Chapter Three
The Dinner Reservation
Ingrid
“Loretta's Laser Hair and Wax Removal,” I say, answering the phone. “How can we whack that bush for you today?”
“Blondie.” Wilder chuckles, the sound sending a spear of heat straight to my stomach, “Do you really have to answer the phone that way?”
“If I want to get paid, I do.” I bite my lower lip. Ugh. Why is every sound he makes so... unfairly attractive?
“You should quit and spend the summer lounging by the creek with me,” he proposes.
Yeah, with him and Cash. Hard pass.
“I would rather not piss off Cash any more than I already have.” I take a deep breath. “He gets grumpy when you ignore him.”
“Ignore him,” Wilder suggests. “I do.”
“Kind of hard to when you invite him everywhere with us.”
Wilder sighs. “You're feisty today. Feisty Ingrid is my favorite Ingrid.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I want to take you to dinner,” he changes the subject. “A fancy dinner.”
“Really?” I repeat.
“And I want you to wear the white dress.” The one that makes my boobs look ah-mazing.
My heart beats faster in my chest. “We're not going to the country club, are we?”
“We're too hip for the country club,” Wilder says, nonchalantly. “I made a reservation.”
A reservation? Who am I talking to right now?
Wilder Cox is not the type of guy who makes dinner reservations.
He's the type of guy who lies about his date having a terminal illness to get into the country club—and into the hostess' pants.
But reservations? This is a surprisingly new development for him.
My stomach flips. “What did you do?”
“What do you mean?” Wilder returns.
“You're not exactly the type of guy who makes plans.” I tap my fingers on the desk, teasing him. “You make deals with cute girls who want a shot at seeing Wild Cox in the... wild. That's how you get a table at a restaurant, Wilder.”
Wilder smirks. “I didn't realize you thought so little of me, Blondie. I think you're forgetting that's who I used to be. Now, I make dinner reservations to spend time alone with you.”
My throat dries. God, he really loves me. “Yeah?”
“I also want to stare at your boobs all night,” Wilder gets straight to the point. “This is a good excuse to do just that.”
“Of course that's one of your motives.” I chew on the inside of my cheek, checking the clock on the wall. I’m only two hours into my shift.
“Seeing you naked is always my motive, Ingrid.”
I love it when he says my name.
“And here I thought you liked me for my glowing personality,” I reply, trying to quell the dull ache in my chest. I already miss him.
“I love you,” his voice cuts through the pounding in my ears. “And my only real motive for tonight is to just be with you.”
I’m butter on toast. Melted and done for.
We haven't gotten much alone time this past week. Between Cash rooming with Wilder, and Isla and Harvey the Hobbling Senior Citizen in the next room making god-awful noises, our one-on-one time has been limited.
“I love you, too,” I coo.
“I'll pick you up at six.”
“I can't wait to see you.” I smile into the phone.
As I hang up, Pierre saunters out of the back room with a client, a red scarf tied around his neck. “Fabulous time as always, Felicia. Make sure you schedule your next appointment with Ingrid.”
Pierre shoots me an I-loathe-her-with-every-fiber-of-my-being look before flipping an imaginary wave of hair over his shoulder.
“Six weeks?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Uh...” Felicia looks around nervously as her hand lands on her lower stomach. “What?”
“You want to come back in six weeks?” I clarify as she begins tapping her foot restlessly.
“Sure.” The curly-haired woman nods. “Six weeks.”
“I have an opening on Monday the twenty-sixth, at noon,” I say to her.
“That works,” she murmurs, chewing nervously on her lower lip.
I enter her name into the computer and then write the time and date on a reminder card for her. When I hand it over, she looks like she might throw up.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
“Not really,” she says as she stares at the card in her hand. “How, uh, how often does Clementine Church come in here?”
“Clementine is a regular.” I plaster a fake smile on my face. I hate talking about Archibald's former mistress/current baby mama. “But I'm not really allowed to give out personal information.”
“Can you just make sure that I'm not here on a day she is.” Felicia rubs her lower stomach.
That's... suspicious.
I check and make sure Clementine does not have an appointment that day. “She won't be here.”
“Thank you, Ingrid.” Felicia gives me a tight smile before heading toward the exit.
Guilty. She feels guilty, and with all the context clues she was giving, I think I know why.
When she's outside, the back-room door squeaks open and Pierre power-walks over to me, the frilly red scarf around his neck trailing behind him.
“Felicia's pregnant with Archibald Allred's child,” we both say at the same time.
Pierre and I tilt our heads to the side and say at the same time again, “How do you know?”
