6. Wyatt
WYATT
We drive in silence, windows down, the city air thick and humid even at four a.m. The roads are empty except for the flickering orange cones of construction and the occasional police cruiser.
Naomi rides shotgun, legs folded under her, hair pulled back in a messy knot.
She smells like citrus shampoo and a touch of vanilla, and the back of her hand rests just inches from the gearshift.
It takes all my restraint not to reach out and cover it with mine.
“God, I haven’t been here since prom night,” she says, laughing. “They threw us out after one of my classmates started dancing on tables.”
“Do you plan on dancing on tables tonight?” I tease as I hold the heavy glass door open for her to walk inside.
“Maybe.” She glances over her shoulder and winks teasingly. “We’ll just have to see how the evening goes.”
The tired looking waitress behind the counter tells us to pick whatever booth we want. Naomi stops at a booth in the very back of the diner and I slide in across from her, knees bumping under the table. She doesn’t move away. Neither do I.
A waitress who looks like she’s had better mornings plops two mugs of coffee down, sloshing some on the table, and slides us menus. “Are ya’ll ready to order?” she asks,
“We’ll need a few minutes.” She shrugs and shuffles off with a harried smile. When she returns a few minutes later, we each order the Belgian waffles with strawberry sauce and orange juice.
“So tell me all your deep dark secrets, Mr. Security Man.” Her direct approach steals the little part of my heart I was guarding in case this doesn’t work out. Now, I’ll just have to do whatever it takes to make sure it works.
“There isn’t much to tell.” All I want to focus on is her. I don’t want to think about my former life right now.
“Bullshit,” she says, eyes narrowed. “I’ve already heard the rumors so you might want to set the record straight with the truth.”
Fuck me. I’ve heard some of those rumors and they’re not only insane but they’re also completely false. “I was the head of security for Steel Pulse for ten years,” I admit the painful truth. “And it was hell.” That’s an understatement.
Naomi’s eyes go wide. “Shut up. My sister would give away a kidney to see them in person.”
“She isn’t missing much,” I admit honestly. “They’re just a bunch of spoiled assholes who know how to sing and play the guitar. I got tired of cleaning up their goddamn messes.”
“Why did you decide to move here?” Curiosity shines from her electric blue eyes.
“Roman Sterling is my cousin,” I explain. “He heard through the family grapevine that I was looking for a new gig and called me up.”
Naomi props her feet up on the edge of the booth. “And here you are.”
“That’s right.” I sit back and lay my arm across the back of the booth.
“What are your plans now that you’ve settled in?” I don’t answer right away. The real answer is complicated, and I’ve never said it out loud.
“When I decided to move back, I bought a small house out in the country,” I give her the watered-down version. “Living out of a suitcase got old really fast and I was ready to put down some roots.”
Naomi nods slowly, as if she truly understands. "I gave Hollywood a shot right after high school. Acting wasn't all it was hyped up to be. I lasted two years before the city chewed me up and spat me back here, weary and wiser."
"Was it that bad?" I inquire, curiosity piqued.
She laughs, but there's a slight catch in her voice, an echo of lingering disappointment.
"It's all a numbers game out there. You feel like a superstar in your drama class, but once you step into that vast ocean, you realize you're just one of a million versions of yourself.
They're blonder, taller, and more willing to do whatever it takes to land roles. "
"So, you decided to move back," I say, attempting to sound casual even though my heart is pounding with curiosity.
She shrugs. "Casey was having a tough time, and my mom isn't getting any younger. It was the logical thing to do." She fiddles with the corner of her napkin, her eyes wandering to the window. "I do miss it sometimes, though. The hope, I suppose."
"Are you planning to stay in Silver Spoon Falls now?" I watch her closely, searching for any hint of her intentions. The thought lingers in my mind, wondering if I will need to adjust my own plans to align with hers, to follow whatever path she chooses.
Our breakfast arrives and for a minute we eat in silence. The waffles are so fluffy, they nearly melt in my mouth. Naomi takes three bites, then licks her fork clean, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen that didn’t involve actual nudity.
“God, that’s better than sex,” she says.
“I doubt it,” I say before I can stop myself. She raises an eyebrow and grins.
“Oh?” she teases. “You have evidence to the contrary?”
“I do,” my goddamn mouth runs away without consulting my brain.
There’s a lull. Her eyes drop to my mouth, then back up.
I want to ask her everything. I want to tell her about the dreams, the way she’s invaded every circuit of my brain. Instead, I pour us more coffee and try to steady my hands.
