7. Avery
Chapter seven
Avery
The aroma of applewood, grilled burgers, and smoky barbecue sauce fills Ezra and Olly’s backyard.
The evening air is dry and hot, typical for a midsummer night here in Foggy.
String lights hang on the wooden awning overhead, casting a soft, golden glow over the long picnic table.
Two of those large and fancy misting fans blows cool mist into the air.
About a dozen people are scattered across the grass, laughing and holding cold beers.
It’s a perfect party. The food is incredible, the music playing from the outdoor speakers is low and steady, and the company is great.
But I’m fucking miserable.
I stand near the edge of the patio, holding a plastic cup of lemonade.
Across the lawn, standing near the massive grill, is Gideon.
He looks so damn attractive, it’s killing me.
He’s wearing a dark gray tank top that shows off the thick, powerful muscles of his forearms. His wavy black hair is slightly damp from the mist, and he’s holding a bottle of local beer.
Standing right next to him, laughing at something he just said, is Emery.
Emery is extra gorgeous today and currently leaning a little too close to Gideon.
Gideon isn't doing anything wrong… he’s just standing there, nodding his head and offering his usual quiet, polite grunts.
But every time Emery touches his arm and peers over at me, my stomach twists into a hard knot of jealousy.
Yeah. I’m fucking jealous. A gorgeous rock star has his hands on my man. I want to walk over there and show Emery who has the real claws between the two of us. I swear, the guy is doing it on purpose.
"And then the florist told me that peonies are completely out of season for October, can you believe that?"
I tear my eyes away from Gideon and look back at Rebecca. Rebecca is the part-time sales associate at Beauty and the Boutique, a sweet girl with massive brown eyes who is currently in the middle of planning a her dream wedding.
"That’s terrible," I say, trying my best to sound present and sympathetic, but Emery squeezes Gideon’s arm for the umpteenth time.
"It’s a clusterfuck, Avery," Rebecca sighs, waving her hands around. "I told Tessy that if we have to switch to garden roses, the entire color palette of the bridesmaids' dresses changes. Which means the vests we’re ordering from you and Ezra will need a lighter undertone. What do you think?"
"I think we can adjust the dye batch easily," I say, glancing up again.
Emery is still there. Gideon is currently looking across the yard, his eyes scanning the crowd until they lock directly onto me.
A heavy, heated look flares in his gaze, but before I can even smile at him, Kennedy slides right next to me.
Rebecca shifts to her left and starts talking to Ezra.
"Don't look now, but your giant bee farmer has that hot Arcade Lake guy all over him," Kennedy whispers in my ear, taking a bite of his cheeseburger.
"I fucking noticed. What’s their deal?" I mutter, turning my back to the grill. "I’m trying to be professional. But if Emery touches his bicep one more time, I might throw my lemonade in his face."
"Oh my god, do it," Kennedy jokes, nudging my shoulder. "Besides, you're the one who has been trapped by the bridal committee for the last hour. Just go over there and claim your man."
"I’m trying," I whisper. "But Rebecca wants to talk about the wardrobe we’re designing."
“Tell her you’re off the clock!”
I laugh. “Language like that doesn’t exist to a bridezilla.”
By the time the party starts to wind down, the clock is ticking past ten. The heat of the day has finally dissolved into a cool, refreshing night breeze. Guests are hugging Ezra and Olly goodbye, carrying leftovers in foil plates toward their cars.
I help Ezra carry a stack of dirty plastic trays into the house. When I walk back onto the porch, I see Gideon standing by the bottom of the steps. He has his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his large shoulders hunched slightly against the night air.
Emery is nowhere to be seen.
"Hey," I say, stepping down the stairs. My chest feels tight, a mixture of the lingering jealousy and the sudden rush of excitement from being near him again.
"Hey," Gideon rumbles in that way that makes my toes curl. His dark eyes look over my face, taking in the slight tension in my jaw. "You were busy tonight."
"Yeah. Rebecca had a lot of… wedding thoughts," I say, leaning against the wooden railing.
I tilt my head, looking up at him playfully, though my voice carries a slight edge.
"You looked pretty busy too, Gid. I didn't know you and Emery were such close friends.” Did I sound like a petty bitch? I smirk. Probably.
Gideon blinks. That adorable flush immediately makes its reappearance, rushing up his neck and dusting his cheeks.