“Stop saying what I'm saying, Ingrid.” Pierre swats at me.
“How do you know?” I narrow my eyes.
“She told me.” Pierre's dark eyes widen. “Did she tell you, too?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I used context clues and my superior intellect.”
“Shut up,” Pierre dramatically scoffs. “What are we going to do with this information?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. This is going to hurt Cash.”
“This is going to hurt Clem,” Pierre counters.
“I mean...” I trail off before saying, “Once a cheater, always a cheater, right?”
“But we like Clementine,” Pierre groans. “She's grown on us.”
“Correction,” I say, shooting him a long look. “She's grown on you. I'm still on the fence about her. Fanny accused her of murdering her husband for his life insurance policy. Clementine never denied it.”
Last summer was a trip. I still can’t believe Fanny ended up in jail after everything she put us through.
“Fanny's always been unhinged.” Pierre snorts. “Can we really listen to her?”
“Archibald definitely has a type.”
Unhinged. Psychotic. Irrational.
“Which is why he needs to learn how to use a condom,” Pierre tuts as he crosses his arms over his chest and perches on the edge of my desk.
We both watch out the window as Felicia backs out of a parking space in a red Corvette.
“Maybe monogamy is hard for him,” I offer.
“More like being honest and faithful is hard for him,” Pierre mocks.
I sigh as I rest my chin on my hand. “This summer is going to be the death of me.”
Only seven more hours until I’m alone with Wilder.
Feels like a lifetime.
“Stop staring at my boobs,” I say to Wilder as he opens the door to Lulu's, the fanciest restaurant in town.
“I can't help it.” Wilder's eyes gleam with mischief.
“Try.” I hide a smile. “People will notice.”
“Let them.”
“Wilder,” I plead quietly.
His lips find my ear as we step inside. “I can’t wait to get you alone later.”
I can feel the blush as it creeps its way up my face.
The hostess, a girl with bright purple hair and a nose piercing, smiles at us. “How many?”
“We have a reservation.” Wilder slips his arm around my waist and tugs me close to him. “Wilder Cox.”
“Wild Cox.” The hostess cocks an eyebrow in my boyfriend's direction. Yep, she's heard all about him.
He grins back. “The one and only.”
I jab him in the side with my elbow.
“And this,” Wilder hoarsely gets out as he clutches his ribs, “is my girlfriend, Ingrid.”
The hostess laughs quietly, obviously amused by our little exchange. “This way.”
We're seated by the window as the sunset glows rose gold against the summer sky. Candles and chandeliers light the dining area. White tablecloths, emerald cloth napkins, and gold plates cover the tables.
A gentleman in a tux sits at a piano by the window as glasses clink and conversation fills the air.
“This is...” I bite my lip. “Beautiful, Wilder. Thank you.”
He reaches across the table, his dark hair falling across his forehead, and grabs my hand. As his thumb strokes the promise ring on my finger, he says, “It's been a year. A year since we sat in your car and made that bucket list.”
My heart thumps as I swallow hard. I completely forgot. “It's our anniversary.”
“Yeah.” Wilder smiles. “We never really talked about a specific date, so I chose this one. I hope that's okay.”
Underneath all that charm and sarcasm, he’s ridiculously sentimental. Who would have guessed?
“It is.”
“I know I'm not big on the whole expressing my feelings thing,” he swallows hard, “but this has been the best year of my life.”
“Mine, too,” I say, flipping my hand over and sliding my palm into his.
“Happy anniversary,” he continues, but then his smile falters as he tilts his head to the side. “What in the...”
I twist in my seat. Two tables over sit the unmistakable Archibald Allred and his latest summer fling.
Felicia.
Six-weeks-pregnant Felicia.
“Just a water for me,” I hear her say to the waiter.
Guess she wasn't lying about being pregnant with Archibald's child.
“No.” Wilder drops his head into his hands. “Not again.”
I let out a weighty exhale. “I found out this morning. I was going to tell you, but I wanted tonight to be about us.”
Honestly, I hoped it wasn’t true.
He slowly lifts his dark head. “Tell me what exactly?”
“She might be pregnant,” I divulge, shrugging. “And avoiding Clementine Church.”
Wilder groans dramatically. “Cash can't take another hit right now. He just... he can't.”
“Well,” I say, shrugging, “there's not much we can do about it.”
Archibald Allred is going to do whatever he wants.
In true Wilder fashion, he whips his phone out and snaps a few pictures of the happy couple.
“In case we need to blackmail,” he mutters.
“What if we pretend we don't know?” I suggest. “If no one tells Cash, then he doesn't have to deal with it.”
