “I actually do.”
I giggle. “Well, as riveted as I am about walking the entire expanse of the Gardens, I’d really like to do one thing first.”
“What’s that?”
“You.”
His eyes darken. “I could get behind that.”
I grin. “I’m hoping you can get under me, actually.”
“Fuck yes.” He straddles my feet with his and presses me against his body.
Oh, shit. He’s already hard.
I missed that. I missed him.
“There’s a bench to your right,” I tell him.
“Say no more.”
He takes my hand and leads me quickly through the grass. We dip beneath the branches and find the small area I spotted a few minutes ago.
“Sit,” I tell him. “And take your cock out.”
He grins. “Okay. I’ll play.”
“Tell me you have a condom. Please tell me you have one.”
He looks at me like I’m silly. “Do you really think that I’m going to see you and not be prepared to fuck you? Come on, Dara. I’m more of a professional than that.”
“Thank God.”
I unfasten my pants. He sits on the bench, knees far apart, and rolls a condom down his already erect length.
Shit.
My breathing is ragged as I bend over and press a wet, aggressive kiss to his lips. He tries to grab my head and keep me there, but I pull back.
Then, before he can give me orders, I tug my pants down and back up to his lap. I grip the base of his cock and slide my body down on top of his.
He hisses as he penetrates me. I moan as I’m filled with his length.
The air is thick and heavy as I arch my back and lift off him.
“The view from here is the best view in the place,” he says, smacking my ass.
“I’m pretty partial to this seat.”
He chuckles until I fill myself with him again. I rock my hips slowly, deliciously—his cock touching every wild nerve ending in my pussy.
He pushes deeper. I roll my body in a circle. His fingers dig so roughly into my hips that I call out in sweet agony.
He leans up, holding me still with an arm around my middle, and bites my ear.
“Shhh,” he warns. “You’ll give poor Marjorie a heart attack.”
I giggle as he presses a kiss behind my ear and then sits back. He flexes his hips as I start to pump him in and out of myself.
The sound of our bodies hitting each other carries through the trees. Wade sits up, pushing a hand between my legs, and presses a finger to my clit.
My body trembles. Colors burst through my closed eyes. I can’t stop the moan from slipping past my lips.
“Fuck!” I almost scream.
He pulls my head back by the end of my hair and captures my voice with his mouth. He runs his tongue roughly, expertly, through my lips and takes command—maybe even ownership—of my mouth.
His voice rumbles against my tongue. The vibrations carry down my throat and radiate through my body.
I can feel his reaction in my toes.
He stiffens, his throat bobbing against the side of my face as he pulses inside me.
We collapse at the same time. I sink against him as he falls back onto the bench.
His chest rises and falls in the same frenzied tempo as mine.
“That was good,” I say, panting.
“If that was just good, I want a second try.”
I slide off, wincing as I get to my feet.
“You have to feed me first,” I say, tugging my pants back up. “And I could use a bathroom if at all possible.”
He grins as he slips off the condom. “You were wet as fuck.”
“It happens.”
“What do you mean, it happens?” He situates himself but keeps an eye on me. “Please. Elaborate.”
I’m just messing with him, but I can’t back off now.
I grin. “That’s what I’ve heard—that I get wet as fuck.”
He moves in front of me before I can protest. His hand winds through my hair as he pulls my face to his.
He kisses me the same way I kissed him earlier—hard and intentional.
“No more of that,” he whispers against my mouth, his eyes glued to mine.
The look in his eye—the point he’s trying to make—is hot as hell. And although I’m not sure what it means, exactly, or why my knees wobble at the sound of it, I relent.
“No more of that,” I say.
He pulls back and then looks at the condom in his hand. “Let’s find a place for this and a bathroom for you.”
“Then what?”
We dip from beneath the trees and head toward the greenhouse. I grin when he takes my hand and laces our fingers together.
“Then we have dinner here,” he says. “If you want.”
Anything with you.
“Okay,” I say instead.
Because although my heart may be smitten with Wade Mason, my brain is still leery.
Feelings aren’t always reciprocated. I know that from experience. The men I go for always break my heart. Wade is different, I think. Maybe I even hope. But I’m not letting my guard down.
For now, anyway.