He rubs the back of his neck, looking completely flustered.
"Emery’s trying to find a replacement for their guitarist. He fired his stepbrother, and it’s a whole thing.
" He waves his hand to exaggerate his point.
"Right. Stepbrother," I tease, though the knot in my stomach unties itself completely at the sight of his blush. "Well, he seemed very invested in your… response."
Gideon steps closer, his massive frame completely blocking the light from the porch lanterns.
He looks down at me, his face serious. "He might be one of my best friends, but Emery can be stubborn.
The whole stepbrother thing is his own fault.
I was barely paying attention, Avery. I spent the last three hours watching you talk about wedding preparations. "
My heart does a hard, happy thud. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Gideon murmurs. He looks toward the street, where Kennedy is currently climbing into his own car to head to a friend's house. "You're walking back to your apartment?"
"I am," I say. The boutique is only a few blocks away from Ezra's house.
"I'll walk you," Gideon says. It isn't a question. It’s a quiet, protective statement. It’s hot.
The walk through the quiet streets of Foggy Basin is peaceful.
The town is completely still at night, the only sound being the low chirp of crickets in the bushes and our steady footsteps.
We walk close together, our shoulders brushing with every so often.
The heat radiating off Gideon’s body is driving me crazy. I want to hold his hand.
Wait. Why the hell do I want to hold his hand?
When we reach the alley behind Beauty and the Boutique, I pull out my keys, unlocking the side door that leads up the stairs to my apartment.
"Do you want to come up?" I ask, turning to face him on the landing. "It's quiet. Kai is staying out late tonight."
Gideon hesitates for a fraction of a second, his jaw tightening, before he nods. "Yes."
The apartment is dark when we step inside.
I flip on the small lamp in the corner of the living room, casting a warm, dim light across the hardwood floor.
My shoulders instantly drop, the exhaustion of the long day finally catching up to me.
My legs are aching from standing at the boutique booth for hours during the day and then walking around the barbecue.
"My feet are freaking killing me," I groan, kicking off my shoes and dropping onto the small sofa. Kai texted me earlier saying he’d be out all night with a farmer of his own. Something tells me, he won’t be my roommate for that much longer. I lean my head back against the cushions and sigh.
Gideon closes the front door, locking it. He walks over to the sofa, his heavy boots silent on the floorboards. He doesn't sit down immediately. Instead, he stands over me, his dark eyes taking me in.
"You work too hard, Avery," he says softly.
"We only have three weeks left before Scott Woods gets here," I say, looking up at him. "If the Fall collection isn't perfect, Scott will ruin us in the magazine. I have to make sure the textile treatment works. I can't look like a failure."
I pause, the quietness of the room suddenly bringing my deeper fears to the surface. The jealousy from the barbecue mixes with the stress of the deadline, and before I can stop myself, the words spill out.
"Do you think I’m going to fail, Gid?"
Gideon frowns, his thick eyebrows drawing together. "Why the hell would I think that?"
"Because I'm a city boy," I say quietly, my voice dropping. I look down at my hands in my lap. "Everyone in Foggy has deep roots in the history of this town. You have your apiary. Ezra has his established brand. Even Emery seems comfortable here. I’m just the guy who packed his life into an old truck and is trying to make it as a wannabe fashion designer. I’m not even sure the world will like my designs. And sometimes I feel like you look at me and just see someone temporary. Like you think I’m going to get bored of the quiet and run away. " I snap my mouth shut.
The room goes completely silent. The only sound is the quiet ticking of the kitchen clock. Fuck. That was a lot to unpack.
Then, the sofa cushions sink heavily.
Gideon sits down next to me. He doesn't say a word at first. He just reaches out, his large hand gently gripping my chin. His touch is firm but incredibly careful as he forces my head up so I have to look into his eyes. There’s a fierce, intense fire burning in his gaze. It takes my breath away.
"Listen to me," Gideon rumbles. "I don't think you’re a failure. And yes, I might’ve been afraid you’ll get bored with me or want to eventually leave this town, but I don't think you could ever be temporary. Never that."
"Gid—"
"No," he cuts me off, his grip on my chin tightening slightly. "You left a job to build something real. That isn't running away, Avery. That is being brave. You have more passion than anyone I have ever met. When you talk about your designs, your whole face lights up. It makes the world brighter."
He pauses. “You make my world brighter.”