“We live in a small town,” Wilder reminds me. “The truth will find the light of day. It always does. I don't want Cash to be collateral damage when his father's mistakes make the front page again.”
I run my hand through my hair, exasperated. “So much for a quiet anniversary dinner.”
“Sorry.” Wilder shakes his head. “I'm sorry. This night is about us, and I'm making it about Cash again.”
“Nothing stays simple around here,” I swallow hard.
But the words are hollow. It’s this small town. It’s not big enough for everyone who lives here.
“What can I get you to drink?” the waiter interrupts as he appears in front of us. His gaze slips to Archibald and Felicia quickly before returning to his notepad.
Wilder's right. The truth will find the light of day. It's just a matter of time.
“Coke,” I say to him.
“Same,” Wilder purses his lips.
“I'll be back with those in a few minutes,” the waiter says, frazzled. “I'll take your order then.”
“Last summer was so much fun,” I exhale as soon as he’s gone. “We had the best time, Wilder. This summer isn't going to be like that, is it?”
“Depends.” He gives me a lop-sided grin. “Do we want to make another bucket list?”
“We've already done everything there is to do in this town,” I lament. “There's nothing left to put on a bucket list.”
“What if we do a sexy bucket list?” His teeth sink into his lower lip. “There's a lot of things we haven't done yet that I’ve been dying to try with you.”
“I don't think so,” I playfully scold him, hiding a smile behind my hand.
“Our places to have sex are dwindling by the minute.
Cash is always in your room and, when he's not, he's been at the creek with us.
I can't do it while sharing a wall with Isla and Harvy. I have to sleep with earplugs, Wilder. Earplugs.”
“We could try my truck?”
I give him a pointed look. “I elbowed you in the face last time.”
I wish there was a quiet place it was just the two of us. A place we didn’t have to share walls or space with other people. A place where—
“We should get our own place,” I blurt out. “We should live together.”
A deer-in-the-headlights look flashes across his face. He's panicking right now.
“Uh...”
Oh no.
“You don't...” I lick my lips nervously. “You don't want to live with me, do you?”
“It's not that,” he groans, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his neck.
“You can't leave Cash.”
“That's not—”
“It's fine,” I mumble, dropping my hands to my lap as the waiter appears with our drinks.
“Have we decided on food?” he asks, hand poised on top of his notepad.
I grab the menu off the table and flip it open. “I'll have the cobb salad.”
“And for you?” The waiter turns his attention to Wilder.
“Steak,” Wilder says. “Mashed potatoes and green beans for my sides.”
“I'll get that right in,” the waiter sing-songs, then takes our menus and disappears.
“Ingrid,” Wilder tries.
“Sometimes,” I say, chewing on the inside of my cheek as I hold back tears. “I wonder what we're doing here. You gave me a promise ring and you made a dinner reservation. Logically, the next step would be living together, but you're not there yet.”
Maybe not logical. But it feels right.
“I would love to live with you,” Wilder attempts to salvage this conversation.
“But I can't afford to. College has been way more expensive than I thought it was going to be.
My savings is... it's going fast. I took the summer off, but once it's over, I'm going to be working a double shift at the lumber yard.”
“That's why you wanted me to turn down Loretta's offer,” I exhale. He wanted to spend every waking minute together this summer. I should have known. “You should have told me.”
“I didn't want to tell you because I was...” he trails off. “Embarrassed.”
“I'm not everyone else,” I tell him. “I don't care if you're broke. I don't care if you have to work twice as hard as everyone else to achieve your goals. I love you because you're brave and bold and—”
“Devastatingly handsome,” he interjects as he raises a cocky eyebrow.
“Beautiful,” I conclude.
“Yeah?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“I want to live with you,” he admits. “I would love to live with you. But I don't have a trust fund or a credit card without a limit like someone else we know.”
“You're not Cash.” I nod slowly. “I know that. I would never want you to be Cash.”
He gives me a sad smile. “And I would never want you to change who you are to fit into my world.”
I fiddle with the tablecloth before meeting his gaze. “I know I don't have to. I learned my lesson, Wilder. I can be loved and accepted just as I am. You love me and accept me as I am. Why would I ever want to change who I am?”
I don't miss the flash of emotion that crosses his face. “I'm glad you feel that way.”
“No more secrets, okay?”
Our fingers tangle on top of the table.
“No more secrets,” he promises, but I notice his gaze won’t meet my eyes. What is he hiding?
“How much longer before we can get out of here?” I smile, ignoring the pang that ripples through my chest.
He licks his lip as his gaze shifts to my chest.
Maybe this night can still be ours.