Naomi slides her foot up my leg under the table, not overt but definitely intentional. “You ever get bored at work?” she asks. “Just watching everyone else have all the fun?”
“You have no idea,” I say. But the only goddamn person I can ever see myself “playing” with is Naomi.
She gives me a look that says, Oh, I think I do.
We make small talk after that, trading stories about childhood disasters and family drama. She tells me about the time she set the fire alarm off during a middle school play then I tell her about the worst night of tour when three groupies and a roadie got into a fistfight over a stolen t-shirt.
“Did you always want to be in security?” she asks, draining the last of her coffee.
“Not really. My uncle owned a construction company. I was supposed to take over, but I hated it. Got into security because I needed a job, stuck around because I was good at it.”
Naomi nods, then bites her lip. “You’re really not what I expected,” she says.
“What did you expect?”
She leans in, voice low. “Less… thoughtful, I guess. And maybe more… dangerous?” Her phone buzzes in her purse interrupting us, and she checks it, rolling her eyes. “My mother,” she says, tapping the answer button. “Hey, Mom. I’m fine. Just finishing up breakfast with a… friend.”
My stomach drops at the word, but she glances at me and winks.
“No, he’s not a serial killer. Yes, I’ll text when I walk home. No, I haven’t joined a cult.” She listens, then sighs. “Okay. I love you, too. Bye.”
She tucks the phone away and gives me a sheepish look. “Sorry. She worries.”
“She’s not wrong,” I say. “There’s some weird people out there.”
Naomi grins. “Yeah. But sometimes the weird ones are the best.”
The check comes, but she beats me to it, slapping down a twenty before I can protest. “You can get the next one,” she says, and my heart does a stupid leap at the idea of a next time.
Fuck. It’s against my goddamn religion to let my date pay for our meal but I can sense arguing would be the wrong thing to do.
The drive to her place is way too fucking short. As we walk up her front steps, our shoulders brush, and I can feel the heat radiating off her.
She stops at the door, turns, and says, “I had a good time,” It’s an innocent statement. But the way she bites her pouty bottom lip isn’t innocent at all. It’s like a fucking invitation.
“Me too,” I say, my voice rough.
Then she leans in, and her lips brush the corner of my mouth.
It’s soft, almost chaste, but it’s enough to make my cock twitch in my jeans.
Fuck that. I’m not letting her get away with just a peck.
My hands slide through her silky hair before she can pull away.
I draw her close, and our mouths crash together as we devour each other.
Her lips part, and my tongue slides in, hot and hungry.
She tastes like strawberries and something uniquely Naomi, and I can’t get enough.
I’ll never get enough. Her slide up my chest to grip my shoulders, pulling me closer like she’s trying to climb inside me.
I press her against the door, my body pinning hers, and she lets out a little moan that goes straight to my dick.
My hands slip from her waist down to her spectacular ass.
I grab a handful of that perfect fucking ass and squeeze, and she gasps into my mouth.
Her hips grind against mine, and I can feel how wet she is even through our clothes.
Fuck, I want to rip that barely legal skirt off and bury myself in her sweet pussy right here on the porch.
Her tongue duels with mine as her hands tug at my shirt, pulling it up so she can get to my skin.
Her nails drag down my back, and I groan into her mouth.
I’m so hard it hurts, and I know her damp panties aren’t disguising how much I want her.
She breaks the kiss for a second, panting, and I take the chance to trail my lips down her neck, sucking and biting until she’s squirming against me.
“Fuck,” she whispers, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.
I’m about to drop to my knees and show her exactly what my mouth can do when I hear a throat clearing behind us. I pull back reluctantly, my lips still tingling, and glance up to see a younger of Naomi standing there, arms crossed, smirking like we’re her entertainment.
“Casey.” Naomi turns and hisses at her sister while I will my cock to go the fuck down.
“You’re giving the neighborhood quite the show.” Her sister looks back and forth between us. “You’re lucky it was me and not mom who caught you doing the dirty on the front porch.”
“We weren’t—” Naomi starts but the teenager has already flitted off.
“Yes, we were.” I lean down and give her a much more sedate kiss on her soft lips. “We’ll have to try again. In private next time.” I tell her as I step back.
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you at work, Mr. Security Man,” she says, and slips inside before we’re tempted to finish what we started.
I stand there for a minute, hands in my pockets, staring at the door while remembering the feel of her lips moving under mine. Fuck. Now that I’ve had a taste, I want all of her.
As I head back to my apartment, I know sleep is going to be impossible.